George's Wild Ride With Cats

I received the following tale via e-mail this morning. Any resemblance to any one I've spoken of in this blog previously is purely coincidental. I laughed so hard I cried:

(This story is based upon a real, true life, honest event.)
(Names have been changed, and appearances altered to protect individuals' anonymity.)

George was educated. He even had went to college. But George had a problem.

George had got himself a cat. And because George was irresponsible, (his best friend says this is so, even) he had now several cats. The biggest part of the problem was the fact that his cats were two different genders. And because they were two genders, they were multiplying. This inspite of the fact that he thought he had prevented this by re-establishing segregation. The boy cats were put up in the old chicken house, and the girl cats were living in the greenhouse, which was nicely furbished for them with a dirt floor also.

But one of the girl cats busted herself and her mother cat, who was all grew up, out of their accomodations one night. And because there were also neighborhood boy cats around, both of them got kittens. Eight kittens to be exact, altogether.

And then there was the mis-understanding with his mother. When the third girl-cat "Sunshine" was singing like she was auditioning for the evening choir, his mother repeatedly kept puttin' the boycats in with Sunshine in the house where she'd been segregated to. She just doesn't seem to understand so good sometimes, George thinks. And he got to where he decided the segregating wasn't worth it, or working too good so he gave up on it. So Sunshine, she got kittens too!

Now when the first eight kittens was got rid of (nicely kind of, not drowning like, but givin' 'em away like) there was hard feelings raised between the big mama cat "Dog", and the little jail breaker "Fearful". They turned to fighting and hissing and big trouble. The that was solved by Dog starting to live with George again and Fearful staying with Sunshine and her kids.

But Dog loved singing, and also peeing on George's stuff and shoes and things. So George was caught on the horns of a big big dilemma. But he heard he could get it all better by taking all his cats to this place that repairs them for their people.

And because he wasn't hardly getting to sleep with all the carryin' ons. He decided it was time for some of them plastic surgery repair jobs.

So he rounded up pet taxis for them one morning. Little plastic boxes you can put them in and lock 'em up and cart them about the countryside. And he didn't take Sunshine the light blond girl cat 'cause she was still milkin' for her little uns, but he loaded up the little white Moonlight, and the orange Fearful, with the brown boy cats Yawll and Tom Thumb, not together but in their own boxes separate. And he didn't take his Mom who wanted to go along and it turns out she was lucking not to go along anyways.

Because when he started driving his buggy with the cats all in it, Yawll began to howl, howling at the top of his lungs, which is very loud.

Then there began to be sweetish smell pervading the car. George presumed someone had decided that it was time to urinate in their personal, private, plastic pet taxi. This was somewhat uncomfortable making, knowing there was active peeing being done in his personal vehicle. BUT, and what a but, it was but a subtle harbinger of what was to come. There arose a smell, soon after, an evil smell, a stench with a slightly nauseating character, someone had taken it upon themself to defecate. To defecate in his car, in their taxi.

Windows must be open. Open them quickly! But not too far, because too much breeze invigorates the howling. Horrible howling, like cats are being murdered slowly and painfully. Punctuated by contributions from Fearful, slightly lower pitched, less intense, more shrill. And what must the fellow drivers think of this howling shrieking car presumably surmounted by an evil smelling, dark cloud of pestilential fuming? Better to close the windows again, and suffer in solitude.

The village of Hamingbell is reached and the Autobahn is finally available. Windows are opened periodically and closed again. Howling continues unabated. Speed is increased, they speed onward. Curious, the driver thinks, no one has summoned the authorities to investigate this torturous travelling show.

Fearful, finds it best to travel on her back, at times flailing wildly with her claws outstretched through her front door. George is beginning to lose his grip on sanity.The sound. The stench. The memories of clawings and bitings past, injuries inflicted by the noisy pair. Ah, the Gaskit river. Maybe to submerse the taxi of Yawll in the Chappaquidic. To end the noise. Who should this cat be forced upon. Yes he looks pretty, he acts warmly, but his malfeasances, they are hard to bear.

But refuge is getting nearer, so George regains his grip with sanity. They pass dR dribratS, they pass Noah and the ark they seek. They take the prescribed sideroad and park on the lot. George leaves the windows open and enters the clinic. The nice lady with the odd face asks if he has come to pick up his cat. He says, "No, I have some cats that need repairs." The assistant, states, "We don't take surrenders." George considers telling them, "Well then I shall go out on the parking lot and shoot them." but thinks better of it. (He was thinking that would make them accept them after all.)

Rather he informs them that they are his cats which he has brought for repairs. The Oddish Face says "You need an appointment." George asks if he may drop them off right now as they are in the car. Assistant "We don't House." George "How do I get an appointment?" O. F. "You need to go to the main entrance."

George leaves with a nice thank-you and walks around to the main entrance. The receptionist sits behind the desk, speaking on the phone. George waits at the desk, bright sunlight shining directly in his eyes, he soon sees nothing and feels as though he is at an interrogation. He intelligently moves off to the side where he can again see. He now perceives that this woman has an even odder face tha receptionist number one. He ponders the relationship between facial features and occupations, but only briefly, for the lady is addressing him now. He states his mission, says he needs an appointment.

"She" riffles through the scheduling book saying "I'm putting females in male slots" which seems somehow wrong to him. "August 8" she says. George thinks about how that is eleven days of bad sleep ahead. He questions whether there might not be a Monday instead. She replies that she hasn't any mondays for months, (How do they schedule these things so far ahead George muses). He sets his cats up for August 8th repairs. And now he must return home. In the stinking, howling, four pet-taxi ferry that used to be his own private favorite ride.

So off they go. He wonders at the volume of Yawll that has not decreased. He notes the calm of Dog and Oreo, whom he hasn't mentioned yet in person, for his comportment was remarkable only for it's unremarkability. And the howling continues all the while.

George begins to get thoughts of violence. He thinks that he will stop and get a very big stick and beat Yawll very, very dead. And flat, very flat into the ground. But the fancy is passing, and the momentary insanity again is passed.

The trip continues and George has time to think with himself. George's introspection is fruitful. He decides he is not yet a too-old dog, for he is still able to learn. He has learned much today. He has learned valuable lessons. They are as follows:

1. "Little" cat problems are bigger than you think.
2. He is still able to learn. This is good.
3. He was naive to think he could just show up. This is not so good.
4. Some cats travel well. This is good. And nice.
5. Some cats don't travel well. This is not so good.
6. He will phone first. If he ever has to do this sort of thing again. This is good.
7. Having to do this sort of thing again is not so good.
8. Cat stink doesn't hang in the car long when the cats are out of it. This is good. (Out of it, the car, not consciousness)
9. George will definitely get rid of Yawll and Fearful. This is good.
10.George can survive very uncomfortable circumstances. This is good.

So George is on the road to happiness and peace at home. There appears hope on the horizon.

Shirley's got a brand new bag.

Let me tell you about my friend Shirley.

A year or so ago she discovered that I had a quilt top made by my grandmother and her twin sister somewhere around 1940. She took it to her quilting group (the Galloping Horse Quilters of Portland Oregon) who turned it into an incredible masterpiece, handstitching everything to keep with the era and technique's it was started with. She would not take payment for this.

Last fall when my son crashed his car on I-5 and I had to frantically dash to Redding, CA Shirley stayed at my house and took care of my animals. She stayed without hesitation, without a change of clothes, without a toothbrush. She lives 50 miles north of me and didn't even go back home for clean underwear (okay.. that might be too much information.. there ARE Targets around here.. maybe she bought some). I thanked her heartily.. but let's face it, that's a little lame.

A few months ago she stayed again. With more notice (and a change of clothes), but she stayed for part of a week so that I could go north to Peters and "get away" from it all before I started my new job.

I have made her a felted bag. She chose the colors.. they are heather and pink. I chose the pattern. It's taken far too long to make this bag but it was made with love and gratitude.

Thank you Shirley.

Knitted but not felted:

Felting #1:

Final Felting #2:

Peace in the house!

Look! Everyone is getting along. Dog, chickens, kitten, cat. How cool is that?

Aren't they all cute together? Awwwwww..

This is good news. Peter got 24 more chickens at his house this week. Thatza lotta fowl! We decided that "My Little Goat Shop" will be selling eggs too. Either that or we'll be eating omelets, souffles, quiches and such every meal for the rest of our lives. I would really like the luxury of eating sushi or steak every now and then so it seems certain will be selling eggs. Remember to shop "My Little Goat Shop" first.

345 days

I've been SOOO busy!

My mom turned 85 yesterday. My brother and sister-in-law are in town. Peter was here over the weekend. My AC & UA came up. It's been crazy I tell you!

My mom is certainly better than she was 6 months ago - but this week has been exhausting for her and I see some signs of back sliding. She told me yesterday that she "wouldn't be here" next fall. She wouldn't elaborate though.

I've been knitting. Only I don't have any pictures yet. I've given up on the shrugigan - temporarily - and I'm working on a bag for my friend Shirley. I'm almost done with it.

My chickens are getting bigger. They look full grown (I think) and should start laying eggs in about 6 weeks. Jerry and I remodeled their coop tonight. I think they are going to be much happier. I know I will be with the new door configuration. It will be so much more convenient.

I got my first goat. I know! How exciting is that?! She's a beautiful little thing. Brown, with little horns. Unfortunately.. She will not be a goat I can milk. The problem is she is about 2" tall and made from resin. She sits on my desk at work helping to keep me motivated for the finish line.

How was your Holiday?

Lots of goings on around here. Where do I start? Hmm..

Goat shop dreams are progressing. Peter has an idea of where we're going to put the shop. I like that he seems to embrace the idea of this being real.

He came down to surprise me on the 1st (it was our kinda anniversary after all). He rode the train. Surprise! It was delightful and quite unexpected. I still had to work Friday though (bummer!) but after work we (Peter, Jill and I) drove up to Peter's house for the weekend.

Jill spent part of Saturday packing up Edna's things. She had lots and lots of chatzke's. Hummel figurines, porcelain eggs, dolls, knick-knacks & goo-gaws. We're helping Peter by cataloging and preparing them for sale.

While Jill was packing I got tractor lessons. I got to drive a tractor! It was fun - for the first 10 minutes - then I got a little dizzy going around in circles plowing the field. I started to make patterns in the ground. I tried to write my name. I zigged. I zagged. It was not a very effecient effort and after about 3 hours it was finally all plowed. I am really going to have to get more serious with the plowing if I'm going to be a good farmer and goat herder. I will need to learn to take things more seriously! or not. Hee hee.

Yesterday we went "adventuring." We went to Concrete, WA and prowled around the abandoned concrete plant. We had a picnic on an old conveyor platform overlooking Lake Shannon. Then we went to the big 4 ice caves - which were actually formed. This time last year there was still just a big ice field and not even a hint of caves.

After we got home last night we let the ducks and goose out to eat some slugs. In the mornings when they get out they run much faster, but they still make me laugh!