cat person

i'm not planning on turning into one, or changing the theme of this schnauzer-inspired blog to all things feline or even ottoman, but i must say otto the cat is one strange mammal.

coming in a half-hour before trick-or-treating was to start, i didn't get a chance to change before dinner and i was pretty much stuck looking all ozzie and harriet in khakis, a white oxford, sweater vest and penny loafers for the duration.

i walked to and from the front door checking for kids and i was vaguely aware of the heavy sound my feet were making with shoes on the hardwood floor. apparently, otto was, too.

as the end of the trick-or-treat hours waned, i started sorting laundry. the basket was between my legs as i folded the clean clothes on the couch.

i began to notice otto moving cautiously in my direction. he was staring intently at my left foot as he moved.

i stretched my leg toward him and slowly slipped off the shoe so he could take a closer look.

he crept close enough to the loafer to sniff it. instead, he raised his little paw, tapped the side of the big toe and backed away, never taking his gaze off the shoe, but apparently satisfied with his investigation.

then he did the same thing with my right shoe.

i posited that perhaps he had been at the receiving end of a mean, weejun-wearing oaf's abuse. or maybe he was trying to discern what was in his owner's "clunky feet" that possessed me to leave him every morning. maybe the shoes looked like a hidebound animal that lived at the end of my legs.

whatever it was, i suspect this isn't the end of his feline gumshoeing.

as long as it doesn't involve a sharp attack on my bare or stockinged feet, i think i'll find it a source of amusing fascination.

diner

i attended the wedding of a good friend this weekend in st. clairsville, ohio.

this sort of ohio suburb to wheeling, w.va., looks like the movie version of small town, u.s.a.

pretty homes line the streets. the downtown has a healthy heartbeat, with restaurants, banks and small businesses.

five miles east, beyond the city limits, past the wal-mart strip mall that sprouted along interstate 70, right next to bridgeport high bulldogs' tiny football field on u.s. route 40 (the old national highway) is sonny boy's restaurant.

the lady at the front desk of our hotel recommended the place after i told her i wanted to eat breakfast at a local establishment rather than the cracker barrel or eat-n-park at the strip mall. she said i could get eggs and sausage for $2.99.

good enough.

kris and i walked in and the place was bustling. the counter was full. there were fresh-baked pies in a display case. sirloin steak dinner with home fries and salad was $4.99. cash only; no checks and no credit cards -- the hand-printed sign on the register said so.

folks wore west virginia university, ohio state, and pittsburgh steelers sweatshirts. anne murray's greatest hits played on the jukebox. then johnny cash. i heard a fellow at the table next to me telling his dining companion that he found what was wrong with the guy's carburetor and that he had it in his truck.

this was a diner.

the coffee was maxwell house, brewed full-strength. i had a western omelet with tomatoes. kris had two sunnyside up eggs, sausage links and hash browns. we split a short stack of pancakes. it was just what we needed.

she and i were in awe of the place -- and we mourned the loss of the closest thing we had to a diner, the southern kitchen out in kanawha city.

we had one of our first "moments" there, heading out after an evening at murad's with tony. we drank coffee into the wee hours of the morning.

it was the last place i remember that played real muzak in the background. the placemats encouraged you "enjoy life. go out to eat." -- and to give your business to the advertisers printed on it.

delsie mae hersman, the lady who owned and ran it to national acclaim, died over the summer and bequeathed it to her niece out in texas.

being out of west by God, she probably didn't appreciate what her aunt's establishment had come to mean to the night owls of charleston and aficionados of good fried chicken everywhere.

but she sure knew the scent of money, even way out in the lone star state.

out in a prime piece of real estate a little over a mile away from the interstate, she smelled enough of it to refuse offers from any local investors to keep the eatery going.

nope. two weeks ago, likely holding out for some prime national franchise joint's dinero, she killed charleston's only diner.

with our luck, it will probably turn into another hellish slots parlor "cafe."

i have no idea what kind of sentiment delsie mae's niece holds close to her heart.

but it's apparent that she doesn't hold much for the sentiments of thousands of her aunt's patrons, judging from the ones she crushed in her stampede for the almighty dollar.

otto it is

so when offered the option, kris and kitty decided "otto" was the way to go. (kris shot this today, her second straight day of devotional lunch breaks with the new mammal.)

kit kat club

if the engagement ring didn't signal my world was changing, maybe this does ... i am now the proud co-owner of a cat. (may boogie, schnapps and hogan have mercy on my soul.)

after meeting jacque's new kitty, inky, on thursday, the thought entered my mind that maybe getting a cat wouldn't be so bad.

i was taking a jog out on the boulevard friday when i figured, eh, a cat and a dog. maybe it's time i got back on the pet bandwagon.

that evening, when we arrived at kris' folks' place in parkersburg, i knew i was doomed by the thought. as her mom opened the front door and waved, a little tabby kitten hopped up on the porch. kris gasped.

"stripey."

and that's all she wrote. the kitty was a dead ringer for the cat she loved as a child. and i was not about to be the man who'd deprive her the chance at recapturing a joyful memory.

so now we have a cat.

toward the end of the drive back to charleston, the little mammal started loudly meowing like s/he wanted to be let out of the carrier. (yeah, its sex is indeterminate at the moment.)

kris told him/her/it that s/he squawked like our paper's managing editor. as we were thinking of names for the feline, i said, "how about 'bobkelly' -- one word."

kris thought it was funny until we went to work today. then she said that we couldn't call the cat that. must've been a bad day.

so over dinner, i suggested "diesel," since the monkey purrs constantly like a contented engine. kris thought it sounded badass and liked it.

i googled diesel's first name since i thought s/he deserved two names and found it to be "rudolf."

"rudolf diesel the cat."

"diesel" might sound a little over the top, too in your face.

so in the history of automobiles, i see now that the four-stroke engine, the most efficient early internal combustion design, was invented by nicolaus otto.

"nicolaus otto." that could be a good name, too.

i'll run that one by kristina later.

"otto the cat."

kinda humble. not as clankety and noisy. we'll see. stay tuned.

cutting off my nose

... to spite my face.

i've a horrible feeling i'll become the actual grump in grumpnet because of all the posts in which all i'm going to do is complain.

and i've a worse feeling the blogs are going to be about customer service.

last night i picked up a pizza pie at mama rosa's out on the west side. great pizzas and good deals. but last night? abysmal service.

how bad?

well, after waiting 10 minutes and watching the cashier/server/order taker girl futz around with the mouse on the register with the phone on her ear as she took occasional glances at me at the takeout window, some fellow finally came in from the front of the restaurant, searched for my order and finally handed me the pizza. i gave him 20 bucks for a $13 order.

10 minutes later i'm still waiting for change as he stands around said girl still stuck on the register. i was already late to meet my buddy jacque at her new apartamente from the first 10 minute wait and decided another five minutes of that wasn't worth $7 in change.

so i bolted. and left a $7 tip for incompetence.

i didn't even make it worth the nick in the wallet by yelling something in from the window, like, "seven bucks isn't worth this wait, buddy" and then peeling out from the drive-through.

they probably just shrugged and wondered "what got into him?" and then, "i'll split the tip with you."

anyhow, it was nice seeing jacque for the first time in forever and meeting her new kitty, ink. very pretty. plus got to watch the start of what turned out to be yet another upset in this crazy football season as rutgers kneecapped the same south florida bulls that kneecapped us. paybacks are hell.

my lil' punkin

my buddy tom hindman shot this of my sweet babboo, kristina, on a story about a former putnam county commissioner and the enormous pumpkin patch he and his wife had grown.

i'm posting it for my former colleague, carrie, who escaped the previously imminent collapse of the charleston daily mail to head first to the charleston, s.c., post and courier, then florida today.

she is having to live without a conventional autumn for the third year in a row and misses the changing of the seasons. i'm waiting for a good orangey-red leaf from my maple tree to hit the ground so i can send it to her.

kris here looks rather fetching in my green linen shirt. she seems to like stealing my clothes. she did, though, buy the pumpkin for me to place on my front porch. then she added a pot of marigolds for accent. very nice.

anyway, while this was shot in late summer -- 21 september -- the leaves here are now are starting their turn. of course, the nice, cool days we experienced once fall began have given way to another hellish heat wave of humidity that i hear won't end until at least tuesday. damn global warming.

hope you like the shot, carrie. happy autumn.

thank you, renee, whoever you are

aside from a hail mary from me on her behalf, somewhere out in customer service land, a little gold star goes out to renee in the unnamed industry that i don't want to get her in trouble for.

i had to cancel out on a costly reservation i knew i was half an hour past the deadline for, but thought i'd try anyway.

renee, after seeing that i'd made the arrangements online only 40 minutes previous to my call, cut me some slack and canceled me out.

"i'm only doing this because there aren't any managers here," she said. you could hear the hesitant empathy in her voice.

"if they'd answered ..."

she paused.

"they're really strict about the deadline."

a conspiratorial second or two passes. i think i imagined clacking keystrokes.

"okay, you're all clear."

"really? you're awesome! thank you so much!"

even over the phone, i know the satisfied smile of a person who bailed out someone in need by bending the rules.

if i could, i would have crawled into the line to hug her.

as it is, a fleeting feeling of satisfaction, a prayer and a few lines from a stranger in cyberspace will be her anonymous recognition.

thanks, renee.