Bubba
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
I’ve never considered myself a cat person, but shortly after we moved to our home in the woods of Maine we thought that a cat might be a good idea for mouse control if nothing else. We found a couple with a large litter of kittens that were ready for new homes, and decided on two so they could keep each other company. I favored a good-sized gray cat, who readily let me pick him up. He laid comfortably in my arms while Peggy and the owner chased her choice, a calico, around the room for ten minutes before they could catch her. Their personalities remained the same after we took them home. We didn’t have the big gray cat long before we knew his name was Bubba.
Peggy took care of both cats, but Bubba always seemed like “my cat.” He was good-natured and relaxed. He was a bit timid; he’d disappear when we had company, and a thunderstorm would send him under the bed or in a closet. He loved food, and soon grew fat and lazy—who says pets resemble their owners? (I, on the other hand, am big-boned.) He developed the habit of laying on my chest while I laid on the couch reading in the afternoon. We both loved our couch time.
Even though he loved to eat, he had a sensitive stomach. Recently, he began to have more trouble and couldn’t keep his food down. The vet ran a number of tests and put him on medication that didn’t seem to help. Today he got worse, so we took him in again. X-rays revealed a growth and a poor prognosis, and the choice was inevitable. This afternoon I scratched Bubba’s head one last time while Sarah, the vet, ended his suffering. He just fell asleep, and then was gone.
I am still not a cat person. But Bubba wasn’t just a cat.
My Obtuse and Brilliant Friend
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
It’s ironic: At the same time my friend posts a brilliant analysis of the current gas price situation, he demonstrates in an email his obtuse defiance of my perfectly valid claim that the American League does not play baseball. No, my mathematically challenged savant, within the confines of a single inning, an American League team fields 10 players, making it a different game altogether. Baseball is all about strategy: bunt or hit away, walk the batter or bean him, chew tobacco or spit sunflower seeds. And very importantly, let the pitcher bat or pinch hit for him even though he’s still working great but you really need a hit. By using a designated hitter, you’ve eliminated a crucial decision the manager has to make. A baseball player needs only four basic skills: throwing, catching, hitting and running the bases. The American League says pitchers only need two of them. What’s next? Running is really hard; maybe we should have designated runners for our slower players? Designated free throwers in the NBA? Where does it stop? Soon you’ll have PGA golfers riding carts, wearing shorts and playing “winter rules.” After that, it’s only a matter of time before you have the breakdown of society and mayhem in the streets. Of course, my friend won’t mind that, sitting snug and smug in his bunker filled with Spam and toilet paper. I know your game, my friend.
There’s an Explanation for Everything
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
Watching the news about the tragic happenings in Joplin, Missouri last night, I heard many of the survivors cite the commonly accepted reason for their getting through the tornado: “God was watching out for me.” I couldn’t help wondering, wasn’t it God who sent the storm their way in the first place? The newscaster cleared it up for me: “I guess Mother Nature really had it in for these people.”
Come on, humans. Tornadoes happen for non-supernatural reasons. And to paraphrase Randy Newman: Some people get lost in the storm. Some people get away all right.