Since late 2017 I have been feeding a Feral Cat named Andy Hisster (his image above, circa 2019). Simple math tells me that Andy, full-sized upon my meeting him, must be close to ten years old, which is a good age for a housecat and flat out Methuselah for a wild boy. And make no mistake, Andy is a wild wild wild one.
A couple weeks ago I realized that I hadn’t seen Andy in person for at least a month. At first I didn’t worry because Andy has often gone “missing” over the years. And that is actually unlikely because I have always been able to tell when he has been by the food dish. I have two Ferals, Andy and Alfie (five years for the latter, who has been adopted by the building in general due to his affable personality). Alfie is a neat and precise eater, Andy is a slob who pulls everything out of the bowl and leaves a Cat chow debris field. Even during the frequent patches of not seeing him for as long as three weeks, I could tell he had been by, leaving me yet another clean up chore (aided by the Finches during nesting season, who appear to enjoy Friskie’s Seaside Supper, dry not canned).
Now, unlike the rest of the U.S. we have had a very average winter in the American Northwest. Highs of 45-50 and lows of 40-45 degrees, Fahrenheit, not much variance. Wind and rain, and the usual gloom. Hardly ideal for sledders but good news for Feral Cats. And although I hadn’t noted the usual sloppy pattern I conned myself into believing that the Raccoons had been by, they do not leave as much as an atom unclaimed. But something also rose in my mind, like a sad oboe high above the staff. I did my best to ignore the feeling, but it persisted.
But once in a great while, maybe just enough to keep the concept of hope alive in the human heart, something lucky, a something that should be a million to one against, will happen. The upshot is that Andy is very much alive and well, even though his long standing wild wild wild rule over six downtown blocks has been retired.
“The PAWS people picked him up–saw it happen a long time ago.” I was smoking with two fellow sinners near the dumpster one morning. Aflie had become the topic of conversation (for three years he was a mean little creep, then, like Scrooge, he turned on the charm one day and is getting fat even though he has yet to accept many invitations to come indoors–I would but my two would FREAK OUT). The third person mentioned not seeing Andy around for a while. And by hell and buy low, the guy in apartment three had seen it happen.
Now, my mother taught me not to believe anything a guy tells me, especially guys like the guy in apartment three, whose name I can never remember. But this was such great news that I went to PAWS later that week and inquired into the possibility.
Armed with the picture and my description of Andy’s one “munched” ear, I found out that he had been picked up and transferred to PAWS’ Bainbridge Island location. They showed me a picture they had taken of him (same old Andy, but cleaner looking). I also learned that a younger wild wild wild boy would have been given his shots and released back into his habitat, under the designation of “Neighborhood Cat.” But after conking his ass out with something called Gabapentin, an examination told of his great age and although he had against all odds good health they decided to keep him and transfer him to…
“Oh, no,” I said, “Don’t tell me–the Farm! There is no such place!”
But there really is. Well, in a way.
I donate money to PAWS every month. But looking at the delightfully evil faces of the current PAWS’ residence, those villains who face the same uphill struggle as Andy, I extracted the hundred dollar bill I keep in my pocket book for emergencies and donated it. (Used to be a twenty, then a fifty, thank God a c-note is as high as they print anymore.)
Well, there you have it, a feel good true story. Sometimes the gods don’t look the other way, although we all know that they should try a hell of a lot harder.
Still, fare thee well, Sir Andy.
The Week That Was certainly fared well. It, for me, began Sunday with the latest Auld Author feature written by not such an auld author, Michael Bloor. The subject was the great Robert Lewis Stevenson’s The Master of Ballantrae. Mick should be a teacher because he has a wonderful way with language and he truly engages the reader, which is a fine way to educate.
The work week began (Ha! For you wage-slaves, not us retirees out in the pasture) with The God Game by Gerald Coleman. Like a blessed handful of others, Gerry is a site friend and it is a rare day when he doesn’t encourage a site writer. So it is always refreshing to see a bit of his work. I consider myself the owner of a good memory, but Gerald has a damn good one. He is able to recreate events many decades after they had come and gone. And not partially hidden by wispy purple clouds of nostalgia either, but clear minded and honest. It’s always a pleasure to read his work.
Tuesday saw the return of Kayla Cain, whose The Cost of Dying underscores a terrible situation faced by many of us today. A lot of people (myself included) do not want a funeral, which is great, but what ain’t so hot is there are folks who would like to remember loved ones but cannot afford to do so. That, my friends, is bullshit and I wish something could be done about it. I understand that morticians need to male a living too, but something like ten grand a burial feels awfully excessive. Kayla hit the trouble dead on; where it causes people to skip grief and worry about a new cost. That should not be.
Edward Ahern marked the middle of the week with The House Across the Street. This is an excellent story that is tough to describe. But when it comes to magic, some people actually have the gift, and quite often time going by adds to the wonder of it all. It is both wry and poignant, a rare mix.
Christopher J Ananias has been on one of the hottest publication streaks we’ve ever had on the site. And things were no different on Thursday with the appearance of his fifteenth story, On the Edge of Gas Stations. No other writer today is able to capture the downside of life better than Christopher (some are equal to the task, but none better). And yet there is something within casting a light on hopelessness that gives hope. That wouldn’t happen if no one cared.
Antony Osgood has been busy writing books, but we were lucky enough to win a couple of stories he wrote, which, sometimes, are caused by the leftover energy fields created by long compositions. So seems to be the case with Antony’s Second Reading closed the business of the week. As always with this writer, the prose is lyrical and it sweeps you in and along. We are also pleased that Antony has another one coming up soon.
Our gratitude to our writers one and all. It was an odd week only that there were no newcomers, which is also a great thing because it shows that we have more to show than the occasional one off story writer. Moreover, thank you for your comments, all of which are extremely thoughtful and helpful. That sort of thing helps maybe even more than you might think.
This week, in honor of Andy, who has retired to the Cush Life, U.S. of A., I present my list of my ten most beloved pets of the past. Current fiends, Dudley, Izzy and Feral Alfie will not stand for any list in which they are not number one–nor will any settle for a tie, so that is why “of the past” is necessary. And since Andy will somehow know about it he is omitted as well, all four get their own list in which they are numero uno and the rest of the word is a sucky last place. Such is the Cat code of philosophy, ethics and immorality.
These are not ranked in order (a circumstance alien to the feline mind). Moreover not everyone on it is a Cat, which is also way the hell outside the Feline acceptance level.
- Fang (Weenie Dog-Chihuahua mix, 1969-1986. Christmas Tree assassin and all around brave fellow.)
- Rags (aka, Ra-goo. He was one of those indefinable small white mop-heads of a Dog. A runt who no one saw a seventeen year run–he too from 1969-1986. Life long cohort of Fangs; both died due to natural causes the same black week in 1986 (they also arrived at those the same month in 1969). A good boy though occasionally an instigator.)
- Miss Bee Cee (??-2010. She was one of many Cats I have found and brought in. She had a weird tale, only half the usual length–the vet opined it was natural. She also had extra toes on her front paws and remarkably long front fangs. Greatly missed, but she was ready when I took her to the clinic that final time.)
- Rosie (A Red Tabby I remember from my earliest childhood. Had a thing for catching and releasing garter snakes in the house.)
- Tupper (A fine fine Dog who was a mix of an Aussie and a Lab. Life tragically cut short due to cancer. Odd name due to my grandmother)
- Tweety (Another early childhood memory. A Parakeet who had a limited but enthusiastically performed tune selection. Never behaved as troubled by Cats.)
- Sam (Hard to remember. He was a sweet Cat murdered by a reckless driver.)
- Fred (Actually a neighbor’s Dog who preferred life at our house. Smartest Dog I ever met–and I have known some bright ones; far more on the ball than his owner. A Border Collie, a dead ringer for the Dogs in Babe.)
- Angus (and his brother Rex): Angus was a Cat and so determined to live that he repeatedly cheated the scythe nineteen times instead of the standard nine. Named by my brother to the disgruntlement of the family. But Angus didn’t care. Bother Rex ran off to join another family, much like Fred the Dog came to us)
- All yours
And…
Today is Valentine’s Day. Almost all “special days” have their fans and haters.
Personally speaking, I associate red with the day–as in blood; as in violence over violins; as in the feckless Law of the Jungle.
Therefore I have outsourced my feelings for the day to the trio of Marv Newland, Disney and Mr Oh No There Goes Tokyo. And they returned the following expression of affection:
And a poem by Dorothy Parker, which has accurately described romance, then and now, for one-hundred years
Unfortunate Coincidence by Dorothy Parker
“By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is,
Infinite, undying,
Lady, make a note of this,
One of you is lying.”
(Parting shot: The inventor of the Ferris wheel was born on this day in 1859. So if you ever feel “round and round and up in the air” blame George Washington Gale Ferris)
Leila
And congratulations to the Seattle Seahawks for winning their second Superbowl. Even though it made my part of the world (ten miles to the left of Seattle) far noisier than usual, it put smiles on faces I thought incapable of such an activity, and certainly boosted beer sales to heights even far more insane than normal.
literally stories 
Hi Leila
I enjoyed the life and continuing times of “wild wild wild Andy.” Great descriptions of him. He became fully alive, missing, found, wandering the six blocks, then kindly retired by PAWS.
It’s a very good thing you do, helping these cats and other animals that clean up Andy’s mess. Also donating to Paws.
Thanks for the kind shout out. This is another thing I like about LS. The Saturday recap of the stories published this past week. Makes me want to go back and check them out.
Great words by Dorothy Parker, who flicks the cold dimmer switch on love.
The Superbowl ended up with none of my teams, but I’m not unhappy Seattle won. I’m glad for you and your neighbors. That would be exciting.
Football players are so wealthy it’s a sort of disconnect for me watching them flaunting their giant diamond necklaces and fur coats.
The fur coats are a troubling trend. I hope they are faux. But in this endless time of Trump, the old and ugly things of greed and cruelty are roaring back into existence.
Thanks
CJA
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Hi CJA (let’s push that–it might be a brand someday!)
Thank you for your kind words. I believe it is our duty to help domesticated animals. We are the reason why some have hard times.
I do not mind NFL players’ wealth as much as I am mystified by that of baseballers. Football players (save for kickers) live dangerous lives that often end early and with CTE. Moreover, so many of them wind up dirt broke–victims of poor education, the arrogance of youth and family members coming out of the woodwork.
It distresses me to see furs as well, Hope they are fakes. Still, it is nice to see your side win once in a while. Seattle won the NBA title when I was twenty and that was a wild time (so long ago that the Sonics have been gone for twenty years). Give it a chance and corporate cash will kill anything it touches. I used to love the Olympics, when it was for amateurs, for the love of competition and youth. Now it Big Business and I can’t watch it.
Thanks again–and you deserve the praise!
Leila
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Leila,
How about a canary named Peter, in the possession of a writer friend of mine as a child? When I knew the woman later in life, she was having a perplexing love affair with a married man. His name was Peter, naturally. In the middle of this unfulfilled relationship, she mentioned her old friend Peter, the canary, to her mother. “Oh dear, he was an imaginary bird, not real.”
Not much is real in this world. My friend let her new Peter fly away with all the other imaginary birds, dogs, and people. Aren’t we all imaginary? (What was Schrodinger’s Cat’s name?) — Gerry
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Hello Gerry
Looking forward to your appearance in a couple days (i think nexr week, gotta look it up). My Aunt Laverne had a Canary named Roy Orbison. He sang a pretty ditty.
I have often considered the flexible nature of reality and come out on the short end of the seed log.
Thanks as always. Hope everyone checks out The God Game (hope I got that right).
Leila.
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A nice tribute to Sir Andy! Hope he has a future as enjoyable as his past must have been. I’ll add Corrine to the list. She’s our rescue dog. Abused for five years, she’s slowly learning to trust.
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Hi David and Corrine
I will also add Annabelle to the list!
I often wish there is a hell, if only for people who shit on animals and the weak. Good job bringing Corrine on the team!
Leila
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What a tremendous roundup of the 6 writers. For anyone new to the site – enough to set them a-clicking; satisfaction guaranteed. Andy given something of the Jeoffry Christopher Smart gave his cat. Love that Parker poem too. Also heartening to know something of Parker’s spirit alive & well in Seattle. So many Yes moments when reading your work.
Geraint
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Hello Geraint
Thank you once again for your lovely comments. I was stunned to read that Mrs. Parker published that poem exactly one-hundred years ago. Even in her drunken old age there was something young, though cynical, about her. There’s a great bio of the lady by Marian Meade.
Thanks again!
Leila
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Hi Leila
Heck yes!
That’s how I feel about these animals. They need help, since humans have domesticated them and encroached on all of their land, and have caused a mass extinction.
Good points about the NFL. They are definitely in jeopardy. I watch it constantly. But I guess I have to grumble in my old age and jealousy, lol.
I remember Shawn Kemp and Gary Payton playing for The Sonics. I was shocked awhile back to learn they moved to Oklahoma.
Yes it’s great for a fan base–these huge wins. The miracle of IU winning the national championship is still fluttering around in my head. But there you go, the encroaching influence of paying players.
Corporations are the devil. That’s what our government is now or has been for a long time.
Thank so much!
CJA
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Hi CJA
Yes, I recall viewing the happy fan reaction when IU landed the title. There is something special in that sort of thing, which I hope Corp money can’t buy and ruin.
Thanks again!
Leila
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I see there is a need to raise the Union Flag and so I will just point out we are in the middle of the Six Nations Rugby – the best sports challenge bar none. Also may I submit Judy a cross Alsation/Border Collie who lived with us from when I was about seven until I was a mum (you don’t need to know the age – though it was perectly respectable) when she came to the end. I have a vivid image of my brother slightly older than I was with tears streaming down his face as he carried her out of the house. As the queen said – grief is the price we pay for love and it is no less if it is an animal. Go Sir Andy, sort ’em out at that there farm.
dd
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Hi Diane
I think a lot of us develop attachments to teams if that begins in youth. Dunno much about rugby (except the players must be tough as hell), but I imagine that your association with Liverpool is thick with what we Americans call soccer victories.
Judy sounds wonderful. Border Collies are first rate, even if just in the mix!
Leila
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Leila Allison
Thanks for this cat tale of Andy, which for me was a mixture of sadness and happiness. And that is what I love about all of your writing so much: it’s filled with, imbued with, life, life itself, and the powerful emotions that force called life is capable of producing in us. Not sensationalism, not romanticization, not escapism, nor distraction, nor self-indulgence, but LIFE, the thing itself, in all its wildly spinning colors and all its glory and shame; its tragedy and joy. And in the big picture overall, you are a comic writer, like James Joyce, Mark Twain, or Dorothy Parker herself. What that means is not that you make the reader go “ha ha ha!!!” unstoppably, although your work is often laugh-out-loud funny. What a comic writer really = is LIFE ENHANCING. Life, more life. Your writing makes life better for all who read it. And the best comic writers also do not have blinders on. That ability to SEE and say so is also required of the deeply comic author.
So for me you give me “Happy Valentine’s” feelings, even though I know the truth of Dorothy’s poem at all levels. (Her entire book, ENOUGH ROPE, is masterfully done.) There’s another kind of love that doesn’t fade, pale, get stale, grow rotten, or go away, a truly Platonic (in the very best senses of that word) literary love far better (and far more long-lasting) than the greedy, rose-between-the-teeth, let’s-go-out-tonight kind of love.
Anyone who reads something like your recent story “Overtime” on Saragun Springs and doesn’t fall madly in love needs to check themselves for a pulse, or a heart! So life-affirming (while remaining utterly realistic, too) that it brings a tear of joy to the eye…
D
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Hello Dale
Although I can never hope to match the quality of your comments, I can reply with the same level of sincerity, so believe it when I tell you that they (and you) are greatly appreciated.
Poor Dotty was an emotional trainwreck, but, damn it, she hung in there toe to toe with the greatest male wits of her time, Alex Woollcott and Robert Benchly and came out the best remembered (well, Harpo Marx, who was not silent at the Round Table, is as equally still famous, but he had help).
Leila
And I hope people check out your brilliant week (through today) at Saragun Sp=ings.
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Hats off to Andy and to you too Leila – what a lovely story. I’m left with a beautiful image of Sir Andy curled up on his new velvet throne.
Love this site. Leila, Hugh & Diane and all the wonderful storytellers. I don’t often get to comment and I’m a novice on social media but verbally … there’s no shutting me up! Thank you LS.
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Hi Karen
It is always great to see your name in comments. I thank you, and I imagine that Andy thanks you in his wild wild wild Catly way.
Leila
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Alconquin rules
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Algonquin
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Hi Leila,
Andy is a legend, long live and let him be cantankerous!!
The Gabapentin isn’t officially allowed for animals here, but vets do use them to calm them down. Oor wee fiend which is less than half the sizeof Andy is given one before we take her to the vets. She is drowsy until we lift out the cat carrier!! From next visit, she is on two. The vet couldn’t believe how fiesty (Her words) she still was.
I knew a guy who was on sleeve after sleeve of those pills. I warned him that the side effects were continence issues (Both types!!) and if I found him having let loose, his OD would be the least of his worries!! He held the record for eight ambulance calls for over-dosing in five days.
The soul is another RIP!
Read one of the comments about furs being fake. I would have thought our establishment could have done something about the bear skins that are still used in certain regiments.
Excellent poem!
As always, you cause thought, revelation and debate.
All the very best.
Hugh
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Hello Hugh
They really should fully prescribe it for animals. My Dudley, at sixteen this year, is still a violent little S.O.B. about the vet (he remembers getting his butt shaved a few years back). The day before we go I pick up a liquid shot of “gab” and feed him it about an hour before the appointment the next day. He won’t do pills, so it has to be liquid, like they give infants. I get clobbered for doing it, but it works. My other Cat Izzy is much more peaceful, but he is bad enough for three Tigers.
I used to say stuff like not being able to imagine people doing stuff like taking animal drugs, but I have always believed it. Dude was begging for death–which, sad to say it appears happened. I think Keith Moon took some sort of Horse trank before he died–or less that is just a rumour–still, I bet he would have if he been offered.
Thanks as always!
Leila
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Hi Leila
As you know, I love drugs, so I just want to chime in here on the Gabapentin commentary and offer my personal perspective and experience/s, since I myself take Gaba every single day (almost). (I’m on four of them right now.)
I originally got prescribed it to help me get over a hardcore addiction to benzodiazepines (Valium, etc.) and opioids (in pill form, taking twenty or more per day) which sounds ironic at first: giving pills to help one get over pills.
But, Gabapentin is a mild sedative that has many of the properties of benzos or mild opioids in a much milder form, and without the physical addiction.
The side effects of Gaba at even extremely high doses are virtually nil when compared to alcohol, for example. Ten drinks will get you much more wasted than ten Gabs. And Gaba is not physically addictive at all in the manner of benzos, or alcohol, which are both more physically addictive than heroin. One can die from alcohol withdrawal (easily), but people almost never die from heroin withdrawal (they just feel like they have the most horrible flu imaginable). The worst medical withdrawal side effects of all are from benzos – they are utterly deadly, once a person is addicted at high levels, if that person stops taking them abruptly: deadly seizures frequently occur. I found that out in the emergency room (when I almost died after stopping abruptly) and then from doing much research afterward, and talking to many psychiatrists and other doctors, etc.
SO, Gaba is a human drug, too, and not something for our furry friends only. And, it’s much safer than many other legal, nonprescription drugs, like alcohol, for example. It takes the edge off a little bit, with no hangovers, and, it’s dirt cheap! Also, again, one of the things it’s known for in humans is helping one get over other addictions to more dangerous substances. Like anything at all, though, too much is not good. I’ve known people who sell it on the street (along with other things); I get my supply of Gaba through prescription. Thanks! Just wanted to share this info for anyone looking for benzo, alcohol or heroin substitutes…They also prescribe Gaba for smoking cessation, both nicotine and marijuana.
Dale
PS
I REPEAT. TOO MUCH OF ANYTHING AT ALL IS not good…(that includes food, sleep, and even exercise…)
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Hi Dale
That is very interesting–I did not know that it could be used that way. So many drugs around that I haven’t heard of–like ketamine (sp) that offed the guy from Friends. And I know a lot about recreational chemistry –for the point where it is life and not a diversion.
I do know about benzos though. And I understand the attraction. When they are right they can place you in that wonder place between sleep and thought. I never really got into them, unless I was looking for sleep–because that’s what the benzo crew does to me–many friends though are wacky for them, like what WSB called “goofballs.”
Ha! Know about the twenty pills a day thing. Gets to the point that you only take them to avoid withdrawals. I think there is great value in writing about the subject. The prudes look at it like self publishing High Times, but in reality such a thing can save a life.
Leila
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Glad Sir Andy has made it into honourable retirement. I’d like to nominate a disabled cockerel called Henry. Henry had a pronounced list to the left, a legacy from having a heavy wooden door accidentally dropped on him as a chick. Nothing wrong with his appetite and an attractive plumage. But the hens weren’t happy with his disability and he had to be removed from the hen run for his own safety. But the farm cats weren’t so pernickety and Henry used to hang out with them: he was always at the back porch with them clamouring to be fed first thing in the morning. Congratulations to The Seahawks, mick
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Hi Mick
Good old Henry strikes me as an admirable Fowl. It amazes how creatures can adapt. I forgot to mention a Dog my mother and her husband fostered while his owner was serving in the Navy (he was on duty in some Asian port) named Benji. Benji was a classic mutt who had only three legs due to being hit by a car. Quite a good fellow who even recognized his master after almost a year away. He ran with their three Dogs just fine. Fortunately they had a large property, no small house would have withstood the action.
Also, here’s a shout for you, I recommend that people check out your work on Saragun Springs tomorrow! (after, or before, of course, their daily visit to LS).
Leila
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Fellow specific Northwesterner Leila – talk of snow here in the lesser Portland area.
We had at least one dog, and a rat or two as pets when I was a child, and many cats. The street we lived on was brutal for outdoor cats.
The attractive blonde and I have had so many cats. As indicated earlier, the last one died in my arms. His death led me to being abducted to Sunset City. We also fed a feral or two until they disappeared.
LS friend Maysam Kandej is not only publishing we North Americans but writing as well. His stories are short and I recommend them. If you can’t find them, let me know.
Topiary is writing on his own, and being the lead in clabbers. I’m continuing the smart car series as well as clabbering with him.
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Hi Doug
Thank you and here is to the late Governor.
Do not allow word of “Snowpocalypse” reach you–not with daily highs over 40 F. Northwesterners are so selfish that we feel left out when disaster passes us by. Still, I do rather enjoy Climate Change (nee Global Warming). I can blame every little thing that goes wrong on it.
“Well, you’re in shitty mood today, Leila.”
“Climate change, fucker.”
Leila
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A positive tale of caring. My wife and I had four cats, and she fed a fifth who showed up in the yard. There was a lady who went around trapping strays and taking them to the Animal Advocates, maybe the equivalent of PAWS. People looking out for the animals. My teenage and young adult years featured a dog namedTip, we camped out in the mountains and roamed the fields and valleys. I was away a lot, but when I came home Tip was always happy to see me. Dogs and Cats are sure adaptable and smart, they’ve figured out how to live well with people, just about the most dangerous species on earth he he.
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Thank you Harrison
I agree completely. Your basic Dog (like Tip) is far better a person than your average person (Cats too, but they don’t put much effort in). That has been telling us something for years and years.
Thanks again!
Leila
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