Nothing much occurred during my early morning walkabout with the furkids. Just the usual antics of Crows and Blue Jays. Last night however, we heard the lonely cry of a single Katy-did. Strange - the time for the night of the Katy-did is past. Most of these little grasshopper type insects are gone with the first frost. Is there a story here? Last nights cry was a sad, two note call: KATY - KATY. Was this call the cry of the last of his kind? Was this tiny creature lamenting the passing of his generation? All alone, the Katy-did reached out for the comfort of companionship. A desperate cry of loneliness. Is there any one out there to hear me? Please answer. Alas! He received no response. How sad! He was the last of his kind. All alone, he faced his finality. I thought of an ancient Egyptian curse carved on the entrance of a Pharaohs tomb. WHO EVER ENTERS THESE PORTALS AND DEFILES THE KINGS RESTING PLACE, MAY HE BE THE LAST OF HIS KIND TO DIE. No! Im not in a blue funk. I simply felt the loneliness of the moment. Little George II did not capture the moment as I did. I stood stock still, listening to the sad, single, call while lost in contemplation. George II was tugging on his leash, looking up at me, his eyes asking: What in the world is wrong with you? Why are you standing here like a statue? There are interesting scents on the breeze. Lets go up the road and investigate them. And so we went - following Georges nose. I did not think anymore of that Katy-did -- until now.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 00:47:44 +0000
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