My cat is a wuss.


Meet Bailey. Well, OK, you can't see him, but just imagine for a minute. He's a three year old calico cat, about 15" long, 11" tall, your average sized cat. Except for his weight. When I inherited this cat from my brother, he wasn't just a big cat--he was FAT. I mean, fur dragging on the ground, fat. My roommate and I have put him on a diet, which wasn't going too well until we found some cat food that was not only diet, but also tasted horrible. Yes, I'm evil. But now, he's just, well, 'big-boned', I suppose. Except for the loose skin hanging under his belly, which I figure will tighten up over time.
So, why is my cat a wuss? Well, it's not really his fault. My sister first bought him when she lived in an apartment in Grimsby (or, "the 'by", as some call it). There it stayed, 'til she moved in with me and my brother to a large house. Yet still, the cat remained inside at all times. My sister moved out, then got married, so my brother became the cat's pet. By that time, he had also moved to a small apartment, and he remained an indoor cat. Matt then moved to BC for school, and that's how I came to own Bailey.
So, this cat has spent its entire life indoors, protected from any danger by walls and windows. In fact, the only other living things it has seen are people, mice, and bugs. I, however, live in a house in the country. I like wide open spaces, and hate to think that this poor cat has had to spend its life cooped up inside. So, when the weather turned warm, I was kind enough to let it outside a bit. I'll tell you, there's little funnier than watching a cat's first experience interacting with this thing called "grass". Even funnier was his first experience interacting with this thing called "cats". One of the local strays had meandered its way into the open front door of our house. You would think Bailey, being the master of the house, would at least make an attempt to stand his ground. But who do you think was the first one out the door? Yep, my cat's a wuss.
The other night, we'd left the door open to allow the cat some time outside. Well, after about 5 hrs, we hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. We closed the door, and went to bed. This wouldn't be the first time the cat had spent the night outside, so we weren't too concerned.
The next morning, I opened the door, and Bailey limped inside, bits of fur hanging off his back, and using only three of his legs. The way he was acting, I figured for sure he'd broken his leg or something serious. But, let's not forget, my cat's a wuss. This being the first injury he'd ever experienced, "pain" was yet another new thing for him. A closer inspection revealed a bit of a scratch on his leg, minimal blood, and no broken bones. The next day, he was already starting to use that leg, and by the time I got back from the long weekend, he was running around as if nothing had ever happened.
Hopefully, he'll spend more time outdoors as summer goes on. I figure that'll toughen him up some, and the running around could really do him some good.
That is, if he dares to step foot outside again.

It's a Jeep thing, I don't understand...

My jeep and I have a unique relationship. I suppose it's the old "give/take" routine--I give it loads and loads of money, it provides me with transportation to and from work (and not much else at this point). I'm told it's like a woman--there'll always be the initial hint of a problem, which, if not dealt with immediately, has a tendancy to blow up in your face.
Take the latest episode. What began as the faint smell of unburnt gasoline attributed to a hole in the top of the tank, quickly turned into as much gasoline ending up on the road as went into the engine.
Sometimes, I get lucky, and the repair is quick, cheap, and easy, as was the case with this one (leaking fuel filter). Other times, it's quite the opposite, and it costs me a new engine and transmission, followed by two more years of payments. Even worse, I'll just keep throwing money at it, and it'll laugh in my face, then act like nothing was ever wrong.
My laziness in repairing my jeep is two-fold. There's the procrastination part (what, me, procrastinate? Never!), and there's the howmuchamonth problem. ie, how much is this gonna cost me, and how long is it going to take me to pay for it? I'm sort of an optimist and a pessimist at the same time. On the optimism side, I always hope that whatever the problem might be, it'll be small, and I don't have to worry about it, because everything's gonna be just fine. On the pessimistic side, I'm always afraid that whatever the problem is, it's gonna cost me a fortune to fix, so I don't want to know about it.
But for all it's problems, I still love my jeep. I dunno why, she's been a royal PITA lately. But we've had a good run, and I'll miss her when she retires this fall. If she makes it to the fall.

BTW, I'm taking bets on whether my transmission will implode before I can re-run the cooling lines ;)

Ode to Laura


there once was a girl
'little brat' comes to mind
her hair in a curl
her words less refined

she thought that the world
revolved around her
and for this little girl
not a thing would deter

her from getting her ice cream
but she hadn't anticipated
that her hairbrained little scheme
was so old and outdated

see, her babysitter had been
around the block once or twice
and though he knew it was mean
his job wasn't to be nice

"no ice cream for you"
said the boy with authority
"but mom let's me, it's true!"
"sorry, you're in the minority"

(one would think that her sister
would know of such traditions
but from her, not a whisper
which confirmed his suspicions)

her sad words of sorrow
they fell on deaf ears
"off to bed 'til the morrow
and stop those fake tears"

that babysitter was me
i was a bear, i admit it
but dear reader, you see,
i regret it, just a bit

try as I might
i can't make it up to her
i always seem to ignite
more anger to deter

her favorite ice cream
straight from chicago
would not make for her
a decent quid pro quo

visits, irish cream,
still she regrets!
this is one hurt
she'll never forget

but I hold no deep grudge
for my dear sweetest Laura
for she holds about her
an incandescent aura

she's always been gorgeous
far back as I recall
to deny it would be outrageous
she's beatiful; thin and tall

with a shine in her eye
that none could resist
and the occasional hair dye
seeing her is pure bliss

This rhyme is long due
I procrastinate, it's true
but it's my lyrical debut
So Laura, here's to you!

To Laura.