I woke up this morning with the cat on my head. Naturally, the first thought in my mind was one of mother's famous sayings: "There is more than one way to skin a cat!" Now let me go on record as saying, I have never skinned one; nor do I ever intend to do so but I have been known to flip the sheet so she flies off of me and onto the floor. Trust me, she does not stay there. I have had a lot of cats in my life and everyone of them has been devoted to me. Well, mostly.
All of my cats have been Calico cats and so they were females, because all Calico cats are females, or so I have been told and it has been my experience. I did at one time, have a male cat named Boots and I do not think he liked me at all. He was a gray and white striped cat. He was pretty much Kenny's cat. I think Kenny always wanted a cat, because at one time he got a white Spitz dog and named it Kitty. That dog did not stay with us very long and moved on to someone who actually wanted a white dog. Except for that dog from hell, all animals that find their way into my home are here for the duration. If you doubt my sincerity, you might want to take a look at the 8 geese residing in my back yard. I do not even know how old they are. My guess is about 16 or 17 years old because I got 3 geese when Bret was a wee lad and he now has a wee lad of his own.
Now I have Icarus. I know Icarus was the little boy in mythology whose parents gave him wax wings and he flew to close to the sun and they melted, but I did not name this cat. He was named by Sherman who liked the name and did not think anyone else was smart enough to know who Icarus was, but there you go!
But back to this cat skinning business. Many years ago when I was in grade school and the body still bent, we had a Jungle Gym on the playground and one of the favorite things to do was swing by our arms on the bars then do a thing called "skin the cat" which entailed pulling our feet up putting them behind your head and sort of turn ourselves wrong side out and then drop to the ground without breaking your neck.and not totally dislocating your shoulders. As I write this, there are many things flashing through my mind. One of which is the knowledge that we wore only dresses back in those days so when we were swinging on the bars and when we were turning ourselves wrong side out the perverted little boys were all setting on the ground watching us. Holy shit! How damn stupid were we?
Or were we naïve? I am thinking naïve fits the bill a lot better. I like to think that the days of sand and shovels were also the days of innocence and freedom. I do not know when the innocence ended for me. Seems like about the second year of high school. That was when I became friends with a girl named LaVeta. Her dad made home brew and I really liked that. She taught me how to shop lift. I learned to dance. I learned to smoke. Life was good! I dropped out of school in my senior year. I ran away. I broke into a gas station and stole the money out of the cigarette machine. I had friends and what friends they were! Sadly none of them showed up for court. But on a good note, my downward spiral was ended at that point and I became a functioning member of society. It was not until many years later that I became a respected member of the human race. Which brings me to the lesson for the day.
"That is water under the bridge." Been there. Done that. Sometimes the water under the bridge is low and just amounts to a stagnant puddle that just breeds mosquitoes and other vermin. But that a clean rain falls and fills the creek and the puddle is gone. Water under the bridge. You can look at it and move on because in due time the cleansing rain will wash it all away. Or not.
All of my cats have been Calico cats and so they were females, because all Calico cats are females, or so I have been told and it has been my experience. I did at one time, have a male cat named Boots and I do not think he liked me at all. He was a gray and white striped cat. He was pretty much Kenny's cat. I think Kenny always wanted a cat, because at one time he got a white Spitz dog and named it Kitty. That dog did not stay with us very long and moved on to someone who actually wanted a white dog. Except for that dog from hell, all animals that find their way into my home are here for the duration. If you doubt my sincerity, you might want to take a look at the 8 geese residing in my back yard. I do not even know how old they are. My guess is about 16 or 17 years old because I got 3 geese when Bret was a wee lad and he now has a wee lad of his own.
Now I have Icarus. I know Icarus was the little boy in mythology whose parents gave him wax wings and he flew to close to the sun and they melted, but I did not name this cat. He was named by Sherman who liked the name and did not think anyone else was smart enough to know who Icarus was, but there you go!
But back to this cat skinning business. Many years ago when I was in grade school and the body still bent, we had a Jungle Gym on the playground and one of the favorite things to do was swing by our arms on the bars then do a thing called "skin the cat" which entailed pulling our feet up putting them behind your head and sort of turn ourselves wrong side out and then drop to the ground without breaking your neck.and not totally dislocating your shoulders. As I write this, there are many things flashing through my mind. One of which is the knowledge that we wore only dresses back in those days so when we were swinging on the bars and when we were turning ourselves wrong side out the perverted little boys were all setting on the ground watching us. Holy shit! How damn stupid were we?
Or were we naïve? I am thinking naïve fits the bill a lot better. I like to think that the days of sand and shovels were also the days of innocence and freedom. I do not know when the innocence ended for me. Seems like about the second year of high school. That was when I became friends with a girl named LaVeta. Her dad made home brew and I really liked that. She taught me how to shop lift. I learned to dance. I learned to smoke. Life was good! I dropped out of school in my senior year. I ran away. I broke into a gas station and stole the money out of the cigarette machine. I had friends and what friends they were! Sadly none of them showed up for court. But on a good note, my downward spiral was ended at that point and I became a functioning member of society. It was not until many years later that I became a respected member of the human race. Which brings me to the lesson for the day.
"That is water under the bridge." Been there. Done that. Sometimes the water under the bridge is low and just amounts to a stagnant puddle that just breeds mosquitoes and other vermin. But that a clean rain falls and fills the creek and the puddle is gone. Water under the bridge. You can look at it and move on because in due time the cleansing rain will wash it all away. Or not.
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