QUiDbiT

Yes. A quick report to report on. Quickly. The cat has only since yesterday (the 30th?) emerged from solitary confinement by her own devise. Only slightly, unsure and still a bit afraid - but she has given my apartment and me a chance. Only slightly. She is still very timid, and you must be very careful not to startle her, but last night she nonchalantly strolled into the living room, plopped down on the floor and began cleaning herself. Rolling, licking, having a good time. Until Katie stood up. Bolt. Gone like Usain into the cover of the darkness of the other room.

POST # ONE HUNDRED AND SOMETHING

Day Three of Rocksee the cat vs. her new environment vs herself vs. me vs. the purpose of life's very existence itself. Very little progress to report. Other than a few nibbles of tuna here and a late night stealth mission upstairs to the litter box here (and I only know that b/c of the little puddle and foot steps in the sand) - Rocksee is still keeping mostly to herself. (If you call never coming out into the open whatsoever 'mostly,' then yes, mostly). However, she has discovered yet another out of sight but not out of house (and definitely not out of mind) fortress of solitude. Perched high atop the nightmare that is here now, tucked away snug between the ten inches of the bottom of the shelving and the top of the fridge - Rocksee sits and waits (for what, only no one knows). I came home today and at the advice of Katie, (who had come to my apartment earlier in the day to visit the cat) grabbed a chair, put it in front of the fridge, stood on it and pet the cat. I also tried to feed her tuna, dry food, treats and some water. I think I was giving it too much attention, b/c after a few minutes Rocksee bolted from her nest, jumped off the counter and ran straight under old faithful. Mr. Couch. There she remains as of now...check in again later some time soon in the future.

There is a cat somewhere in my apartment

...Time...passing...So, Rocksee the Cat is still in hiding/freak-out/shaking/doesn't know what's going on mode - big time. Places she has hidden in fear since arriving yesterday afternoon: under the couch (the most obvious and convenient choice), squeezed head-first in between the fridge and the wall (a most uncomfortable and awkward looking choice), blended into the shadows beneath a table up against the wall (a wide-open but legitimate choice), tucked up against the wall between the bed and the wall (another 'in between' choice), wedged behind the bathroom door (a slightly dangerous and vulnerable choice) and lastly - behind the toilet (does this choice need to be defined further?). No, it doesn't. She has since come full circle hiding crazy, up-stairs, downstairs - going into hiding back under the couch. Slinking low like a terrified snake cat let loose in a house of unknown, unseen but ever present terror. A box. The snake cats' worst enemy. With a mouth gaped open looking for air or a way out, the reptilian feline searches for a new and even more impossible to get at nook or cranny. Wanting desperately to flee this place and return home - but frozen with too much fear to try any sort of half-baked escape. The snake cat must learn to adapt to this new home. Like the animal that it is. That I know it can be. I have learned however, that Rocksee loves back-to-bum rubs and soon she'll [Rocksee] realize where she has been swept up and brought to in a flash and without warning. Cat Paradise. That's right. Multiple access to crazy outside world viewing via the many windows facing different directions. Mountains and caverns to explore and conquer cut out through the different furniture around the apartment's landscape. Padding, bedding, walls, paper, carpet, and shower curtains galore to tear and rip with her deadly claws (and the two holes in my upper arm can attest to their sharpness). An empty room with a closet. The fun can be endless. What else does a cat need? Okay, maybe the comfy confines of the only home she'd ever known and her countless best friends and buddies at her side would be alright too. But this is all I got. Honestly, if a cat can find hours of enjoyment with only a piece of paper and some paws - then surely Rocksee will have a blast here at Campbell Cat Palace 'o Fun and Good Times. I feel like a tea.

...Time...Passing...

Today is Saturday. It is gray, raining, hot and wet... How predictable. The entire week has been a blur of humid, sticky wet film. But today I am happy, despite the shit weather. For I am to foster a new little kitty from the shelter Katie volunteers at (or volunteered at, since they have recently been evicted from their dwellings b/c of lack of funds- five months behind rent to be exact, and a smell of shit, fur and piss that will never evict) - and I am excited. Her name is Roxy. Roxie? Rocksee? Rocky Balboa? Not sure, but I do know it is a girl. A semi-short haired orange, white and gray five year old cat. I am nervous but excited. It is fitting that her name is Roxy/Roxie/Rocksee/Rocky Balboa? - fitting for me and the few who know - but I will tell you... I once ten years ago rescued a lab/Shepard mix from a box outside a Soo Ste. Marie Zellers - but b/c of undesirable circumstances - I subsequently gave her up (though I know she was taken in b/c I followed up). What was her name you ask? Roxy. So, I hope this all works out b/c I am sometimes lonely here all alone by myself on my own. Here. At this place. After a long, combating and frustrating day at the office, it will be nice to come home to something other than stale air and disagreeable sports talk radio. Having a little cat friend could cheer me up I presume on those days when I alone can not do it by myself. Or drive me nuts. Probably a nice little mix of both. And don't worry, I'm not trying to replace Coppertoes, he'll always be both the coolest cat and person I've ever met - but it's time to move on! Coppertoes would have wanted it so. Okay. Katie has arrived. We are now going to pick up Roxie/Roxy/Rocksea/Rocky Balboa...time...passing...Back. We're back from picking up Roxie the curious but scared cat who's never been away from her many roommates and out of the friendly confines of her five year old home - ever. R-o-x-i-e. As I've now discovered that to be the correct spelling of her name. Though, I will still technically in my head and if anyone asks from here on out spell her name as such: R-O-C-K-S-E-E. Moving on. The cat (I mean Rocksee, as I earlier predicted) upon arriving to Campbell promptly jettisoned out of the cage and directly under the couch. How predictable. It has yet to emerge. Stay tuned for more postings on this situation.

The air is thick. And heat is here. But the patience is thin and sweat appears.

Howdy there partners!! It's me. Kowboy Kieran. Hee-haah. What? Okay. I'm back. Not on a horse. For, I've never really been on a horse before. Or wore a dress in a store. I Swore I'd always do my chores. If Dr. Seuss were keeping score. Unless you count the donkey at Colasanti's (back to the never have ridden a horse thing) that my sister and Blake and I think Sean as well, escorted in circles and dirt with many other countless and desperate for petty cash teens. On weekends. All wearing colourful Florida bird shirts. Inside a very lucrative greenhouse operation. In Ruthven. Huh? I'm back I say. Back again like an aging boy band, a trendy-contemporary-vintage-fad-on-a-circular-path-and-back-happening, a damn nagging cold, a center fielder at the track, annoying-slutty and trashed non-celebrity-party-whore-celebutants, Aahh-nold, the cat... you get it. I haven't been back, I mean I've been gone so long, for such a long time have I been, that... what??. Start over. Simplify. Slow down. Blog. Me. No. Do. For. Such. Long. Time. That. Blogger. Look. Different. That's right, I have changed the layout of my blog because the option to is easy, fast and accessible. Yay. Okay. How long has she been since last have I bloginated? I don't know. Actually, do I? Around my b-day I believe. So, a few months ago. Yes. Time for a token list of what I have been up to since last listed have I. Ready? Yes. Go. Jumped back on the Kingsville to Windsor train. Got off in K-ille. For a month. Hung out with the 'rents. Took the return trolley home to Windsor. Have only been back to the town of my youth for the odd weekend visit. Though with the folks being up north doing all kinds of fun things at a cool place and even sweeter pace- Bart, is my only greeter. Which is cool, but boy is he happy to see a person in his presence. Been Honda-ing it lately as well. The '93, EX, four-door, lone sticker left standing, brown Accord have I been driving. Though, I'll admit (and any poor passengers surely), that the cruising could be a whole lot sweeter (and cooler as you'd see) if the two front windows went down. And the air conditioning shot out something other than super hot, hairdryer air. And the back side-smaller-triangle-shaped-window (I'm mean non-window)wasn't covered by only some paper and tape and glue. Literally. It is. Those exact ingredients. And in that precise order of application did I apply. (I mean Katie) Movin' on...Yes, I have recently gotten involved in the philanthropy business. Verbal-in-person-details only for now, please. Thank you. I've spent most of these earned checks from said job feeding a resurrected golf habit that, only until recently have I actually seen improvement in. (I hope. You never really know with this game it seems) Though, realistically it has been ten plus years since I last played this much stick and ball. I mean tee and club. Or is it putt and drive? Slice into the woods, lose, get pissed and drop? Tee-off, approach-shot, and ten-foot drain? (hopefully) Or...Knickers, diamond designed blue and red tall socks and those corduroy golf hats with the cute little button on the front? Many good, irrelevant and useless options. Ala Payne Stewart. The old-school Scottish sheep herder outfit that is. A golfer who died in a plane crash. That always seemed odd to me. Not sure why. Or Ten plus plus years probably. Huh? Right, time since I last golfed on this consistent of a basis. Though, the consistency is not super-often, but rather a lower to middle half semi-kind of often. However, it has been longer than I first guessed. More than ten, not less than nine and probably over twelve. Years that is. Because, I forgot about the, "I'm getting so old now, that I always have to add five years onto the recollection and dating of a memory - because of my lack of memory in regards to quantities of time, my status of my brain and events in my life. I'm sure environment, the ecoonmy and technology are factors as well- but so are a lot of other things. Could someone cue Scott Bakula please. And his weird little cigar smoking buddy- who I don't know by name but have seen more times than I remember. Damn brain again. And Al Gore. A Saturday afternoon Movie legend was this sidekick of Bakula. 'His name is actually Dean Stockwell (thanks the Internet. Ask and ya'll shall receive - if you got the time...yah, that's pretty much it. Also, Deaner has been in almost 200 different television shows and films combined. Though I'm sure the whereabouts of these 'gems' aren't the easiest to locate. "Can I help you find something sir? Yes, actually, do you have the 1946 crime thriller 'Home Sweet Homicide" or "The Flunker," or how about the second season of the Tony Danza show?" No. Okay, 'cause I'm about to make a quantum leap out of reality and directly into one of those 1980's futuristic space ship scenes- smokey, shaking, buzzing, beeping, flashing, strobing, hilarious. Or a time travel scene. Space time continuum. Yes, golf. I'll perhaps get into that a little later. Next. Hmmm. Let's see. Rest of list to follow soon. (hopefully)