Me an’ My Brother Got No Fixed Plans

ray and richieHi – I’m Raymond. (I’m the one lyin’ down in the picture here.) People here call me Ray-Ray, an’ I’m down with that. I’m down with anything so long as we get to stay in a warm, friendly place!

Richie and me – that’s my twin brother – we were just mindin’ our own business with our sister one day, an’ all of a sudden our humans put everythin’ in boxes, pushed us out the door, an’ drove off. We waited under the trailer awhile, but they never came back, so we huddled together tryin’ ta stay warm. But we got hungry. And then, I dunno, maybe two, three days later, we tried hunting. Didn’t go so well. Sis went out inta the road an’ there was a car coming, an’ we yelled, but…. well, may she rest in peace.

So Richie an’ me, we were cold and scared ’cause we’d been inside cats, an’ then these people from up the end of the road came an’ the guy spoke real nice an’ soft, an’ he came back awhile later an’ brought us FOOD! From a bag, like we were useta gettin’. Well, we just about tore his hands off in gratitude, rubbing against him an’ all.Raymond and Richie

So he kept coming an’ we weren’t so scared of starvin’ any more, but it got REALLY REALLY cold. An’ then he came with a lady one day an’ he asked us to get inta this box with wire sides. Richie wasn’t all that excited about it, but I just said, “Hey, remember what happened to Sissy?” an’ he followed me. We trusted this guy.

The guy’s wife took us to this place called an Animal Hospital, an’ she left us. At first I thought maybe I’d made a big mistake, ’cause they gave us shots an’ then we got sleepy an’, well, I’ve heard stories about places like that. But when we woke up we could have all the food we wanted an’ there were all these pretty girls workin’ there an’ they were cuddlin’ us an’ callin’ us brave an’ everything. That was nice.

That’s how we got our names. One of ’em named us Raymond and Richie Martin, after some guy who wrote a book humans go nuts over called Game of Thrones?

Richie an’ me, we prefer games with jingle balls. Not long after we had Third Lunch, another lady came with another one of those wire boxes an’ she took us ta this nice place FULL of books – an’ other cats. The other cats told us we’d be safe there, an’ we’d get adopted. An’ the guy cat asked if we were a little sore down there, like -yeah, now you mention it, we were….

Again, Richie got worried ’cause we’ve always been together, an’ I can’t imagine settin’ up house without him, but the lady who runs this place brought us Second Breakfast this mornin’, an’ she promised not ta split us up. She said we should rest an’ eat an’ let people see us, an’ she’d work on gettin’ us a place together.

I sure hope she can. Richie, he’s a nice guy, but without me, he’d fall apart. That’s Richie on the chair. His fur is a lot darker than mine, plus he’s smaller. I look out for him.Raymond

So that’s our story, an’ we’re just waitin’ to see what life brings. I’d like to thank that family who brought us to the hospital, an’ all the people who helped us there, an’ the bookstore people here. Me an’ Richie, we intend to pull our weight, y’know? We’re good mousers, an’ we can help keep the dogs in line- not scared of ’em, knew some nice ones back there at the trailer park. Plus we’re good cuddlers. If I do say so myself, I’ve got really soft fur, an’ Richie is a big purr kinda guy. Fur therapy? We can deliver.

So maybe you need some mouse protection, or just a coupla bachelor brother cats to liven things up around your place. We’re not interested in girls – not since that hospital visit anyway – so we’d be real happy to just hang at your place an’ watch pro wrestling. Or Masterpiece Theatre. We ain’t fussy.

Come visit, an’ let’s have a beer an’ talk things over.

Think Pretty Maids how you Court Young Men

Jack and I swung past Colonial Williamsburg on our way home from DC, as neither of us had visited before. And guess what… they were having a Southern Textiles display!

Poor Jack – it was his birthday and all, but he passed a pleasant hour in the mental hospital exhibit while I went, stitch by stitch, through the museum with the curator, who was delighted to have someone who liked needlework with which to discuss its intricacies.

But there was one piece Jack and I could both enjoy before he left – this quilt from the early 1800s, done by a lady with eleven children. Three of her quilts, all gifts to her kids when they got married, hung in the exhibit. After viewing this one, all I can say is, she must not have liked her daughter’s chosen husband.

pretty maids courtingThat girl definitely looks dubious, and if Jack had courted me hunched over and grabby like that, things would have turned out different.

Come all you fair and tender ladies

Take warning how you court young men…….

It’s a ballad Jack and I sing often when teaching Transatlantic balladry, as versions are found in the British Isles and the Appalachian Mountains. And it definitely applies to this poor child. The exhibit never told how those marriages ended, but I was reminded of the short story A Jury of her Peers. This is the piece in the literature textbook that every school child in America remembers as “that quilt story about the murder.”

Two women come to the house of a third who may or may not have murdered her husband, and as their husbands tramp about looking for clues, they discover via her quilting that she did it, because her husband killed her beloved pet. And they hide the fact from their husbands, who have been condescending to them about their wanting to take the piece work to the jailed woman, so she’d have something to do. It’s like that other great short story Lamb to the Slaughter, where the cops eat the evidence (woman kills her adulterous husband with a frozen leg of lamb, then cooks it up for the investigators) because they can’t expect a woman to 1) kill and 2) be smart enough to cover it up.

I love textiles. And one of the best parts of the visit was talking to the guide about the division between samplers that had religious poems–of which there were many–versus nature scenes in them. I speculated that the girls who did animals may have been of a slightly rebellious nature, tomboys, and she shot me a shrewd look.

sampler“I actually speculate that it was the other way ’round and the roughest girls were set pieces with the strictest verses,” she said. “Look at this one.” She pointed out a sampler about devotion and piety, very badly stitched. “This kid was pretty much sabotaging her own work, more power to her.”

Attagirl, girls. I love the power of women in subtle things – since the 1600s, when life hands us needles, we jab them into that which annoy us. :]