My House Our House. Karen M. Bush
someone else moves it back; such is life in a community.
Karen: “Elegance in Simplicity”
I’ve been called a study in contrasts. As someone who travels half my days for work, my life is structured and organized. Paradoxically, I’m a risk-taker who has chosen change, travel and adventure over a settled life. I never miss a beat for clients, but I sometimes neglect personal things, like meeting the deadline for our state’s mandatory car inspection.
It’s a matter of priorities, of placing the needs of others ahead of my own. I always help others, but my strong independent streak makes it hard for me to accept offers in kind. Louise and Jean keep trying.
I’m a techie. I enjoy the latest, best-designed equipment – which clashes with my desire to have a minimal number of objects around the house. (I joke that I’m going to “become a Buddhist, renouncing material cravings, just as soon as I have everything I want.”)
My books reflect my primary hobbies: cooking, photography, reading historical fiction (with Dorothy Dunnett my favorite author), and gardening. I might take a month to research and prepare a garden for one rose bush, but the resulting roses will be extraordinary.
I am long-married, long-divorced. I love mentoring young people, including students during my previous career at a small college, and the children of friends.
Some friends call me “Mother of Beardsley” (the cat). Some who don’t know me well have mistakenly assumed that Beardsley is my son. But she is a black and white cat named after Aubrey Beardsley, a British illustrator of striking, black ink drawings.
Aesthetically, I seek “elegance in simplicity.” Having too much stuff around annoys me. So I ruthlessly apply my own guideline: if I haven’t used something recently or it does not hold sentimental or financial value, I dispose of it, preferably by giving it to someone. I had just finished renovating my Sears Roebuck cottage to that standard, a perfect little place for one cat and me. But I never got to see my English cottage garden grow.
Louise: “Comfy in Her Skin” (Maybe)
Others think I’m “comfortable in my skin,” but appearances can be deceiving. They probably assume I’m supremely confident because I’m assertive and opinionated. While prone to jump to quick conclusions, I also try to be fair-minded. People who know me have probably figured out that I need time to warm up to new ideas, but might eventually come around to their point of view, or at least compromise. While determined to do things my way, I can be flexible. Seeing my impact on others, I adjust accordingly.
One of my core beliefs is that people should speak up for what they believe in, even when it is difficult. I try to live my principles in practical ways. Like Karen, I’m very independent and resist asking for help, although I’m generally happy to help others when needed.
By profession, I’m a clinical psychologist, providing services to children, adults and families. I thrive on a busy pace but secretly yearn for more time spent reading or puttering in the yard and garden. I really love a good political or intellectual discussion – the more controversial, the better. And I’m proud of being a decent amateur singer.
Before moving to Shadowlawn, I lived alone happily for six years, post-divorce. My fast-paced lifestyle made me rarely home and never lonely. One day, it occurred to me that I might as well be living in a furnished room, not needing the space of the Cape Cod where I had raised my son and daughter, a crowded little house that I decorated with an eclectic, busy touch and lots of color.
Beardsley: “Feisty Feline Survivor”
There’s a rule among our friends: no lengthy pet stories at social gatherings; they can get boring. But we’ll violate the rule here, because this adventure would not have happened without Beardsley, a feisty, female black-and-white Tuxedo “mutt” cat with a chin spot goatee.
“B.” is a survivor. More humanoid than cat (we know, everyone says that about their cat), she is moody as well as strong-willed. Although normally well behaved, Beardsley can be provoked . . . and provocative.
Here’s a prime example. We remember it fondly, though it was infuriating at the time. Beardsley was banished to the outdoors during a fund-raising event because some guests were allergic to cats. But she sneaked back in and retaliated, dashing across seated guests’ laps, dipping her tail in the whipped cream on their desserts, tipping a cup of coffee, and then disappearing almost before anyone knew what had happened.
Also lovable and cuddly, Beardsley began it all.
Beardsley: “Of course I did; all things revolve around me.”
All things revolve around me.
FOUR
Blame It on the Cat
We three had known one another socially for many years, but weren’t close friends. So what brought us together into this adventure in cooperative householding?
It’s curious how a seemingly isolated incident can trigger a cascade of events that bring people together and change lives. The catalyst for creating a cooperative household was Karen’s need to find a home for Beardsley, then 11 years old.
In the 1990’s, Karen changed careers. For a while, she worked from home, but then found herself traveling more and more for work. Eventually, she was assigned to a West Coast project, where she could not take Beardsley. We were all present the night that Karen tearfully confided her tough dilemma:
“I’ve tried everything to find Beardsley a home: cute ads, serious appeals, asking friends, checking with the no-kill shelter. But even the shelter won’t take her, because they can’t find a home for a cat that old. I can’t find her a home, I can’t take her with me to live in a hotel or fall prey to the coyotes out West, and I won’t just abandon her. I’ve run out of options. People seem to think I can always come up with ways to fix problems. Not this time. I absolutely don’t know what to do. Tomorrow morning, I guess I’ll call the vet and ask him what people do in a situation like this.”
Louise spoke up. “Wait a minute. You didn’t ask me. It’s obvious. We’ll do shared custody: I’ll take care of her at my house while you’re gone, and you can have her back when you come home. After all, it’s just for a couple of months.”
With great relief, Karen accepted. Beardsley was saved. Later that night, Karen’s phone rang. Knowing that Karen does not accept help easily, Louise was calling to repeat the offer so there could be no doubt that she was sincere.
So Beardsley moved in and took over Louise’s house. Definitely the alpha cat, Beardsley intimidated poor Peaches (Louise’s cat), who virtually moved to the basement. As often happens, Karen’s project got extended: one month turned into six, six months turned into a year, and Beardsley lived on, learning to cope with the shared custody transitions. When Karen was in town, Beardsley lived with her; when Karen was out of town, she lived with Louise. The living arrangements were fine with her, but it was mortifying to be stuffed into a cat carrier and driven to the other house, yowling all the way.
Meanwhile, Karen’s travel yielded many airline and hotel rewards points. Knowing that Louise would never accept payment, Karen convinced her to use the points for a “free” trip to Napa Valley and San Francisco. It was on this trip that they began to forge a real friendship.
One year turned into two, then three, then five. Beardsley lived on, traveling back and forth between her two homes. The thank-you trips, now dubbed “Annual Beardsley Guilt Trips” for the guilt Karen felt about imposing on Louise, afforded many opportunities