Popper Update: Or, how best to wear a fur coat in the Dallas summer.

It's been a bazillion degrees lately in Dallas. Oh, I know, don't bother telling me it's hotter and/or more humid where you live. I'm not there, I'm here, we can commiserate together and we can both hate the heat and, as President Bush so eloquently stated, the Global Warmings. 

After growing up on the coast in north San Diego County, and having surfing as a PE option at my high school I'm still not happy about the lack of topography, the scarcity of oceans and having to endure the summers here even after 30 years. Yes, I came here for love and made out royally in that bargain, but I don't have to be happy about having to hibernate for nearly half the year sequestered with my beloved yet expensive air conditioning. 

No, I don't think it will be 130° on Sunday. It's either a cruel joke by someone formatting the local weather updates who probably also lives in Seattle or just a simple typo. But it sure as hell will feel like it I can guarantee.

It's the nature of things thermodynamic that the hottest part of the day is not when the sun is at its zenith high in the midday haze, but at about 5:00 pm or so after everything has spent the day collecting and storing heat. The thermal bank is slow to release its day's deposit. But in the softer slanting light, and in the shade that a 60 year-old 60-foot-tall live oak provides, it's ok to venture outside to sit and sweat—both you and the frosted beer—in some shady spot and watch the sprinkler move back and forth.

It's a bazillion degrees, perhaps as seen through the sleepy eyes of a prostrate kitty:

sitting on the deck with Popper

watching the sprinkler

the soil is cracked, 

I'll run the water till it closes up

and water drips from the branches above

the birds, little song ones and big noisy jays

squawk and chirp like kids at a summer pool

happy for the cool water

Cool Clear Water

Keep on movin' Dan

We're still in no-man's land

Dry bones and sand

People never planned here for water

Cool clear water

In my mind I see

A big green tree

And a river flowin' free

Waitin' up ahead for you and me

Cool clear water*

We're lucky enough I suppose to have plenty of cheap water, so much of Texas is in extreme drought. They're going to have to redraw and move the 20" rainfall line, it's going east now.

No wonder she raises her right paw at the front glass door when dogs pass by, she has a built-in flipping-the-bird tattoo

A feline philosophical consideration

Just what the hell is water?

It just seems like magic when it's not in a bowl!

Do you know what it is? Dad? Huh?

I don't like water, but I'm drawn to the mystery

It's almost like it burns!

Oh, you're making me crazy!

Summer outdoor morning nap

There's always water for her, but when she's been out for a while I like to get her inside to cool off for a bit, though she invariably runs away to perform a now familiar routine.

I don't know what it is that drives a kitty to love a dirt bath. I look at her and see the contrast of the calico colors and the pristine soft white fur and think Girl, you don't look nearly as pretty when you're covered in dirt.

But I guess sometimes a girl just has to get down and get dirty. I'm not privy to understand.

When I go outside to the safe and secure back yard to collect her and bring her inside for her indoor nap, she invariably runs away to the dead zone we have and plops down on her side.

Favorite spot, the dead zone

Notice the arc on the sidewalk. When I went out to collect her, she was cat-loafing on the sidewalk and being sworn at by a blue jay about 10 feet above her. She didn't like it, and the tell tale (tail) sign was her tail sweeping the sidewalk. She saw me coming and knew it was time to come in, so figured she had time for another dirt bath.

She loves to get dirty. I whisper to her as we walk back inside "You're such a dirty girl."

A dirty face, or kitty makeup

The coffee table is cool for her to play her part as an ingénue, except she's not artless

She allows an affectionate gaze on occasion, the tease

Go away for a while now please

And then, it's time for a softer nap.

With a view out the front door, just in case you know

No, she's not laughing at my stupid jokes

Nice life

So, what do you do in Dallas when you own a fur coat? It's simple: wrap your attendant around your little kitty pinkie to take care of your every whim, purr once in a while to keep him interested, and change your mewlings to sound more plaintive and desperately needy when you want to go outside for a warm nap. Make sure too that you pause at the open door and let the cool air flow over your back into the great outdoors so you can get a sense of the balance of life—pause for as long as you can to enjoy the sensation.

Note: the colophon graphic separator is a drawing by my own hand. Back before an actual, real publishing company picked up my book and printed it, I was considering going the self-publishing route. The sleeping kitty was to be my own publishing colophon to represent Pangur Bán Publishing. Pangur Bán is the title of a medieval poem by an Irish cleric and is Irish for "White Cat." The poem describes the monk and the cats relationship and their respective duties to one another. A side by side rendering, in English and Irish can be found here.

Also note: I'm still researching my sequel to the time trilogy post—still reading some histories of related times and places. It will come eventually.

Thanks for stopping by, and hope you enjoy the pictures of dear Popper. I've been too long writing this, need to go check on her—busy with her outdoor nap.

*Cool Water lyrics by Bob Nolan written in 1936. It's about a man and his mule, Dan, and a mirage in a desert. The best-selling recorded version was done by Vaughn Monroe and The Sons of the Pioneers in 1948. The lyrics above are an adaptation by Joni Mitchell in her version sung with Willie Nelson in 1988 on the album Chalkmark in a Rainstorm.

all photos copyright © 2011 by barry b. doyle · all rights reserved

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