Posts Tagged ‘cat’

Which is best?

As I left the house this morning my cat stared at me, as she so often does. And seeing her sitting in the dark, her eyes glowing from the light in the hallway outside our apartment, a question overcame me. How cool would it be to have glowing eyes? Not just glowing eyes, but great night vision as well. I think that would be very cool.

But then I thought, what about talons instead of feet? I could have giant eagle-like talons, good for gripping. Also, I wouldn’t have to wear shoes.

Finally my sensible side kicked in. –You can’t have both, said my sensible side. –You’d only get to pick one or the other.

That would be a tough decision to make. Talons or glowing eyes? I think that glowing eyes would be my choice. It would be scarier, because in normal daylight nobody would know about them. I’m also not sure how well I could run with talons. Trail running would definitely be easier, but road running? I’m not convinced it would be better. And what if the talons began gripping things uncontrollably? I’d tear up the couch, probably. Friends wouldn’t invite me over. My social life would be over. So, glowing eyes it is.

Now I just need to figure out who to submit my proposal to, so I can be fitted for some glowing cat eyes.

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From the Sketchbook

Here’s a few comics I drew in my sketchbook. In real life, cats hate to be held this way.
droppedcat3 droppedcat1 droppedcat2


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How the Comics Section Should Look

There’s even room for a cat on the page.

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Without Further Ado

I present to you…cats with umbrellas.cats_parachutes


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I met Amazing Larry

amazing-larry   A few weeks before I moved to Portland, I had the pleasure of meeting an orange cat named Amazing Larry. Although our time together was brief, I will always remember his charm, selflessness, and optimism in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. I miss Amazing Larry – he was a good cat and I was glad to meet him.

It was March in Boulder, so the weather was still quite cold. It had snowed Saturday and Sunday and it was in the 20s outside. I saw, Sunday night, a note in our apartment building left by a neighbor. The note said that they had found a cat and they let the cat stay in their apartment for the night.

Monday morning, I was on the way to the gym when I noticed a cat in the stairwell. Odd, since there aren’t usually animals hanging around in the stairwell – it’s closed off both to the outside and to each floor of the building.

I got back home an hour or so later and the cat was still there. He trotted right up to me when I entered with my bike; usually cats are scared of large metal objects, but this one was unafraid. I set my bike down and took a look: he was orange with white speckles. He looked like an outdoor cat: short hair, muscular, friendly with strangers like me. He followed me up and I had to close the door quickly so he wouldn’t come in my apartment.

After I took a shower I came back out and he was still in the stairwell. I decided that I needed to do something. I fed him. I took the food outside, thinking he’d eat it then go on his way. Not so. He meowed at the door to the apartment building. He had a very loud meow, and it was cold outside, so I felt like I couldn’t just leave him out there. I also didn’t want to adopt a cat who was likely just too cold to walk back to his home. The best thing to do was take him to the humane society (there’s a good no-kill shelter where we got our cat).

I walked out to the car and he followed me. I put him in the car and started it up – I figured I’d turn on the heat so he’d be happy while I brushed the snow off the windows. I finished, then noticed he had peed on my seat. I turned off the car, picked up the cat, and took him back to the apartment to get some cleaner and paper towels.amazing-larry-hissing-match

Our cat Sambora was awake. I opened the door, the orange cat trotted inside, and Sambora was on the scene. I’m not going to place blame on who started it, because I don’t honestly know, but what followed for several breathless moments was a colossal hissing match. Both cats, taken aback, I suspect, at the unexpected presence of another cat , hissed at each other. Before violence ensued, I hastily ushered the orange cat outside the apartment, shut the door, and ran to get the cleaner. To his credit, he waited for me outside my door. To Sambora’s credit, she immediately forgot the incident ever happened. On my way back, I didn’t have to carry the orange cat; he followed me downstairs and into the car.

The cat was a great passenger. He looked out the windows, explored the backseat, and sat next to me for a while in the passenger seat. Whenever we stopped at a light, people would wave to him.amazing-larry-good-passenger

When we got to the humane society, I picked him up so he wouldn’t run away, but he didn’t want me to carry him. I set him down and he led the way to the door. I opened the door for him and he trotted inside and acted like maybe he’d been there before.

The woman at the counter looked first at the cat who so matter-of-factly walked in the door. Her eyes then made contact with mine and she seemed a little relieved that the cat had not come in on his own.

She checked him out and found that he had a microchip. His name was Amazing Larry, and they also had an address where he lived. The woman called his owner but she wasn’t at home, so I left Larry there to wait for his people to come pick him up. She asked if I wanted to be on the adoption list in case the owner did not turn up, but I had to decline, remembering that he and Sambora had not exactly hit it off.amazing-larry-like-he-owns-the-place

On my way home, and many times since, my thoughts turned to Amazing Larry. He was a good companion, was cheerful in spite of his being trapped in a stairwell for hours, gave me the courage to face my inner demons and vanquish them. He was one of those rare individuals beautiful both on the inside and on the outside. May his legend live long and may poets sing his name in generations to come.

Feline Farewell

SOCKSI am greatly saddened by the loss of the National Cat, Socks Clinton. He passed away at home on February 20, 2009.

The age of Socks is under some dispute. One article claimed he was 18 at the time of his passing, but the Wikipedia article on him says he was 19. Either way, he clearly lived a long and happy life, dying in the arms of his owner, former Clinton secretary Betty Currie.

Though Socks will always and forever be remembered as First Pet of the Clinton Administration, during his term in office he came under attack by a large and annoying dog the Clintons adopted in 1997. Buddy, likely a Cuban spy, took the White House by storm and nearly ended Socks’ reign three years early. Fortunately, Socks’s popularity and military acumen ensured his power would not be usurped by that slobbering canine.

The Clintons, for reasons unknown, decided to keep Buddy and ditch Socks after leaving the White House in 2000. As always, Socks landed on his feet. Mrs. Currie, a woman who should have a highway named after her, took Socks in his fruitful post-White House years. Like a popular former President, Socks continued his good work even after the national spotlight shone elsewhere. Unlike Bill Clinton’s checkered record after office, Socks stuck to his ideals. According to Mrs. Currie, Socks “love[d] to be in the sun and love[d] chicken.”

Socks, we will miss your catlike reflexes, your engaging Press Briefings, and your beautiful white whiskers. The world has lost one of the great cats of our time.

10 years of Sambora

This month our household celebrates a very special anniversary. 10 years ago this month, A. adopted our cat, Sambora.
Sambora (seen here in a file photo) has lived with my wife longer than I have, making me the interloper. Yet somehow I have been welcomed into the household, mostly by the cat but also, to a slightly lesser extent, by my wife.

There have been a number of milestones in Sambora’s life with A. A few of them, for your reading pleasure:

When A. first adopted Sambora, the cat came down with a little cold. This required A. to give Sambora medicine. Have you ever given a cat medicine? You have to sit on the cat, wrench its mouth open, jam a dropper into the cat’s mouth and dispense a few drops of liquid. This, according to the vet, will make the cat feel better. For better or worse, A. has said this was the time in which she first bonded with the cat.

Sambora used to live in an apartment with a balcony. There was a little cat door so she could sit outside on the balcony. This balcony twice became the scene to grisly bird murders. We’re not saying who the murderer was, but once A. came home to find part of a bird carcass inserted into the VHS player (presumably for safekeeping). Is it possible for a murderer to return to the scene of the crime if she never really left it?

The Ballad of Amazing Larry. This occurred when I was living with A. and Sambora.

Most recently, of course, was the journey Sambora (along with the two of us) made from the high desert of Colorado to the low wetlands of Oregon. Sambora, to her credit, did most of the driving, all hopped up on organic espresso and amphetamine sulphate. She was our Neal Cassady.

These days Sambora can usually be found in the big window overlooking the neighborhood street or curled up asleep on the bed. Don’t be fooled by this bucolic setting, however; Sambora lives life hard and fast. As another Neil once said: “Hey hey my my, rock and roll can never die.” He was singing about Sambora the cat.

Happy 10th, Sammy.

LS Fred Wunpound

fred-wunpound_01I found this article in the August 2007 issue of Navy News while looking for something else. (I can’t remember what – it doesn’t even matter.) The point is, LS (Leading Seacat) Fred Wunpound traveled the world for almost a full decade aboard the ship HMS Hecate. According to the article, he died in his sleep in 1976, but not before receiving two good conduct badges and one disgraceful conduct badge. Just look at him. He’s a sailor through and through.

If I find any more information on Mr. Wunpound you can rest assured I will pass it along.

This post is dedicated to all the cats who have sailed the open seas, be they aboard Viking ships, Spanish galleons, Chinese junks, or Royal Caribbean cruise liners.

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who’s got four paws and hates ronald reagan?

This cat:sambora-cat-reagan

Sambora, the cat I live with, agrees with the late President Ronald Reagan not one bit.  Seriously: foreign policy, the national debt, military spending.  Sambora is Reagan’s political opposite.

On this hundredth anniversary of the old coot’s birth, Sambora and I both mourn the fact that neither of us were able to vote against him.

We take consolation that we’ll be able to vote for at least two Obamas.

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the cat internet challenge

Isis and I invented an internet game.  She hypothesized that you could find a picture of a cat on the internet by searching any word in the English language.  It was a fascinating theory, and one that has held up so far.

Here are a few of our finds:



Bob Dylan


(this one is a bit iffy since it’s not a photo but a drawing)

My name!
(I have met this cat.)

Go ahead and try it!  Go to a search engine, type in a word and do Image Search.  It might take a few pages, but you will most likely find a picture of a cat among the results.  We like Flickr but Google works just as well.

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