Feline Progress
Vinnie still hates you. Lots.
Had a minor breakthrough with Vinnie the other morning. He was curled up on the couch and I had SportsCenter on. I sat down near him, which is usually the point where he starts getting uneasy. I put my hand on him, not to pet him or anything, just to see how he'd react.
Normally this would be cause for squirming and weird grunting noises from Vinnie, but this time I got a bit of purring and his eyes closed and he noticeably relaxed under my hand.
It's not much, but it's a start.
Introducing: Vinnie
Hooray. It's Vinnie.
Vinnie hates all humans. Seriously. That's not a joke.
As you can tell from my faux enthusiasm above, Vinnie is my least favorite of the four cats we have. I don't hate him, but I don't have a particularly strong bond with him, either. The running commentary around here is that he hates anything with two legs. And that's not far off. He came into Kate's life because Happy needed some company, and the two of them bonded really tightly.
I'm starting to come to the conclusion that Vinnie is never ever going to like human contact. I've worked with him extensively over the year that Kate and I have been living together and seem to be unable to reassure him that humans are not going to kill and eat him or anything like that. So he's more of a fixture in the house (that attaches to Happy).
Obviously, I'm going to keep trying to socialize him a bit. Because yeah, I'm not the type to give up on an animal.
Nicknames: Vin, Vinster, Vincento.
Age: 4?
Vinnie, right, with the only organism he loves in the world -- Happy, left.
Introducing: Calvin
Part III in the introduction to our armada of cats.
Calvin at the Petsmart adoption center, awaiting his jailbreak.
Calvin was not a planned adoption. When I met the little guy, I had only vaguely thought about getting Scout a friend, as Mooch had very little interest in Scout's psychotic brand of play. So in November of 2007, I was at a Petsmart in St. Louis Park and visiting with the adoptable cats -- something I do at every visit to the store. Immediately, I was taken by this vocal, cute little black-and-white cat who was hanging on the bars of his cage and talking to me. I pegged him at about 14-16 weeks old, and interacted with him a bit. They were closing up, so I bought the huge-ass bag of Science Diet, and went home. At home, I watched Scout try to engage in play with Mooch, and Mooch just avoid him altogether, and I felt pretty bad. I decided to get Calvin. I called Petsmart the next day at opening time and they put him on hold for me. Tuesday, I got there too late and the adoption center was closed. On Wednesday, I went in, paid the $150 fee, and filled out the paperwork.
I was surprised to discover that Calvin was actually 6 months old and had started life in Ohio. He was a runt because he had been a very sickly kitten -- horrible ear mites, a bad case of worms, a skin condition, and chronic ear and upper respiratory infections. He was going to be put down by the shelter he was at, but was rescued and then passed around to a few groups, and made his way to Minnesota.
He was out of the kitty carrier much faster than I had planned, nothing but legs and hyperactive joy at being outside a cage. Mooch was okay with him and was responsive to gentle play -- and she took the new arrival far better than Scout did. Scout? Not happy. At all. The first couple of days, there was a lot of growling and hissing and hurt feelings.
Four days into the deal, I instituted the Chicken Juice Treaty of 2007. I was making a cold salad that required canned chicken. I took the chicken water, poured it onto a plate, and set it on the kitchen floor. The end result was three cats eating off the same dinner plate, and instant household harmony.
The end result was a tight bond between Calvin and Scout. They've become best friends. Mooch and Calvin had a decent bond going, too -- when she was home for the few days before we had her put down, Calvin stuck by her side and was very protective of her.
He's an awesome cat. Loves his people, loves the other cats (well, he's in a dominance war with Happy), and is a joy to have around. He's tied with Happy for second place on the List of Awesome Cats in the House. Oh yeah, and he's a total daddy's boy.
Nicknames: Calviano, Vino, Little Man, Goofball, Spaz
Age: 2.5.
Scout and Calvin about two weeks after their introduction.
Introducing: Happy
Continuing with the introduction of our little armada, let's move on to Happy.
Happy, outside on the deck.
Happy is Kate's cat, and there's little doubt about that. While she and I were dating, my arrival at her place was cause for celebration in a "Yes! Testosterone! Lets watch some football!" kind of way, because well, Kate being a girl, and Vinnie (our fourth cat in this series) being a girl, despite his hardware, Happy didn't get much chance for dude time. Since the cohabitation, however, it's become more and more clear that Happy is a momma's boy.
He's the oldest of our four and tied for second place on my favorites list. He seems to be a "gateway cat" for cat haters, too. He's got the easygoing, friendly attitude of an older black lab, which has led to me calling him "puppycat" on a frequent basis.
He's close to Scout on my favorites list, but not close enough to tie for first. Extremely well-behaved, socially fearless, and still very much a kitten at heart, I suspect that Happy is going to be around for a long time.
Nicknames: Happenstance, McSlapperton, Haps, Puppycat.
Age: 10.
Introducing: Scout
I'm not normally the type to talk about my cats super-extensively on here. My posts about Mooch's euthanization this last summer don't count -- that was a pretty tough time and she was (and still is) family. But, being hard-up for topics other than cycling stuff, I decided I'd go through and write a short intro for each of our cats.
I was mocking him for looking cranky. He didn't like it.
This is Scout, and of our four, he's my favorite. He's a mutt -- half Siamese, half tabby, with the mouthy attitude of the former, and the brains of, well, not a tabby.
After my divorce, I was hunting around for a companion for Mooch, as her long-time buddy, Pixel, was in my ex-wife's custody.1 I happened upon Scout's picture on Petfinder.com (featured below) and became a big pile of mush. I met him, and he seemed pretty cool, so I decided to bring him home.
And this is where I had my first real lesson on the difference between shelter personality and home personality. It's not something that's true of all cats, but some will do a 180 on personality when they get home. Scout was one of those.
Right out of the gate, he was attacking Mooch, attacking me, and attacking every human that came through the door. There was a lot of swearing, a lot of bleeding, and times when I'd lock him in the bathroom for an hour or two just so that Mooch and I could have a break from "the little fucker," as I'd taken to calling him.
A year into it and Scout became very shy and withdrawn. I'm not sure what the exact trigger is, but it tied to having a small group of people over for a TV event. Scout was very unhappy about the presence of new people and hid under the bed for three days.
Since then, he's started developing into a pretty good-natured guy. It's taken some time, though. He's still not comfortable with new men around, but new women are okay in his book. He sleeps on Kate's head at night and finds the time to come around and get picked up and held while I'm on the computer.
Of our four, he's my favorite. He's a little weird, very talkative, and a fun guy to have around.
Nicknames: Scoutwell, Magoo (he's pretty cross-eyed), Goober, Magoober (a combination of the previous two, duh), Sprout, Baby Boy, the Beige Bomber.
Age: 5.
Scout's baby picture, featured on Petfinder.com. I'm a sucker for cute.
1. And remains there to this day. I'm not at all bitter about it -- Pixel is nuts about Carolyn, and vice versa.
Cat Stuff
Mooch's passing still hits me a little bit once in awhile. Not as hard as it used to, obviously. The Mooch-shaped hole in my life is healing over, I guess.
I did make the mistake of going in to PetSmart's "Adoption Center" last night -- always a mistake. No, I did not get another cat, but it was also very hard to get out of there without taking them all with me.
Kate and I have talked about cat population early on, and we agreed that we would let natural attrition get us down to a population of three, and not go beyond that ever again. Given that we have three cats who are all younger than five, it's going to be a long time before that happens.
So we idly discuss such things. We're both smitten by the Singapura breed (more) right now, but again, it'll be a long time before we bring one into our home.
I'm very okay with that. The desire for another cat is transient, at best. Our armada of boys is fun to be around, get along pretty well, and have an interesting blend of quirks. I really don't want to upset the applecart by bringing in an interloper.
Things, Stuff, and Other Things
Once again, no real clear-cut plan exists for a blog post. I'm feeling somewhat guilty for not having updated lately. So here, again, is a list of bullet points about what's goin' on (I hear Marvin Gaye every time I type that). Some of this is heavy, some light, and I'm guessing that most of it is transient stuff that I won't remember a year from now.
• First and foremost, I've been trying to pay more attention to the happy things in life and less attention to the negative crap. No, this isn't some loonball attempt to follow the wishful-thinking bullshit espoused by The Secret. It's more of an attempt to just be more happy and to see the good in the rest of the world. It's been hard to do, though. I'm very influenced by the moods of the people I'm closest to, and as a result, I have the occasional bad day.
• Framebuilding is going well. I've been honing my brazing skills and am starting to feel pretty comfortable with them. I've also finished a few joints with hand-filing and power tools, which has served to illuminate the need for a quality filling of the joint after it's been tinned. My next session is in two weeks and we're going to go over TIG welding -- and as part of that, I'll be using 3" square tubing to build a welding stand, which will become part of my arsenal of tools. Once built, I'll need to get it powder-coated and buy a few small fixtures (repairs stand clamp, casters, bolts, etc.) to get the thing put together. I've also blueprinted the 29'er frame and the cyclocross frames using BikeCAD.
• I also recently applied for a part-time, work-at-home gig that would have me working as the Online Editor for Cyclocross Magazine. My skill set (English degree, deep experience in interactive, and a love of cyclocross) seemed to be a good match. I did get a pleasant response from them this weekend, and have written back. Just waiting to hear more at this point. Very excited about the potential position.
• Trying to get my shit together on the 2010 training program. I really need to hit that this week.
• Calvin is getting really weird lately. The little guy has taken to standing in the corner of the living room and meowing at the top of his lungs for no particular reason that I can ascertain. We need to get the whole quartet of beasts into the vet for check-ups soon -- I think we talked about doing that in January. I'll keep an eye on him until then.
• Really vexed about what to do with a novel I've been writing. Stephen King has a horror novel coming out with a major plot element that's somewhat similar to what I'd been thinking about -- and I nearly just deleted the file. I realized not long after the shock wore off that we both might have gotten the idea from The Simpsons Movie. The problem is, I'm not sure I want to continue with the process of wrangling the book into a shape that could be considered "readable"...or if I should move on to the next idea.
• Wedding planning is coming along nicely. Locales for ceremony and reception are found and reserved. DJ found and reserved. Photographer found and waiting on contract from them. Future wife's wedding shoes have arrived (and I got to watch her "squee" over them last night, which was fun). Saturday, while she's trying on dresses, I'm going to go start looking at tuxedos and try and nail down gifts for my groomsmen -- I don't want Kate having all the fun. Also have to have a difficult discussion with one of my groomsmen, which is going to be filed under "ugh"...
• Need to install Ruby on Rails on my Mac tonight. Need to build a simple application that's going to be part of the Ferocious Cycles website. It's going to be a nifty little bit of code that will make for some happy customers.
• Need to make some time with my family in the near future. Haven't seen mom in awhile and I've got the Scrabble itch something fierce. Should swing by dad and stepmom's place, too. And maybe drive out to Detroit for a weekend to visit my bro and my sis-in-law, the latter of whom is undergoing chemo.
So that's where I'm at, Internet. How are you?
Saying Goodbye to My Best Friend
R.I.P., Mooch
June 2, 1999 - June 6, 2009
In a bit of serendipity, Mooch came home with me on a rainy Saturday afternoon, riding in the passenger seat of a Honda, with Nirvana on the radio.
A decade later, she left home for the last time, much the same way. Kate drove and Mooch was cradled in my arms, wrapped in a blanket. I talked to her while she watched the rain on the Honda's windows. When Nirvana came on the radio, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and goosebumps crawled down my arms.
The decision to help her move on, to end her pain, was the right one, and the most painful decision I've ever had to make.
She was a wonderful, unique cat. Everyone that met her loved her, and she loved new people and new experiences.
Our last days together were good. On Thursday, I worked from home, and we spent time together on the couch. She got to eat all her favorite foods and always had little samples, despite her waning appetite. We went outside and she got to feel the grass between her toes and to watch the birds flit around the trees in our front yard. During those times, I got to see my girl again -- curious, happy, and goofy. I told her I loved her, and she licked my fingers -- something she did when she needed reassurance, or when I did.
On Friday night, Kate came home. I fell asleep on my side, with Kate spooning up against my back, and Mooch against my chest. I got to repeat it the next morning, too, and those are memories I'm always going to carry with me.
On Saturday afternoon, we drove to the vet. We talked to them about the diagnosis, and the pain factor, and that Mooch wasn't really herself anymore. With heavy hearts, and a lot of tears, we opted to have her put to sleep. They took her away to install the catheter, and brought her back to us, so we could spend time with her. And I told her I loved her, and kissed her head while I cried. She licked my fingers and rubbed the sides of her face against my hand.
The vet came back when we were ready. She unmasked the catheter and got the needle put in it. I told my friend that it wasn't going to hurt anymore, and that I loved her. She gave me a quiet meow, and when the injection started, she began licking my fingers again.
And then she was gone and the light was out of her eyes.
We held her for awhile longer, and I couldn't stop crying, and kept thinking I felt a slight purr along her sides. The vet came back to take her again, and I made sure I kissed her head and smelled her fur one last time before she was gone.
All I have left of my baby girl is my memories and a paw print in clay. There's some fur and whiskers around the house, and some photos in Flickr. But I can't hold her again, can't hear her little "laugh" noise, or fall asleep with her snuggled up in the crook of my arm. And that breaks my heart more than you can possibly imagine.
She came into my life not long after I'd moved to Philadelphia, at a time in my life where I was just starting to figure myself out and to truly grow. And so we grew together, and over the decade of her life, we were the only constants for each other. We moved to new homes, other cats came and went through our lives, and there were all sorts of upheavals, but we always had each other.
She wasn't just a cat. For almost a third of my life, she was my best friend and my family, and I'll always love her as much as I do right now.
Goodbye, Mooch. I miss you.
(A huge thanks to Mandy at Glimpses of Soul for her amazing photography work.)
Balance
As amateur athletes, we often struggle to find the balancing point where hobby and the rest of our lives overlap -- and that overlap can be both time and financial. Being an endurance athlete isn't cheap in hours or dollars, and often we get so caught-up in that we miss the bigger picture.
Yesterday my cat/"BFF", who has been a constant source of happiness in a fairly tumultuous last decade, jumped up on the bed, breathing heavily and acting a little weird. She's an odd cat, and I associated her behavior with playing with one of the other cats. Fairly soon, it was obvious that this was not the case.
Almost immediately, we were in the car and on the way to the emergency vet. (And I cannot say enough positive about the emergency services at the University of Minnesota Veterinary Clinic.) Over the course of the day, I wiped out my personal savings that I had set aside for my new mountain bike -- and it didn't even occur to me until about 5pm, and when it did, I didn't care.
For over a year now, I've wanted a new Gunnar Ruffian 29'er frame. I've been stockpiling parts, sweating over the colors (loving and wanting that Bright White Pearl), and have been saving money toward ordering the frame. Next Friday, the 12th, I would have been ready to make the order. But there was never a thought of not going to the emergency vet. Cost be damned, because a bike can't give you back the love that a friend/pet can.
So, hours and hundreds of dollars later, it's been determined that she's got a blood clot in her leg, and she's being treated with aspirin and painkillers. There's still the matter of determining what the source of the clot was, and whether or not she'll regain use of the limb -- more money in diagnostics. The important thing right now, though, is that my best friend is still with me. (And dammit, I'm tearing up while writing this. I thought I was all cried-out.)
She's my baby girl. Doing what I'm doing at the cost of a new bike isn't even something that I'm going to sweat. When the day comes that I do buy a new Ruffian frame, it will make the first ride even more special knowing that the wait -- whether it's a year or five years -- was worth it. The time with my friend is more a far more valuable thing.
The lesson here is that your family and friends should always come before the bike. There's no point in being the fastest, the most technically capable, or the strongest, if you don't have the people you love to come home to afterwards. Never forget that.
(And when I do, someday, get around to buying that Gunnar, I'm going to get it in black, and a decal for the top tube that describes Mooch -- "Happy-Go-Lucky". Call it a tribute bike.)
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Checked in at Knight Cap Bar & Lounge
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Trio of girls covering "ABC" by the Jackson Five. They are fucking NAILING it. Michael Jackson lives! [fontosaurus]
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Checked in at Northeast Palace
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I'm at McDonald's - NE (1100 University Ave NE, Minneapolis). http://4sq.com/7fT8JH [fontosaurus]
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Checked in at McDonald's - NE
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Checked in at Lens Crafters
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I'm at Mall of America (Mall of America, 60 East Broadway, Bloomington) w/ 4 others. http://4sq.com/4z906f [fontosaurus]
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Checked in at Mall of America
