Tribute to The Old Man

The Old Man

We had to put The Old Man down Friday.  Cats are known for many things, living long is one of them, and occasionally you'll hear of one living to be a ripe old age, and Rutger, aka The Old Man was nineteen years old.  A respectable age under any circumstances, and considering his lineage, rather remarkable.  I've considered this column, this one about The Old Man dying, for some time now.  We've all suffered through countless writings where the writer obviously loved his pet, and needed for whatever reason to ease the pain of sudden loss by sharing the otherwise mundane life story and tearful goodbye scene at the end.   And of course most of us have suffered through the actual loss of a beloved pet/friend/companion, and realize how utterly intense it can be. 

I'm writing this because my wife says I should.  And I believe she's right, so bear with me.

The Old Man was born under a porch in Goshen, Oregon, to a much littered feral mother, sort of a feline neighborhood prostitute.  The litter of four was distributed free to good homes as usual and my wife was one of the recipients, in April of 1994, when the kitten was barely two weeks old.   She named him Rutger, after one of her favorite actors at the time, Rutger Hauer.  From the very beginning Rutger was slightly off, a bit different kitten-wise.  He would wait in ambush for any moving object to walk by and pounce on it like a hungry leopard.  He could scare the crap out of perfectly rational adults at any given time, and the look in his eyes didn't help to calm the victim.  It was "The Look" that made Rutger who he was.

First of all, it was the shape of his eyes.  He looked ... angry?  He was a staring contest master, and I swear people could feel him staring at them from across a room.  The Look was unnerving to say the least. He was not an easy cat to make friends with.  His disposition matched his visage,  maybe it was because of his feral family tree, and in general he didn't like humans, especially humans touching him.  Most cats arch their backs when petted, Rutger would bow his back and sink to the floor to get away from an offending human hand.  But this reaction wasn't out of fear.  Rutger feared nothing.  He had the most aggravating attitude of any domestic animal I've ever known.  He took life at his own speed.  You couldn't shoo him, shush him, startle him, or heaven forbid train him to do anything.  But at the same time, for some reason, he commanded respect out of all around him.  I think it was those eyes, The Look.

There were a few humans allowed to touch him; the daughter, the wife, and on occasion, me.  He was known to have actually played feline games with us once in a while, which would last until he tired of us.  We would be allowed to pet him too, if only for a few minutes until he ended the session with a quick unapologetic bite on the end of a finger.  We always felt honored.

Toward the end he mellowed, of course, and in spite of diagnosed heart and liver problems, stayed relatively healthy for most of his 19 years.  The other pets in the house treated him like a revered grandfather, The Old Man, and they would visit him at his special spot on the couch where he would appear to council them on the ways of the world, while licking and cleaning their fur.

The end came quickly.  In his later years he had developed arthritis in his hips, and had mastered a peculiar little walk, but on Wednesday morning his hind legs weren't working right at all.  He was walking like a drunken rabbit, splayed out on the tile floor, struggling to get to the water dish.  Vet said he had probably had a stroke, what with his heart problems and age.  Thursday, after another apparent stroke, the hind portion of his body hardly worked at all, and he stopped eating.  He allowed us to hold him and pet him, which we did all day, and he was communicating with those eyes all the time.  He didn't appear to be in any pain, and there was no fear.  Friday morning he couldn't stand at all and appeared paralyzed.  He lifted his head slightly and looked at me, and The Look was gone.  He was tired.  My wife held him close as we drove to the vet, and he went to sleep quietly, calmly, and with great dignity. 

I'm not much of a "cat person."  But The Old Man earned my respect, and in the end, my love.  He was a fine curmudgeon.

Happy Tax Day - Monday Update

(We experienced a sad moment the other day when we heard that the world had lost one of its best improvisational comedians, Jonathan Winters.  I remember listening to Jonathan Winters records in my late teens and falling in love with his repeating characters such as Maudie Frickert and Elwood P. Suggins.  Back in the 50's and early 60's, comedians were a bit different than now, a little more clownish and a lot less profane, and we bought their LP's to listen to over and over until we had them all but memorized.  How many of us old guys can still do a Cosby bit?  ("Noah!" "Is that you Lord?")  One of my favorite Winters routines involved a boy named Lamar Jean who after telling everyone he was going to fly, scotched-taped 147 pigeons to his arms and jumped off a cliff.  He was actually doing well until "some damned fool throw'd a bag of popcorn in the stone quarry and he bashed his brains out."  While his style of improv never worked for a TV series, he guest starred on every talk show available.  It was difficult for him to even star in movies, although those of us who knew him will never forget his roles in "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," and "The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming."  While some comedians of that era played comedy a bit more sophisticated than Jonathan, i.e. Bob Newhart, Shelley Berman, and Mort Sahl, he was the only one who could take a plain stick and improv with it until tears rolled down your face in laughter.  Of course part of the sadness I'm feeling is that Jonathan Winters was a part of my youth and early adult life, and his passing reminds me of our own mortality. Here's five of Jonathan's funniest bits.  Rest in peace Jonathan.  But we digress ...)

•  Karen Brauer, president of something called Pharmacists for Life (and I don't even want to get into that one) was quoted as saying “When these [drugs] are right out there with the bubble gum, they’re going to be part of the date rape cocktail."  What?  What's this?  Some sort of "roofie" drug to knock out an unsuspecting young lady at a party?  Well, actually no, what Karen is so alarmed about is that a federal judge has finally ruled that emergency contraception (Plan B) be made available to all ages without a prescription.  Available even to the under 17 set.  Shocking, you say?  About time, you say?  Wait 'till you read what Mark Morford says.  "Bubblegum and the Date Rape Cocktail."
• We're growing increasingly weary of gun ownership advocates who yammer on incessantly about how more gun laws "won't stop gun tragedies from happening," "won't stop crazy assholes from using assault rifles against classrooms full of small children," and who complain like it's the end of the world because stores are running out of ammunition to buy lately.  A distant friend of mine wrote on FaceBook the other day that he was disgusted with whomever was "dragging the parents of the Newtown kids out and parading them in front of the cameras to further gun control legislation."  I "unfriended" him, a satisfying tool that should be available in real life too.  No one ever said controlling the flow of guns in this country would eliminate gun violence, any more than creating tough pollution laws would eliminate pollution in this country.  The Second Amendment is obsolete, even the conservative New York Post thinks so, and those who constantly throw it in the face of concerned citizens to defend their insane obsession with high-capacity firearms are in need of counseling, at least.
• And while we're on the subject, here's a little item you may have missed.  Apparently the National Rifle Association sponsored a NASCAR race the other day, and during it a drunken man in the infield pulled out a gun and committed suicide.  Let's see, I believe that's called "Irony." 
• From the I Really Wish I Hadn't Said That Dept.:  From singer(?) heart-throb Justin Bieber, after visiting the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam the other day, "Truly inspiring to be able to come here. Anne was a great girl. Hopefully she would have been a belieber."  Cute.
• And finally, a Republican Congressman from Texas named Steve Stockman, has written a new bumper sticker for his campaign.  It reads: "If Babies Had Guns, They Wouldn't Be Aborted."  Seriously.

  

We Got Crabs In Netarts Bay

(So we got that pesky birthday thing done with and now I'm one year nearer to the average obituary age.  And never mind the fact that I thought the big day was on Saturday, when actually it was on Friday.  But, oh well, I'm now firmly planted in my sixty-eight year.  Jonathan's spring break week was exciting for us both.  We left Mom to tend to the livestock and he and I traveled to the far northwest to visit long time friends Jerry and Cheri' at their new beach house in Netarts, Oregon, of all places.  Netarts is a small village about 6 miles west of Tillamook, Tillamook being where they make all the cheese.  Jerry took Jonathan out into Netarts Bay for his first lesson in crabbing, and even though the crabbing at that time wasn't very good, they managed to bring home two large males.  The Boy had his first taste of fresh crab that evening, with drawn butter and garlic, and declared it outofthisworld.  And Jeez, I didn't even mention Easter.  Some of my friends have sent me messages claiming "he is rizen."   I'm working on a story for the Syfy Network along those same lines.  But I digress ... )

• What could possibly go wrong with this idea?  Wal-Mart is considering having customers deliver online purchases to other customers who live near the route they may be taking home.  In other words, Wal-Mart will offer you a discount on your own purchases, if you'll kindly drop off a few packages to other customers who've bought something on-line.  As this article points out, this is "taking exploitation to the next level."
• Here's a sobering and frightening look at the short history of drone strikes committed by the United States government.  Pitch Interactive, a California-based data visualization shop, has created a beautiful, if somewhat controversial, visualization of every attack by the US and coalition forces in Pakistan since 2004. We're still not sure of the legality, let alone the morality, of these pilotless, video-game killing machines, in spite of the fact that it keeps our pilots out of harm's way.  Something doesn't smell right.  Check this out, from Mother Jones, and you decide.
• As much as it pains me to say this, even defense-spending Republicans are alarmed about the newer military drones.  "Boeing, the aircraft manufacturing giant from Seattle, helped defeat a Republican proposal in Washington state that would have forced government agencies to get approval to buy unmanned aerial vehicles, popularly known as drones, and to obtain a warrant before using them to conduct surveillance on individuals."  David Taylor, a Republican member of the state legislature, introduced a bill to regulate drone use. The proposed law quickly won support from several Democratic party politicians on the state Public Safety Committee, as well as members of the ACLU.  Is the end of world coming, or not?  Holy Cow!
• Being, or at least claiming to be, an atheist is not an socially acceptable position to take as yet, but we're gaining on it.  To attempt to take a purely scientific view of life is not popular with approximately 50% of Americans.  I used to refer to myself as a "militant agnostic," because that phrase made me smile, and it was really close to what I really felt about all this nonsense.  But now I'm nearing 70, I feel I have a right to declare myself.  I am NOT a believer in superstitious mumbo-jumbo, no matter how it's dressed up.  And our numbers are growing.  Our numbers are growing so fast that some people, like Frans De Waal, are saying that militant atheists have created a new religion.  What do you think?
• And along those same lines, here's something you probably didn't see for Easter.  Hope you found all your eggs, and the bunny was good to you this year.