I am in awe as I see this huge machine make such easy work of cutting a driveway through the woods where friends and I hacked with axe and loppers to make our way. It also brings to mind the fact that my sons held an Irish wake for our family cat right there at the entrance to the right of way to the property. It was many years ago before anyone had built houses around there. They buried the cat who had died peacefully in his sleep of old age and then sat around drinking beer and telling Joseph Cat stories.
Hmmm…maybe Joseph Cat’s spirit?
Joseph Cat was actually named after Joe Frazier because he got in so many fights with other cats in the neighborhood, victoriously I might add. He was a young stray when we first met him and he insisted in coming in whatever door was opened to the outside. He once actually pushed through the screen of a bedroom window one night so determined he was to be part of the family. I only found out later that my daughter was secretly feeding him on the front porch. I just got in the habit of calling him Joseph Cat, sort of a grey and black striped tiger cat. In New York they’d call him an alley cat. Something like what Don Marquis’ Archie might have looked like. He was with us for almost 13 years. Maybe I should name my driveway Joseph Cat Way.