Here's the other end of the rainbow. Unable to find pot of gold.

What are we doin' here?

Aside from fishing, every once in a while these break out after a few lightning bolts................................



Scratch my back with a lightning bolt
Thunder rolls like a bass drum note
The sound of the weather is Heaven's ragtime band
The sky turns blue and the sun appears
But the question's still what are we doin' here
I don't think the answer's close at hand

Barefoot children in the rain
Got no need to explain
We'd be swingin' on a ball and chain
It's always understood by those who play the game
Barefoot children in the rain
In the rain...
In the rain.........Jimmy Buffett

Bob's Birthday

Tomorrow is Bob's birthday. I can't say how old he is but it rhymes with "nifty crate". Bob is a visionary. Sometimes he sees things other people don't.



Lets all join in wishing Bob a Very Happy Birthday!

About Gus

Gus, aka Fatbird, is the other member of our immediate family. He's an outdoor pet and a very well fed one, owing to me. He really likes hot dogs, bacon fat rollups and chicken carcasses. Every day he waits patiently on the seawall for me to throw him some leftovers. He never squawks like the other gulls he just quietly clucks to let me know he is hungry. Which is just about always. Occasionally he goes out with the flock to fish or hit some of the other "marks" along the shore but he always comes back here because he knows who will treat him the best.

Its a symbiotic relationship we have. Gus is like the Godfather of Gulls, highly respected among the flock but always wary of contenders to his position. So our unspoken but mutually understood arrangement is that I feed him and he keeps the other gulls away from our house. Seagulls have a tendency to perch on the crests of roofs with their butts hanging over decks so you can see the problem. But its not a problem at our house. Thanks to Gus.

Now Gus and the cats were never really tight but they all had a mutual respect for one another and they understood they were all part of our family. In a very touching moment during Rasta's final days while he was sitting atop his scratching post gazing out the window, Gus made an unprecedented appearance and perched upon the deck rail, he and Rasta just quietly nodding at each other. It was as if Gus was saying "I feel your pain, buddy".



Comments welcome. Post a comment by clicking "_Comments" below. You can post anonymously or sign your nickname if you like.

Goodbye Rasta

Through his pain, Rasta did manage to summon a purr as I hugged him just prior to his final sedation.

He was the sweetest, happiest most gentle and loving creature on earth. He deserved his full share of nine lives but he only got nine years. I had hoped that the operation would grant him one more summer but it was not to be. I am however eternally grateful to have shared those years with him. The few demands he made of me were returned many times over with spirited affection and playfulness.

Having been a great comfort to Rasta in his final days, Sam now follows my every step inquiring vociferously of his whereabouts. No doubt he understood Rasta's discomfort but now cannot understand that the brother from whom he has never been seperated since birth will not be returning. Though there is an emptiness in our home now, Rasta's spirit will live on in Sam and our memories.

Baby Steps

What a difference a good dump makes. The Colace finally kicked in. It wasn't pretty, it didn't smell good but it was just what the doctor ordered. Appetite, attitude and playfulness significantly improved. Rasta's, not mine. OK, mine too ;)

We are not out of the woods yet but perhaps the darkest part of the woods.

Thanks to all who have emailed kind wishes for Rasta!

Conehead Rasta


Comments now enabled

Made it another day

Thought Rasta was a gonner yesterday, pretty much non-responsive all day and evening. Then, about 2 am, he jumped up on the bed, sprawled out next to me, gave me a lick and started purring. Small miracle. And the beat goes on.

Here's some cat humor from George Carlin:

A cat can make any mistake appear intentional. Have you ever seen a cat race across a room and crash into a glass door? It doesn't faze him at all.

WHIZZZ! SPLAT!

"I meant that! I actually meant that! That's exactly what I was trying to do."

Then he limps behind the couch, holding his head.

"oh Jesus! Freakin' me-ooow! Goddamn freakin' me-oooooooow!"

Your cat is much to proud to let you see him suffer. But if you look behind the couch, you'll see him recuperating from a domestic mishap.

"Hi. Tried to jump from the sofa to the window. Didn't make it. Tore a ligament. Got milk?"