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The time I ran over my cat.

I’ve written about this particular cat before, she was the devil incarnate. There are two types of people in the world; one’s that like cats and ones that don’t. Now while Beau is the reason that those who like cats do, Rockie was the reason why those who don’t like cats, don’t. But her being a genuine bona fide bitch has nothing to do with why I ran her over.

Her name was Rockie II. The first cat we had we named Rockie because he took off everywhere like a rocket, we called the second cat we got (after the original Rockie was no more) yes, that’s right…Rockie II and it’s a wonder that I even brought her home in the first place.

I found her in a pet shop, and when I put my finger in the cage expecting her to come over and rub up against it, she instead, hissed, slashed at it with her claws and tried to bite me. Now while this was cute in a kitty, it’s not so good in an adult, and her nature never changed from that first encounter. So while she was a fairly pretty little cat, her nature was really ugly, but again, that’s not why I ran her over.

Yet even though she was a vicious, emotionally stunted cat, she used to do cute things. One of which we called the ‘Rockie roll’. Whenever you got near her she would roll over on her back and look all sweet, but if you followed your natural instinct and attempted to scratch her belly, you would end up with shredded fingers. And yes, that’s why I ran her over…

One Saturday morning, I was going to my parent’s place for coffee (this was before they were cremated), and as I was backing down the driveway, I felt a bump. Getting out and looking around I couldn’t see anything, so I blithely continued on my way. But when I got there, I couldn’t shake feeling that the ‘bump’ wasn’t just a figment of my imagination, so I called MDW and asked her to check on the cat.  She called me back ten minutes later to tell me that while she didn’t find the cat, she did find a pretty big chunk of her fur embedded in the concrete driveway.  I headed home straight away.

By the time I got there, she had located her under the house, but couldn’t get her out, so I had to crawl in and get her. Turns out that she was doing a Rockie roll on the driveway just behind my car. I ran over her stomach, dislocating her pelvis. We took her to the out of hours vet (read ha ha ha, we now own your house, expensive emergency vet), where they patched her up and popped her back legs back in. She had a huge haematoma in her stomach that had a drip tube stiched into it to allow it to drain, and unfortunately after about 2 months, she was as good as new. She then went on to torment us for another twelve years.

You want more cats? Ok…

Waddya think of this then??

Oh, I almost forgot (actually I did forget, I’m writing this a couple of hours after the post was originally published), Kila yesterday made the comment “If you really want to balance things out, you need to run one over with your vehicle“. Well as it happens, I have run over one of our cats, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

The other team.

The cats don’t get much of a mention in the blog, that’s mostly because two of them are arseholes and the other one (Beau) while being a great cat, pretty much keeps out of trouble so he doesn’t make the headlines very often.

So in the interests of balance, here’s a picture of them…

Now that’s progressive thinking.

In a time where people are leaving organised religion in droves, the Pope has recently ensured the trend will continue by re-emphasising that only those ‘pure of heart‘ may receive communion. That means that anyone who has been lucky enough to escape a bad marriage, is out of luck when it comes to the sacraments, it also means that in the eyes of the church you are considered second class.

However on reflection, this latest bit of brilliance from the leader of the catholic church may be a blessing in disguise; after all, I doubt that I’d be too thrilled to receive the host from this guy.

So how do you get around this seemingly impossible obstacle to the tabernacle? It’s really quite simple, you just do what Frank Sinatra did and get an annulment. Although I doubt Nancy Barbato was too thrilled about, because that meant that she was never married to Frankie (and consequently lived in sin for a number of years).

Stereo posting!

A couple of bits of info for anybody who is interested.

1. Firstly, I’m a little surprised that so many of you assumed that I was simply posting my TP rant on my blog and wasn’t going to follow it up. Fact is I was looking for the right email to send my complaint to. And no, I didn’t send him my rant (I wanted to be taken seriously, I did include a link to it though). Anyway, I heard back him yesterday…

Peter,

Thanks for your note. We know that the new editor, which is based on Yahoo technology, has caused some pain for some users. We are deeply sorry about it, but more importantly, we are working overtime to address it. It’s our top priority. I’m sure we’ll have it sorted well before October, and in the meantime you can author via tools like Windows Live Writer which will post directly to TypePad.

Thank you for filing tickets — these do help and it will help us let you know when we’ve fixed the issue.

Sorry to lose you to WordPress for the time being — we’re working hard to win you back.

Best,
Chris

Christopher J. Alden
Chairman & CEO, Six Apart Ltd.
548 4th Street, San Francisco, CA 94107

2. If you read Chris’ email, you would have noticed that he suggested that I could use Windows Live Writer. Well, my initial response was “What the fuck? I’m paying for the TypePad service, why would I pay for a third party application to write my posts?”

There are two things that I want to say about this, a) Windows Live Writer is actually free, and b) it’s surprising good, in fact it’s fantastic!! I’ve never been much of a M$ fan, but in this case they’ve really done a good job. Not only is it the best editor I’ve used so far, I can publish the same post to multiple sites (which is what I’m doing here).

So if you are a TypePad user and the editor is sending you crazy, you should consider getting Live Writer.

Eat my fries, America! …oh, nevermind

Boy I was so excited this morning! It looked like we antipodeans had finally knocked America off it’s perch. Thanks to this article I was all set to write a post gloating about our bloating, and extolling our status in finally becoming the fattest country in the world. And I would have been able to, if it weren’t for my OCD with regards to detail compelling me to find that link to include in the post.

For you see, it appears our press was a bit premature in it’s reporting (a bit like me with my sexual relations), becasue while looking for that link, I found this one. So in a matter of minutes, I went from ‘woo hoo’ to ‘boo hoo’. Damn! We’re never going to be number one at anything, being fat was our best shot.

Crossed Wires

A couple of weeks ago I had the strangest experience as I was driving up to Tamworth for Belle’s check-up. A long time ago a fellow blogger (I’m pretty sure it was either Amanda or Karmyn) said that your musical playlist is pretty much set from the age of 18 to 25. I’ve found this to be right on the money, and apart from a few artists that I’ve discovered since then, just about all the music in my collection is from when I was 18 to 25 (the music, not the CDs!).

What has this got to do with anything? Relax, I’m getting to it. Well, a few weeks ago I made an mmmm (mp3 mega music mix) and put in on CD to play in the car, all 150 songs. I have to do this because I don’t get very good radio reception here, and the stations that do come in strong, play shit music.

Now here’s the thing about listening to old songs while you’re driving, there’s a sort of subconscious thing that happens where you get this internal mental movie of your life playing as it relates to the songs you’re hearing. This can be really good in a nostalgic sort of way, or pretty scary in an alzheimer’s kinda way. The latter is what happened to me the way to Tamworth.

As Steve Miller’s “Fly Like an Eagle” came on,  I was suddenly driving my ’64 Chev Bel Air over a bridge in New Brunswick. Everything was crystal clear, it was almost as if I was actually there (which may not be the best way to drive), the mental image of the dashboard and windscreen was as vivid as the ones in the Feroza (the car I was actually driving), and I could see the bridge in my mind’s eye as clear as if I was driving over it. But then I started to get a little freaked out when it dawned on me that I owned the Bel Air when I was in Australia!

So somehow I got two distinct memories blended into one and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t separate them. Now here’s the worrying part…I don’t know if was the copious amounts of attitude adjustment I’ve ingested for most of my life that caused the memories to be stored wrong, or whether it’s actually the result of the huge quantities of toxic substances that caused the memory retrieval to stuff up.

Either way it was a real buzz, man!

* I was going to include some photos of the cars in the story, but I couldn’t find them. I did find an old Fun Monday post that has them all though. The first photo is the 64 Bel Air that I drove in Oz, the second photo is the 75 Chev Custom 10 that I drove in Canada, and the second last photo is the actual car I was driving at the time.