My cat, Patches, is so weird that you have to put bowls of water all over the house in order to make sure he drinks. He won’t drink from his designated water dish….. I’m guessing because “another cat drinks there”.
My mom has an old edition of Webster’s Book of Quotations that I “borrowed” from her….so to make sure I stay active on my blog, I’m assigning myself to do a quote of the week.
…let’s see how long I can keep this up.
This week’s quote comes from Andrew Jackson (yes, that Andrew Jackson) on the subject of having a wife:
Heaven will not be heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there.
Just….wow. Go ‘head, Andrew. Wise words from the 7th President of The United States, folks. Tune in next week.
The following story is taken from my local news website, wafb.com:
It’s about a cat getting hit by a car, going lifeless long enough for the poor owner to consider it dead to the world, and having it buried…ONLY TO HAVE THE CAT COME BACK FROM THE GRAVE AND SHOW UP IN A NEIGHBOR’S YARD.
Now folks, I am a genuine animal lover. I have 2 cats, 2 dogs and even a fish. I love them like children….
If one of my cats gets hit by a car, not only dies and gets buried, but then shows up back at my house a week later; I cannot tell you that I necessarily want him back.
If you own a cat, you know they can be vindictive creatures. I really think God made them that way just to show mankind that we’re not the only species that walks the earth capable of seeking revenge. Just last week, I fell victim to such misfortune when I didn’t put out the cat food quickly enough for my cat Patches. To illustrate his disapproval of my slow reaction time, he took a shit behind my entertainment system stand…a very heavy stand which is extremely difficult to move. While I toiled away with that monstrosity, I heard the faint sound of a cackle in the background. It was my cat laughing at me.
Now, if a cat will shit in your personal space when you don’t do his bidding, imagine what a cat with the powers of the undead is capable of. I don’t want that in my house at all. How do you sleep at night knowing that this 4-legged demon knows you made no effort to save him and just opted for the shallow-grave approach?
Folks, I keep my love of cats tempered with an air of suspicion just to keep myself and my family protected. If you are a cat owner then you can appreciate this approach. They can’t entirely be trusted. The loyal dog will mourn by your side should you pass away quietly in the night. The cat on the other hand will EAT YOUR FACE because you didn’t feed him before traveling to the afterlife. Ever read HP Lovecraft’s short story “The Cats of Ulthar”? It’s about an old couple that didn’t like cats. They killed ONE, and a bunch of his buddies got together and went straight up Sleepwalkers on them. Read this story and see if you let Socks sleep with you at night ever again. Cats plan. Cats plot. Cats revenge.
Now, getting back to the original point of this post…here is the cat in question.
This cat is motivated. I’m going to post another warning to the owner. You need to put security cameras all over your house, give up midnight snacks when you can’t see him coming, and for heaven’s sake move away from that Native American burial ground.
If you know me on a personal level, you know how often I recount the fact that my mother pretty much raised me alone. Not to say that my late father wasn’t around; but while they were married, I really didn’t see a whole lot of him. Work always carried him away. For this reason, most of my perspectives on parenting come from my mother. This isn’t a bad thing; but now that I have children of my own (one almost 9 and another that just turned 12 at the time I’m writing this), I’m becoming keenly aware of the things that my father didn’t teach me and the things that my mother did.
Honestly, I can’t speak from the perspective of what I guess you’d call traditional Black fathers; cause I have little to compare to how I was raised. I never got my dad’s perspective on a lot of things. I just had Mom’s point of view. It wasn’t until I was about 13 years old (and my parents got divorced) that my mother’s younger brother stepped in to show me the male outlook on life; and even that was through rural eyes.
Granted, I’m not complaining by any definition of the word. What this did is taught me to “mother” my kids; rather than constantly trying to toughen them up. My wife and I double-team housekeeping duties and cooking. I guess you could call me the third tit.
…just don’t call me that in front of the children….
It’s not a bad place to be; but you’re more likely to see me teaching my son how to cook, sew, and pick up behind himself long before I teach him how to shoot a rifle and skin a rabbit. At the time of my entry, my kids are almost 9 and just turned 12. At these comparative ages, I knew little to nothing about my dad, save for his arguments with Mom. Dad never took me under his wing and tried to explain his perspective on life to me. Dad was never home to greet me after school. Dad never took me to the comic book store, or made me breakfast. I do these things with my kids, and I’m flying blind.
So anyway, I guess it’s my duty to NOT compare how I father my kids to my relationship to my own dad. Dad was a brilliant man, having earned a degree in both biology and geology; but I knew him from afar. I can only tell my own kids what I knew about him, cause I never really got into his head before his untimely passing at age 52. On the other hand, the older my kids get, the more I want them inside my head. I want them to know what makes Dad tick. …and what ticks me off…..
I see a lot of my mom when I relate to my children; but I’ll see my Dad come out in my personality from time to time when I unintentionally distance myself from my children. I find myself having to fight that; particularly with my son, who asks a different question every 27 seconds.
Ah, well….it’s all good. they both call me Dad…and I’m enjoying the fruits of being an active father.