Day 7, morning
Life in this household is much more varied and … challenging … than my peaceful, predictable existence with the Nan. Just when I thought I was au fait with the family schedule — all change!
Yesterday there was no Big Boys’ School, no Kinder, no Daddy’s-Off-To-Work. The Kidz stayed home most of the day, with the exception of an afternoon excursion to the Park to play something called Footy with Dad (aka the Hub) and give Banjo an opportunity to commune with others of his kind, leave scent messages and carry important sticks. Sometimes there are possums to bark at, but yesterday there were none, he grumbles.
This morning, the Suzy and the Hub remain resolutely ensconced behind their locked bedroom door. I have no idea what they are doing in there, but it seems to involve giggling and whispering and gentle, rhythmic movement of furniture.
Banjo speculates that it might be a mysterious game called ‘Hide the Sausage’, but declines to go into further details. I do not think that he knows.
In any event, Banjo and I have been left to look after the Kidz.
The youngsters eventually relent from their assaults upon said door and empty a bucket of toys on the living room floor. They have been ‘playing nicely’ for a while now, but I sense squalls ahead. The Fern’s lower lip has started to quiver, which is never a good sign.
It is all most inconvenient. Why can humans not stick to their routines? Ad hoc extemporising should be left to us felines.
One bright note: yesterday evening it was intimated that the period of my incarceration might soon be at an end …
There. The Fern has gone red in the face and started to wail. What did I say?
The door of the Office is ajar. I slink inside. Into the semi-darkness (the blinds are down) and relative peace.
I return to my perusal of the Permaculture wall chart. Fortunately, I have good crepuscular vision, unlike humans, who blunder around alarmingly in anything less than the full glare of day.
Principle 3: Obtain a Yield.
Hmm. Another vague precept, and one that seems difficult to apply to my own life. How might I obtain a yield? What would a yield look like, for a feline in my position? A yield of mice, perhaps?
My yield of food seems steady and assured, although a little more variety would be nice. A plump chook, for example …
Not for the first time, I wonder whether this Permaculture business is excessively anthropocentric. What’s in it for other species? Most importantly, for cats?
I return to the wall chart seeking answers. Reading the fine print, I find the following:
Ensure that you are getting truly useful rewards as part of the work that you are doing.
The icon of this design principle, a vegetable with a bite out of it, shows us that there is an element of competition in obtaining a yield, whilst the proverb …1
I have no intention of competing for any vegetables. Banjo may have them, for all I care.
Perhaps the rewards that I should pursue are of a cerebral nature: the delight of ambushing Banjo from behind the sofa as he ambles through the living room … the satisfaction of walking all over the kitchen bench when the humans have gone to bed?
My thoughts turn to the Suzy. She seems to work very hard but obtain little satisfaction from it: little ‘yield’ in this abstract sense. I sense that this is a source of discord between her and the Hub.
The Hub does not seem to be a Permaculture devotee to the same extent as the Suzy — if at all. He sometimes refers to it as ‘your Permaculture project’ with a distinct note of scepticism.
Ah, I hear the bedroom door opening, and big, bare feet slapping on floorboards.
The Suzy’s exasperated voice: ‘What’s going on here? Harper, get that bucket off your sister’s head right now!’
I think I shall just stay in here for a while.
Next week in the Chronicles of Smurf:
Principle 4: Apply Self-Regulation and Accept Feedback
Smurf learns that chooks are not to be trifled with and considers the difficulties of inter-species communication.
Featured image: composite artwork using mouse photo by Marcus Ganahl on Unsplash and author photo, modified in Photoshop
David Holmgren is the originator of the 12 permaculture design principles, which are cited above.