whitrack
Random word list:
khi
Zorn
enjoy
nouveaute
whitrack
Word chosen: whitrack
Definition: a weasel; ermine or stoat. (British dialect)
Free association word list:
ferret
Mischief
Trouble
Loki
Nikita
Palladium
Divinity
Picasso
cats
cat shows
Tonkinese
Ocecat
trouble maker
insane cat
fresh meat
tasty meal
orange beast of stupidity and terror
piss master
locked away
prison
snow bound
winter
harsh
white
ugh
cabin fever
Word chosen: ferret
Writing:
Kiara and I used to have two ferrets, Mischief and Trouble, as pets. Mischief was a tiny little thing (as far as ferrets go), and Trouble was fairly large ferret. Mischief was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and Trouble was down-right crazy, but he was fun to be around.
One of the problems with Trouble was that he was deaf. We got a good deal on him from a pet store in Montana, and the owner of the store told me that he had taken him back two times already, and would not take him back again. Trouble had been returned for biting the previous owners. Dumb owners. Ferrets bite. Duh.
We got him home and after a few days, we noticed that he would not react to someone knocking on the door, running the vacuum, or other loud noises. I snuck up behind him with some pots and pans, and banged them together. It didn’t even phase him.
He was deaf.
Ahh….
That explains his sudden lashing out when someone would pick him up from behind. He couldn’t hear them coming, and it was a startle reaction, not a mean one. He loved being picked up, and loved cuddling. He just wanted to know that it was coming.
In three of the four places that we lived with the ferrets, they had their own room. Mischief would come running when we called her name, but we had to flick the lights on and off in the room to get Trouble’s attention. It worked amazingly well. I think it was mainly because we usually had cooked noodles with us when we did it. Mischief was a picky eater, but Trouble was a cavernous pit when it came to food, and he really loved the noodles.
Maybe I should have named him Noodle instead.
It’s been quite a few years since we’ve had ferrets in our lives. I miss them quite a bit, but I’m not sure that they would be a good thing to have around a newborn, or even a small child. Maybe Kiernan (my soon-to-arrive son’s online handle) will want one when he’s older… We’ll see how it goes.
Kiara Is Gone
… not permanently, you freaks!
She left town yesterday morning to head to her home town for a baby shower, and to see her family and friends one last time before the baby comes. I know that makes it sound like the baby will prevent her from ever seeing them again, but that’s not how I mean it. Having a baby changes everything, and she wanted one last trip (as I did a few months back) to run around without concerns of dragging a child along.
Her flight gets her home on Sunday night, and I can’t wait to see the goodies that we get for the baby.
While she’s gone, it’s up to me to take care of all of the animals. Kiara is the primary caregiver for the animals, but that’s mainly because she gets along better with the cats than I do. I can take care of dogs all day long. They’re easy. Cats are more finicky. You give a dog food, and they eat it. Give a cat food, and they may or may not eat. Up to them. We have three cats that have a huge food drive. If you leave food out, they’ll eat it all, puke it up, and eat some more if there is any left. This means that we can’t leave food out. As a matter of fact, we have three types of cat food for the five cats. Loki gets his prescription diet. Picasso gets a particular flavor of cat food, and the other three (Divinity, Palladium, and Nikita) get the third kind.
This all means that the cats get fed at the same time. Picasso goes in a cage in Kiara’s craft room while Palladium and Nikita are left to roam the craft room while they eat. Loki gets fed in Kiara’s office, and Divinity gets fed in the office as well, but she gets put in a small cage while she eats. Kiara has no trouble at all getting all of the cats where they are supposed to go. I guess she has a certain method. Me? I have a hard time rounding up one cat, let alone five of them! I can usually manage Loki, Divinity, and Picasso. Takes some skill and timing, but I get it done. Nikita and Palladium are a different story. Nikita is timid around me (unless I’m laying down in bed), so it’s hard to get her into the craft room unless she is really hungry. Palladium has been scared of me since we first got him, so I have to lock everyone away, and then feed him wherever I happen to find him.
Once I have them all isolated and fed, they eat fairly quickly. While this is happening, I tend to the dogs. Like I said, the dogs are easy. I throw down the food, and they eat it. Sometimes Fly (our greyhound) will get finicky and not want to eat her full portion. Kiara seems to fret over this, but I don’t. If Fly’s not hungry and doesn’t want to eat, then I take what she doesn’t eat, and throw it back into the bag of dog food. No biggie.
Three more days of tending to the animals, and missing Kiara before she gets home. I hope she’s having a good time back home, but I do miss her. At least it’s only a few days before she’s back home.
Fred
The first pet that I ever had that was all my own was a hamster named Fred. I got him from a cousin of mine who’s mom was making him get rid of it. I got Fred, a cage, and some tube mazes for him for around $10. It was one of the best $10 that I’ve ever spent. Fred was friendly, sociable, and very active. He was a great pet for a 10 year old to have. I had many shirts that had pockets on the chest, and Fred would spend countless hours curled up inside those pockets sleeping away while I did homework, read a book, or watched TV.
Fred was also an escape artist. It seemed that no matter what steps we took to keep him in his cage, he would escape on a regular basis. The only way that we had to catch him was for me to sleep on the floor in the room that we kept his cage in. I would grab a blanket or two, and a pillow. I would sleep in one of those shirts with the pockets on it. Sometime during the night, he would crawl on top of me, and burrow into the pocket. Once he was situated, he would fall fast asleep in my pocket. I would get up in the morning to find his little pink nose sticking out of the pocket to greet me. He was a great hamster.
I remember the day that he died quite vividly. He had passed away sometime in the night, and my grandmother was frantic about how to replace him without me knowing. She always tried to shelter me from the hardships of life, but that’s another story for another time. We were getting ready to go to the big Little League season-ending wrap-up party were awards were given out, and the rankings for the season were announced. I went to Fred’s cage to tell him goodbye, and that I would be back after the party. That’s when I found his cold little body lying rigidly on the floor of his cage.
I was crushed.
The first thing, other than family, that I had loved was gone. I spent the entire Little League party sitting on a bench alone just crying my eyes out. There had been times in my life up to this point that I had cried. Skinned knees. Not being allowed to play with my friends. Being forced to stay at home when I wanted to go out. Little things. This was the first major thing in my life that I had cried over.
When we got back from the party, my grandfather suggested a funeral for Fred. He knew that it would bring me closure, and help me start to heal. I didn’t know this at the time, but he was entirely right. We got a shoe-box that I padded with tissues, and placed Fred’s cold little body into the box. We put the lid on the box, grabbed two shovels, and picked a place under the peach trees to put Fred to rest. Even though this was over two decades ago, I know that I can still find that spot without any effort. I know exactly where it is at.
After burying Fred, my grandfather told me to say a few words to wish Fred on his way. I choked up so hard that I could only utter, “Fred, you were the best…” I couldn’t say anything more, but it summed up Fred as best as I could.
I’ve had many pets over the years since then, but none of them have ever replaced the love that I felt for Fred.
Insane Cats Lead To Energy Drinks
I didn’t get to sleep last night until well after 1:30 AM. Picasso (our newest cat) sometimes goes insane at night, and decides to jump on top of every surface that he can find. It’s an hour of endlessly hearing “Tha-THUMP” every 30 to 45 seconds. He mainly does it in the kitchen for some reason. The kitchen has hard wood floors, and they carry the thumping sound into our bedroom quite well.
About 1:15, I finally got tired of it, and decided to chase him into the bedroom. I wanted to close him into the bedroom, so that he would stop being an idiot. He knows that he’s not supposed to be on kitchen counters (or anything else in the kitchen,) and soon as I get up, he darts away from the kitchen and runs off and hides.
Last night, I managed to corner him, and capture him. As soon as I caught him, he started to wail and scream like I was killing him. I did managed to scruff him with my right hand, and grab his back legs with my left hand. It was a fight and a struggle, but I wasn’t going to let him win. I was really pissed, and he’s lucky that I didn’t throw him outside to feed the local coyotes.
Once I got him into the bedroom, he wigged out, and I’m not sure why. I held him down until he calmed down because I didn’t want him to learn that fighting would get him loose from my grasp. Once he settled down, I turned him loose. He quickly ran under the bed to hide, and I managed to crawl back into bed to try to get some sleep.
The fight with the cat got a little bit of adrenaline pumping through my system, so it took me a while to calm down enough to get to sleep. The last that I looked at the clock, it was 1:34 AM. I’m not sure how much longer after that it was before I finally got to sleep. Once I was asleep, I was out until the morning. However, the morning came much too soon, so I’m sucking down an energy drink right now in an effort to wake myself up.
Moving With Pipe Cleaners
Another strange dream for you guys… Several things from my conscious world invaded my dreams last night. As I was falling asleep our kitten decided to run around the bedroom playing with these two pipe cleaners that are twisted together to make a cat toy. I know. It’s a simple little thing, but our cats love them. We’re also prepping to move on Thursday, so that is forefront in my mind right now. Anyway… on to the dream.
In my dream I woke up to my alarm, got up, got dressed, did the usual morning stuff, and walked out into my living room. Waiting for me were hundreds of boxes. There were big ones, huge ones, medium-sized ones, and even a smattering of tiny little ones. I sighed with exhaustion even at the thought of moving all of these boxes, but I knew they had to be moved.
I reached down for the first box, and realized that my arms were missing! Not really missing, mind you. They had been replaced with red and white pipe cleaners that were the same length as my arms.They were all bendy, twistable, and stretchy. My concern about my pipe cleaner arms was quickly replaced by joy as I realized that I could stretch out my new arms to wrap around the boxes,and pick them up with ease. I quickly moved through the living room picking up boxes and moving them out to the truck that had been pulled up to the garage. I enjoyed using my arms to stretch around multiple boxes, pick them up, and haul them out to the truck. I found myself standing in place a few times waving my “arms” around in the air experimenting with how I could move them, stretch them, and intertwine them. It was amazing! I was making great progress through the boxes when I banged my leg against something. It made me jump enough that I woke up from my dream.
I looked down at my leg to find my kitten latched on to my calf, and he was happily chewing away on my ankle. The little bugger had attacked me in my sleep! I smoffed him on the head and chased him away. I was intent on getting back to sleep when the alarm went off. I was already awake, so I crawled out of bed, went through my morning ritual, and headed out into the living room. I was dismayed to find that nothing had been packed or moved. It was all a dream after all, but at least I have my normal arms today. I’m not sure I could type with pipe cleaner arms.
Rat Maze
I used to have two rats as pets. I’ve always loved rodents. They are such facinating creatures. The names of my rats were Cthulhu and Hastur, and they were wonderful to have around for the few short years that they lived with us. I just wished that rodents lived longer lives.
I’m in a maze. The top is open to harsh flourescent lighting, and the walls are a muted beige color. I wander the maze looking for a way out, and after a while, it becomes obvious that I won’t make it out. I come across a waist high pedestal that contains a square, flat cardboard box. It looks likes a pizza box to me, so I decide to open it up and see what kind of toppings are on the pizza. When I touch the box, I feel a strange surge of energy. I ignore it, and proceed to open the box. When I lift the lid just a slight bit, I get a strong surge of electricity through my body. I think I can hear something laughing at me, but I can’t be sure. I’m getting pretty hungry, so I try to open the box from a different angle with the same results.
The pizza box bewilders me, so I decide to leave it alone for now. I can try to open it later. I decide that there is a way out of this maze, so I start looking for it. I’m pretty good at mazes on paper, and I try to execute the same plans that I use for top-down mazes. You pick either the “Law of Left” or the “Rule of Right”. Basically, you pick a side, and keep your hand on that wall until you find the exit. It may not be the fastest way, or the most logical way, but it does the trick. There are a few types of mazes where this methodology does not work, and I’m hoping that this is not one of them. I just wish that I had a way to mark the corridors, so that I could tell where I had already been. The walls are just too non-descript to make out any details.
I choose the “Rule of Right”, and place my right hand on the wall. I start to move forward, and make all right hand turns. I think I hear some chittering sounds coming from above me, but it’s too hard to tell. I walk the maze for what feels like hours, but I’m unable to find a way out. Either this is a huge maze, or the “Rule of Right” is failing me. I decide to turn around and go back the way I came. Since I’m going in the opposite direction, I have to use the “Law of Left” to retrace my steps.
Eventually, I end up back at the pizza box, and by this time I’m very hungry. I decide to give the shock-box another go. Instead of holding on to the lid as I open it, I’m going to try to fling the box open. With a quick flick of my wrist I throw the box open. I get a small shock, but I’m rewarded with the box now being open. It contains a large, thick-crust, Hawaiian pizza. Not my favorite, but it doesn’t break my rule of “no bait” on pizza, so I start to dig in.
As I reach for the pizza, I’m suddenly grabbed from above, and lifted in the air. I struggle in the grasp of whatever has me, and I twist around. I come face-to-face with a gigantic rat. I immediately recognize the color patterns on the face of the rat. It’s Hastur! My pet rat has grown to immense proportions, and is now performing strange experiments on me. Hastur carries me to a glass enclosure, drops me in, and closes the lid. He then picks up a clipboard and starts to make some sort of notes on it.
I realize that I’m now part of some strange experiment, and all I have to look forward to in my days are my treadmill, my food, my maze tests, and sleeping. What a horrible way to live.
Fortunately, I don’t have to live that way for long. My alarm went off slightly after making the sad realization that I was trapped in a test lab.
Heavy Drinking
I spent Friday night at a friend’s house celebrating Cinco de Mayo. None of these were Mexican, but we Americans will use any reason to get together and celebrate our friendships with one another. The night was good, the friends were better, and the alcohol was plenty. I think my tally for the night was two of my homebrew stouts, two of my homebrew hard apple ciders, three shots of Goldschlager, two shots of vodka, and a “three captains on a flaming pirate ship.” The stouts and ciders measured in at a hefty 8% alcohol each, so they were more potent than your typical beers. The last drink that I had (the three captains one) had quite a kick to it. It was Jack Daniels, Jose Cuervo, and Captain Morgans. Once the three are mixed, the drink is microwaved for 10-15 seconds, then lit on fire. It was smooth, but potent. I stopped drinking around 1 AM, and left around 2:30. This put me home at 3 AM, and in bed around 3:30. It was a long day, but Saturday was going to be even longer…
I got up Saturday at 1 PM (that’s normal for me,) and headed across town to get a new cat that my wife wanted. That puts us up to 5 cats total. I keep saying that we’re at our limit for pets, but I never can say no to my wife when she comes home and announces that someone wants to give her a cat. The cats sleep with us in bed, and it’s a really good thing that we have a king-sized bed.
Getting the cat took longer than I had anticipated, but I got home in time to call Craing to tell him that he could come over at any time to head to Denver for a party night with some other friends. I unlocked the door for him, and prepared to hop into the shower when my mom called. I chatted with her for about 25 minutes which gave me just enough time to shower before Craing showed up. I was just getting out of the shower when he arrived. I was in the middle of putting my shoes on when Jhianna called to say that she was running late. Our meeting time got moved from 5:30 to 6:30. That gave Craing and me time to head to the mall to get something to eat, pay some bills, and fart around for a few minutes.
We got to Jhianna’s and Savarros’ house at 6:30, and from there we went headed up to Denver for some great food at Maggiano’s Italiian resaraunt. It was prom night, so there were tons of teenagers there in rented tuxedos and fancy dresses. I never went to prom in high school, and I hated most of the people that went there. I was a tortured soul in high school. Even the outcasts didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Seeing all of these preppie people having their “perfect night” made me want to ruin things by smashing their perfect little faces in. I was good and just fantasied about doing it. There were seven of us, and we had a great meal, good wine, and excellent conversation.
We left Maggiano’s around 10 PM, and headed downtown to a club called Polly Esthers. There are three floors in the club. One is dedicated to the 70′s, another to the 80′s, and the third is the 90′s. We stayed the entire night on the 80′s floor. There was lots of dancing, drinking, and general merriment. Everyone danced quite a bit, except for me. You see… I’m very white. I dance like I’m very white. I know that I dance like I’m very white, and I don’t want to subjegate everyone around me to my white man gyrations. I did dance to one song. It was to the Violent Femmes. There’s something about them that make me get up and ignore my whiteness and groove to the song.
When I’m in a club, I usually keep an look out for some eye candy to stare at. I’ll pick a woman, watch her for a few minutes, then move on to the next one. I know, it’s kind of creepy just looking at woman after woman. I’m married, and even if I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t have the balls to walk up to a woman in a club and dance with her. I limit myself to admiring them from a distance, and that’s good enough for me.
This night was different though. All through the night, I was looking for a fight, not a woman. All of the (mostly) repressed aggression that the prom people had brought up was slowly leaking out. I was looking for a way to vent it before something in my body burst. I wasn’t going to start something with some poor bastard just because I was in the mood to cave in someone’s face. They had to earn the privilege of being on the business end of my fury. Jhianna was on the dance floor picking up guys to hook up with the rest of our friends. She was doing a pretty damn good job of it, too! However, there was this one guy that she kept trying to pass off on one of our friends, but the guy kept coming back to Jhianna. He was dancing close to her, but keeping a gentlemanly distance away. I intently watched their dancing to make sure that he wasn’t going to try to take advantage of Jhianna. Craing later remarked that I had my hackles up, and that I was about half a second away from charging the dance floor. In a way, he was right.
The night passed without event (except for one bar fight that I had nothing to do with,) and we piled back into the cars to head to Village Inn and get some more food after drinking all night long. We got to Village Inn, grabbed a table, and had some chow. We sat around talking about the night, and our adventures. It was finally around 4 AM when we all decided to call it quits and head home. We got back to Castle Rock around 4:30, and by that time, I was sober enough to drive. It was hard staying awake because of the hour. Craing and I got to my place around 5:00 AM, and he immediately piled into his car, and headed home. I stumbled into the bed room, got undressed, and quickly fell asleep on the bed.
I woke up about 5 hours later wide awake and feeling refreshed. It was odd. I knew that I hadn’t gotten enough sleep to recharge my batteries, so I went back to bed until around Noon. With most of the weekend wasted drinking it away, I spent what remained of it catching up on some TiVo’d shows, playing Oblivion, and playing with the new cat.
