Thank A Vet

Smokey the Cat was feral when he tracked us down.  Underweight and a social misfit, he quickly adapted to life at easternshorefishandgame.com.  Everyone here enjoys his company as he enjoys theirs.

 

He is smart and he shows his learned talents opening doors, notifying you of  dwindling food in his dish, and announcing visitors.

 

He is pretty much amenable to everything anyone does to him with two exceptions: He doesn’t like having his claws clipped, and he dislikes being picked up by the scruff of his neck.

 

The problem lies in that in order to clip his nails, one has to grasp him by the nape of his neck.  If you grab him by the nape of his neck he will go berserk.  BERSERK!

 

To keep him from catching his claws on the carpet with every step, he needs to have them trimmed – a painless exercise for nearly every cat – semi-annually.

 

I schlepped Smokey to the vet’s office at a veterinarian chain whose name rhymes with er, it actually rhymes with nothing – Banfield Animal Hospital - for this regularly scheduled adventure only to be met by a young receptionist.

 

Smokey was checked in at which time I clearly said, in English, “Don’t touch him by the nape of his neck.”

 

This young chippie nodded and smiled indicating she understood the words coming out of my mouth.

 

It wasn’t long before she returned to the waiting room to retrieve Smokey in his cage, at which time I asked her if she remembered what I told her moments before.

 

“Don’t pick him up by his nape,” she correctly replied, again with a smile and nod.

 

It didn’t take very long before she rushed out of the Banfield examination room, panting and wearing a fearful look in her eyes.

 

“We can’t get him out of his cage; he’s growling and hissing at us!” she relayed to me.

 

I strolled into the small exam room, reached inside his cage and picked him up with no blood shed.

 

“You tried to grab him by…” was all I could say before both the veterinarian and her aide interrupted with, “The nape of his neck.”

 

Indeed the message had made its way to the powers-that-be, but the message went unheeded.

 

A few quick hisses and surly looks passed back and forth between Smokey and the vet but, all was well after a few brief minutes.

 

It should be noted that this was not the first time this scenario played out at a Banfield Hospital.  Two years ago, Smokey actually chased the vet around the exam room and was sedated to get him to comply.  That Banfield location officially banned Smokey from re-entry.

 

The moral of this story is simple: Don’t bother to speak to Banfield personnel as they don’t listen either.

Jellyfish

Jellyfish are those prehistoric creatures that invade our waterways during warm weather.  They have no sense of sight, no respiratory system, no central nervous system, and no spine.  Still, they get around enough to feed and annoy humans.

Every trip to Walmart brings tears to my eyes.  It seems as though only a few short seconds go by before I spot clearly disabled individuals leaning upon shopping cart handles to support themselves.

These poor folks of all sizes, colors, and ages sachet along with obvious medical conditions pointing to missing spines.

All these patrons push their carts with their elbows, hunched over as if ready to eat from a trough, and maneuver throughout the store with little control of their “vehicles” and sporting dazed looks.

Such pathetic scenes are real tear-jerkers for other shoppers – seeing the handicapped stress themselves out to obtain sustenance and miscellaneous goods.  The bravery of these skeletally-deprived shoppers makes me think of all those boneless chickens sold.

How tough would life be trying to exist without leg, back, and chest bones?  It’s clear all these ‘cart leaners’ are experiencing the same woes as our tasty boneless chicken dinners.

Maneuvering their carts without the use of their hands makes for a genuine challenge for them and their fellow shoppers, alike. 

“Precision” is not a word associated with directing wire baskets on wheels through limited spaces between fragile glassware and bottled food stuffs.   Quite often, these cart leaners run into roof-supporting poles and other shoppers’ carts, then feigning even seeing the injured party as if they miraculously arrived via transporter from the Starship Enterprise.

And, while we’re on the subject of controlling your shopping cart, when not pushing it, it should be neatly parked against one side of the aisle.  This simple procedure would allow other people to easily pass the often-cramped spaces inside stores maximizing the use of all valuable floor space.

I should not have to call to, and beg you, to move your cart and over-inflated ego so that I may pass.

Yesterday, I was trying to make my way through the produce department when a huge roadblock stopped me from proceeding.  A self-centered clown had his cart turned sideways in the aisle while he was examining corn-on-the-cob like a CSI investigator searching for DNA.  After two calls to get his attention failed, I pushed his cart aside getting his undivided attention.  At that point, he became belligerent to the position of attempting to make an example of me.  He failed.

We are a nation of laws that range from not being able to spit on seagulls, to murder, sometimes.  It should be the law that one must push their shopping cart with their hands – both of them.  And, walk upright while doing so.  Otherwise, those lawbreakers could be considered jellyfish.

Wanted: Fresh Ideas

Growing up in the Dark Ages, we had little in the way of television entertainment.  I recall watching Mickey Mouse, The Lone Ranger, The Roy Rogers Show, and Lassie as educational TV on the three channels we received.

 

That was before the United States consisted of fifty states, and everyone in the country was overly-sensitive to every word exiting the mouths of others.

 

At the time, these shows were the greatest venues to aid with our developing imaginations.  For example, after helping Roy Rogers follow the bad guys across the western landscape, I would pretend – equally well – that I was assisting him.  Riding my stick horse and drawing my six-shooter, I would corner those bad guys and relish in the moment before heading off to a plate of Mom’s meatloaf.

 

It seems as though many of today’s writers are my age and having flash-backs to the days of black and white television.  Yes, television was strictly black and white until the 1960’s.

 

These writers have been taking small screen programs and turning them into cinema productions for some years now.  Superman is an excellent example, as is Batman.

 

But, let’s not forget the ‘newer’ shows that have been re-done into movies.  Starsky and Hutch, The A-Team, Get Smart, and Dark Shadows, are among the resurrected programs that were questionable during their initial TV run.  No need to remake these shows into movies for more humiliation.

 

Enter The Lone Ranger.  The Lone Ranger was a personal friend of mine – he and Tonto, that is.  These guys and I rode countless miles of trails in search of the dirt bags needing capturing.  I’d like to feel that both of these fellows would be in dire trouble if not for my riding and shooting skills.  Still, in their new movie, there was little interest in this duo and no mention of me.

 

Losses for this film are estimated to near $190,000,000.  That’s a whole bunch of money for those of you keeping track.

 

I’m not sure how much money the other movie remakes took in, or even why they were made in the first place.  Perhaps those old writers felt a new generation should revel in the adventures and antics of characters of days-gone-by.

 

Perhaps those writers could not conjure up a new, unique idea in the form of a storyline.  In any case, these TV shows had a shelf life that expired before their venue became color, and clearly don’t translate well into digital age adventures – big name stars, or not.

 

So what is next for a rewritten television show geared for a new generation?

 

Lassie.  For youngsters in the my little cyber world, Lassie was a Collie who was smarter than Timmy, his master.  Timmy and the surrounding townspeople were always acting the klutz by becoming involved in any number of misadventures.  A falling windmill traps farmer Brown, a chicken starts a fire in the barn, Aunt Sue tumbles into a well, and Lassie alerts Timmy to their dire situations.

 

Barking and gesturing with his nose – Lassie was a girl actually played by a boy dog – Timmy would eventually catch on to Lassie’s alerting him about some unfortunate event.  Sometimes Timmy would be able to handle the matter with Lassie, other times they required the extra help of Timmy’s Dad.  Always, though, the outcome was heroic.

 

This type of family-oriented entertainment is not conducive to a digital-accustomed audience that relishes movies such as Avatar.  So guys, save your time and money and don’t make Lassie into a movie.