WW: Catnip

(If you've been there, you know.)

WW: Winter afternoon

WW: Café cats

(These are two employees of Neko, Bellingham's cat café. In this establishment, one may enjoy a variety of snacks while petting a truly bewildering array of resident cats. I captured this photo on their day off, which they take in the café's basement, where they enjoy access to sidewalk-level window lounges such as this one.

Some of these cats are professionals, but a significant number are there for the purpose of test-driving, after which the driver takes them home. A large display of photos on the wall documents dozens of former staff who thus found alternative employment as house cats. One wonders if it seems anticlimactic to be petted by just a few unchanging people every day, far from the glamour and adulation of show business.

One also wonders if their human coworkers get tired of cat house jokes.)


Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Christmas card sitting

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Hermits and Hotdogs

In the fifty-odd years I've worked with pets and farm animals, I've learned that anxious and abused ones often fear men – but women, not so much.

Some of this gender-specific apprehension may be down to the fact that we're bigger, louder, and maybe don't smell as nice. But a lot of men also appear to believe the world is an action movie, of which they're the beefcake.

They hurt everything that doesn't meet their approval, usually while shouting. And those guys create dread and disconsolation in many creatures.

Catch enough of that, and any sentient being learns mistrust.

You can accomplish a great deal with their victims by just sitting nearby, not reaching out, speaking quietly or not at all. It takes steady patience, but often eventually works. Perhaps the target simply concludes, based on available data, that we're not really "men". (Or maybe that we're just not failed men, which would be accurate. Brothers barging around hotdogging for the camera snatch the lion's share of attention, which is why we non-gnawers of scenery tend to fade into it.)

I was put in mind of this recently during a night sit in the back yard. First, a coyote stepped into view 30 feet away. He seemed unconcerned, not just with the intense human habitation all around him, but even the intense human right in front of him. I hissed, and he ducked away.

Then not one, but two squirrels almost climbed into my lap, in the course of whatever before-bed routines they were pursuing.

As a Zenner who sits outdoors whenever possible – it's a form in my hermit practice – I've had countless similar experiences with wildlife. I've also used this technique intentionally, with lost or traumatised cats and dogs; nervous horses; and at least one refractory laughing dove.

The grace of these encounters never ceases to thrill. For a brief instant I'm freakin' St. Francis.

Very brief, to be sure. But a flash of kensho all the same.

And a reminder that true warriors are silent and watchful.


(Photo of a true warrior courtesy of Wikipedian Petr Novák and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Camouflaged nap

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Max

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Sitting with demons

(This was a hard photo to bag: a one-handed phone capture from a fixed position in near-total darkness. Rather a hail-Kanzeon shot, what.

What I've documented here is a demonic micro-tiger who stationed herself on my leg during the night sit, for the purpose of distracting me from my enlightenment practice.

In which ambition she succeeded.

So I got a ways to go before I become the Buddha.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Can you explain this?

(Furnace register in cabinet toe kick.)

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WW: Dinner time

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WW: Disciplinary petting

(I've been taking care of this kitty, and photographing her, for ten years. [First Rusty Ring appearance here.] She's always been headstrong, unwilling to follow rules, primary of which is to stay off the kitchen counter.

So from the beginning, each time she's turned up on the forbidden surface, I've imposed "disciplinary petting", that is, picking her up and cradling her upside down in my arms like a baby while petting and scolding her. Since there's nothing less acceptable to her than confinement, especially with her paws in the air and eyes turned toward the ceiling, being loved and caressed in this fashion amounts to a portable timeout that she instantly resents in the most strenuous terms.

Or she did. Now a decade later she's well into her golden years – so to speak – and as is often the case, has become notably more demonstrative in the affection and physical contact departments. To be precise, she's constantly after me to pick her up and hold her. All day, if she can get it.

If that were all, I could put it down to typical feline old age. Unfortunately, it often develops that simply being held does not in itself suffice. After several minutes in my arms she begins to twist her neck and lay her face flat against my sleeve, as if trying to roll over. This she couldn't actually do without falling, so I've learned to take the hint and turn her over myself.

Like a baby.

So it seems my brilliant disciplinary programme has backfired. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if all these years the whole counter schtick wasn't just a scheme to get punished again.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

WW: Siamese friend

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WW: Kitty oryoki

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WW: Bedtime

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The Perils of Meditation, Case 12

(I have so been there.)

WW: Freshly-made bed

WW: Everybody loves the zafu

(First the cat, now the dog.)

WW: The Incredible Journey

("You guys get out of my hair! Go outside!"
And our story begins.)

WW: Kitty fudo

(This is a funerary fudo I made for a cat friend of mine. [The cord is white, red, and black, the three bardos of death.] She was buried here in the woods a few months ago.)

WW: We have spring. Repeat...