I’m feeling rather random today. Usually I save my “random” posts for the fifth Friday of a month, if there is one. However, I was fairly serious on August 31, exhorting you to do your backups, so I have a random day coming to me. Besides, I don’t want to wait until November. So here you go—three little notes that don’t belong anywhere else. Enjoy. Continue reading

A Cat-astrophe

I am not a crazy cat lady. I do not have upwards of 30 cats roaming around, shedding, shredding, or hacking up undigested slimy fur balls.

1965Feb - Leslie & ScrappyHowever, I am a cat person. That is, I like cats. I prefer them to dogs, although I like dogs well enough. I grew up an only child with a succession of feline siblings. I’d spend hours scritching around the ears and under their chin, feeding them, grooming them, snuggling with them every night. I even wore them (right).

As a college student away from home and cat, I chafed at the dorm rules prohibiting pets. Pete and I and picked out an abandoned ball of fur at the pound the day after we moved into our first house. We’ve had at least one (and as many as three) cat(s) ever since—35 years’ worth of cats—until this past year when our last cat passed away at the ripe old age of nineteen. Between moving into a pristine, un-furred house (with new, odorless carpet) and the discovery that Pete is allergic, a cat is no longer an option.

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Howling Mad

Misty_LAH_4029.NEFI have a loudly purring cat sitting on my lap. If I stop petting her, she gently nips my arm. Ahem, she says, keep scritching those ears!

In spite of the purring, this is one majorly disgruntled kitty. Usually quite friendly, she’s currently furious with me. I had the audacity to scoop her out of her kitty bed, where she was happily dreaming of tuna, and shove her into a pet carrier even before she had her eyes open. Even worse, I put that carrier into a car and drove for 45 minutes. She hates being in a moving car!

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Random Thoughts from the Interstate

It’s a long way from western Washington to central Colorado. Two days on the road. Twenty-two hours of actual driving time. Fourteen hundred miles (give or take a few). Pete wasn’t really on vacation, so I drove while he stared at his laptop worked. Since he was concentrating so hard, I didn’t want to distract him. No inane conversation. No comments on weird things we passed. No music.

I had a lot of time to think.

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