Post 530: tactics and adjustments

Andy and Dougy get along very well together, but they are siblings. SIblings have to establish things like which one Mom loved best, who got the best toys, and whose tub is it anyway?

Yes, Andy invaded Dougy’s tub yesterday afternoon, took a short snooze, then hopped out when he heard his brother coming around the recliner. In the process, Andy knocked Dougy’s tub off that nasty box I haven’t been able to get away from Dougy, who loves, loves, loves it for play, topside, inside, and along side. Gad, it’s an eyesore! But I digress: Dougy had to make adjustments.

Tub’s on the floor. Dougy decides it still works as a place to laze. (I look forward to the day I can slip that box into the trash…!)

Comfy! But something’s wrong here. Very wrong.

Dougy snuggled into his tub for a short time, but it just isn’t the same experience when it’s on the floor! He was observed from the back of the front room. It made no tactical sense to Dougy to be comfortable on the floor. The whole point of the box is height, if only a little. Yeah, just high enough to pounce down on Andy when he walks by minding his own business. (Oh, sure!) POW!

How better to reposition himself to his advantage AND to get Andy’s goat? Take over Andy’s favorite perch, the end table by the glider. He made his move.

>SNIFF< Yep, Andy’s been here!

In the meantime, Andy noticed Dougy making a tactical move…

Andy stealthily watches from the cat lounger. He can’t believe his brother’s effrontery!

“Mine!” Dougy loves Andy’s perch!

Now it’s Andy’s turn to play tactics and force Dougy to make some adjustments! In the meantime, he decides to lounge on top of his favorite high spot, the cat carrier on the settee Dougy likes to scratch. “I’ll show brother…after I take a nap!”

Post 529: Arrr! It’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Andy had his doubts about that tuna-flavored bomb...!

Andy on an ordinary day.

...because tomorrow the bogeyman's catching you and taking you to see Dr. David!

Haven’t ye heard, Andy, what today is!

“Arrrr…! I feel the glow!”

Flashback to Andys kittenhood…

Andy (above) and Dougy lurked in my bedroom last night, and decided 1:30 AM was a good time to wake me up on my birthday! (Notice Andy's horn is showing. I guarantee there was another one on the other side, too!)

It became clear.

How we looked after the trip to Deidesheim.

Me-Arrr! Andy is a pirate kitty!

I first learned about this day when I still worked at the hose factory. I’d spent hours trying to get formulae to work correctly on a spreadsheet I prepared to separate nonaccountable mandrel scrap from accountable scrap. I felt I was near to the answer when the Human Relations Manager showed up at my desk. He was wearing a tricorn hat and slashed the air around me with a toy sword.

“Arrr! It’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day!” he said, clearly into the fun of it, but oblivious to the effect of this unwelcome distraction, one that cost me a few hours progress on resolving my spreadsheet challenge. “You have to talk like a pirate all day.”

Disgusted, disturbed, delayed, but not yet defeated, I felt an urge that would imperil my future. I mumbled something in “pirate-ese”, but thought a more specific pirate thought, “[Blank] you, matey! [Blank] you!”

He was the Human Relations Manager afterall.

more information here

😉

On a different note, the Scottish independence referendum is complete, with a 55% majority voting to remain a part of the United Kingdom. I still don’t know what I think about the issues, but there appears to be some concessions that give additional autonomy to the Scots and, promised, Northern Ireland, Wales, and England. It’s enough to turn one into a pirate!

Dougy was obsessing over birds at the feeder across the lane, chirping, pacing, and deciding to leave the scotch to the humans!

Offered a single malt scotch, Dougy declared he prefers to watch birds. Arrr!

Post 528: naughty cats

I know I put a happy face on the boys’ behavior, but they can be little poops when they want to be.

Dougy is a terrible furniture scratcher, though I have several scratching posts stationed throughout the apartment, including next to the furniture he likes to assault.

work on being cute

Yeah. “Cute”, Dougy. “Cute”!

But what about Andy? Sweet, kitten-faced Andy? Andy, named after the Apostle Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland? The sick little kittycat?

Well, for a cat with a heart murmur and high blood pressure that’s treated with daily doses of medicine, he can run and hide like hell. Bad boy! To think my after-medicating ritual is to whisper “What a good boy!” over and over in his ear while I gently massage his shoulders! Well, there were no kitty treats dispensed yesterday, let me tell you!

“But I don’t want to take my medicine…!”

All week, each time I finally caught him got later and later. He even managed to go all day yesterday without his medicine. Come to think of it, it’s 7:23, I don’t know where the little rascal is, and he still hasn’t had his medicine.

xxxxxxxxx =(>+<)= xxxxxxxxx

UPDATE: Andy got his dose of medicine at approximately 7:50 AM. He fell for the old “Want to play with wand toys, boys?” strategy. He took it like a big boy, so I stroked his ears, told him he was a good boy, and massaged his shoulders. He got kitty treats today!

Mews: Pizza Cats? Pizza Hut Japan has them!

Ok, ok! You think there are too many cats on the Internet, so why are you here?

Post 527: Scotland the Brave

Tomorrow is the Scottish independence referendum. The issues are arcane and the outcome far from certain. I personally don’t know where I stand on the issue, though my family history reaches deep into this tiny country/part of the United Kingdom.

I kind of like the idea of the split. I have the Scottish saltire hanging in my front room. One of my cats is named after the Apostle St. Andrew, patron saint of Scotland. The other is named Douglas, as Scottish a name as it gets. Both have the middle name “James”, a family name that traces back to the Scottish king who became the English king known for a Bible translation still used to this day. Most of the family photos hanging on my walls show proud Scots who migrated to America for economic reasons but were proud of Scotland.

Saltire of Scotland

I like Scotch whisky. I doubt I’d look good in a kilt, but I don’t discount the possibility of appreciating the freedom of movement one affords. Things I like about myself I can trace to my Scottish ancestors: my pig-headedness (resolve, tenacity), my quirky sense of humor (often in evidence), my love of justice for all (which often puts me at odds with others), my insistence on fair play (damn those [blankers]…), my hopeless idealism (which makes me argumentative, I fear, in this dog eat dog world), and my impossible great looks (I did mention quirky sense of humor…).

Evidence of a quirky sense of humor…

But I have nothing against the party on the southern end of the United Kingdom. Other than that last naughty business in 1814, when they burnt down a town or two in America, including Washington, DC and the White House (then called the Presidential Palace), we’ve had a productive relationship with “those people”. Of course, “they” are a big part of “us”, with many Americans tracing their family history to England. (I have some English ancestors among all those Scots, Welsh, Dutch, French, and Irish on my father’s side; on my mother’s side, it’s 100% Scottish.) I like the English I know or have known. They are standup people. I love their quirky sense of humor! I like their propriety.

Whatever the Scots voting tomorrow decide, roughly half of the rest of the country won’t agree with it. So far, that’s a fact, and the gap between those against and those for an independent Scotland suggests the referendum will be a photo finish. Scotland the Brave. However they vote, I hope the Scots consider this wee bit of wisdom from Benjamin Franklin:

“We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

I hope they chose the right way for their future, though what that course might be is to be determined. I just hope they don’t burn too many bridges in the process of asserting their will.

Post 526: Currywurst mit Kartoffelsalat

When I think of New York City, I think of those big, warm soft pretzels you eat with sharp mustard! Yum! It’s my favorite New York snack.

When I think of Germany, it’s those little Schnell Imbiss (snack) stands where you can order my favorite German street food, Currywurst mit Kartoffelsalat. Oh, and a nice local lager to wash it down.

Typical of street food, it is simple, highly caloric, tasty, and not what the doctor ordered: a plump sausage smothered in a curry-flavored ketchup and a heaping serving of German-style potato salad.

I have no idea what kind of sausage those smooth, white Berlin-style sausages are, what I think of mostly when I think of Currywurst, but who cares when you can eat it made with a juicy Bratwurst as well? They are more substantial anyway, and street food is all about loading up!

currywurst

Potato salad is simple to make with potatoes and whatever ingredients one has on hand. I like to make it with mayonnaise, dill weed, salt, and pepper. I might shred some carrot and add that for color, a little crunch, but it doesn’t affect the basic goodness of this favorite food. This is closer to what I remember about Schnell Imbiss stand potato salad than typical American style potato salad with chopped eggs, pickles, chopped onions, Miracle Whip, salt and pepper, maybe some plain old French’s yellow mustard for a little more piquancy.

However one makes potato salad, though, I love it!

Currywurst recipes on the Internet run the gamut. I suspect the curry sauce is like barbecue sauce over here: Everyone makes it using his Großmutter‘s secret family recipe. Everyone except people like me looking for a quick Currywurst fix. I bought some curry-flavored German ketchup off the Internet and some sharp German mustards I remember from my days stationed in Germany in the US Army: You can have your sausages both ways! I decided to have one Currywurst and one plain Bratwurst dipped in German mustard. Mmmm! A double treat! Filling! Worth the extra effort for a little authenticity!

Sorry about all those exclamation points, but I do like my Currywurst. That’s what I had for supper yesterday, though I cubed, boiled, and dressed potatoes with salt, pepper, dill weed, and butter instead of fixing potato salad. I boiled some peas toward the end with the potatoes. Mixed with the cubed potatoes, they added a bit of sanity to an otherwise unwise fat, sugar, and salt burdened meal.

I had plain ice water to drink, further penance for my indiscreet but tasty meal.

Post 525: this thing that popped to the top

I don’t save things like this, so it was a surprise when it popped to the top. I don’t know how it survived so many years without ending up in the landfill, but it did. I guess that means I will preserve it now because it is a survivor.

“It” is my diploma recognizing successful completion of training as a US Army motion picture photographer. You can read the thing for details.

There was a little time between the end of my mopic training and my reassignment to Germany – about a month – and I managed to find something to do to keep busy that wasn’t KP duty. I volunteered to help work through the backlog of paperwork that developed when the company clerk’s enlistment ended but no replacement had yet been assigned to the company.

I impressed the First Sergeant with my pitiful typing skills and excellent ability to organize my work. In those pre-Spell Check days, too, I actually could spell words correctly. He liked that! He asked if I wanted to be the new company clerk. It wasn’t the worst idea, though I wouldn’t get to use my mopic training. I didn’t know then I was slated to go to Germany, which definitely would have made the idea of an office job in New Jersey a joke!

The First Sergeant needed to check my records first, he said. A few minutes later, he came back. “You entered on the delayed entry program, Thomas, so there’s no way I can put you in this job.”

mopic certificate_edited-1

My friend Ralph lived in New York City at the time. Being stationed at Ft. Monmouth meant I could visit him easily. That figured into my willingness to consider a clerical position in New Jersey, but I’d signed a legal contract when I signed up for the delayed entry program. They were bound to honor it or release me from service.

It sank in finally: I’d entered the US Army with the guarantee of a job as one of three things: a graphics artist, a still photographer, or a motion picture photographer. The first training session that came open in any of those specialties was the motion picture training at Ft. Monmouth. Like it or not, I was going to work as a motion picture photographer in the US Army for the remainder of my three years of active duty. Typewriter and a desk or motion picture camera and travel: Was it a choice? Was I disappointed not to get the clerical job? Come on, now!

Then I learned I’d be assigned to the 69th Signal Company (Photo) in Kaiserslautern, Germany, a much better assignment than company clerk of Company O, Ft. Monmouth, New Jersey, I guarantee.

On top of that, my friend Ralph moved to Paris with his friend Deborah that same year, and I had adventures with them in France and Germany before I returned to America.

I’m starting to understand why I kept this piece of paper!

Post 524: Sox and Molly

My sister sent me this photo, showing her new cat Molly with Sox’s photo as a screensaver on her monitor.

Sox and Molly

I have to admit, it brought a tear or two. I remember and miss Louie the ginger cat every day, so I know how my sister feels having lost Sox. She hasn’t given up hope he might show up again some day.

This one is the day Louie had an epiphany: The bottom part of his lair barfs water! He was very, very alarmed!

Good old Louie! I have this photo enlarged and hanging on the wall behind my computer. It makes me smile, and reminds me what a super cat Louie was.

Andy rearranged the photo in the frame. I decided to leave it as is because living with cats is to accept a little chaos!

Post 523: You call that a snow?

It happened. Snow last night! I woke up around 11:30 and checked.

Such as it is, it’s wet, white, and on the ground.

The boys were really excited I was up during their part of the day, and especially when I opened the door. If you think the photo above is marginal, wait till you see the photos (heavily Photoshopped and cropped, granted) I took in the dark of the boys! I didn’t know if I’d get anything recognizable, but the little Nikon point-and-shoot’s capacitor built up a nice charge for the flash while the infrared focusing beam painted the dark with an eery red ray. Seconds passed before it took the photo, but they turned out to be recognizable photos of Andy and Dougy!

Dougy parked between my feet while I made the photo of the snowscape above.

Here you go: Andy (top) and Dougy meet after I closed the door. “What’s up, brother?” “Nothin’!” You get to see their post-grooming look, sort of. The infrared focusing beam decided Dougy’s tail was the subject of the photo, so it is nicely focused!

Dougy, again.

Andy decides to have a midnight snack a little early.

The question came up about the boys and snow. It happens the video archive has several examples of Andy and Dougy experiencing snow:

Snow in Calgary…

http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/09/10/overnight-storm-dumps-10-cm-of-snow-on-calgary-leaving-30000-without-power/

What a mess! Those of us who live where it snows dread early snows because of the impact on trees still in full foliage. Of course, tree branches break off and take out power lines, or come down on houses, vehicles and worse.