Peaceful morning...and dogs and cats

A nice morning, fresh coffee, a Gary Cooper/Burt Lancaster movie on the TV, and two dogs who keep trying to harsh my mellow by barking at any person, truck or cat that they see outside.

Or maybe they're just hating because Emily came over last night and after playing with them for quite a while, also dared to spend time playing with one of my porch cats.

Yep. I got porch cats. And the dogs are not amused. But since they don't chase mice and rats, the porch cats get enough food to keep them around. And they do kill them some mice and rats; I've seen them do it.

Of course I have to work to keep feline and canine separate. Murphy is still Murphy and he's racked up more than his share of cats and shows no indication of turning over a new leaf. And Belle just wants to chase them because they run, although if one stopped or didn't run at all she'd be a mighty confused dog. Still, taking them out on leashes when there is a cat or two lounging on my patio chair requires a bit of planning and caution because some of the cats--this one in particular--don't just up and run off or otherwise make it easy for me. They'll sit right there, just out of leash reach, and bet their lives on my keeping control of 160lbs. of prey-drive motivated Shepherds. Such fun.

Guard dog fail

Poor Belle. She tries, but Tommy the feral porch cat is just not taking her seriously.

Even worse, one of the new kittens just booped her on the nose with a kitten paw when she got close to it.

Murphy just shook his head in disgust then ran all the cats off in about half a second just by walking past the doorway and giving them a look. They seem to know that it's best that he not have to step outside. But Belle? Cats be like: "Get your ass back in that house, dog!"

Back on line

Computer is fixed...and the dogs send their regards.

Actually they're a bit miffed, because it's so cold outside tonight that I've brought two of the outdoor cats in. The cats are currently residing in a cage in my office for safekeeping and the dogs, by necessity, are barred from the room because they won't stay away from the cage. The dogs aren't pleased, but the outdoor cats do such a fine job of keeping the rodent population down that I can't just leave them to freeze out there as the temps tonight will be dropping close to 20 degrees. So two of the tamer ones are inside now, and the third--the most anti-social--is still outside and I wish it well. But my last two attempts to pick it up have left me with claw marks so it's on it's own.

This is Mama Cat.

She's in now.

This is Tommy Cat, a first-timer to our hostel.

They'll be in until the weather goes back above freezing. And the dogs, Miss Belle in particular, can just kick rocks.

Sleeting utside now and below freezing, so the ice on the morning roads, especially the raised portions, should be epic.

To the owner of a orange striped cat.

I saw your cat this afternoon.

I watched it try to cross the road in Charles Town, right by the casino. It almost made it across, too. To be fair, the cat just darted out and the driver that hit it had no real chance to miss it. That driver didn't stop, but I did, turning around to see if, by some miracle, the cat might be saved.

Your cat looked clean and well-fed, probably one that was used to people and being inside. It was still alive when I picked it up, hoping that a fast trip to the vet might not be in vain. But it wasn't to be; your cat died in my arms, there by the side of the road. I doubt that you will read this here, but if you do, know that your cat didn't suffer long, and that your cat did not die alone. I was with your cat, comforting it during it's last moments, and if it could have been saved it would have been. And I'm sorry for your loss,

Now how about the next one you get, you just keep it indoors, ok?

Well that went worse that I'd expected.

The other evening, while out for a walk with Murphy and Belle, I stopped by Proud Hillbilly's house to visit her and see how her new cat was doing. I liked this cat and had briefly entertained thoughts of bringing it back to the Lair and adding it to the family. But I was pretty sure that Murphy was just not going to play nice with a cat.

Sure enough, when I had the dogs on a leash, PH brought the cat out. Belle was mildly curious but didn't seem to be too aggressive as PH held the cat but it was obvious that Murphy's prey drive was kicking in big time. He really wanted that cat and I couldn't see that cute, sweet gentle cat doing well in a house with Murphy. But neither could the cat, apparently. He hissed loudly and the claws came out as he took a swipe at Murphy; it hadn't even dawned on me that the CAT might object, too.

Oh well...it was a thought.

I shouldn't have stopped by the mailbox

On the way home from getting the new water heater, I stopped at the mailbox to pick up my latest batch of bills. while there, I heard a "meow" noise, and this cat came right up to me like it was my long lost pet.

Oh, man.

I still don't know how I feel about having a pet cat, but I know Murphy, and I suspect that we'd have integration problems and a deceased cat in short order. But I couldn't just leave this cat there. It was clean but had no collar and it obviously wanted to be anywhere but out by the neighborhood's rural mailboxes. Oh, what to do...what to do?

Then the idea fairy came along. Problem solved! So here's the cat, in my Jeep, along with the new water heater.

The cat is now in Proud Hillbilly's basement, waiting for her to get home. Won't she be surprised? But she's one of those cat-collecting ladies that every neighborhood has, so I'm sure that she'll know what to do with it.

Here it is in her basement, eating some cat food. Poor thing was ravenous.

Thanks, Murphy (you asshole).

Getting ready to go to work this morning. Not running late yet, but getting close. The last thing that I typically do is take Murphy out for a short walk up and down the block to let him take care of his "dog business" before I leave him in the Lair for the day.

This morning, I take put his leash on him, open the door and begin to take him out. Suddenly he lunges and grabs something and I hear the snarl and he shakes whatever he has. As I pull him back, he throws it down and I see that he'd caught one of the lastest batch of feral kittens that one of my neighbor's feral cats littered next to my house. It had been right outside the door and Murphy was on it before I ever saw it. In less than a second, he'd broken the kitten's back but not finished it off and now I had to deal with it before I could leave for work.

Thanks, asshole dog.

I put Murphy back in the house and went upstairs to get a .22. I'd noticed when Murphy hit the kitten that it's mother had been standing just a few feet away just watching. At no time did she ever step forward to challenge Murphy's attack on her baby, and when I came back outside a moment later, she was nowhere to be seen, apparently having abandoned her baby without looking back. Cold. Not many other species would be that callous, I'm thinking. The kitten was crying loudly for it's mother but she never returned for it. I did what I had to do and then went and got a shovel to bury it, once again cursing my idiot neighbors for not controlling their damned cats.

As for Murphy, he just wanted to get on with his walkies. Circle of life goes on around.

And I made it in the door at work with 14 seconds to spare, earning one of "those" looks from da boss.


So how is any of the my fault, exactly? Did you want that cat or something?

When Life Imitates Art

Sometimes, I think that the people who make those TV commercials follow me around for ideas. Take this recent Super Bowl commercial:


I come home from work recently to find that yet another of the local feral cats that my cat hoarder neighbors feed has committed cat-icide by climbing into Murphy's outdoor run before I let him out into it when I got home. The end result was predictable, and this make the fifth cat in a year and a half.

Of course I thought about going next door and explaining, but as usual, Murphy talked me out of it.He knows that I'm not all that fond of Doritos.

And before anyone accuse Murphy of being a vicious predator stalking the neighborhood, I must point out that all of these ex-cats were caught in canine-exclusive areas on my property, with three being in the fenced dog run and the other two on my outside deck where Murphy likes to be during the day. The latter two could have fled like most cats on my deck do but they decided to stand and fight rather than run. Bad decisions, cat style. Maybe Darwin wanted a cat on those days?

In other news...

I had the pleasure of briefly meeting Expatriate Owl today. Definitely nice to be able to put a face to the name.

Then I came back to the Lair only to be told by my neighbor (the Crazy Cat Guy, one-half of the Crazy Cat Couple who feed and provide breeding space for untold masses of feral cats) that Murphy barks too much and too loudly for their liking.

I explained to him that Murphy only barks at trespassers on his land, and this is pretty much limited to the UPS man and cats, most all of which come from the Crazy Cat Couple's yard. Of course he did not believe this. He accused Murphy of just barking at "birds, trees, the moon and the stars."
I told him that if those were the names of his cats, he's probably right.

Word of advice: If you plan on buying a house, go meet the neighbors first.

Scratch another cat.

Well the neighborhood is short one more feral cat as of 11:02PM tonight. Murphy caught another one on the front deck. What is it with these things that they keep coming right up onto the porch like that? They have to know he's there.

This one managed to escape in the end by rolling/being thrown off the deck onto the driveway below. It happened too fast for me to tell for sure which it was. But the cat was mortally injured so I had to go down and do the humane thing. Apparently someone heard the shot and called it in though, because a Sheriff's Dept. cruiser is now prowling around. I should probably flag him down and own up, but frankly, it's just too late at night to have that discussion, especially since I forgot to call them up and let them know in advance that I'd be putting an injured animal down. My bad.

I have got to get a suppressed .22.


EDITED TO ADD @ 12:01AM: Saw the Sheriff's cruiser again as I was outside so I waved it down. Deputy was one I've known for quite some time and associated with both personally and professionally so I told him I did it. He called me a dumbass for not calling it in and making him drive all the way up here for nothing, then we shot the breeze for a few minutes before he had to go. I told him I'd make it up to him with a donut next time I see him. He replied with a rude remark that I won't repost here. But all is now well.

Murphy and the cat. (Cat lovers, don't read this.)

My neighbors, otherwise known locally as "the crazy cat people", feed and shelter feral cats in their yard. Most of that cats--and there are literally dozens of them--wind up spending much of their time in my yard and the yards of all of the other neighbors, much to near universal disgust. If these cats are not killing the birds that we feed, they're defecating everywhere, walking on our cars, fighting at night (or making new litters of cats), and generally posing a nuisance and health hazard. But the crazy cat people continue to feed them and tell us all that the cats are "part of nature" and that they (the cats) have rights just like any one of us do.

Yeah, they're pretty much nuts.

Well they're short one cat as of this morning. It was on my deck and I did not see it there when I let Murphy out. But Murphy? He saw it, all right. He saw it and he went for it.

Now there's a cat or two on my deck at least once a day, and they always run and jump off the deck when Murphy goes for them. But this particular cat? Not so bright. This one apparently decided to reason with Murphy and it stood it's ground. Needless to say, it didn't turn out well for the cat, but at least it was quick.

To paraphrase one of the best eulogies of all time: "E's passed on! This parrot cat is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! E's pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT EX-CAT!!

What would cause a three-to-four pound cat to square off against an 80lb. charging German Shepherd? I'm guessing that Darwin likes cats, too.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking that if my crazy cat neighbors never find out where this cat went, it'll be just fine by me.

Operation "Pop-a-cat" a success...how disappointing.

Just an update, for those who wondered how my efforts to rid my yard of the neighbor's unwanted feral cats-and practice my marksmanship--via the use of my Airsoft pistol whenever the cats appear is going.

I can report that the cats have apparently all figured it out, now. They still come around somewhat, but as soon as I open my door, they all take off like greased lightning, running off so fast that I haven't been able to get an aimed shot off at one in over a week now. The last notable exception was a really stupid one that I scored FOUR hits on a couple of weeks back. First I caught it sitting static under my bird-feeder and I nailed it. It jumped and ran and stopped way back in my yard on top of a big flat rock. I aimed, fired, and hit it again. (Stupid cat...) This time it ran into a hedge that separates my yard from my neighbor's. But I could still see the cat in the bushes so I aimed and fired a third time, and scored a third hit. It leapt out of the bush and made a bee-line for my neighbor's back deck, and when it got there, it stopped, and turned to look as me as if it was just daring me to fire on it again. Challenge accepted, I took aim and hit it for the fourth time in less than thirty seconds. This time it ran around the far corner of their house and I haven't seen it since.

But the other cats--all six thousand of them (rough estimate)--now refuse to loiter in my yard or stand still for so much as a second once my door opens. Call it a victory for my birds and squirrels, but my target practice is falling off rapidly. Those cats made great targets while they lasted but now I've got no targets to shoot at.

Maybe I can find some way to bait them back...

NOTE TO THE ANIMAL LOVERS: It's just AIRSOFT. It doesn't really hurt them, so spare me the outraged hate-mail.

Cats get it, Democrats don't.

So We're two weeks into "Operation Pop-a-Cat" and I can report more success than I expected. It seems that the neighbor's feral cats have learned that they don 't like being pegged with airsoft pellets and they've figured out that if they come over on our property, they're likely to get popped with one. When I started this, there were literally more cats in my yard than I could shoot at, and they just looked at me with disdain when I stepped out my door. But now, two weeks later, they're scarce, and the ones that I do see over here staking out my bird feeders take off like lightning as soon as they hear my door open. The result is that I'm already seeing more birds on the feeders and more squirrels on the ground. I prefer either to those nasty cats, so it seems as if this operation's working well.

That aside, it's also good shooting practice and a lot of fun to zero in on the cats and whack 'em. It doesn't hurt them but it's sure unpleasant (for the cat) and it never gets old to lay a hit on a cat half way across the yard or even clean down by the road and hear that "Mrowr!" as they take off running. But fun as it is, I rarely seem to get a shot at the same cat more than once or twice. Frankly I'm surprised that the cats have figured out what's going on as quick as they have, but it it keeps the little rocket scientists off my land, I'm good with it.

In other news, the Democrats are poised to re-elect Nancy Pelosi to lead them in the next Congress, and she's going around claiming that her party didn't take a historic drubbing because of her or her policies.

How is it there cats get get it enough to change their ways when you punish them but Democrats don't? Are cats smarter than Democrats?

On second thought, don't even bother answering that.

Tag Team

Lagniappe still barks at the neighbor's trespassing cats from the deck, much as he's always done. But these days, the cats have figured out that he's not coming off the deck to get them any more so they just stare at him and give him that cat "F.U." look.

Well we can't have that, so Lagniappe and I have partnered up to teach the cats back a bit of the respect that they seem to have forgotten to show around here.

Now when Lagniappe sees a cat and barks, I pick up the Airsoft pistol that I'd bought when Spud came to visit last and I join him out on the deck. If the cat is still in sight, I take aim and help Lagniappe project some power in the cat's direction. I have to think that it makes Lagniappe feel better and it's good target practice for me. And those cats make perfect reactive targets--if you miss one, they don't register being shot at so they continue to just sit there, but when you hit one, it's clearly obvious as the cat makes a displeased sound and runs like mad back for it's home in the neighbor's yard. The cats are small enough to make the shot challenging, yet the airsoft rounds won't cause them any permanent harm.

So far today, Lagniappe and I have nailed four of them, and that's on top of the three we got last night. He may not be very mobile these days but we still make a pretty good "sniper/spotter" team.You want a piece of me, cat?

Requiem for a little cat

I've never cared much for cats but you were young and kind of cute.
I might have come to like you if things had been different.
I'm so sorry.

And with those words, I pulled the trigger and put a young kitten out of it's suffering not quite an hour ago. The kitten, a black feral one maybe a couple of months old that nominally belonged to my neighbor, had fallen victim to a marauding pair of dachshunds that are owned by another neighbor about half a mile away. I heard the barking and the screaming and stepped out my back door just in time to interrupt the wiener dogs as they were engaged in killing the kitten, and they ran off, leaving the job half done. One look at the kitten told me all I needed to know--it was too badly injured to be saved. But it was still alive and softly crying.

Damn.

So I went in the house, got my trusty Ruger 10-22 out of the rack, loaded it with one round, and went back outside to do what I had to do.

In my life I've shot wild game, and I've shot people. None of that's ever bothered me, but I feel kinda bad after shooting this little cat, even though it had to be done.

Rest in Peace, little fella. Your life should have been longer than it was.

Meanwhile, back at the Lair, Lagniappe was having a bad day

First, Lagniappe took his beloved stuffed hedgehog out onto the deck yesterday, even though he knows that he's not supposed to. Stupid dog...we've been over this so many times. The hedgehog is an indoor toy.

And as expected, he dropped it off the deck like he always does, and he barked and cried until finally I came out and figured out what was causing him so much trauma. Of course I didn't see his hedgehog down below the deck, so finally I went outside to see what his issue was, and he ran down and bolted out the door past me. I yelled at him because he's not allowed out loose in the front yard, but he just ran out, grabbed his toy, and ran back in the house again. That's when I realized what his malfunction was--he just wanted his hedgie.

And then it was those damned squirrels again. This time, Lagniappe was inside, playing with his hedgehog, when two squirrels appeared on the deck. I'd left a bag of peanuts out there (Lagniappe loves peanuts) and the squirrels were mounting a raid on the bag. They had climbed up on the lawn chair that the bag was on and were rummaging into the bag, and Lagniappe, on the other side of the glass, saw this. To say that he was upset is an understatement. He ran to the window and he barked at the squirrels and pawed at the glass. But these squirrels obviously understand the concept of glass and they knew that Lagniappe could not get out to get them, so they disregarded him and went right on about their business of looting the peanut bag and shuttling away with the peanuts one after the other, returning time and time again to get more with absolutely no regard for the hysterical German Shepherd on the other side of the window.

Once more, I was drawn by his carrying on and when I saw what was yanking his chain this time, I just had to laugh. And I stood there for about five minutes and watched these two squirrels taking peanut after peanut while Lagniappe watched, growling and crying to no avail. Poor silly dog.

So all in all, it was a frustrating day for Lagniappe, but it ended on a better note--for him at least--when I let him outside just before dusk and he spied one of the many local feral cat in the yard.

Cat lovers would do best to stop reading now.

I let Lagniappe out into his run--his run--and the first thing that we both saw was this stupid feral cat walking along in the run like it hadn't a care in the world. Of course Lagniappe was onto it before I could react, and there was absolutely no calling him back. I rushed out to stop it but to no avail; he had that cat in seconds, and the fight was as brief as it was one-sided. To paraphrase from one of Monty Python's best bits: E's passed on! This cat is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-CAT!

Lagniappe came off without so much as a scratch and he spent the rest of the evening lying on his rug by the door, with his hedgehog, watching the deck and waiting for the squirrels to return.

Who ever knew that a dog's life could be so dramatic?

The day that we almost had a cat

So last week, as Lagniappe and I were driving back from our extended trip down south, I happened to stop at a small gas station in Yemassee, South Carolina. I just needed gas and coffee, but we came very close to coming away with a cat as well.

As I gassed up, I noticed a cute little yellow cat going from person to person at the pumps. Now I don't care for cats, and Lagniappe really doesn't care for cats, but when this one walked up to me as I went into the station and rubbed up against my legs, I couldn't help but pet it and wonder why it was out here all by itself. It felt clean and seemed to be well-fed, but the lady inside the gas station said "that cat don't belong to nobody." I walked out, petted it again, then got in the van and drive off. And Lagniappe apparently knew what I was thinking, because he was looking at me as if to say: "don't do it!"

I was thinking about it hard. I felt sorry for the cat. Every animal needs a home. Maybe I could get one of my friends to adopt it. Heck--I know people who have cats; maybe I could have a cat. And I've been meaning to get Lagniappe a pet of his own so that he'll have company when I'm gone.

But I don't know the first thing about having cats.

So here's where I insert my apology to all of my cat-having friends whose phones rang at like 7AM on that Saturday morning. I needed advice. There was a cat at stake. But alas, none of those heartless bastards answered.

But I decided to go back and grab the cat regardless. I have a long history of doing this with stray dogs so how hard could a cat be? They just need cat food and a litter box, right? And I'm sure that given time, even Lagniappe would come to like the cat. After all, it was so nice and friendly.

So I turned around, went back to the gas station, and spotted the cat. But now the cat that was so friendly just five minutes ago wouldn't come anywhere near me. I must have chased that cat around for another ten minutes without being able to get within twenty feet of it. WTF? Talk about your Jekyll-and-Hyde personalities. THIS is why I don't like cats.

I finally had to give up and leave it behind. I do hope that it has a home nearby but if you're passing through Yemassee, South Carolina on I-95, check that gas station right off to the east side of the exit for a little yellow cat. If it's still there and you want a cat...

Exercising the dog

So last night, I was down in the workshop at the Lair, loading up a little "socialist repellent" (.223 ammunition). Because it had been so nice out, I'd left the door to the outside openso that I could enjoy the breeze and hopefully flush out some of the cold damp that was down there.

Unfortunately, I hadn't contemplated one of the neighbors' numerous free-range feral cats coming in, but that's exactly what happened when I wasn't looking. I never realized that it was in until I'd shut the door and gone back upstairs. But eventually the cat tried to get out, and it wasn't quite quiet enough. I didn't hear it but Lagniappe apparently did and he jumped up from his rug and raced down the open basement stairs.

I knew enough to figure--correctly--that something was amiss, so I followed him, arriving downstairs just in time to witness the spectacle of a 100lb German Shepherd chasing a hysterical cat that was only managing to stay alive by turning faster than the Shepherd and going under and over furniture that slowed but did not stop the Shepherd.

Of course in the process, numerous things belonging to me were knocked over or jumped upon, but neither cat nor dog were heeding my entreaties to cease and desist.

Round and round the basement they went, into and out of the laundry room, through the crawlspace under the stairs, and several places where I would have bet money that no cat or dog could ever go. But such was the game that they defied several laws of physics...I almost felt like I was on the set of The Matrix watching these two go round and round.

Finally I opened the door to the outside, and the cat made it out a fraction of a second before I slammed the door back shut in Lagniappe's face. He appeared to be more than a little miffed that I'd robbed him of his prey, but life works like that when you're a dog and I suggested that he get over it. He went off to sulk.

Well today I got to be thinking that he'd probably gotten the rough equivalent of a half-hour walk during that little romp downstairs. And since he does need to drop a few pounds of winter-weight, I thought that he might do well if I actually acquired a cat solely for use as a workout buddy for him. So I just told him that I was going to buy a cat tomorrow."YOU WANT TO BUY A WHAT?!"

Nebraska pothead busted trying to smoke a cat

Admittedly my first thought was that I didn't know that Michael Phelps even had a cat.

But then I read on and saw that it was just some basic, garden-variety pothead from Nebraska--some punk that's so successful in life that he still lives in his grandparents' house.

A man who tried to mellow out his cat by stuffing her into a homemade bong is facing criminal charges — and catcalls from animal lovers.

Lincoln-area authorities cited 20-year-old Acea Schomaker on suspicion of animal cruelty Sunday after catching him smoking marijuana from a contraption that had a cat stuffed inside its 12-inch by 6-inch base.

Schomaker told Lancaster County sheriff's deputies the 6-month-old female named Shadow had been hyper and that he was trying to calm her.

The cat was taken to the Capital Humane Society, where she appeared to be in good condition Monday, executive director Bob Downey said.

"What the human mind doesn't invent, huh?" Downey said.

Schomaker did not return voice or text messages left on his cell phone by The Associated Press.

Deputies discovered the cat trapped in the device after responding to a domestic disturbance call at a residence that Schomaker shares with his grandfather, Sgt. Andy Stebbing said.

Deputies resolved the dispute and left the house, but they returned minutes later after discovering there was an arrest warrant on Schomaker that alleged possession of drug paraphernalia.

Upon re-entering the house, Stebbing said, deputies saw Schomaker smoking marijuana through a piece of garden hose attached to the duct-taped, plastic glass box, in which the cat had been stuffed.

"This cat was just dazed," Stebbing said. "She was on the front seat of the cop car, wrapped in a blanket, and never moved all the way to the humane society."

Schomaker was cited for misdemeanor animal cruelty and taken to the Lancaster County Jail on the arrest warrant. He was released after paying a $400 fine.

Now Schomaker faces new charges for possession of marijuana and paraphernalia stemming from Sunday's incident.

Stebbing said the animal cruelty charge could be raised to a felony if the cat dies or is found to have suffered injury.

Downey said tests would be done to determine whether the cat suffered lung damage.

"To the eye, the cat looks OK," he said. "It cowers in the back of its cage like it's a little bit afraid but, obviously, given the way it's been treated, that's not surprising to me at all."

Now what cracks me up is that every time I bash drug users--particularly potheads--I get a ton of replies (most of which get deleted for obscene language) from people who claim to smoke weed every day while holding down important jobs and living in expensive houses. Yet it's funny how none of the potheads in these stories seem to rise above a lifestyle characterized by unemployment and sponging off the family for a roof overhead. And for that matter, most every pot smoker that I've ever arrested was either some loser who would never make it to college or who was in college on the parents' dime and petrified that mom and dad would find out about the arrest. In fact they usually bawl about how their parents will stop paying their tuition if word gets back to mommy and daddy that their little scholar was smoking up the money meant for textbooks and lab fees. I can't recall meeting many successful adults who smoke marijuana. But that's because I tend to hang around with winners, and dope-smoking is the providence of the life-losers.

You know--the kind of losers who still live with Grampy and try to smoke the cat instead of getting a job.



EDITED TO ADD: Lagniappe just informed me that he's also 100% anti-drug but that he's all for smoking cats. He says that they should be marinated and smoked over hickory chips at about two hundred degrees for at least an hour.

Lagniappe scores his first cat for 2009...and muffs it.

My, how the mighty has fallen.

I let Lagniappe out into his run this afternoon, and lo and behold, there was a cat in there, looking totally shocked to see a hundred pound German Shepherd come out the door. Before I saw the cat, Lagniappe did, and he was on it like Rosie O'Donnell on a piece of chocolate cake. I thought for sure that the cat was about to become an ex-cat as Lagniappe grabbed it, shook it and threw it, but as Lagniappe went in for a second hit, the cat swiped him right across the nose with a paw full of claws.

Damn, I knew that one had to hurt. Lagniappe backed off for just a split second, and it was just long enough for the cat to get out from in front of him. Both creatures disappeared around the corner in the run where I couldn't see them, and then I heard more scrabbling, but before I could get there, I saw the cat fly through the air over the fence. Not sure if it leaped or was flung (I suspect the latter) but it got to it's feet and ran off. A crestfallen Lagniappe returned to me, no doubt sad because his new toy was gone. I chided him for losing his touch as I took him inside to put Betadine on his cut nose. There was a time when that cat would not have gotten away.

Not a good start for 2009 there, fella.