Cats in Coyote Country

You know, you really haven’t lived unless you are a devoted cat lover living in the middle of coyote country with two curious and independent (not to mention pedigreed and expensive) Rag Dolls. For those of you not in the know, a Rag Doll is an extra large Himalayan cat of various color points, with or without ‘snow paws’ or ‘flames.’ They also have very long and exquisitely luxurious, soft fur which they dispense with daily regularity on every surface of your home with particular attention to all dress clothing and any and all nostrils within a cubit’s distance. They are adorable darlings, and fearless and they habitually feel obliged to promptly educate any offending species (particularly dogs) of priorities and protocol that is to be followed within their domain; without question, error, or challenge. Problem is that leaves them vulnerable to any canine sub-species that hasn’t received the prerequisite “Cats 1-0-1” (i.e., coyotes). With that in mind, my husband and I are meticulous about ensuring that said cats never stray from their indoor sanctuary.

Just before bedtime last night, during a break in our favorite television show, the one remaining outside cat had to be attended to. Grabbing the Fancy Feast and a spoon, I headed for the sliding glass doors to the deck to greet the anxious, aging tuxedo cat who was pacing on the other side of the door. Before I could close the door behind me to assure that no curious, expensive, and fearless Rag Doll could follow, the Rag Doll tom cat was out the door and down the deck, crouching and skulking toward the pitch black back yard and the wildness of coyote country. The term “blink of an eye” wouldn’t even apply here. Let’s go with nano seconds.

Jumping into action I threw down the Fancy Feast unceremoniously and pursued the escaping king cat shouting instructions at my husband to quickly bring me a flashlight before I lost sight of the determined feline who was now jogging into the blackness. My husband dashed into the house, grabbed a flashlight, darted out the same sliding glass door, slamming it behind him and quickly headed towards me with the light. By now, I had the escapee trapped in a corner headed to the dog pen and was closing in on him.

I asked my husband if he was sure he closed the door to the deck. He was sure he had, but with the now recaptured tom cat cradled and secured by the nap of his neck, we went to double-check. Aghast, we saw that the door was ajar! Apparently, when he slammed it closed in his rush, it has bounced back open, just enough to allow the second Rag Doll (petite female) into the uncertainty of the night and its nocturnal critters. O-M-G!!

Okay, one down, now for the other. We secured flashlights, quickly established a recovery strategy and headed out in opposite directions from the glass doors towards the heavily wooded slopes surrounding the house. A quick inspection under the deck revealed nothing. Back yard – nothing; front yard, shrubs, trees, nothing. Back into the house to see if this darling seal-pointed pussy cat with the snow paws and soul patch had escaped our initial inspections. Again, nothing. She’s outside for sure.

I crept around the herb beds, calling, examining every square inch of grass, underneath shrubs. At least her light, cream-colored coat would be easy to spot in the dim light of the half-moon. Onto the parking pad I went, looking under cars. BINGO!! There she was, underneath my car – smack dab in the middle, just out of reach! This will require team work. We mustn’t scare the little darling lest she bolt for other cover. Lying on the cold, wet cement, I reached and called. She wasn’t moving and I couldn’t touch her. My husband moved to the other side of the car, prostrating himself obediently in the presence of such magnificence. She stepped closer to me, but behind the tire. With soft, cooing tones and a Herculian effort to squash my 170 pound frame underneath a Kia, I felt the lush fur and made a grab. I had her!! The night was saved and so were the cats.

After successfully returning both cats to the safety of the house, I obsessively checked doors the rest of the evening. Having been pumped full of adrenalin during this freight, sleep was out of the question, but the beer was cold and much welcomed following the relief of knowing that this night, at least, these lovely creatures would not become part of nature’s food chain.

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What it means to be a Liberal (like it's a bad word or something)

You hear a lot today in conservative media about the “lefties,” the “liberals.” Those terms used interchangeably with unflattering rhetoric; as if it were a bad thing. “Liberals” have been blamed for everything from corruption in government to the disintegrating American family to the demise of America.

I’ve been listening pretty closely to these criticisms and have made some conclusions.

If you believe in helping your fellow man, you might be a liberal.
If you believe that you are your brother’s keeper, you might be a liberal.
If you are willing to pay taxes for your fair share of services received, you might be a liberal.
If you believe women are people and not just reproduction organisms, you might be a liberal.
If you believe that the distribution of wealth ought to be a little closer to equal, you might be a liberal.
If you believe in freedom from religion, you might be a liberal.
If you believe in holding your leaders accountable, you might be a liberal.
If you believe that wealthy individuals and successful businesses should also contribute to the general tax fund, you might be a liberal.
If you believe that the planet is worth saving for future generations, you might be a liberal.
If you believe in scientific fact, you might be a liberal.
If you have respect for all life, you might be a liberal.

Given this test of values, I’ve made some conclusions about where I would like to stand on Judgment Day. Please refer to me as “liberal” and know that I am proud of it!

If you do not agree, go back and read our Declaration of Independence and when you’re done, scan through the Constitution. Understand what it means. This is America – love it or leave it!

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