Thursday, October 1, 2009


People in South Spokane are wondering about the strange ringing in their ears this morning. I want to put them at ease. There is nothing wrong with their hearing. What they are perceiving is the sound of veterinarians throughout the area going "Cha-ching!" because our cat got into a fight again.

Mister Cat splits time inside and out. I had hoped, for many reasons, for him to remain an inside only feline when we rescued him from Sally's mother. He had other aspirations, which he expressed by urinating in various locales throughout the house. I quickly reasoned that it would be better if his life was claimed by a passing SUV than by my squeezing the life out of him with my bare hands, so he goes outside (pun intended).

There are other cats in the neighborhood, and therein lies the rub. Mister Cat is more of a lover than a fighter, and often absorbs the brunt of the damage. Last night was no exception. I went to the front door, thinking he might be lurking there, and he limped in. A cursory inspection revealed that he was covered with dirt and had some blood on an ear, as well as his pronounced limp. Sally and I fussed over him, cleaned him up, dressed his wounds, and made a bed for him in the basement. He moved only about 6 feet overnight, choosing refuge beneath the Lazy Boy couch.

I picked him up again this morning, hoping he would use the outside facilities. He didn't try to run, which was a bad sign. Indeed, he won't even put any weight on his right front paw, which brings us back to the veterinarians of Spokane. I don't want Mister Cat to suffer, but I HATE paying incredible amounts of money to have my pets treated. We could underwrite the entire U.S. health care system by simply infusing vet bills into the mix.

In the midst of my angst, I realized this morning that the world has been denied the compelling and interesting story of Pavlov's Dog's Veterinarian, who salivated every time Pavlov's dog was due for an exam, vaccination, or needed treatment for an injury. Pavlov would ring a bell, and EVERYBODY would start salivating. In time, Pavlov replaced the bell in his experiments with one of the vets, who on cue would simply blurt out, "Cha-ching!"

I'm afraid I know what our current choices are. As I sometimes say to my family, I feel that we are totally festooned. Bedecked, even. I know those terms do not represent proper word usage, but a cursory examination of the words I feel like using would get my blog reported.

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