Photo finish
Image by Jean-François Chénier
I left the office as soon as I heard that Edo had been found. The ads in the local weekly, eight weekends of searching, dozens of conversations in broken Japanese, and hundreds of posters had finally paid off. Someone had found her and called Furuki-san, the owner of the ryokan we had stayed at the day Edo was lost, and every weekend since. He had called to say that he was bringing her to the local vet. That was all I knew – that and the words the coworker who had taken the call left me with as I headed out: “Maybe she is dying.”
* * *
“Maybe she is dying.” The words took on a kind of haunting quality over the next four hours, as I rode the subway, bullet train and bus to my destination. They were the soundtrack to a series of images that flashed through my mind as I alternated between games of solitaire on the PDA, and unsuccessful attempts to reach Bonnie at work. The strongest of these was of Edo rushing toward us as we came through the door after a one-week trip to Taiwan. I had never seen a cat display such unbridled, puppy-like joy – and in a sense, it was that joy that had led to those haunting words: “Maybe she is dying.” That joy had prompted us to bring her on our vacation to Mashiko. That joy, and a kitty vest that chose the wrong moment to show us how badly designed it was, had defined 2007 to date.
And so I took the familiar trip to Mashiko for what I knew was one of the last times. The uncertainty of the past two months had collapsed into this one event – an event that would play out in one of two ways... maybe with Edo dying, having been found just a little too late.
If this were a movie, the past two months would likely be rendered as a montage of images of Bonnie and I wandering in the dark and the rain, walking through rice fields calling out, shining lights under farmhouses, and handing out posters. And there would be images of Edo too, hiding, as it turns out, under a house, slowly starving in shadows occasionally made bright by lightning; sometimes hearing our voices, but too terrified to move.
And now she was dying. Maybe. And ‘maybe’ – in this context, and in Japan – meant there was virtually no doubt.
When I walked into Fushimi-sensei’s pet hospital, I was led to a small room lined with cages. Edo was facing the back of her cage, with an IV in her hind leg, lying still. She was emaciated, and staring wide-eyed into the void, her pupils narrow. And despite the fact that her face held none of its perpetual playfulness, and despite the filth, and despite the parched lips pulled back to reveal unfamiliar fangs, there was no question that this was our little friend, and that one way or another, the hunt had ended.
The vet opened the cage, and as she did so, Edo let out a wail. It was empty and deep and mournful, and like no sound I had ever heard come out of her before. It held none of the charm and warmth and familiarity of the little coo that greeted me every day when I came home – the sound of a cat greeting a friend, and the sound that I had missed more than all her others in the past two months.
And then she wailed again.
And again.
She needed comfort – and if nothing else, all the effort of the past few months meant that I could at least give her that now, when she needed it most. I reached in, and gently petted her – afraid that too strong a touch would hurt her, or bruise the bones that I could so clearly feel through her thin coat.
And she wailed again.
And I comforted her.
And she wailed.
She seemed oblivious to my presence, and never turned toward me and the light. She only seemed to want to fall further into the darkness, and when she moved it was only to make frantic attempts to to dig through the metal back of the cage. All I could do was pet her, and speak to her, and try to let her know she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
And that is how I spent the evening of March 7, 2007.
Every once in a while, the vet would come in, and fill me in on details. Edo had been found a few hundred yards from Furuki-san’s place, wailing, face down in the dirt. When she had come in, she had had a temperature of 32, vs the usual 38. She was too weak to be tested for anything, let alone treated. And probably brain damaged. The vet had expected her to die in a couple of hours, but had done her best to keep her alive until I arrived. And I was welcome to spend the night with Edo, if that’s what I wanted.
It was what I wanted.
After a few hours, Edo stopped wailing, and began to stare over her shoulder through the open cage door – not at me, but beyond me, her eyes fixed. Her stare was blank, even when I moved into her field of vision, and stood bent at the waist so that my eyes could lock with hers.
Fushimi-sensei seemed to think that this was a good sign. She took Edo’s temperature, again, and after she read the thermometer, I learned the Japanese word for miracle. It was a word I quickly forgot, as this particular miracle did not impact my language learning skills, it seems – only Edo’s temperature, which was now 36.
This meant that Fushimi-sensei could do some blood tests. We moved Edo onto an examination table, and as the needle went into her leg, Edo cried out in her old voice, looking me in the eye. I could see that she didn’t know me, but she knew someone was there.
When Fushimi-sensei left for the night, I decided not to put Edo back in the cage. If she went in there, and was forced to be completely alone, I thought that despair would take hold again, and that the wailing would start. Given that every number in her blood work was off the charts, I was pretty sure that was something she wouldn’t survive. So, I left her on the examination table, with me seated at one end. I wrapped one arm around her to keep her from falling off, and stroked her forehead with the thumb of the opposite hand, all the while looking into her eyes, and telling her the story of our past two months.
And that is how I spent the night of March 7, 2007.
She stared into my eyes, and listened to my story. She heard about all the people who had helped to find her, about the all the black and white cats in Mashiko who had been chased and tracked, about the women who I saw crying her name one day as they poured out of the window of a local factory, inspired by the sight of one particular black and white cat who knew no peace that winter. She heard about how happy Bonnie had been when I had finally managed to get through, and how she would see her soon if she held on. Good listener that kitty – though like many people who listen to my tales, she did start to nod off now and then. And just as her head started to drift down, she would force herself awake. Then, eyes wild with fear, she would try to back away from me, pushing with all the strength left in the tiny legs that couldn’t even hold her weight. It was in those moments, as I tried to calm her, that I understood what her past two months had been like: constant terror stronger than even hunger.
And then it happened: at about three or four am, she started to drift to sleep once more, and when she shook herself awake, she looked into my eyes. And her face softened. And she cooed.
* * *
When the vet arrived the next morning, and put some food in front of her, hoping that Edo would have just a bite, our little cat sucked back her helping like someone who, well, hadn’t eaten in two months. And when Bonnie – Edo’s favorite human – arrived bearing Edo’s favorite toys and flavors from home, it was clear that Edo’s brain was up to the task of remembering her past life, and that she was going to fight to get there again.
Shortly after Bonnie arrived, Edo stretched out as you see her above – in her Superman pose – the very pose that I had last photographed her in before she disappeared into the night and the rain. The little animal so full of despair less than 24 hours ago was perfectly content.
That’s when I took this picture – definitely my favorite of all time.
Wood Tavern, Best Restaurant in the East Bay
Image by Thomas Hawk
Well I've been to Wood Tavern (6317 College Avenue, Oakland, CA) three times now, and after each visit I keep telling myself that I'm going to write up a blog post on the restaurant. I don't do as many restaurant write ups as I used to, but after eating there three times I just have to write it up. If you want to skip the majority of the review just take away this one point:
Wood Tavern is by far the *best* restaurant in the East Bay. Better than more expensive places like Alice Water's Chez Panisse. Better than Bay Wolf or Jojo or Dopo or any of the other new up and comers.
The restaurant already is gaining a strong reputation as one of the new great restaurants in the San Francisco Bay Area. The San Francisco Chronicle gave it a strong write up here. The Examiner had similarly positive things to say here. The blog Gastronomie called it their new favorite restaurant. And already it's packed every evening. Reservations are booked out well into the future, but the bar seats first come first serve and the bar is actually, in my opinion, the best place to eat in the restaurant.
To start with the atmosphere at Wood Tavern is casual warm and cozy like a big family living room. Dark wood accents an open air kitchen where you can watch Chef Maximilian DiMare prepare the evening meals while you wait to be served. The bar makes excellent cocktails and has some great beers on tap to bide you over while you're waiting for your seat at the bar or for the food that you've ordered.
Speaking of the bar, this is the best place to eat at the restaurant. The bar gives you plenty of space and you have ample room to enjoy your meal side by side with someone else (in my case my wife, who loves the restaurant as much as I do). The bartender/waiters who work the bar are friendly and informative and give you the inside scoop on the best new items on the menu which changes frequently.
There are a couple of consistent regular dishes that I'd heartily recommend from the menu. The Grilled Double Cut pork chop is to die for and the Wicked Good Seafood Stew is also top rate. They also do a number of different versions of salads with poached eggs which are also fantastic.
Wood Tavern also has some great cheese plates and even better desserts. I've had both the warm chocolate cake (pictured above) as well as the Southie Affogato and both seriously rock.
The service at Wood Tavern also is fantastic. A large staff works the small venue and take great care to ensure that every detail is just as you like it. From the hostess to the waitresses to the bartenders to the owners, Rich & Rebekah Wood (who seemed to be working there on every visit we've had so far) everyone is fun, nice and pleasant adding to the family like feel of the whole experience.
Best of all, Wood Tavern's prices are reasonable for a restaurant of its caliber. You'll spend much less than you would at the more expensive Chez Panisse while getting a better meal.
After only three meals at Wood Tavern my wife and I are already regulars. We'll be back again and again. We've tried most every highly regarded restaurant in the East Bay (where we live) and this one feels (and tastes) best of all.
If you live in the San Francisco Bay area, or find yourself over in the East Bay for a visit in the near future, do yourself a favor and check out this gem in Oakland.
Tiny acrobat
Image by loopoboy 2.0
Let's hear it for the bugs! They do tons of good work, including aerating the soil, pollinating, performing pest control by eating invasive species, and removing and breaking down animal waste so that the soil is right for plants to grow in. All this work saves people tens of billions of dollars each year in expenses, in the USA alone. They also occupy a place on the food chain that helps to sustain fish and other wildlife. Without bugs, little or no wildlife would exist - think about that the next time you nail a great picture of a colorful flower, or of a beautiful bird in flight!
So here we have a little green critter about 4 cm in length, a worm or larva or whatever it is. It was traveling along a small branch of a tree, while a steady, strong breeze was blowing. To move along, the bug had to grasp the tree with its rear feet, and then stretch out and twist and turn, just to find another spot to grab on to. I was fascinated by this display of acrobatics, done in spite of the wind that shook the branch constantly. Bug watching can be a humbling experience when you see them doing things that no person could do!
SOOC. Hug a bug!
Part of my Best of 2011 set.
Plum pie (2 of 2)
Image by Niklas
Mikaela made a gorgeous plum pie out of a Jamie Oliver recipe. It contained pecan nuts and a more-than-healthy amount of butter. Here's it served with ice-cream and very special strawberries. What's so special about them? Well, Evelinda, who brought them to this evening's dinner, plucked them from her family's hide-away since generations past. These strawberries may look usual, but they're extremely sweet and yet not too ripe.
And the pie is one of the best I've ever tasted.
More food-pictures from this evening featured here: niklasblog.com/bilder/2005-07-20
Image by Shannalee | FoodLovesWriting
More at Food Loves Writing
Also, featured in Travel + Leisure.
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