manrymission.com

I am still plodding along towards my goal of running the 5k (3.1 mile) Turkey Trot in November on Thanksgiving morning. At the end of June, I was feeling good and had worked my way up to two miles.

Then the summer heat and my inherent laziness dealt me a blow. The temperature repeatedly rose above 90 degrees and with high humidity, even at 0800, I lacked all energy to run very far. My runs shortened to a mile or a mile and a half. When I finished running, I would be dripping with sweat.

One morning, in a heat daze, I found myself walking along and it slowly dawned on me that I was no longer running. “When did I stop running?” I wondered, but had no answer. Thankfully, I arrived home safely. I drank a lot of water that day, for I recalled the dazed man I saw almost collapse within sight of the finish line at Dale’s last race. The man had no idea where he was or what he was doing. A kind bystander, who he almost collapsed on, helped him across the finish line and into an ambulance.

In my dazed state, I thought I could hear past drill instructors yelling at me from my memories, “Drink Water!”

Blaze wasn’t too keen on these summer runs either. At the end of each run, he would be panting heavily, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Trust me, this wasn’t a result of my rate of speed. To get back at me for this torture, Blaze would take an inconvenient nature break that forced me to carry a smelly bag as we plodded towards home.

During the summer, I was the one taking Blaze out of his kennel in the morning, so he couldn’t escape the leash that forced him to run. Now that school has started, Gabe feeds him and puts him out in the backyard first thing. The other morning when I opened the back door, leash in hand, ready for the run, Blaze high tailed it down the steps and under the porch before I could grab him. Not wanting to crawl under the porch to drag him out and not wanting to play “Catch me if you can!” (which I can’t), I just went running by myself. As I left, he sat at the gate and watched me go.

Last week, the oppressive heat finally broke and I began to consider reaching the two mile mark again. I set before Dale the task of finding me a two mile route. While it is true that Dale already has a two mile route starting at our house, plotted out for Josiah. It is also true that I don’t like that route, because it involves hills.

Be warned: If Dale has plotted out a route, it is best not to disparage it in any way.

I asked him to plot out my new route along a flat stretch of road in distances of 2 miles, 2 1/4 miles, 2 1/2 miles, 2 3/4 miles, 3 miles, and 3.1 miles. While Dale was attempting to do this, I interrupted him and asked him to do something else.

Be warned: This annoying habit of asking someone to do one thing and while they are in the middle of it, asking them to do another thing, is my best effort to drive family members, relatives, and friends crazy. When I do this to you, consider yourself one of the family.

Because of the second thing I asked Dale to do, he was never able to finish my new routes. However, he did tell me where exactly the one mile mark would be.

A few days later, I ran the route Dale originally plotted for Josiah.

Be warned: I do some things just out of spite.

There has been a racket in our laundry room over the last several weeks as two birds had decided to build a nest inside our laundry vent. I had assumed that there was some kind of grate between the dryer hose inside and the vent outside. I assumed the nest was outside, but we could hear it inside. This was a wrong assumption. Patches (the fat cat) knew better.

She had been listening and stalking the laundry room for the past week. Over the course of the last several days, the chirping had grown steadily louder and more urgent. It sounded like pleas for food from several baby birds.

There was such a ruckus in there yesterday morning, Zeke was afraid to enter lest a bird jump out and peck him. I do not understand how the birds were surviving the heat coming out of the dryer vent, but assumed they were above or below the direct flow.

Yesterday, I moved the dryer out a ways so Gabe could inspect the situation. He was convinced the birds were in the house, I was convinced they were in the wall. Patches was convinced they would make a good snack.

Moving the dryer back a bit was all the help she needed. She had been stalking for so long without action, we had all grown complacent.

I was at a meeting when Abby called in distress. “Patches knocked the dryer hose off of the wall! The nest was in the hose! We don’t hear anything anymore! We think she ate the baby birds!”

I told her to get Patches out of there and close the door until Dale got home and we could figure out what to do.

Patches spent some time meowing at the laundry room door, then relocated herself to the back sliding glass door. With her tail twitching, she watched the adult birds fly up to the glass and give her a scolding.

When I arrived home, Dale, Gabe, and I went into the laundry room to investigate. Dale pulled the dryer hose off the back of the dryer and carried it outside. He removed a fully constructed nest out from the hose.

Unfortunately, there were no longer any occupants. Gabe found one small feather as evidence against her.

When I asked her if she ate the baby birds, she just gave me a look. She gave the same look to Abby the other day when Abby got a tissue to smash a spider that Patches was watching. After Patches gave Abby the look, Abby backed away. Patches then snatched the spider off the wall and ate it for an afternoon snack.

The rose book recommends mulching the area surrounding the roses to keep down weeds. (The mulch is not to go on the soil directly beneath the rose). In contrast, the neighborhood rose lady says do not mulch the area surrounding the roses. I am a lazy weeder and listened to the book instead of listening to the rose lady.

First, I laid down six sheets of newspaper and then piled the mulch on top of it. I wet this down to hold it in place. Newspapers make a good weed barrier until they break down. I started this process in the front yard and without thinking, continued it into the backyard.

While I was working in the backyard, I put Blaze inside. There are moments in my life when I know two different things, but I have yet to consider how they relate to one another. This was one of those times. I knew that Blaze loves to snatch up, shred, and eat paper, and I knew that I was putting newspaper down under the mulch. However, those two bits of knowledge stayed in their separate parts of my brain.

I came in, Blaze went out. Blaze investigated the landscaping changes. To his great joy, there was a gap in some mulch and underneath he discovered a great treasure. After awhile, I glanced out the window and watched Blaze dancing around the yard with a section of shredded newspaper in his mouth and the remains of more newspaper scattered across the yard waiting to get eaten.

The two things I knew were now correlated.

Sometimes when my task is something that can be interrupted 50 times by pushy requests to be petted or to throw the ball, I keep Blaze outside in the backyard with me. Pruning is one of these tasks. He is always glad to assist in pruning. I will prune a branch and toss it to the side. He will pick up the branch and chew it for awhile to make sure it is good and pruned. Sometimes, he reaches in to help me and bites off a branch himself to speed me along in the process.

I had finished the pruning and while walking by the pond, noticed the water plant I had bought for Dale was covered in black slime. We had trouble last year with our water plants getting black and slimy, so I thought, “Maybe the old pot of pond soil has contaminated it. I’ll just pull out the plant, dump out the pond soil, and set the plant back in the pond until I can get a clean pot with clean soil.”

What I should have thought was “Blaze is watching me.”

I dug out the plant which was in a net sack of rocks and dropped it into the pond. I picked the pot of pond soil up and carried it out of the yard to dump it. When I returned, there was Blaze dancing and prancing about. He was having a great time playing with his new fetch toy aka Dale’s water plant.

My second creature who thinks she is wild is named Patches. I have many pretty flowers in my yard that I used to cut and bring in to admire. Occasionally, I still do during a rare moment when I forget about Patches. Two days ago, I cut a white Iris that had fallen over and placed it in a vase of water on the table. I drove the kids to school while Patches bided her time. For Patches timing is everything.

Upon my return, just prior to unlocking the door, I heard a thump and opened the door to discover the vase knocked over, water pouring off the table, and Patches admiring it all. While cleaning up the mess, Patches sat on a nearby chair licking off the water from her paws.

Last Saturday, Zeke was supposed to be hauling shrub prunings. For this task, he decided he needed to carry around my foam kneeler. “In case I need to sit down,” he informed me. At one point, he carried it into the house and thought it would be a good idea to set the dirty foam kneeler on top of the kitchen table. When I came in to get some water, there sat Patches proudly perched atop her new foam kneeler waiting to pounce.

Last night, I stripped the sheets off the bed and had one corner fitted when suddenly Patches appeared and pounced under the new clean sheet. There are times when I ignore her and complete making the bed with her trapped inside. She always manages to find a way out, but last night I wasn’t in the mood. I chased her off.

Irritated with this outcome, she immediately ran under my bed and threw up on the carpet.

Today, Patches had to go to the vet. Abby had given her the warning signal yesterday by placing her in the cat carrier. Patches acted as if the cat carrier was not big deal. Last night, Abby and I caught Patches to put flea and tick treatment on her. Patches acted as if the flea and tick treatment was not a big deal.

This morning, Abby put Patches in the cat carrier and Patches suddenly decided it was a big deal.

I have had several Mad Cat experiences in my life. The Maddest Cat I ever met was a tiny little kitten in Germany. I told my soldiers that I wanted a cat, so they caught a wild kitten who lived behind the dumpster and put it into a closed cardboard box. They warned me not to open the box until I got home.

When the kitten jumped out of the box, there stood this fluffy little gray creature, hair standing on end, hissing, snarling, and scratching. I had read “how to tame a wild cat” or some such nonsense and knew to keep it isolated in one room until it calmed down.

This little kitten didn’t calm down. I could not get close to it. Finally, when it had smashed itself in the small space between the screen and the window, in an attempt to escape from my second floor apartment, I gave up.

My roommate and I went in with towels, caught it, and put it back in the box. I released it back to it’s home behind the dumpster. My soldiers never tired of asking if I wanted them to catch me another cat.

The scariest sound I ever heard a cat make was made by my German barn cat. She would periodically jump through the window of our house with a live mouse in her mouth to play with. One night I woke up to the sound of her growling. I had never heard a cat growl like that before. It scared me.

The most frequent Mad Cat, of course, now belongs to my dear friend. My cat moved in with her and has since refused to move out. She does not tolerate being transported anywhere whether by cat carrier or leash and when she goes to the vet, she is not viewed in a favorable manner. One time my friend attempted to bring her cat on a flight. Security asked her to remove the cat from the carrier. She told them that was not a good idea, but they insisted. When the biting, clawing, yowling mass of white fur emerged, security changed his mind.

Patches’ cat carrier was chosen by Abby because it was fashionable. It is pink and brown fake leather with netting screen. It has a fuzzy pink carpet inside. It looks like a gym bag. Stylish it might be. Sturdy it is not.

This morning, Abby put Patches inside the carrier and zipped it up. Patches promptly shredded the netting screen and hurled herself against the end until she came flying out.

Gabe attempted to repair the carrier with duct tape. It held for part of the drive to school, but Patches was MAD. She would periodically stick her head or paw out to bite and scratch Abby. Abby held her in by force of will.

When all the kids got out at school, Patches gave me an earful and lunged at me periodically for the remainder of the drive. We got to the vet and Patches went silent.

She weighed in at a whopping 13 pounds. She let the vet check her eyes, ears, and body. She objected only when the vet looked at her teeth. Amazingly, she remained silent during her vaccination.

She continued in silence the whole way home. She is now wandering around the house looking for Abby. It may be best for Abby if she does not turn her back on Patches today.

Here’s the cartoon from the strip called Speed Bump.