Fast little lives

This afternoon I took a route I rarely take to run errands. Instead of taking one of my usual circuitous and faster moving routes, I took the main artery through downtown and the university. It was mid afternoon, traffic was light, and it seemed like a good idea. Who is it that says, don't always drive the same way to work or going home... change it up a little to stimulate your brain? Bad idea this time.

Past the university, the road goes down a hill through a few blocks of houses before it reaches the next commercial strip. The cars were moving briskly, two lanes in my direction and one lane oncoming. He came from my right... a Carolina wren flying at bumper level across the road. He was fast, but there was not enough room for him to fly in front of the car coming toward me in the other lane. I heard the faintest ticking sound as the bumper hit him. In my side mirror I saw his body where it had fallen in the bike lane. His flight across the road took exactly one and half seconds. I wondered if he were a juvenile who miscalculated his timing.

I mourned him as if he were a friend. The wrens around our house fill the air with noise and motion. They dominate. Their call sounds like a heartbeat. I depend on them.

Last night I dreamed that our house had a wrap around porch. There in the dream were the four of us, me, Bob, and the two cats. I was out on the porch at dusk. I could hear a man out in the street talking on his cell phone, congratulating some reluctant person on the other end for being the lucky recipient of kitten love. This is a common tactic with people who have kittens to place.

The next thing I knew, there were three tiny gray tabby kittens on the porch. "Oh no," I said to them, "you can't come in. We already have two cats. We will find you a home." They were just the size for a cat calendar and identical triplets. As they milled around in confusion, being their cutest, I opened the door to tell Bob, "There are three kittens out here separated from their mother. We need to get them to the pet rescue." Two of the kittens dashed through the crack in the open door, just the way Daisy dashes into the closet. I'm pretty good with doors and cats, but they were fast. So I said to the third one, "I guess you'd better go in too, so we can keep you together." Bob and I agreed in the dream that we were not going to adopt three gray tabby kittens. That would be five. Too many. Two is perfect. The dream ended there, before the kittens had a chance to work their charm on Bob.