MEATBALL and ME

“Meatball! Don’t you dare sit on my cookies!”

Meatball stood on the couch, his tail switching perilously close to my plate of ginger snaps. I held out a cookie to him–he sniffed it politely then promptly sat on my snaps.

“You bad thing! Get down!”

Normally I don’t have a stash of cookies on the couch, but lately puzzling things happening here in my home and yard have provoked in me a mad craving for sweets. Today it was ginger snaps, yesterday Ghirardelli chocolate bars, the day before the Pioneer Woman’s caramel-fudge-brownie coffee pods. Who knows what tomorrow will bring–Dolly Parton’s Southern Style Coconut Cake? She has a tempting line of cake and brownie mixes for sale online–bless you, Dolly!

“Must you groom yourself on my couch?” I ask, as Meatball obsessively cleans his paws.

“Meow?” (Meaning “huh?”) He often pads into the house with grimy feet, then licks them furiously until they’re as white as the squiggle on top a Hostess cupcake.

My plump cat Meatball is my main companion these days. “Meow,” “Merrow,” “Merr” and “Merrrrp” make up Meaty’s vocabulary. It’s up to me to interpret their various meanings, such as:

Meow Huh?  I’m hungry I’m bored Pet me

Merrow I’m thirsty. Turn on the tap.

  MERROW! Gimme Temptations cat treats or else!                        

Merr Are you ignoring me? I have claws you know.       

Merrrrp Thanks

When Meatball wants to go outdoors, he launches himself onto the coir mat at the patio door and scratches the heck out of it.

Scratch Scratch MERROWWWW! There’s a bird in my yard!

If the obnoxious scratching doesn’t grab my attention, Meatball attacks the couch, resulting in shredded upholstery. I explain to my sister, Lenore, “My couch? Those dangling threads? That’s BOHO style.”

On the whole, however, Meatball is a sweet cat, plump and handsome, having soft, thick white fur with black patches. His eyes are olive-gold and his right eye is rimmed in black, like eyeliner, making that eye appear larger than the other. Now I wear eyeliner too.

Twice a day I fix Meatball’s meal, Purina chow for sensitive stomachs. I’m desperate to avoid more nighttime surprises, like when at 2:30 a.m. I rose to use the bathroom and Eww! stepped into a squishy hairball, that oozed between my toes. Once I woke to see a gray lump of something on my white bedspread, courtesy of Meatball. A great way to start my day, and I couldn’t hide under the covers, could I?

But I really did want to hide in my comfy bed after the weirdness last week–a bizarre lemon incident, the rogue AI device, a violent floor lamp and a flora extraordinaire–enough to make one cray cray.

On Monday, for example, Meatball and I inspected the back yard to see how tall the mustard weeds had grown since record rainfall–they were approaching elephant eye level. I could make mustard from their yellow blossoms, farm to table, I thought in a state of delirium. My son-in-law Tom had done so and his mustard was delicious. Instead I yanked dandelion greens –they’re edible aren’t they?

Meatball and I then ambled down the driveway to the Myer lemon tree that grows in a grassy border. I gasped when I saw the tree–a naked lemon dangled from a branch like a bizarre Christmas ornament! Its yellow peel was missing, gone, stripped bare, but the lemon itself was still intact, with white pith clinging to it.

I could feel my lips twitch as I wondered what had happened to the poor lemon. Who would take the time to carefully peel a lemon, leaving it intact on the tree? A nut job? Was this some kind of joke to frighten me?

Excuse me, I must pause because Meatball is smacking his lips, which means he’s thirsty.

He’s racing to the bathroom door where he waits for me. He hops onto the counter.

“MERROW!” C’mon, c’mon, turn on the faucet! “Merrrrp,” (thank you.) He ducks his big black and white head under the faucet and laps the trickle falling onto his head and into the bowl. Then he saunters into the livingroom, his head soaking wet.

“Bobbing for apples?” I ask. 

  “Meow!” he retorts. Not funny, Mom.

Here’s a list of weird things besides Meaty’s bathroom behavior and the naked lemon incident: For two weeks each night at 6:20, Alexa rudely turns herself on and plays obscure music. I tell her to shut up. If she played rock n roll or country I might welcome her intrusion. Now I fear I’m getting used to these strange events because I REALLY like to yell at Alexa. I’m not scared but a bit concerned. What’s coming next?

Next–La Lampara Tormentosa (The Lamp Storm). The floor lamp in my livingroom stays on all day and all night too if I fall asleep on the couch. I woke scared stiff one night when the lamp created a hellish light storm–dimming, flashing, strobing with intense bright bursts. I closed my eyes and could still see the lightning through my eyelids. The storm lasted about two minutes. It was scarey but I was so tired that I drowsily wondered, but didn’t care if the lamp blew up. How to explain the lamp’s violent behavior?

Lastly, Meatball and I were in the garden, dead-heading expired flowers. An unusual looking rose caught my eye. I walked over to the bush to take a closer look. This rosebush normally produces roses with peach and pale yellow petals, but what I found was an amazing rose that was half peach-colored and half pale yellow. It was as if an invisible line had been drawn across the face of the rose, each half a completely different color. I have NEVER seen a rose do this, and I have seen many roses in my lifetime. I left the beautiful rose intact–I might have picked it and tried to propagate it, but I decided to leave it alone. I marveled at Mother Nature’s deft hand because I think the rose was a miracle and I might be the only person on earth who has ever seen such a rose. 

* * *

I like fictional detectives like Adrian Monk, Lt. Columbo, and Sherlock so I decided to conduct my own investigation into the odd happenings at my place. The modern go-to is, of course, the internet. I googled “Naked Lemons” and found some great articles, like “Five Ways to Use Naked Lemons,” and “Naked Lemons. Help!” So I’m not the only one dealing with naked lemons!

However, the above articles were actually recipes. I searched further and discovered that rats, tree rats to be specific, will eat the peel off a lemon leaving the fruit intact and hanging on the tree! OH MY GOSH! I live in Southern California and learned that the entire valley where I live is rat paradise, because rats live in palm trees and suburban landscaping. (Note: Palm trees will pop up here in your yard whether you like them or not.)

I next googled to see why Alexa harasses me each night at 6:20 with lame music. It turns out she’s notorious for suddenly turning on by herself and she EAVESDROPS on your conversations. I tried opening her App but I don’t have a password and haven’t had any luck getting a new one. Darn you, Alexa!

The lamp storm–well of course I tried replacing the light bulb and that ended the light storms. I rather enjoyed them but safety first.

Finally, the unique rose, one half peach color, the other half yellow. Possibility: Some roses are sunlight sensitive, such as the Color Magic rose, which changes colors according to how much sunlight it receives. So perhaps one half of my rose grew in the sun and the other half in the shade, resulting in two separate colors. I think that’s unlikely. I think it was a genetic happenstance that I was privileged to see, and that I still might be the ONLY person on earth to have seen such a rose. Until next time, The End.