I was having one hell of a party one night, and this was over thirty years ago, when someone told me there was a woman in distress in the sunroom. My apartment at that time was in a house built in the 1800s, it was huge, impossible to heat or cool properly, but it had a sunroom. I had a bed in the room, a sofa, bean bags, and it was a great place to just chill.
The woman in question was not chilling.
She had taken too much of something, or more than enough or too many things, and was in the first stages of having a bad trip of some sort. I grabbed a large book of artwork and started showing her photos of famous art, and she began to relax, but she seemed to be itching.
“I can feel things crawling one me, but no one can see them,” she told me.
“So what’s more likely, there are things there you can feel and not see, or that you feel things that aren’t there?” I asked.
“It’s more like they are invisible than nonexistent, because invisibly would be an attribute of a creature while nonexistence wouldn’t be,” she said instantly. “They might be there all the time, and we can only feel them when we’re high.”
I’ve never been the same after that conversation.
It’s some sort of gathering, young people, teenagers, twenty-somethings, and no one there knows me. I’m not supposed to be there. I don’t even know where I am, or what I am doing, but I walked into the house, and everyone looks at me and they start trying to figure out who I am, and some of them leave.
No one says anything to me, I don’t talk to anyone, and as more people leave, I go outside, walk across a field, and find myself on a playing course of some sort, with lines and markers, but I have no idea what any of it means. Some of the young people are there, and now they’re fearful, and leave quicker.
I wonder if we dream sometimes, and it takes us to other places, where people see us, and think we’re ghosts.
Aqaba! Aqaba! Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!
It doesn’t appear to be much in the way of life changing, this photo of a small cat running into the woods in fear. But this was the first photo of Aqaba back on 25 July, 2023.
I wasn’t sure if he was feral or dumped, but I know the dangers here are legion; hawks, owls, venomous snakes, alligators, dogs, bobcats, raccoons, and coyotes, all of these are real and present dangers for a small cat.
One day this creature trotted up my mama’s wheelchair ramp like he was going to come in if I opened the door. I did open the door but he fled. I named him Aqaba. It’s a port city in Jordon on the Red Sea. Long story on why this name came to me, but it did.
Aqaba would eat dog food off the porch, and would let me watch him, but he wasn’t trustful at all. If I opened the door he would run, but he began to undertand me calling out, “Aqaba! Aqaba! Kitty, kitty, kitty!” meant the bowl was full.
I thought we had lost him during hurricane Idalia, but much to my surprise, Aqaba returned right after the storm. Attempts to trap him were futile. I would set a trap and he would disappear for a couple of days. But it was clear after the hurricane, Aqaba wasn’t doing as well. I was afraid something would happen, and sure enough, it did.
At five in the morning, on September the 18th, 2023, I heard Wrex, my resident hound and hunter, barking in the woods. I went to investigate and my heart sunk. Wrex Wyatt was standing at the base of a small tree, and Aqaba was about halfway up, hanging on for dear life. I called Wrex and he broke off, and followed me inside, instantly.
My worst fears were realized. Aqaba had two wounds, one other either side of his neck, and was bleeding. He was eating, drinking and still running from me, but the clock began to tick. A small mammal with a neck wound was going to die quickly in the woods. I had to get Aqaba into a trap, and inside a vet’s office, and quickly. I bought another trap that day and set it the next morning. I had to go to work, but was willing to wait until I could catch him. An hour after I set the trap, I went outside to check it. The gate was closed. What was inside? It might be a raccoon, or an Opossum, or maybe a stray dog.
Or Aqaba. A wounded, and unhappy, and pissed off cat.
I bundled the trap up, not knowing if this cat had rabies or some other disease. This is where it began to get hard. He had been through so much, and now, finally, I could get him to a vet. I took Aqaba to Valdosta Animal Hospital in Valdosta. They would run tests on him to see if he had Feline Leukemia, Rabies, or something else that would doom him. If they could save him, I wanted him fixed, vaccinated, wormed, and basically anything that they could so, they would do, to save Aqaba.
I went to work and waited. A stray would likely have half a dozen diseases. I thought Aqaba was female at first so I worried about pregnacy. But at the end of the day, I just wanted Aqaba to be alive, and we would work on getting him healthy. Two hours later, a call from Valdosta Animal Hospital came in. It seemed too quickly for it to be good news, and my heart sank. But all the news was good. The neck wounds would not kill him or impair him. No diseases lurked inside this cat. Aqaba was clipped and ready to be shipped. I could take Aqaba home, and hopefully, find someone to adopt him soon.
I set him up a tiny box in the bathroom, and introduced him to mama. Aqaba had been a pet at some stage of his life, and mama is good with cats. Clearly.
This was a cat in search of a family. Aqaba Thomas, as he was named, was looking for love.
The injuries looked bad, but were healing.
Whatever happened to Aqaba, it had been a close call.
The search was on for a new home. Aqaba clearly could not stay here. Wrex Wyatt, resident hunter, had nearly killed Aqaba once. I could not allow it to happen again.
So Aqaba hired a defense attorney to defend Wrex. Okay, what actually happened was a friend of mine of social media, who actually was a defense attorney, was carefully watching the story of Aqaba and what happened to him. She asked me a simple question, “Did you see Wrex attack Aqaba?” and the answer was no. We talked about the evidence. Wrex didn’t have a scratch on him, and Aqaba had cleary fought his way out of the jaws of death. Wrex had left the scene of the crime easily, not like a dog with treed prey. And finally, I measured the canine teeth marks. The scars on Aqaba’s neck were just shy of an inch and a quarter apart. Wrex’s canine were over an inch and a half.
Wrex Wyatt was innocent.
Moreover, Aqaba was throwing a full court press into diplomacy.
Aqaba made friends with The Queen, Lilith Anne. This wasn’t amazing because Lilith loves everyone.
And finally, we achieved integration.
Honestly, it’s hard not to love this cat. Aqaba Thomas is fearless and daring, and wants to be part of this pack, to be a member of the family. After all, I rescued him. Why shouldn’t he be?
Mom bought Aqaba a tree. He approves.
A couple of days after we got Aqaba inside, this random raccoon walked around the backyard. Was this what nearly killed Aqaba?
We may never know where Aqaba Thomas came from, what happened on that early morning in September, or anything more than we know right now. There’s still no photos of Budlore Amadeus with Aqaba, snuggling and being pals. There may never be.
We also know something else. It’s been over twenty years since I adopted a cat. The time, effort, and energy to make this work since September has been significant. However, Aqaba Thomas is happy. He loves me. I love him. Those things we do know.
Aqaba Thomas Firesmith is home. This is where he is, this is where he will stay, the Hickory Head Pack now includes a cat.
Before I close this out, this happy ending to an odd journey, I would like to mention all four of my dogs were adopted from USA Rescue Team, based in Valdosta Georgia. Aqaba Thomas didn’t go through them like everyone else, but at the same time, that group of hardworking people have contributed so much happiness to my life, at this point time, I would like to ask you to donate to the rescue. Any amount will do. Tell them Aqaba sent you.
https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/usarescueteam
https://www.facebook.com/people/United-Saving-Animals-Rescue-Team/61550620899547
Thank you,
Mike
Getting something for lunch is a problem where I work so I usually skip out on it. Contractors eat on the run, and only bad food comes at you fast. But a break in the action leads me to Publix, where I can get a salad to go in a few minutes.
But the woman in front of me is chatty with the cashier, and this might take a while. I stop and notice what the customer is saying. The cashier is wearing tiny diamonds as earrings, and the customer is fascinated. The cashier is glowing under the light that a customer is treating her well, and the two point five minutes this costs me will not go to waste, I think.
“She’s right. Those earrings are perfect. They look like stars,” I tell her.
The cashier is amazed. Two nice people in a row. She beams. This is the best day ever.
Now imagine what the world would be like if we only took the time to do this in every interaction with those people behind the counters.
I hated every moment of every day of public school. Each and every hour lasted an eternity. One of the side products of this journey through block and brick buildings where every movement was timed and orchestrated was my sense of time became totally distorted.
At age nineteen, I spoke with a landlord about renting an apartment. The standard lease was for a year. A year? A whole year? That was an eternity. Who knew if they would be alive in a year? Planning that far in advance seemed ludicrous to me. I lived in a world where only books lasted, and everything else was momentary or temporary.
Equinox Fire: Island Aflame.
I swore off burning a few years ago, and things went well. I composted much of the limbs and stuff, so burning seemed a waste of material. But things begin to pile up. Storms blew down some larger limbs, I had three trees too close to the house taken down, I cut them up and added all of this to the firepit.
In the meantime, it rained and rained and rained. The firepit became an island. Then it rained some more.
And then the hurricane hit.
Room for limbs, branches, and tree debris has run out, but the firepit is flooded, and I mean over knee-deep in water.
It’s not like I can start a fire on a pile of stuff that’s surrounded by water, can I?
It’s the Equinox. I want to build a fire.
I need to build a fire.
Here’s the firepit. Water, water, everywhere. And it’s deep. Right there in front of the pile, there’s a drop off and the water is waist deep. Hmmm, but approached from the side, it’s only a bit over knee deep or so.
Here’s the issue: This pile is fine where it is, but I have a yard full of stuff. Wading out to the island to add more stuff is going to be no fun, and if I can’t burn it, that means when the water goes away, the pile will resemble a nuclear bomb going off when it burns. The trees around this area are my primary concern. I don’t want them harmed by a giant fire. If I can burn enough new stuff, and enough old stuff on the Island of Branches, that’s best case. But can I even get a fire started out there on the island?
Okay, I got the fire going. How much can I do with it? I have to carry the branches over my head to get them into the fire. But the fire has awaken my inner Firesmith. I feel a yearn, a yearn to burn.
Laborious, is the word of the day. Grab a branch, hold it over my head, wade out to the pile, try to toss it in at the best point, wade back out, rinse and repeat. But I figured out the path in and out, shuffle instead of trying to lift my feet too high, and go slow. The fire goes better than expected. I really though the embers would fall through into the water, but there’s enough fuel in the pile, and it has been compressed tight enough, the fire build up enough heat to feed. And feed it does. The third or fourth trip it I see some of the larger pieces of wood burning brightly. I can feel the heat. This is working. More fuel, please.
After an hour or so, I take a break and move around for some photos. The fire is building up and it’s time to stop. I can feel fatigue setting in. The trip back and forth through the water is wearing me out. But it feels good to get rid of two different piles of stuff, and dent the old pile, too.
Finally, it was time to stop. But I welcomed the Equinox in a manner befitting the change of season, reduced the piles considerable, and had a lot of fun playing with water and fire. This is the type of thing I would have loved as a kid, and love it still, I do. How many of you have stood in thigh deep water and felt the heat of a fire you built on an Island of Branches?
How many of you remember wanting to do things like this before you became an adult?
Note: Four hours later, this thing is still smoking.
Take Care,
Mike
The Hickory Head Hermit 