mammalthink

this is the smidge, a.k.a. otto the cat.

i started calling her "pooch" not long after adoption, partly out of irony and partly because it's kind of a generic term of affection i give all new dogs i meet.

it evolved into "pidge," which was something our managing editor started calling our city editor, which i assumed was a phonetic pronunciation of the letters in "p-i-g," the original moniker he'd bestowed on him.

(i thought our m.e. was using it to praise brad the way the farmer in "babe" did to address the pig after the big competition at the end of the movie: "that'll do, pig.")

not long after, i skipped the plosive "p" for the easier continuant of "sm" and "smidge" was born, which was apt for the slight bit of mammal that she is.

(it was also kind of a nod to "mooch," the kitty in the patrick mcdonnell comic strip, "mutts." mooch would append or sub out the "sh" sound to just about any word; "yesh," for example. so they way kris and i pronounce it actually sounds like "shmidge.")

(and, truth be told, i can sort of credit "mutts" for my understanding of living with cats. mcdonnell, in his spare, zen-like fashion, conveys the imaginings of feline thought and how "peoples," as the critters in the strip call us, experience life with pets. his work has provided a good kitty primer for a dog person like me; otto's actions are much less bewildering because of it.)

i mention all this because the image with this entry is titled "smidge-in-the-box," and it illustrates an observation of a mode of thinking i haven't exercised in at least five years.

back then, and in the 15 years previous, i was the owner/caretaker of indoor dogs, schnapps (a.k.a. grumpnet) and hogan, who were boon companions and all-around characters.

as mostly well-behaved and house-trained as they were, they probably also suffered separation anxiety, as all wee dogs do, i suspect. (they were miniature schnauzers.)

they wanted to go wherever we went, put up quite the fuss when we tried going anywhere and were noisily jubilant upon our return.

and while we missed them as well and were buoyed at the thought of their greeting us at the door, i also came to notice i was imperceptibly planning my scheduling into blocks of the fewest exits and entries as possible to minimize the drama -- and the guilt.

well, as the relatively new owner of a young cat, i find myself again doing the same thing.

otto is not nearly as anxiously demonstrative as schnapps and hogan were in sensing a departure, but she follows me to the door and, as often as not, sits before the big picture window watching my jeep in the driveway at least until i pull away.

if there's enough key-jangling or noise upon my return, she meets me at the door and rubs against my leg; a restrained greeting, but a greeting nonetheless. (sometimes she'll come to the window as i'm unlocking the door and i'll see this mute "meow" form on her face.)

kris says she can see when otto feels neglected from too much time away from the house, which might reading too much into things, but i can agree that there's probably some pent-up play waiting to be let loose when i haven't paid any attention to her.

i must say it's easier to leave a kitty because of the apparent lack of anxiety and, well, they're definitely more independent and self-sufficient by way of bathroom breaks and feeding.

i'm still fairly low on the cat learning curve, but i think i can say i've gleaned this much from my brief experience with one: i don't think even feline types enjoy existing in a social void. they seem to welcome a warm touch now and then, as much as any dog ever did -- no offense.

maybe all that red meat made me sluggish

this is me with the remains of the denny's beer barrel pub challenger, a 2-pound hunk of meat, cheese, bread and vegetation that probably put me on the wrong side of the seven deadly sins. (yeah, that ground beef doorstop wound up getting wrapped up and taken home, along with a case of yuengling.)

i've already written the story behind it twice -- in my myspace blog and for the paper. the more family-friendly version is in the newspaper.

and since i'm a lazy bugger, i'm going to let the links suffice to tell the tale of the side-trip to what's likely one of the last great road trips i'll enjoy before getting married. (oddly, my fiancee was with me, which actually made it kind of sweet.)

long story short, she, my friends jess, ann, jacque and her friends erinn and carissa, rented a passenger van for a 24-hour road trip to punxsutawney, pa., for the annual groundhog day festival, or what jacque named phil phest '08, in honor of the town's weather-forecasting rodent, phil.

we trudged up the mile and a half to gobbler's knob to watch the goofed-up pageantry made memorable in the bill murray film, groundhog day, one of my favorite movies. (it works on so many levels. i think there's an advanced degree waiting for someone who wishes to deconstruct it.)

(and going there, as anyone discovers who's made a pilgrimage to -- or is familiar with -- a site made famous by a movie, you realize few things are as close together as the time/space compression of film makes them seem. i couldn't wait to get out of my boots after tromping about in them for about 18 hours.)

the girls were astonished at and full of choice words for the chill, which i personally relish -- about 26 degrees at 5 a.m. but jacque and the weather channel had us all properly prepared from head to toe.

i was especially proud of my girl kris, who would wear a sweater on the equator in the middle of summer. she acquitted herself uncomplainingly in the elements and actually enjoyed the combination frat party-county fair-international media event that this celebration seems to entail.

plus, this may have opened her eyes to a few things as to our social life.

i think this weekend helped her realize, as i did long ago, that once we start a family, Lord willing, just going out with friends, let alone on frivolous, interstate boozefests, will be difficult, if not impossible to do on a lark.

suddenly, the light comes on. again, Lord willing, we'll have the rest of our lives to be old homebodies. we'll only be able to push ourselves -- and recover -- while we're young. (she, of course, more than i.)

anyhow, it's nice knowing that, every once in a while, even her overgrown adolescent of a fiance can help her glean life lessons by daring to be foolish.

thanks to jess and sweet ann for the pix -- and jacque for being a road warrior behind the wheel.

coffee being

a coffee consumption record was smashed today.

i take an 8-cup thermos of home-brewed joe with me to work because the free stuff at the office for some reason lacks the muscle and flavor to slug my tastebuds and pry open my eyes. i share it with my fiancee, who happens to sit at the desk behind mine.

you can get a good idea of how the day is going by how much of it sloshes around after work is over.

if there's a lot, it was a busy day and deadline was stimulant enough.

if there's none, it was an average day and we were very sleepy.

work starts at six and i can remember one day when i poured out that last dribble at 8:13.

"wow," i remember thinking, "this is a bad one."

well, this morning, we smashed the record. kris claimed the last cup, which i'd ceded after my third serving.

i said "go ahead. but hurry. we have a chance to beat the record."

she poured.

i looked at the clock on my monitor. it was 7:57.

we were very proud.

when i had my first taste of the stuff as a child, it was because my sibs and i were entranced by the rich aroma of the caramel-colored brew wafting from mom's coffee cup.

at some point when we were all in grade school, mom started pouring us little dribs of coffee from her cup to our empty milk glasses after weekend breakfasts. we fell in love with the sweet, creamy, strength of it.

and i love it still, only now i usually drink mine sans milk.

i knew, though, that i was abusing this love when i started working mornings. i'd pour myself a mug not because it tasted good with breakfast, but because i needed to perk up. i was using my dear friend coffee as a drug.

it took me a while, but i've finally grown comfortable with the duality of our relationship. the bean is still my friend, but my eyes are open to the fact that he's also musclebound and packs heat, kind of like an enforcer.

mr. sandman, meet my pal, joe coffee. he'd like to have a few words with you.