Gary Digs
— Tales of the holes I dig, the dirt piles I make, and the holes I fill at the B-Bar-Lazy-B

Mostly in order of their arrival…
 

Hemingway the Cat — Hemingway became my cat in 1993 while I was still stationed in Pearl Harbor working for Uncle Sam’s Yacht Club. Named and assigned to my possession by my sister as an excuse to keep his “Cute Fuzzy Butt” around the house since she could not bear to part with him. He moved up to Seattle in 1996 after I moved into a palatial (~500sqft) 1 bedroom apartment from the micro-studio I first shared when I got here in 1995. That grumpy look on his face is his usual mode. He just hates to see any little bit of the bottom of his food dish, and lets us know right away if he sees it. His primary pastime is forcing Maya to sleep uncomfortably by trying to share her pillow. Hemmy started a downward spiral in 2008 when he went blind and almost died after he disappeared for about a week and was found severely dehydrated in someone’s front yard. Despite our best efforts to make him comfortable, after about a year of steady decline and increasing difficulty in getting around, we sent the old man home on September 19th 2009. He has been missed ever since his incident, and I doubt we’ll ever meet another cat so very focused on his people.
 

Nin the Cat — Nin chose us. She lived on a farm in Mossy Rock, WA for the first 5 months of her life. On a visit in 2003 we found ourselves unable to leave without her. She has been bossing us around ever since. Nin enjoys batting at Huxley’s back end as he walks by, batting at us as we walk by, making us feel special by jumping in our laps when we have work to do, and hiding from children (whether they are looking for her or not).
 

Huxley the Dog — I was tentative about getting a dog. Huxley has made the transition fairly easy (thanks to Maya’s hard work with him), and now I just can’t imagine the couch without him. Maya found him posted on Craigslist in late 2005 by the family fostering him for the American Bull Mastiff Association’s rescue efforts. He was found stray and the best guess is he was about 20 months old when we got him. Aside from making me nearly pee myself when he suddenly lets out a loud baritone woof at some unseen threat, he patrols the yard and maintains clear airspace by vigorously enforcing his own “No Fly Zone” against the crows.
 

Bukowski the Cat — Bukowski showed up in our driveway one night about a year and a half ago. Injured, filthy, stinky (not fixed) and scrawny…of course we took him in. He lived in Maya’s office at first (that’s where new animals get introduced to the house, the smell was unbearable). Stitches for his wounds, neutering, some professional bathing, and nights on the bed in the warm house have turned him into a little sweetheart (though I suspect he gets his brawling done during his night meanderings). Aside from the J hook of his broken tail, you’d almost never guess he was about half feral when he arrived (except when he decides to show his love by attaching your hand).
 

Dahl, Cleary and Blume the Chickens — (named left to right in the picture above) Apparently (I have learned) it is difficult to let a year or so slip by without mixing it up a bit. This year came the ladies. I am absolutely shocked at how much joy they have brought and how fricken’ cute they are. Much less shocked that egg collecting has become a bit of an obsession for me. Store bought eggs should really be called something else. Dahl lays the green ones, Cleary’s are brown, and the tiny pinkish ones are provided by Blume, of course (and yes, they spent their first night in Maya’s office as well since the “free” coop that came with them cost use many hours labor in disassembly and reassembly).
 

Maya and Gary the People — (named left to right in the picture above, just like the chickens) Poke around Gary Digs and Eighth Acre Bounty long enough and you’ll get your fill of us. Suffice it to say we started hanging out together in 1999, and it is still a pleasure to be eachother’s best friends and steady company. Who’da thunk it…
 

Camus — (in Memoriam) He was not long for this world. He chose me in 1997 when I was visiting my Mom’s and the tiny little snowball of a kitten curled up on my arm and sacked out. He enjoyed bringing unusual gifts to the cat door, like a distributer cap cable, hypodermic needle, and countless bamboo leaves. The more relaxed he was the further his eyes would cross, but most the time he was a quivering bundle of nerves (if you held his tail still for a few seconds, right after you released it the pent up energy would cause it to flit back and forth rapidly so as not to fall short of some predetermined number of twitches per minute required to keep him going). He was attacked and killed by a pair of loose dogs at about 3am in early 2005. I came out of my sleep thinking there must be dogs playing with a squeeky toy out front…unfortunately that was not the case. Camus and his antics are deeply missed…