Statues Come Alive

I’m guessing the statues in my yard come alive at night. These two are probably the queen and king because they’re so very old. They’ve spanned 3 generations of humans.

They don’t have names, but for this blog, we’ll call the boy, Billy and the girl, Bertha. If you think they’re lame names, then make up your own.

As I was giving Billy his yearly coat of sealant, I realized that the travails of these two parallel real life.  For instance…

I remember when I first coated Billy several years ago.  His concrete skin absorbed the milky liquid I brushed on.  Now it beads up and runs off.  Undeniable proof that just like  real life, if you live long enough, you can develop thick skin. Age and living through good and bad weather toughen you until many insults and problems roll off like water on a sealed statue.

Billy does have a recurring health concern, though.  Yellow jackets like to build a nest in his crotch.  That can be a problem…and isn’t that like real life, too? Doesn’t it seem—through no fault of your own—vulnerable areas of your life sometimes are hurt by others?

Now Bertha hasn’t fared so well.  Her concrete skin continues to suck up the cement sealer.  The smooth surfaces have worn off her hat and shoulders, exposing pebbly, brown aggregate.  Last year, she suffered a facial crack. I forgot to give her a pupil when I fixed it, so now she’s blind in one eye.

I think she’s more worn out because when it’s curfew in the statue kingdom, ol’ Billy starts snoring, but Bertha, like any woman, stays alert, waiting, until she can’t keep her one good eye open…and that’s when a mysterious delinquent statue attacks the cat.

Mr. Cat’s concrete tail has been broken. Another time his ear clipped. I gasped last year when I found him separated in half.  YES!! Cleaved right in two.! No, I don’t think it was because of the freezing weather, or his low, bargain price and cheap workmanship.  He’s being bullied. I’ve had to perform numerous intricate surgeries with Gorilla Glue and concrete patch.  You can see Mr. Cat’s scars, but he puts up a brave front, appearing to lie calm and relaxed in the tulips.  This morning I had to create a whole new paw for him.  I assume he broke it, fighting for his life with the delinquent statue.  And I wondered how much more could the poor fella stand?

And that’s like life too, isn’t it?  We’re broken. Patched up. It gives us character, and lets our inner core, our aggregate of love and lessons, shine through.

I suspect the dog statue is the villain.  Bertha isn’t tattling.  But the dog’s face is just a bit too innocent and the grooves in his coat are supposed to resemble fur, although it looks like deep scratches in concrete to me (maybe cat scratches?).

The terrorizing of innocent statues MUST stop.  Dog will be replaced.  I’m sure Bertha, the wise old queen of the concrete world, would simply advise, “Just be sure the new design won’t gather wasps in the crotch.”

Now, that’s good advice for any design in life.

About Barb

I escaped from a hardscrabble farm in Oklahoma. I'm not sure why people think I have an accent. I miss the sunshine, but not the fried foods.
This entry was posted in A Laugh, Cats/Dogs, Hope, Life and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Statues Come Alive

  1. Pingback: Writing Characters’ Secrets « Before Morning Breaks

  2. Barb says:

    Oh barb, I never thought of that and she isn’t telling. I am happy to report that a woodpecker took a liking to the delinquent dog and taught him a short lesson.


  3. barb says:

    Thanks for the chuckles! Maybe he deserves the wasps in the crotch? She may have seen this with her one good eye!
    You never know…


  4. Alice Lynn says:

    For some strange reason, probably involving the separation of my brain parts at strategic grooves, I haven’t been reading your blog of late. Three whole delightful episodes that let me jog beside you on your latest adventures! Mixing metaphors and blogs, I wonder if the curmudgeonly woman from the grocery store crime scene might have been suffering from the ‘written in stone syndrome’ found in the closed mind disease. And why is it (re: your trip around Rainier) that the worse the hardship, the more humorous and worthwhile the journey becomes in retrospect? Could this have a bearing on the penchant to repeat (gulp) mistakes? Ah well!Thanks for the ride!


  5. Lisa Nowak says:

    Once I read about the wasps I couldn’t stop cracking up.


  6. Life is definitely like that,
    and I hate the wasps!!


  7. Les O'Riley says:

    Great story. True parallels. We all get old and fall apart. Cracks, crevices, we all get them. But some time we too can patch up again pretty nicely. Hooray for modern science. I’m glad that after 54 years I haven’t experienced Billy’s scenario with the yellowjackets. That’s surely something to be thankful for.

    However, the big picture shows that even concrete and stone eventually gets worn down and returns to the earth from whence it came.

    For us that won’t be bad either. Some day we’ll all share molecules again with Billy, Bertha, Mr. Cat & Mr. Dog. Life’s circle will be complete. Then the process will start alllllll over again. Life, as we know it.


  8. Roxie says:

    I’ve heard of the bees’ knees, but never the wasp’s crotch. What a dreadful affliction!

    Delightful conceit here – the secret lives of staatues. Great fun.


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