Of Mice and Chicks
Pangur Bán. An odd name for an odd cat. He was an unplanned adoption. I entered the hardware supply store in search of plants, pots, and soil and left with a beautiful white cat with magical eyes of blue and green. “It’s Pangur Bán! It’s Pangur Bán!”. Those words tumbled from my mouth with an unabashed child-like enthusiasm. My husband could not say no. As far as I was concerned he was a special cat and he needed me… and I him.
Pangur Bán (White Pangur) is the name of a 9th century Irish Gaelic poem written by an unknown monk. He records a playful observation of his life in which he compares his own work with that of his cat’s work of hunting and the happiness each derives from their own pursuits. His pursuit of knowledge and Pangur’s of mice.
Wounds
My Pangur has been gone now for almost two years. He is the inspiration for this website’s logo which we revised with wings and halo after his departure. If you are using a desktop/laptop you will see his twin flame, Ninjacat, on the homepage. The idea to create a Ninjacat character came about as a result of an unfortunate incident between myself and Pangur. He “went ninja” on my face when I quietly bent down to give him a kiss on his head as he lay sleeping. He was still in the process of adjusting to his new life with us and I scared the holy hell out of him. It was my fault… and I could tell the bloody outcome shocked him too.
It was yet another opportunity to learn more about the art of healing as I tended to my wounds without seeking professional medical attention. Today, the scars are minimal, almost unnoticeable, but their memory remains. His claws were so sharp that the wounds appeared more like surgical cuts. That was a good thing, actually, because the lines were clean and straight but quite deep. Oddly, they serve as a permanent reminder of a special time and place in my life. It takes your vanity down a notch as you are forced to admit that physical beauty is indeed skin deep. Better to focus our life on the unfathomable depths of our inner beauty. Let’s face it, you can’t get through this life without getting some scars both seen and unseen.
Departures
The first time my mom was in hospital we were gone for a week. Pangur, already very sick, waited patiently for our return. That evening, as we settled into bed, he slowly crawled on top of me, gently lied down on my chest and laid his head in the crook of my neck and shoulder. He gave out a long relaxed breath and immediately fell asleep – happy to have us back. It surprised me because this was not his normal behavior. He was as much a comfort to me as I was to him.
It was only a few weeks later that I had to leave once again to take care of my mother. My husband would arrive shortly after to visit for a while and it was then that Pangur gave up the ghost. I felt terrible that I wasn’t there. He was my buddy, my friend. My sister-in-law and my brother had the unfortunate experience of finding him and the task of taking him to the veterinarian’s office to have him cremated. They were so great about everything – they always are. His ashes sit on the mantle for now but one day, when we settle down, I will plant a white rose and bury his ashes there.
“The Secret of Kells”: Pangur Bán Song
Where am I going with this? I will tell you. My entire adult life I have always had a cat. I find them to be great company and if you foster a good relationship with them a wonderful connection develops. Now, I know, in my current circumstances, living apart from my husband and having a life in limbo, getting a cat is probably a bad idea. Besides, Mom is adamantly against it because it just means more responsibility. Remember, I’m all growed up so asking for permission to get a pet is so 1970’s. Undeterred, I came up with another idea, perhaps equally as bad. Several months ago, I went and bought three baby chicks! The heart wants what the heart wants.
The Three Little Chicks
At the time, Ken had moved in for the duration and our plan was simple. Together, we would take care of Mom and get a second chance at taking care of chickens (just before I left, we were raising six chicks but had to leave them in the care of my other brother – note, I have eight brothers!). In this latest temporary home we sought to bring forth some life. Blow out the cobwebs, open the curtains and let in some light. If I couldn’t have a cat, by golly, I’d get some baby chicks and look forward to the nourishing eggs they would give us and the simple joy of watching them grow.
Initially, knowing this was a temporary residence, we were just going to purchase a simple prefab coop. We certainly didn’t need anything that was going to last 20 years. However, there was an existing structure in the backyard that had no purpose. It was nothing more than bare bones – a 4′ x 6′ wood frame leftover from a previous project. Could we make this work and not spend a lot of money on construction?
As the chickens stayed in their makeshift pen on the enclosed patio (growing larger by the day) my brother set to building the coop. He tried to keep costs down by purchasing discount lumber, finding discarded pallets, and various items he could re-purpose. Simple went to the wayside as the project started building momentum and taking shape.
A couple months later and we have a coop that is built like a brick house. No matter how much Ma Nature huffs and puffs these three little hens won’t have to worry about their house falling down. To answer the question, yes, it cost us more than we wanted to spend considering our situation but it all worked out and “The Taj Mahal” will serve its purpose well.
Then and Now
As you can see the chicks grew up to be fine looking hens. Pearl is a Welsummer, Esther is a Golden Wyandote and Sunny is a Cinnamon Queen. They are now all producing eggs. Pearl was the last one to lay but her eggs are a lovely darker shade of brown with dark brown speckles. It was worth the wait. They roam the backyard all day without a care in the world making a mess of things but they earn their keep and I’m glad we got them. Mom still isn’t crazy about the idea but she is used to them now and when we sit on the bench swing in the backyard to read our devotions under the warmth of the noonday sun the chickens wander over and keep us company.
Unfortunately, not too long after the coop was finished, Ken moved back to the place we call home. Four adults living in close quarters does not typically turn out very well. That’s just the truth of the matter. We all tried our best but sometimes your best just isn’t good enough. When we operate at a lower vibration we act much like a chicken hierarchy constantly trying to establish a pecking order with frequent dust-ups. We are elaborate beings and much too complicated for that sort of a communal system. It diminishes us (e.g. self-serving politicians and government agencies are a prime example of this in action).
To make relationships work it requires a sincere willingness to humbly co-exist. To carefully consider the impact of our actions on others. To respect boundaries and give space to differing perspectives without instant judgment. Assumptions are usually dead wrong. Let people be who and what they are because we are – all of us – learning life on different levels. And, most importantly, learn to forgive. If you can’t forgive you will carry a heavy weight that will only serve to crush the life out of you and everything you touch.
That’s all well and fine, right? It’s a whole other challenge to live it and I am guilty of being petty and vindictive. I told my brother the other day that his favorite coffee mug was almost “accidentally broken” many times as I did the dishes and stewed over some unpleasantness between us. I’d also turn on the washing machine when he was in the shower 
. Mom, seeming to have selective active awareness, caught on to my shenanigans and set me straight. At times, we function much as we did as children. It’s a long road and I pray that we all continue to relentlessly pursue what is right and take the necessary steps to gain mastery over ourselves.
The saga continues next week… As always, thanks for reading 
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