You knew it was coming...

Once of the complaints about blogs is that their writers often wax philosophical about the most trivial of things. They opine endlessly about things they know nothing about and obsess about the most mundane of subjects.

I'm kinda feelin left out...

So it is with great great pride that I submit the following post regarding...My Cat.


To clarify a little, I don't actually have a cat. The last cat I laid claim to, Bill, passed away some four years ago or so. He wandered into the house I was renovating, stuck out his tongue, said "ack!" and the rest is history. Rossana and I had Bill for thirteen years. That's longer than I have known some people, and truth be told I liked Bill more than some people I have known.

We had come to accept that we would likely not own another cat. Our schedule is pretty rough and we have no super close friends to call upon for slave duty when we are away. That didn't stop a cat from adopting us.

The cat in question is not the kid of cat I might have chosen, if I had any say in the matter (which I don't) He is a large, long haired beastie as black as night. Rossana began feeding him outside and he eventually came inside. It is likely he has been living on his own all his life. He lacks many social skills, does not understand how to play and until recently when we had his claws trimmed, liked to tenderise various parts of our bodies without any notice as to our discomforture while he slept.

To be fair, he is beautiful, and is very mild mannered. No insane running around breaking things or attacking you from hidden locations. He rolls on his back in a way so cute you could forgive him for spilling acid on your face and has the attention span of a flea.

We were worried about him while on our trip to Egypt. Although he seems to enjoy being inside he is in no way housebroken. When he needs to go, he lets us know is a piercing, no-nonsense yowl. So we would not leave him in the house. Our friend Grimm was kind enough to come over and leave food by a make shift shelter we made for him. On our return it was an entire day before he showed up and he was not pretty. At some point he has run through some kind of brambles and slept in some kind of mud. His long hair was now matted and filthy. We did what we could but there was nothing for it but to go to a groomer.

So now we have one ugly-ass shaved cat. He is not completely shaved, we begged the nice woman to keep all the fur she could since he still hangs out outside. He came back clean and looking like he had been in a fight with a weed whacker. If you were previously unaware, cats look butt ugly without fur. The good news is that he seems to hold no grudge against us for this indignity (or his plan for revenge is calculated in years). We were told that it would be two months before the hair grows back. I quietly pondered if some kind of toupe' or combover were feasible. I want to take a sharpie marker and fill in some of the bald spots. Cats deserve some sense of dignity.

So there you have it. A posting about our cat. You life is now complete.

BTW his name is "The Great Cat of Reh", or simply Ray. Although we tend to use the term "Brat child" and "It". As in "IT has just rolled off the couch and is stuck behind the cushions".