Journal of a Sabbatical

January 11, 2000

big buddy

Today's Reading: Winter from the Journals of Henry David Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake, Wild Fruits by Henry David Thoreau, Beach Grass by Charles Wendell Townsend

Well, Buddy does still weigh the same 20 pounds today, but somehow I feel more capable of carrying him around Brigham Manor. I did think maybe I should make a chiropractor appointment in advance, but that was just a fleeting thought. Where yesterday I was running late, today I'm running early. Must be because the sun is out.

Buddy and I headed for Mrs. L's room first. She was watching a cooking show on TV, in which the cooks were way overdressed for the kitchen (long sleeved silk blouses with pouffy sleeves) and making some kind of sauce that looked like used motor oil. Buddy took to Mrs. L and her roommate right away. He sniffed every nook and cranny of the room, rubbed up against all the furniture, rubbed up against the people, and had a grand old time. Then he decided it was time to curl up under the bed for a long winter's nap, just as I decided it was time to visit other residents. Oops.

It's not like I can just reach under there and grab him by the scruff to pull him out. Not with a cat that size. You can't lift a cat that size by the scruff. Mrs. L's roommate pushed his fat ass with her hand mirror (the only thing she could find) and I slid under the bed on my belly to coax him out. We finally got him out and back in his carrier. It was off to more rooms on the first floor, as I still didn't think I could get him up the stairs without injuring or re-injuring some part of my anatomy.

An hour of doing squats with a 20 pound squirming weight later, I was tired and covered with cat hair. But Buddy and I seem to have finally convinced the staff it is time to adopt a cat, preferably Buddy. He was Mr. Personality almost the whole time. He is fascinated by wheelchairs and walkers as well as the people who use them. Buddy and the residents just really hit it off. The activities director, with whom I usually coordinate the visits, brought someone from the administrative staff up to meet Buddy and they asked about adopting him. Yes!

I felt a whole lot better than I had yesterday even when it started to rain again (just a little). I remembered to bring a clean shirt, so changed out of the Buddy-hair-shirt and decided to go for coffee.

Well, across the street from Fowle's, Olde Port Book Shop beckoned to me. Just a short browse... I have time... I don't have to buy anything...

As soon as I walked in, I noticed a book entitled Beach Grass in the fishing section. I have no idea why it was in the fishing section, but I picked it up. Hmm, the author is Charles Wendell Townsend. I didn't know he'd written anything other than the famous Birds of Essex County. Browsing reveals that it's all about dunes and salt marshes and birds in Ipswich. And it's got great pictures of gull tracks, toad tracks, crow tracks, deer tracks, you name it tracks, in the sand. My kind of book. It's in great shape. Gotta have it.

As I glanced at the local interest and Americana books in case anything new had showed up, I noticed a nice reading copy of Lord Timothy Dexter of Newburyport, John Marquand's first book about Timothy Dexter. It will be fun to compare it to Timothy Dexter Revisited, one of my favorite books, and it will look so good on the shelf next to that just as soon as I assemble that bookcase I bought for my Merrimack Valley collection.

I figured I'd better not go downstairs to the bird section and the fiction section in case Domino had more John Marquand to show me.

A nice Mexican dark roast and the first 30 pages of Beach Grass make a wonderful coffee break.

Tonight when I was telling Nancy about my adventures she wanted to know where Brigham Manor is in relation to downtown Newburyport. I was giving her distances and compass directions, but she asked like what store or landmark is it near. Umm, it's just a couple of doors down from Timothy Dexter's mansion...