It ain’t easy being Indian (Sept. 2013)

By Ricey Wild
News From Indian Country

For this story I have only to look at my legs to describe what I did this summer past. My lower left leg is still swollen and bruised from my birthday celebration back in May. I wear these big, heavy black platform leather boots mostly because I always wanted to be taller than I am. I topped out at 5”6 and have since been fixated on high heels. Is it perhaps an inferiority complex? Nah. Appearing taller evened out my figure. Call it vanity if you must. ;D
While at the casino/hotel me and my partner in crime and hilarity, Melissa, charmed up two men to go get our traditional White Castle dinner which is pretty much the entire menu. Later in the room a guy pulled out fine tequila and we all did shots in honor of me. Ay! Then I sat on an ashtray, jumped up, lost what was left of my balance and kicked the other guy in…well, let me just say that I hope he is able to have children. What? I didn’t mean to nor was I harboring any hostility toward men folk at all! I think. Well I got paid back for that unintentional kick; my inner calf was horribly bruised and my foot is still swollen but I figure I got off lucky. I didn’t break any bones! (Sigh of relief!)
On both my legs are abstract etchings in various states of healing. They are there because on June 12 I acquired a serious case of kittens. I adopted a small pretty cat from a friend who couldn’t keep her. All the cats I have are geriatric or middle-aged; I thought bringing a younger cat would liven up the household. I would laugh if I could. Hah! “Liven up the place I said!” about a week after Pink the Manx cat came into our lives her former maid Nikki told me, in a public place for safety mind you, that Pink just might be knocked up.
What???? I know, right? Sure enough Pink began to expand and I was driven frantic catering to her voracious appetite and demands. It’s unreal how much she ate. I almost went to purchase baby mice and sauté them in olive oil and top it with aged, freshly grated parmesan for her. Almost.
I would rather have not shared this next blow but I must because it’s the reason for my Mid-Summers Big Breakdown. Pink had five kittens which surprised me considering how petite she is. Daily both The Mitz (my dog) and me would check on the mom and kittens always careful to tiptoe and speak softly. Mitzi was fascinated by them and we would count them together: beshig, niizh, niswii, niiwin, nanaan. One day after work we went to check on the kittens and only got to niiwin; four. The runt was missing! WTH????? I soon found what was left of her, a tiny intestine organ.
Pink ATE HER KITTEN! Omygawd! She ate her kitten! Later I met my brother and his wife at the casino as planned and told them what happened. They did their best to comfort me but it was no use. I told them I need to go home and be with my dog. I’ll not forget their expressions after I said that. Both were like wha----at? We haven’t seen each other in how many years and you are going home to be with your Dog?! I snuffled that Mitzi is the only one who understands me; and that I had to go see how many kittens were left. (Cue musical sound effect: WAAH-waaaaahn!)
I am very happy to report the remaining kits’ have thrived and is the direct reason my legs are all torn up. They show their love by jumping and hanging on them. (I love my life I love my life) Being that they are part Manx the kittens are a very lively bunch, definitely more entertaining than the zombie box. But…I am reminded of that old movie “Gremlins”, yooz get that right? (I love my life).
As a girl child my Gramma would sing, “Someday my Prince will come” and I really thought that would happen. I got tired of waiting and named my kitten Prince; he’s all loud, demanding and androgynous. Ay! Just kidding about that last part but he is neutered.
This past season I also reacquainted myself with the Rezberry Riders; they were very kind, patient, professional and damn fine! (Is that good?) I also attended a descendant’s gathering of Chief Osagi of Wisconsin Point. I have ancestors that had been buried there and were dug up and relocated to a Catholic cemetery. I know, right? It’s my mission to write about it. More on that next month…!