Butterflies Are Free

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I’ve had butterflies on the mind lately. Mostly because they are absolutely everywhere here. I actually had a swarm of them while walking through the park last week and again the other day walking to the store.

it’s quite incredible, to be honest. We have a lot of trees and flowers coming on this time of year, plus I noticed the mango tree on the corner just heavy with fruit. Fruit, I might add, ends up squashed on the road.

Then, the other day, looking for a wine stopper (not for saving wine, just to re-cork it and keep ut cold) I came across this metal butterfly. It’s a bottle decoration that someone gave me years ago. I don’t think I ever really used it,

It’s one of those large, metal butterflies¬†with a metal ring at the bottom that you put over the neck of a bottle. Like everything else, it’s turned rusty in my drawer. I took it out and left it on the counter.

Today, I grabbed it and tossed it into my grocery bag. I was walking through the park on my way to the bank. I thought, I’ll leave it in the park. I don’t dislike but I don’t use it and don’t see the reason for cleaning it up. Of course, I immediately forgot about it.

I didn’t have my camera, which is my phone, as I never take it with me. You will just have to trust me, the park was particularly spectacular today. In the front part were a lot of young boys and men practicing baseball and exercising.

It wasn’t until the young lad at the grocery store was packing my groceries that the butterfly fell out. I kept it out and then put it on top of the big bag of cat food. As I walked back home, retracing my steps, I pulled it out of the bag looking for the perfect place to put it.

There are plenty of benches but I wanted to give it a better send off than that. I don’t remember who gave it to me, but I’m pretty sure it was Mona, who hasn’t actually spoken to me in a few years now.

I was considering a low branch on one of the many trees when I came upon a partial fence or barrier. It’s really just a lot of spikes, all rusted the same colour as my butterfly. I stuck it right on top of one and it was absolutely perfect. I loved how it looked on there, ¬†like it was part of the stake all along. I wished briefly I had been able to take a picture and made a mental note to look for it on my next trip through.

Triple Play, Not Played

Several days ago I had a marvellous idea for my newest blah blah blah. Oh, it was clever, I was pleased! Then I drew a blank on most of it, remembered some, not all. Woke up this morning and Bango-Presto! There it was! Woot! Woot! … and gone.

My second choice was scratched on one of my notepads. Scratched and undecipherable. It looked like it was written by someone who had been drinking. Drunk, even.

Third choice, and only third because it’s bigger than just a blah blah blah here, is my new cat! I got a new cat! When I moved here from Toronto, I brought my beloved Jango with me. About six weeks ago we got a new roommate. We met like many do, on line. Through Facebook. Like that!

A few months back my friend was having a little rant on her wall and almost as an afterthought she added that to top off the already crappy day, someone had just brought her cat who had been attacked by a drunk with a machete. My friends have several foster dogs and several more of their own. People in their barrio take their wounded or sick animals to them because they think they will help. The people of the barrio are not wrong.

I tried really hard to put it all out of my mind and did so until they posted a picture of him coming home from the vet. There he was. As soon as I saw that tiny, scared, curious, wonderful pointy little bastard face it just poked a hole right through my heart. I fought it but I knew resistance was futile. I was a goner.

He had to have his back left leg removed. After a few days at the vet my friends took him home, but he ended up with an infection and had to return to the vets for an extended stay. I saw a picture of him in this tiny concrete cage and started to mentally prepare myself for the new family member. Can you ever? Not really.

He came in like a hurricane, tasmanian devil, whirling and running and wrecking stuff. He had some pretty hardcore but understandably severe food issues. I started giving my Jango wet food in the morning. It was our little bit of dinner theatre. More theatre than dinner, mind. Jango liked the show more than the food. I get the bowl down, do a bit of a dance, few good strokes down the back, some cooing and oohing and then we’re all set. He eats about half, maybe, then has a 45 minute bath and off to snooze.

The new one, once he understood what was happening, would lose it. Crying, attacking my feet and legs, (kitten-style) and then wolf the whole thing back without breathing. I was worried about the whole pecking order thing, but not to worry. This worked itself out, thanks to my dear heart Jango. He saw the desperation in him and just sat back, knock yourself out, dude.

It’s much better now. He only dances with a few plaintive mews and after a few gulps, can walk away. Jango sits out until it’s his turn, so he gets his own bowl and a new flavour, cuz that’s how we roll here, yeah we do. Jango made me so proud, while he waits, I love the bejabbers out of him.

When he was in foster care he was called Tripod, but we call him Chance. He lost his leg taking a chance trying to find food. We took a chance on bring him home. That’s a chance that was win-win!

 

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His first day with us!