Archive for June 2007

The death of the football scotty dog rabbit cinderblock faux cat

About 8 years ago my mother’s friend, Mrs. Smith, died. Mr. Smith had died just a few months prior. My mother had known her for 30 years. She ended up adopting their cat, Kiwi.

Kiwi was 11 years old, black-and-white, and had no tail. She was a manx cat, and her tail was about 3/4″ long. She was also incredibly fat. So fat that we thought it couldn’t be fat, because it wasn’t flabby. It was tight. We thought maybe she was so muscular she looked fat. We took her for a checkup, but the vet said, “Oh no, that’s fat. She’s incredibly obese.”

She never acted like a cat. Her people had treated her like a dog, it seems. She moved like a combination of a scotty dog and a rabbit, and her fat tailless body looked like a cinderblock with a cat head stuck on the end.

She didn’t interact like a cat. She would waddle up to you and turn around, so you could pet her on her back. That’s it. No rubbing, no lap, just you petting her. You might as well pet the arm of the chair for all you got out of it. It was a one-way interaction for her.

But I felt sorry for her. It was all she knew. It’s how she was treated. And she never changed, never got more social.

She used to ride in an RV to the Smith’s ranch every weekend. For the longest time I thought the cat was from New Zealand, but it turned out the Smith’s just grew kiwi fruit on their ranch.

But she never gave up hoping when she went out the back door, that it would be her ranch. She never gave up hoping that her people would come back to pick her up.

3 1/2 years ago, my mother died. Kiwi was now my father’s charge, one more person removed from her real family.

Finally, a couple of months ago, we could see the end was coming. She got weaker and weaker. She was 18 or 19, I suppose, and started doddering around, peeing anywhere and even laying down in it. She wasn’t sick, just very, very elderly.

On Wednesday morning she didn’t get up. She just lay in her little green basket and slept.

On Friday morning, she was gone.

My wife put daisies on her grave.

Death sentence for adultery

A man booby-trapped his house with 19 shotguns in an attempt to kill his relatives. He accidentally was shot and killed by his own trap.

This is the part that makes me crazy:

Here in the heart of conservative, Catholic Belgium, few were surprised that the churchgoing couple produced a total of 14 children – 10 girls and four boys – or that Dethy had hung a crucifix on the wall in each room, including the kitchen.

His strong religious beliefs did not prevent him, however, from committing adultery, and when his wife caught him in bed with another woman 20 years ago she walked out, taking the children with her. Dethy then retreated into a reclusive existence behind the net curtains of his home.

Relatives say he never forgave his wife for divorcing him, or his 14 children and 37 grandchildren for having little to do with him. His bitterness grew into a desire for revenge when even his mother became estranged from him.

He never forgave his wife? He’s the one who committed adultery on her. She had a right to divorce him, and the kids were right to side with her.

Usually people end up sticking by their parents or children no matter how worthless they are. In this case it seems people did the right thing. Too bad he couldn’t humble himself and seek forgiveness, instead of harboring resentment over the consequences of his own evil acts.

And now he is dead. What a waste of a life on this earth.

Thundercats movie?

Apparently they may make a movie about the Thundercats.

I watched this show when I was a kid, but I never thought it was good. The main character’s name is Lion-O for crying out loud!

I did like the theme song. Not because it was good, but because I always thought bathroom-related humour was funny.

“Thundercats are on the move, Thundercats are loose!”

C’mon, am I really the only one that thought they had too much fiber in their diet when they sang that line?