The Beverley Hillbillies have added a couple of extra residents to Station House. I picked up Chop and Suey on Tuesday from their most regretful first Mumma Tonya. Since Madame Cat departed this earth back in January, I have been keeping my eyes peeled for a young feline contender. Initially Not Keen, Michael gave me a sniff of possibility when he mentioned there was a mouse in his workshop. Obviously, we needed a new kitty pest controller, straightaway. Michael reluctantly acquiesced to the concept of a kitten, so I promptly found two...
Brothers ChopChop and Fury had been rescued from the gutter as skinny and worm-infested babies needing plenty of fattening up and care. One black, the other black and white, our vet Graeme sourced them for us, at no charge. Knowing that one was Chop, I immediately decided to rename the other Suey. I was heartened that they seemed perfectly comfortable around their foster dog, so I was immediately convinced that they would bond with Stella and Pip without any trouble whatsoever...
I had relied upon a memory from sixteen years ago when I had last introduced Weimararner Sascha to kitten Ruby. I recalled some hissing and carrying-on, but foolishly assumed that that was only a brief passing phase and all was hunky-dory within the blink of an eye.
From within the cat carrier, Chop and Suey took one look at Stella and denounced her as the Hound of the Baskervilles... Stella did not help the situation by baring her teeth and lunging at them, barking wildly with all the ferocity of the ...Hound of the Baskervilles. Bloody hell!
So, the Boys have been set up in our bedroom with the dogs banned from the Inner Sanctum until we all head for Cloud Cuckoo Land. By then, the cats have gone nigh-nigh under our bed, although they are prone to playtime in the wee small hours, much to Stella's consternation. Pip is far more accepting of them, so he snoozes agreeably through any disturbances.
Living in hope, I look forward to Stella being so full of liver treats for her less than awful reactions towards the kittens than she will mellow into becoming friends and even play with the little blighters, which was my brilliant idea in the first place.
That's the problem with memories. Their unreliability. I was convinced that Sascha and Ruby had become instant bosom buddies, but in reality, the process took much longer. Which is why we endure repeated Christmas "celebrations" with extended family or Great-Auntie Nora's fiftieth wedding anniversary or decide to have another baby when pregnancy is a "no glow zone". These are usually truly unspeakable occasions but in the haze of sentimentality or just wishful thinking, we subject ourselves to revisiting these events.
Then, there are memories that seem boring or vague or uncomfortable on the surface and turn out to be terribly funny in retrospect. The idea of attending a Catholic Burmese wedding in Subiaco followed by the reception at the Italian Club was one I decided to endure to keep my buddy Tracey company. Yes, the service was interminable and the reception horribly late but there were totally unexpected and hilarious moments that made the whole wedding worth the effort. The service was held in the Catholic church in Subi on a Derby Day, so parking was non-existent. The bride and groom had to abandon photographs in Kings Park due to the traffic snarl at the conclusion of the footy game and the Best Man was unable to complete his speech due to lots of alcohol and no food, caused by the delayed dinner. In a splendid Monty Python moment, he had to be carried off the stage.
Devices like this blog are very useful in keeping memories alive - the good, the bad and the ugly. I consider myself to be very lucky - my recollections are unlikely, hopefully, to cause us too much grief as I always try to record my stories with truth and clarity.
Those whose memories are questionable or open to interpretation or just false will eventually get caught by Karma. I actually pity many of those who choose to become politicians. Most appear not to be driven by altruism; rather they are intoxicated by their own ego and power and have no empathy and understanding of those they are meant to honour and serve. Those who fly against this unwritten will of the parties are the Good Guys. State Liberal Katie Hodson-Thomas was one. State Labor MLC Darren West is currently another.
I agree with the concept that everybody is innocent until proven guilty. I also believe that there is no smoke without fire. In the case of the current Federal Attorney-General, the rape allegations against him are horrible. However, having met the man and heard accounts of questionable behaviour from his time in a private high school, I have some reservations about his memories. Likewise, how could the Defence Minister be misrepresented when she called her former staffer "a lying cow" in an open office? That she was admitted to hospital just prior to her appearance before a senate committee is open to supposition. May truth prevail in both these cases.
2020 was the year of COVID. 2021 could possibly be the year "of what goes around comes around". A survivor of sexual grooming named Grace Tame is the Australian of the Year. Questionable practices in business are crashing down, like the current trajectory of the Crown Empire. Politicians are being held under increasing scrutiny. Unacceptable and entrenched workplace behaviour is being exposed. Sexual assault is finally being recognised as a significant issue in parliaments across the country.
Meanwhile, we are discovering that by sticking to our principles, we are being vindicated, albeit in minor ways. We have remained supportive of a friend who was unfairly verbally attacked by another, who appears unable to apologise for that altercation. We are heartened by the support for us and the East End Gallery by the majority of our town. A disgruntled former acquaintance no longer distresses us in any way, shape or form. In fact, that person just seems to be rather unhappy and dissatisfied.
In spite of less than gargantuan results, I have always believed in Karma. Not like the meek will inherit the earth. Meekness has never been strong on my agenda. I hope that truth and integrity and compassion are the building blocks of all that is important. Perhaps some of our pollies could take a leaf out of my book.
And beware the Ides of March! (It was only Christmas the other day...)
No comments:
Post a Comment