Showing posts with label Cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cats. Show all posts

Saturday, May 23, 2020

May 23, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)


May 23, 2020 (In the Year of the Trump Virus)

For the past week, I have become good friends with my next-door neighbor's cat.  She's adorable and spends a great deal of time hanging out at my front door.  For the last seven days, I have been sitting on the front stair and petting the cat.  I haven't spent that much time with an animal due to various reasons.   I haven't had a cat since the 1980s in Hollywood.  For whatever reason, cats like me a lot. I often walk down a street, see a kitty, and yell out, "Hello," and I swear the cat meows out a "Hello" to me as well.  Isolation does interesting things to a fellow.  Not in a hundred years would I thought 'I'm going to look forward to talking to my neighbor's cat." Still, the beautiful aspect of an animal and its characteristics is something to be amazed about, regarding their nature.  

If the news is correct, people are going out this weekend and rejoin the human race.  Due to those actions, say within two weeks, we will see if these people even exist on our sad planet.  Since the lockdown, I felt there is a war against the virus, and whatever I can do to make people safe, or feel safe, is not beyond my reach.  Yet, some fellow citizens don't see the world as I see it.  If it were another issue or cause, I would be tolerant.  Due to their actions, they may cause more pain and death.   In my war mode of thinking, these citizens are traitors.  Or they are deserting the troops at the height when we need to pull together and get ourselves out of this mess.  I always had this feeling that I couldn't trust the other fellow or gal, and my suspicions are more likely correct. 

The neighbor's cat is very loyal to me. I'll always remember her friendship.  On the other hand, I'll keep in mind those who are weak and selfish.  Culture wars be damned; I'm on the right side of life. 

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

"Rhubarb" by H. Allen Smith



Like the other great American genius writer Throne Smith, his spiritual brother H. Allen Smith is many ways the PG Wodehouse of the Screwball era. A rich eccentric millionaire dies and leaves all his wealth and real estate to his pet cat Rhubarb, who like his owner is fussy, and kind of mean. And he also owns a baseball team. So in this book you get zany, zany characters - everyone from a muscle bound daughter to crooked lawyers, to dopey baseball players, to an occasional bad dog or two (sorry dog lovers). If you mixed Howard Hawks comedy with a side dish of Throne Smith, and a touch of small-town Manhattan you got "Rhubarb." The fact that this book is out-of-print is truly a criminal ac