NEON GODS

Obama explained.

We have a cat.  He loves chasing the red light dot I direct on the floor from a little penlight I bought.  Every time the cat is about to pounce on the dot I move it and he has to try to catch it again.  The bottom line is our cat never catches the dot and yet after months of playing this game he still doesn't realize he never will catch it.

The same can be said of President Obama.  Every time he thought he had a deal with the Republicans they moved the dot farther to the right, and Obama had to try again.  Just like our cat, Obama never caught on that this is just a game (with dire consequences), and that he can never catch the dot.

Now, I know he's smarter than a cat and I hope he has finally caught on to the game, but I'm not sure his advisers and the Dems in Congress have.  We must not allow the Republican clowns anywhere near the White House, but I suspect the right will continue to succeed in moving the dot to the right even if they lose the White House.  And that is depressing.  It's also the reason we must support the Occupy movement as our only effective response.  Elections and our political system don't work anymore.

--Trakker

Totally unprofessional behavior!

We own two cats. We feed them, give them shelter, buy them toys and catnip, provide them with free health care, and pet them when they demand it.  In return all we ask is that they keep our cabin free of mice when we're there.

I'm at the cabin for a few weeks and it's getting cold out at night so the mice are trying to move in.  But we've got two super-alert cats ready to pounce on any mouse that dares to show itself, right?  Right?

The other morning I got up and happened to glance in the kitchen and there was our cat, Skipper, laying on the kitchen counter right next to a little field mouse who was nibbling on some crumbs.  When the mouse was done it sauntered off and Skipper did nothing.  She just let it walk away (I grabbed a box, caught the mouse - see how easy it is Skipper? - and took it into the woods where I let it go).

But it gets worse.  The next day the cats cornered a different mouse (I hope), and they just chased it around the room.  They could have caught if they really wanted to.  They finally cornered it on our TV tray rack and the mouse actually ran down to Skipper and they touched noses!  That's when I grabbed my camera, to get proof of the unprofessional behavior of our cats.  You can watch the shocking video here (when the link opens, click on the image on the left).

Has the whole world gone insane?!  Herman Cain proposes to raise taxes on families making $50,000 by $4,500 a year and he is now the leading Republican candidate for President?  Dirty hippies are scaring wealthy Wall Street moguls?  Our cats are befriending mice?  What next, an African American gets elected President of the United States??  Oh,  wait...,

--Trakker

Burying children, deciding to move West, and why do women always wave back?

No, this isn't another post about cats, but I was reminded of something while I was digging the grave for Mercator.  It was cold and windy, the ground was hard and rocky, and I was very sad, and it reminded me of all the pioneers who traveled west by wagon and had children (and spouses) die along the way, and people would have to bury them quickly by the roadside, because they had to keep moving.  I can just imagine how hard it must have been to have to dig a grave for someone you love who was just alive and part of the family the dy before.  Worse, they knew that any markers they left to mark the grave would probably not survive long.  They knew they would never be able to find the grave again. It must have been extremely hard on mothers to leave their children behind.

Speaking of mothers, I've read a lot of pioneer diaries and stories, and one thing that has always stood out in my mind is that the desire to move West was almost always the husband's desire, not the wife, unless the wife's kin were also part of the move.  The women almost always tried to talk their husband's out of moving but back then the men made all of the decisions.  It is hard for us to comprehend just how frustrating it was to be a woman in the 19th century and before. 

And speaking of women - I'm really jumping around aren't I - here in West Virginia where we have our cabin there are a lot of dirt roads with cabins like ours, many for rent by the week or weekend, so there is a lot of foot traffic on the roads, people out for a walk in the woods.  We always wave to everyone we pass, whether it be on foot or other drivers and what has struck me is that women always look at us and wave back.  At least half the men ignore us.  I think one reason is that politeness is ingrained in little girls, but not as often in boys.  But I also think that women, despite the fact that going out in the world is more dangerous for them, are more sociable than men.  Men are more likely to be loners while women like meeting people, and that's really neat.  I'm a loner myself, and am happy to be just left alone, but I envy those who are more outgoing.

--Trakker

Mercator - RIP

By last night it was obvious we couldn't put it off any longer.  The poor guy was living in a fog that must have frightened him. Nothing worked right.  He was restless and uncomfortable so we had to do it today. The vet put him to sleep at 3:30 this afternoon and I drove him out to our cabin where I will bury him tomorrow.

He did not like our trips to the cabin...he'd meow, meow, meow the whole way, only stopping long enough to barf at some point.  He disdained chasing cat toys around the room, obviously smart enough to know that catching it offered no reward.  He was cranky when Skipper interrupted his naps (wouldn't you too?).  He also disdained the dry, healthy cat food we always fed him, sniffing it first, then giving us "the look," then give his head a sad shake, put his head down and dig in. 

Yes, he was a bit of a snob sometimes, but you can't imagine how much we miss him right now.

For 6 years you made us smile, so whats a few days of tears, right?  It was worth it.

--Your servant, Trakker.

Our Cat is Dying

Mercator is the second of our three cats. We got him from the shelter for a companion for our first cat, Skipper, while we were gone all day at work (the third is a stray we found a couple of years ago).

He is (was) a big, amiable, beautiful brown and white cat who had only three desires in life, to eat, to sleep deeply without interruption, and to poop.  Whoa Nelly, that boy could poop!  Skipper always seemed offended whenever Mercator looked too comfortable during his naps so she would torment him until he had to chase her away - which is exactly what Skipper wanted.  We learned to live with the sudden appearance and equally sudden exit of the two streaks of fur running up and down the stairs.

Mercator had always been a bit overweight so when he hit 9 years old we decided to cut back on his food to bring his weight down. We hoped that would make him healthier and extend his life.

Well, it worked, and within six months he had dropped from 13 to 11.5 pounds.  High fives all around!

But he didn't stop at 11 pounds, he dropped to 10, then 9, and then we started feeling his bones when we petted him.  This didn't seem right so we took him to the vet.  The tests came back showing he had hyperthyroidism, so we had to start giving him a daily pill (that was fun).  We expected him to bounce back, but he didn't.  We took him back for more tests and this time we were told his kidneys were failing.  It was irreversible and incurable so all we could do was give him a special diet to extend his life.

Since then we've seen a steady deterioration of his body.  He kept losing weight - he now weighs just 5 pounds and he is literally just a skeleton of fur and bones.  He's fairly alert and does all the cat things he's always done - or at least tries to - but he's unsteady on his feet, he wobbles instead of walks, and now his rear legs aren't strong enough for him to jump on the bed.  When he jumps on the couch his hind legs just dangle until he can pull himself up slowly with his front legs.  It's so sad.  We carry him around a lot and help him up or down, but he is failing more each day and we know that soon his time with us will be over.

Put him down. What a ghastly phrase, but even that is better than the truth: we're not putting him down, we'll be putting him to death. That's a power I wish I didn't have, but given his condition why are we keeping him alive? It's for our benefit, not his.  How much is he enjoying life right now?

As I write he's curled up by my side and I've been petting him all afternoon.  Whenever I get up he  follows me.  He used to like to nap in a quiet room upstairs but now he wants to be near someone all the time.  His eyes are still clear and he looks at me a lot.  I think he's still aware of whats going on, he just can't make his body do what it used to do.  Pain? I'm not sure.  I don't think so.  If he was it would be easier to decide what to do.

Tomorrow we have an appointment with the vet, for advice.  I suspect she will say it's time to put him down, and coming from her it will be easier on our consciences to accept, but I just dread the thought because I know he is still alive inside and will look at us with trust before he dies.   And to make it worse, I also know that when that time comes my wife will be absolutely destroyed.  All cats favor one person above all others and Mercator had chosen her.  There was a special bond between them.  He sleeps right next to her every night.

I'm crying now.  I know Mercator must die soon for his own good and it must happen at our direction.  I will miss him something terrible.  I know he is just a cat.  I know he doesn't know he's dying or that he will be missed or that soon he will never feel our hand caress his soft fur again.  He doesn't know any of that. He's just a cat right?  Right?

--Trakker

Why I love cats

There are even more graceful in slo-mo.

--Trakker

Hungry cat starts wildfire!

Two of our three cats were born in the woods of West Virginia.  It's a hard life for a cat in the woods, and those two fuzz-balls don't know how lucky they are, but this will certainly impress them.

A hungry Bobcat in Ventura County, California, spotted a big fat owl sitting on some power lines near a power pole.  The Bobcat silently climbed the power pole and leaped onto the unsuspecting bird, unfortunately in the process the Bobcat "touched the power lines, caught fire and fell to the ground."  The bird got away, and the Bobcat set a wildfire that burned five acres and it took 40 firefighters 5 hours to extinguish.

--Trakker

Happy Independence Day!

We (wife, 3 cats and me) are back in West Virginia for the 4th of July and a bit longer.  Traveling 200 miles with three cats is a riot.  Skipper, our tiniest cat, decided it was her day to be a bitch and relegated the two males to the very rear of the Jeep.  A lot of hissing and growling was heard from the rear. On the other hand, Mercator, who almost always barfs on these trips kept it in. 

Not sure why, but the towns out here in West Virginia had their fireworks last night, on the 3rd.  Ms. Trakker and I drove to the top of the mountain and watched private fireworks being set off in the valley and maybe five different small-town fireworks along the horizon.  It was a perfect night, cloudless with a cool breeze, and it was a unique experience, seeing so many fireworks at once, but they were so far away that the noise and majesty of seeing fireworks overhead was missing.

On this Independence Day I wonder what our brave founding fathers would think of our nation today.  Certainly they would be dazzled by our standard of living and the level of technology that makes our lives exciting.  They would be stunned by the equality we enjoy, where African Americans, women, and non-landowners all have the vote, African Americans are free, and that a black man of African descent is President!  We often lose sight of our progress over the years. We have a lot to be proud of as Americans.

--Trakker

How do you get a cat to pee?

It's hot here.  11 straight days of 90 or over here in Washington.  They keep promising relief, but all I've seen is a slight drop in humidity this evening.  I hate hot and sticky weather.  What would we do without air conditioning?!!  Well, we'll find out tonight because our A/C died this morning as we were trying to catch our three cats for their annual trip to the vet.  They HATE these visits and seem to know when they occur because we could only bag two of them. The youngest heard the howling of the first two and retreated to his "very, very most secret" hiding place which we haven't yet discovered,

Our older cat (Mercator - 10 years old) has lost weight three years in a row, so the vet needed to get blood and urine samples for the lab, so she took him in the next room to get the fluids.  While he was out my wife asked me how they get him to pee.  I wish she hadn't asked because I know they can't induce him to pee. So how DO they get his urine.  DAMN, I wish she hadn't asked, because I have an active imagination that I can't turn off.  Catheter?  Now I was feeling sick. Oh my poor kitty.

After a long wait, the technician and vet return with Mercator wrapped in a towel looking dazed.  My wife just HAD to ask: "How do they get kitties to pee?"  "We don't," answered the technician, "we stick a needle in his bladder to get a sterile sample."  OMG!

Mercator is home now, listless and keeping to himself.  He's about my age in cat years and I feel a real connection to him today. It really sucks getting old.

--Trakker

Is there such a thing as a "normal" cat?

I apologize for not writing much lately.  This is the time of year when the weather is so delightful that only a slug would stay inside and write about politics.  Also, the basement needs cleaning, but only a slug would...

A longtime reader, horsec, sent me a New York Times article entitled, "Is Your Cat Normal?"   With three cats it's increasingly obvious to me that the words "cat" and "normal" never belong in the same sentence, however the slide show that the article linked to (on WebMD of all places!) was entertaining.

Of course the one thing cats provide in abundance is entertainment.  Like most animals they are very brilliant in some areas and jaw-dropping stupid in others.  For instance one of our cats loves to be brushed by a brown plastic-toothed brush.  Pick up the brush and she will come running. She'll rub and nuzzle the brush until you start brushing her.  The brush looks nothing like our TV remote, not in size, shape, or color, and yet for some damn reason the cat gets just as excited when we pick up the remote.  It's embarrassing to see her nuzzle and rub the remote while we're trying to change channels.

What I love most about cats is their perverse sense of humor.  When I was 9 I got a cat from a friend.  My Dad hated cats with a passion.  If the cat sat in his chair Dad tried to sit on the cat.  Dad wouldn't acknowledge the cat, go anywhere near it, or let it in when it meowed to get in (the cat spent most of the day outside but the all-important food bowl was inside).  My cat knew Dad hated him, so at night in the summer when all our windows were open (we didn't have air conditioning) my cat would jump on the roof and begin meowing at 2 AM just outside the window where my Dad slept, wake him up, then run. 

It's a miracle Sam lived to be 13 years old.  I was in the Air Force when Sam died (of natural causes) but I'm sure Dad did a little happy dance when Sam succumbed.  I fondly remember those battles between my cat and my dad.  Sam won most of them, far more than I ever did.

--Trakker