9/24/2007
The chairman has resigned.
Maower passed away this weekend after a rather short and puzzling struggle with lymphoma.
He was a crazy little bugger, a true stinko, a champion napper, and a helluva pal. We miss him.
1/30/2006
Just in case you were wondering, there are big bad things that may or may not happen to you when you leave the house. Go on, take a walk, but don't say we didn't warn you.
Taken from the Fabio of rental cars: the white Chrysler Sebring convertible. It was too cold to have the top down, but I was in California, damn it, and it is like, required to drive a white car with the top down there.
12/03/2005
This is Maower. You will not be surprised to learn that he has a bad attitude. Also possibly a brain disorder that prevents him from ever feeling full.
2/22/2005
Maower is a bad person, selfish and thankless. He meows (maows) pitifully in the morning, and, while eating, drops food out of his mouth onto the floor. Later, when all the food in the bowl is gone, he will start complaining again, completely ignoring the food on the floor. However, he will eat anything on the floor that is made of shiny plastic, i.e. ribbons, ziploc bags, cd wrappers. Not that these things are strewn about, but they are things that have a way of blowing aside. And Maower eats them.
There is currently a giant Costco bag (plastic) of paper coffee cups under the kitchen table. Maower will occasionally plant himself next to it and start licking the plastic. I started referring to the bag as "Maower's girlfriend," which amused me once I realized that emblazoned on the bag was "DIXIE HOT CUPS." It seemed like the perfect name for Maower's girlfriend.
There is currently a giant Costco bag (plastic) of paper coffee cups under the kitchen table. Maower will occasionally plant himself next to it and start licking the plastic. I started referring to the bag as "Maower's girlfriend," which amused me once I realized that emblazoned on the bag was "DIXIE HOT CUPS." It seemed like the perfect name for Maower's girlfriend.
10/06/2004
Maower has had a tough summer. A few weeks ago he started trotting over to the litter box every few minutes while I watched suspiciously. With nary a few drops for his effort, he exited the closet, stared at me, and meowed.
Off to the vet we went, where general anasthesia had to be employed for catheterization. In the end, all he needed was a selection of pills to mend his bladder. He gets one "acidifier" tablet a day and he employs every strategy in the book to avoid swallowing it.
1. The fake choke. Open your eyes and mouth wide, make a "gah!" sound, and your stupid owner will let go of your face and you can spit out the pill and run away and hide.
2. The smuggle. Use your tongue to wedge the pill between your teeth and cheek. Make a swallowing sound and your stupid owner will think the deed is done. Then let the pill drop to the floor with a sad, tiny clatter.
3. The twist. Writhe, gasp, and flail until you escape.
4. The bite. Bite your poor owner. Alternately, bite the pill so it crumbles and falls out of your mouth.
5. The play dead. Go limp and lie down.
Every single approach is valiant but futile; I get the feeling he knows resistance only invites more poking, but feels an obligation to do it anyway. Thank goodness we are done with the antibiotics. A bright blue, they left him with a little manic-panic colored goatee with every effort.
Off to the vet we went, where general anasthesia had to be employed for catheterization. In the end, all he needed was a selection of pills to mend his bladder. He gets one "acidifier" tablet a day and he employs every strategy in the book to avoid swallowing it.
1. The fake choke. Open your eyes and mouth wide, make a "gah!" sound, and your stupid owner will let go of your face and you can spit out the pill and run away and hide.
2. The smuggle. Use your tongue to wedge the pill between your teeth and cheek. Make a swallowing sound and your stupid owner will think the deed is done. Then let the pill drop to the floor with a sad, tiny clatter.
3. The twist. Writhe, gasp, and flail until you escape.
4. The bite. Bite your poor owner. Alternately, bite the pill so it crumbles and falls out of your mouth.
5. The play dead. Go limp and lie down.
Every single approach is valiant but futile; I get the feeling he knows resistance only invites more poking, but feels an obligation to do it anyway. Thank goodness we are done with the antibiotics. A bright blue, they left him with a little manic-panic colored goatee with every effort.
8/24/2004
Maower completed a Chicago neighborhood rite of passage last week by falling off the second story back porch. A routine breath of fresh air while I traipsed to the dumpster turned near-deadly when the dog next door broke through a screen door to get a sniff of the poor fatso, who cowered and ultimately tumbled to the sidewalk. Miraculously -- considering his bulk -- he survived with but a few scratches and bruises. And while I don't purport to be an expert on animal psychology, I think he's got a touch of feline PTSD. Won't even go in the kitchen because the back door to the porch happens to be there. He and his little feline accoutrements are gated in the study, where he seems to feel safe. I say "seems" because it is there where his tail doesn't puff up at noises and where he doesn't attempt to cram himself behind and/or under furniture. I caught him on the desk the other day, lying on the keyboard and searching Google for something called "zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."
Animal 911 of Skokie is deserving of thanks for their speedy and kind care, and also for not jacking me on cost. Its waiting room is a sorry sight when full of sniffling pet owners who until that moment were not aware how much they loved their goofy little animals.
Animal 911 of Skokie is deserving of thanks for their speedy and kind care, and also for not jacking me on cost. Its waiting room is a sorry sight when full of sniffling pet owners who until that moment were not aware how much they loved their goofy little animals.
3/17/2004
Maower is on a diet, and even his tiny cat-scaled bit of weight loss has given him some attitude. Usually content to slumber in the hall closet, he has recently taken to jumping on unstable surfaces, looking around wildly, and jumping down. Complicit in this behavior are the maddening swoopings of birds outside who are still looking for the massive tree that was here last year. Finding nothing but a stump, they shriek and, well, swoop.
Our small friend Darby - the canine attitude in the household - is noticably riled by the birds. In typical terrier fashion, she scurries about and barks. Together, she and Maower are two small furry schizophrenics that inhabit this apartment and pay no rent. At the very least, that is what it seems like today.
Our small friend Darby - the canine attitude in the household - is noticably riled by the birds. In typical terrier fashion, she scurries about and barks. Together, she and Maower are two small furry schizophrenics that inhabit this apartment and pay no rent. At the very least, that is what it seems like today.
