Press "Enter" to skip to content

Posts tagged as “The Cats”

I once doted on things other than cats

centaur 0

Curie, the large, gentle, wolflike dog that was my companion through the end of high school, all of college and the start of graduate school.

Much missed.
-the Centaur

They’re All Over Your Blog

centaur 0
From a real conversation: Question: "Did I tell you I got two cats?" Answer: "They're all over your blog." Sigh. It's true: I have indeed become a disgusting cat person. Come here for topics of interest? Have some pet pictures instead!

And at least two or three upcoming blog entries are also about Nero and Caesar. There's no escaping it. "Seriously, man! Can't you talk about something else? For the love of Pete, show us something other than pet pictures!"

Well, OK; on December 17th, 2006, at 8:20pm I got Nicole running again - Nicole being the intelligent system I built for my Ph.D thesis. Nicole now runs on a Windows laptop (she's formerly a Unix-only program) and just five minutes ago scanning my archives I found a screen shot taken back in December the moment I got Nicole's memory inspector running again:

I'm so happy.... wait, are you saying that counts as a pet picture TOO? Curses.
-the Centaur

He’s Doing It Again

centaur 0
They say cats don't come when called.

But they do.

They say you can't herd cats.

But you can.

They say dogs are man's best friend.

Well, until you get a dog, there's Nero.

(And Caesar too, though he's too fraidy to snatch a picture of when outside).

-the Centaur

My Bestest Cat Story, Evah (So Far)

centaur 0
So my lovely wife Sandi and I often take walks at night, which causes a problem when we've let the cats out. Caesar (our smaller Holstein-cow fraidy cat) and Nero (our larger black-with-white-blaze surly cat) like going O-U-T-S-I-D-E, but if we're walking they tend to follow us, which is dangerous in a neighborhood full of dogs.

SO one night this week we let the cats out the back door, hoping that the normal "beg to be let out back, prowl the back yard, walk the fence, prowl the front yard, beg to be let in front, beg for some C-A-N food, beg to be let out back, repeat" cycle would spin in our favor. No such luck: we were no more than two houses down when Nero leapt out of a bush and began stalking us.

He's done it before, and we've tried to let him follow us before, only to have to pick him up and carry him back when a dog owner turned a corner ahead of us. But we decided to chance it, taking a shortcut that curved round the block back to our house rather than our long route, hoping that at the end of the walk he would want some I-N-S-I-D-E.

Hoping to keep him close, we called Nero, and surprisingly, he came, speeding up to walk with us, sometimes booking it forward to weave between our feet, some times hanging back and playing it cool, never more than twenty feet behind. We made it to the end of the street, then the charming walkway, and then the back side of the street, all with no problems, even when we passed houses that we knew housed dogs.

And then we turned the corner onto our cross street, and saw, crossing right at the intersection leading to our home, a woman with a huge Great Dane. It came to her ribs, head as large as Nero, and she walked right up to the bushes in front of our neighbor's house to let him sniff.

Hoping to pick him up, we called Nero, and thankfully, he stopped, allowing Sandi to pick him up while I calmed him. After a moment I crossed the street to get a better angle, and saw that the lady had taken the Great Dane up our street and out of view. Relieved, we put Nero down and hoped to hurry back to our home, and he booked forward as well, no doubt thinking the same thing.

Then the Great Dane lady returned, having immediately doubled back.

Hoping to avert catastrophe, we told Nero to stop, as if he could understand us, and shockingly, HE DID. We walked up next to him, and he just stood there, looking down the street as the Great Dane looked back at him, never moving while Dane's owner looked at us in acknowledgement and took her charge down the cross street, away from us and out of view with finality.

So we resumed. Nero followed us, weaving through our feet as we turned the same corner where the Great Dane had just stood. We were both shocked. I was raised to believe that you could never herd cats, and yet we had; Sandi, with far more cat experience, pointed out we would have been lucky to get that behavior from a trained dog, much less a new adoptive cat with a rough past, who strolled right up to our front door and darted in quickly without letting his brother out, allowing us to resume our walk.

And that made me think: despite his difficult past and surly demeanor, Nero IS a really good cat, calm and agreeable, easy to pick up, even calm at the vet. Caesar, while skittish, is similarly easy to deal with. Frankly, I don't know how we lucked out. But we did.

Thanks again, God!
-the Centaur

Be Healed

centaur 1

A little over two years ago, I broke my arm in a karate match...

... and received a metal plate in my arm.

A little over six months later they decided that the bone wasn't healing.

SO, a little under two weeks ago, I went under the knife to have a bone graft to repair my unhealed arm.

A little under six days later I decided to ask for a blessing from the local priest at the end of mass, as is the custom at our church.

The bandages came off yesterday, and the doctor pronounced me healed. Not a little bit better, not improving, not ready to go in three months as expected or six months if they had to replate it, but healed. Apparently my Atlanta doctor had used a suture to hold a chip of bone in place during the healing process; over time the suture began to dig into the healing bone, clouding up the X-rays and leaving a gap in the CAT scan and overall creating the impression that my arm was much more messed up than it was. My California doctor found the suture, removed it, and probed the bone repeatedly with a scapel to confirm its solidity: as far as he can tell the bone is solid and ready to go.

No replating. No bone graft. Not even a waiting period. Just completely healed.

Now, I'm somewhat skeptical about miracles, which is to say, I'm somewhat a believer too. I of course understand that this is a broken bone that healed, which happens every day, and I have of course heard the old saw that miracles are in the eye of the beholder: to a believer, a sequence of events is credited to God as a miracle; to an unbeliever, that sequence explains the event away. I might complain that that old saw is nonsense, that it presumes there are no supernatural miracles that contravene known natural law like raising the dead, and presumes an ad-hoc explanation after the fact should be considered just as "scientific" as a predictive model developed before the data rolled in. But deep down I know it is just a broken bone after all, which happens every day.

But science or blessing or both, one thing I do know is, I'm grateful about how it turned out. Thanks to all the efforts of my doctors, the support of my wife, the prayers of my friends, and most of all...

...Thanks, God.

-the Centaur


centaur 1
Well, after more than two years since my initial break, I finally bit the bullet and went back under the knife, and am now recuperating:

Ever since we found out my broken arm wasn't healing on schedule, my doctors and I have been playing a waiting game, trying every noninvasive technique we could to spark healing. To no avail; a disgusting lack of progress indeed.

Well, wait no more: the docs opened me up, cleaned up the site where the bone wasn't healing, and closed me up again. Hopefully this will help. Time will tell, as will future X-rays:

More news as it happens. Flash.

-the Centaur