Do any of you--specifically, the two remaining readers I still have--remember the old days of this site? When leftist political screeds (laced, sadly, with frequent Star Wars analogies) would alternate with painfully detailed explorations of the minutia of my personal life? Man, with a surefire combo like that, no wonder this thing took off!
I mention this because, first of all, it seems weird that I never even mention things like the assault on Libya by The Coalition Of The Still-Willing, or the non-existent economic recovery, or radiation leaking over from Japan. The world could end tomorrow, and I'd still spend all my time here complaining about that stupid fucking Spider-Man musical.
What's even more mystifying is my inability or unwillingness to write about my life. That is, my life now; God knows, I've spent plenty of time turning over the rocks of my past. (Talking about past suicide attempts: a positive way to embiggen your readership!) I mean, for crying out loud, she's been here for weeks now and I still haven't said a word about new cat Cookie.
Cookie is Janie's cat--because Janie has officially moved in, and hey, I haven't mentioned that, either--and, man oh Manischewitz, she's the furriest cat I've ever known. But the thing is, unlike other recent feline addition Staley--who I should also talk about more often, because she's awesome--Cookie barely sheds at all. If she sleeps on my pillow, I'll be able to get up the next morning breathing clear. If Staley's next to my head all night, I'll spend the day hacking up hairballs.
Since there are now three cats roaming around the house (beloved malcontent Delmar is still here, of course, and dealing with all this as best he can), the poor beagle is forced to spend more time in her kennel, just to allow the cats some wandering around time without a rambunctious dog trying to stomp them.
At first, I was kind of opposed to this idea. Isn't it terrible to confine a dog for long periods of time? But actually, as many dog trainers can tell you, it is in fact a good idea. Isabella loves her kennel--she jumps into it willingly, and immediately curls up. It's kind of her home inside her home, and more importantly, it helps establish a routine for her. There are rules around here, just like any other household, and this is one Bella is expected to follow. When she obeys, she is rewarded with love. And biscuits, which frankly count for more in her world.
It occurs to me that if Bella has rules she is expected to follow, and if Janie and I have certain responsibilities we have to carry out each day, the cats are pretty much free to do whatever the hell they want, any time of day. As they would no doubt tell you, this is part of the natural order of things.