Saturday, Nov. 08, 2003
I'm starting to think that my cat Enid is either the first documented feline Star Trek fan or the stupidest cat I have ever known.
Before she came to us, Enid spent her whole life in a shelter. She'd never been outside, never felt wind, had no concept of weather. The first time she went outside it took her several hours to screw up enough courage to step off our deck into that odd moving green stuff we humans call grass.
It has been amazing to watch how quickly Enid embraced being outside. Heck, she'd even forego some of her badly needed 22 1/2 hours daily sleep to stay outside and play. It has been hilarious to watch her sproing all over the yard in pursuit of grasshoppers, pinball after mice in the daffodil meadow, rocket across the yard after squirrels.
But now winter is coming. There are no more grasshoppers sproinging. The mice are getting cagier. The squirrels aren't as active. Even worse, it is getting cold.
Every morning right after her breakfast, Enid runs to the front door and stares at it, willing it to open. You can almost see the words "Open Sesame" in a thought bubble over her head. Good cat lackey that I am, I open the door for her.
In the good weather she tore outside without a hesitation, but now that it's cold she hesitantly sticks her nose out the door and then quickly turns on her heel and runs back inside. In passing she shoots me a dirty look because, well, what kind of a madwoman would expect at cat to go out into THAT?
Here's where the Star Trek business comes in. I think Enid might believe in either alternative realities or worm holes to other dimensions.
See, upstairs we have a second door that leads outside. For the last week or so, right after she's decided that the reality outside our front door is not to her liking, Enid tears upstairs and plunks herself down in front of the second door, doing an Open Sesame to it.
Because, you know, there could be an alternative reality or worm hole outside that door. It could still be summer outside that door. This Should Be Investigated.
My desk is right beside that door. If I try to ignore the cat she turns things on thick. I get The Wistful Looks. I get The Soft, Pleading Mews. It takes her about three minutes to break me. Then, with a grumpy sigh, I open the door. The cat sticks her nose outside briefly, ascertains that it is, indeed, the same reality outside the back door as the reality outside the front door.
Then she shoots me a dirty look because, well, what kind of a madwoman would expect a cat to go out into THAT?
This has been going on for about a week now, which means Enid is either the first documented feline Star Trek fan (because of her strong belief in alternate realties) or the stupidest cat I have ever owned.
The jury is still out.
finished Nov. 7
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.
This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.