stillpoint

what'd ya bring me?

2008-11-15T01:50:00.005-05:00

Find more curious cats at the Friday Ark.

remember...

2008-11-08T11:33:00.003-05:00

Free Rice!

2008-05-16T21:58:00.003-04:00

Play the FreeRice vocabulary game. For each word you get right, 20 grains of rice is donated through the UN World Food Program to help end hunger.

Sam the Cat gets a job...

2008-01-21T22:14:00.000-05:00

I've been a bad blogger, finding nothing new or interesting to write about since way back in November. I'll skip the excuses and break the long silence with a better-late-than-never "Happy New Year!" and one of my favourite photos of handsome Sam.

Sam still scores his (mostly) weekly face time as 'The Bookshelf Cat', even when things are quiet here at stillpoint...which, when you think on it, is exactly how things should be at stillpoint.

Sam goes after a real-life Grinch...

2007-11-29T14:51:00.000-05:00

This week, Sam is giving the evil eye to a real-life Christmas Grinch. Please take a few minutes to read and find out why. Some very special people will thank you!

Readers of this blog may remember me writing about my son, J. We two have enjoyed some fun and blog-worthy times together over the years with many more to come, I'm sure. What I may not have shared, is that J. is a young man with special needs. He copes with remarkable grace and humour but I'm sure every parent reading this will understand when I say that his challenges can sometimes seem overwhelming, especially to those who love and support him. That's why we all feel truly blessed and grateful to be part of The Centre for Dreams in Markham — a day program providing education and vocational training to intellectually challenged adults, helping them lead independent, meaningful lives.

Last Sunday, November 25th, Dreams staff, clients, families, and friends got together to host a community event and fund-raiser, the Festival of Trees. It was a fun-filled day of fabulous Christmas trees, magical entertainment, culinary delights and, of course, Santa Claus. Money raised was intended to support the centre's operations and help grow the building fund — a dream that will someday give J. and other group members the chance to live independently in a safe and supportive environment.

The day was a wonderful success. Nearly $8,000 was raised for the Centre. Sadly, that hard-earned and desperately needed money was stolen by a thief or thieves — real-life Grinches — who broke a car window, grabbed the cash box, and ran. Much more than theft of money, this was literally a theft of dreams. Read the CityTV News account here.

So now you know the "why" of Sam's evil eye. He hopes you'll visit The Centre for Dreams web site, find out about the program, get to know the Dreamers, and if you're moved by the spirit of the season, click the "donate" button. Help keep the dream alive!

Join Sam and his Santa hat on board this week's Friday Ark — a guaranteed Grinch-free zone — and at Carnival of the Cats, hosted this week by This, That & The Other Thing

is that turkey I smell?

2007-11-23T09:34:00.001-05:00

Mmmmmmmmm...yum!

Join Sam for leftover turkey gibblets on the Friday Ark, and at his other gig as The Bookshelf Cat.

Kindle ...ing (a little shameless self-promotion)

2007-11-20T23:19:00.001-05:00

I was pleasantly suprised this morning to discover one of my books for sale in Amazon's new Kindle store. Available only in the US (for now), this nifty new e-book reader looks like it might be the one to please folks who don't like reading on-screen. Technology includes no-glare electronic paper and unlimited free wireless connection. Users won't even need to own a computer to enjoy a portable library that includes books, newspapers, and magazines. I want one!

For more about the book, visit Cheryl Cooke Harrington or go directly to the Kindle Store.

rethinking the whole basket idea...

2007-10-05T00:28:00.000-04:00

After three weeks of stubbornly avoiding it, Sam looks pretty relaxed and comfortable in his new basket, doesn't he?

He might climb out long enough to board the Friday Ark and pay a visit to his friends at Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

on second thought...

2007-09-18T22:16:00.000-04:00

Over the years, friends have accused me of being a hopeless Pollyanna and, I admit, I do tend to look for the good in people and situations. Last week I tried looking on the bright side of the construction currently underway next door to my office. This week, I've changed my mind. Here's why...

The view from my office window, March 18, 2007

The view from my office window, September 18, 2007

'Nuff said.

Sigh.

end of a (fishy) era

2007-09-17T20:24:00.000-04:00

Norbert, the splendid Betta splendens, has been our office mascot at the day job for nearly five years. Content in his big bowl on the corner of my desk, he was always ready to interrupt his bubble nest building to play a game of mirror-mirror or charm visitors with a display of his magnificent blue fins and a flare of his gills.

Today, as always, feeding Norbert was my first task of the morning. But today, for the first time ever, he didn't come rushing out of his root hammock to greet me. Sadly, at some point over the weekend, Norbert the Betta swam off to fishy heaven. We're really going to miss the little guy.

you can lead a cat to basket...

2007-09-14T09:11:00.000-04:00

This is Sam.

This is Sam's brand new basket.
(Note the cushy-comfy blanket,
thoughtfully scented with catnip, even!)

And this is Sam investigating his lovely new digs.
Mmmm. Nip!

But this old cardboard boxtop is where Sam still prefers to nap.
(Note the abandonned nip-scented basket, sitting empty on the left.)

What is it with cats and cardboard boxes, anyway?!

Sam will be napping aboard the Friday Ark and at Carnival of the Cats, hosted this week by Hot(M)BC. You'll also find him wide awake and helping out at his other gig.

not quite serendipity

2007-09-12T09:54:00.000-04:00

Walking up the street yesterday afternoon, on my way to collect the office mail from the group mailbox, I was distracted from my blue-sky-and-fluffy-cloud-gazing by a sheaf of papers, fluttering in the gutter. Not your usual bit of junk mail litter, this was blue-lined homework paper, covered with neat, cursive script. I stopped to read from a brief, bulleted list:

Reasons why you might not hand in a completed assignment:
your computer crashed and you forgot to save what you had written

your brother fell off his bike and you had to take him to the walk-in

your mom was late picking you up from soccer practice

Sadly, the writer forgot to include the point that would prove, without a doubt, that good reasons do exist for failure to complete: "My notes are lying in the gutter on Anderson Ave!"

Still in the not quite serendipity department, we're enduring a major construction project on the lot next to our office building. I say 'enduring' because it sometimes feels as if the noise and disruption and dust will never end. The dust, especially, is driving us all to distraction. It coats the windows, creeps in through the tiniest cracks and leaves our desktops feeling gritty. Our cars, parked between our office and the construction site, look like rolling sandboxes. Ugh. The serendipity? They're building a carwash.

intrepid (sort of) ...

2007-09-07T00:12:00.000-04:00

Here's the intrepid Sam, perched on his favourite chair on the balcony. From this vantage point, when sitting tall, he can see through the glass panel at the top of the rail and watch the kids, dogs, and squirrels playing in the park. His expression here might be mistaken for fierce concentration but, in fact, he's watching a flock of these ... and preparing to dive for cover if they come any closer.

Moments later he's belly-flat on the floor, whiskers a-quiver as he peers through the gap at the base of the guard rail. No chance to snap another photo. One gull swoops ever-so-slightly in our direction and the mighty Sam becomes a mighty blur... through the door, down the hall, and under the bed.

Funny how nap-attacks can happen all of a sudden like that.

Find more intrepid cats aboard the Friday Ark.

bird-of-paradise

2007-09-05T00:47:00.000-04:00

Centennial Park, Etobicoke

nudge-nudge . . .

2007-08-30T19:36:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling The Nudge a lot lately. The Nudge to get back to blogging, that is. At first, I tried to ignore The Nudge. When that didn't work, I tried reasoning with it.

"Nudge," I said, "I'm trying to SIMPLIFY life, not add more stuff to my to-do list."

Then, to be absolutely sure my point was crystal clear, I hauled said to-do list out of the drawer and let it unroll. It unrolled across the livingroom floor. It kept right on unrolling out the balcony door. And over the rail. And across the park. On and on and on it unrolled, toward the distant horizon, revealing one to-do after another until any sane person (or even a demented Nudge) would have to admit the truth: there is no time left for blogging!

Funny thing about time, though. Sometimes, even when you think you have none to spare, you find a way to squeeze more stuff — especially fun-type stuff — into each day's waking hours.

I was pondering the odd and occasionally flexible nature of time when The Nudge snuck up on me again. It caught me all unawares-like and made me volunteer to start a brand new blog for my author clients over at Eclectics.com.

"Nudge," I said, "Wipe that smug grin off your face. You have not won. I haven't given up on the whole SIMPLIFY thing. But this is different. This is work."

Well, the new Books at Eclectics blog has been up and running for a whole week now and I'm not kidding myself any longer. It's not work. It's fun! And blogging there has made me realize how much I miss writing here at stillpoint.

So... time to chase the dust bunnies out of the corners, sweep down the cobwebs, and start posting again. Right now, I'm working on 101 Things About Mom (a companion piece for this). Mom passed away last month, exactly three weeks after her eighty-fifth birthday, so the writing of it is an emotional journey for me. I don't want to rush. Meanwhile, Sam the Cat is demanding some quality face time. (Guess he's tired of showing off his tail.) We'll try to get organized with a new portrait (and a new tale) for next week's Friday Ark.

You'll have to excuse me now, though. I have a gi-normous to-do list in need of re-rolling.

as the tail says...

2007-02-02T12:07:00.000-05:00

January was a challenging month here at stillpoint. We're all okay but Sam and I find ourselves needing a little time away from the ol' blog to re-group, re-fresh, and just plain get caught up (on sleep, if nothing else).

Thanks to everyone who's visited, commented, and shared with us. I hope we'll be back to blogging again before long. Meanwhile, as the tail says: "The End."

kitten cousins...

2007-01-25T20:46:00.000-05:00

Introducing: Hershey and Styx

These two handsome lads live with my niece and nephew. Er...what I mean is, these two handsome lads allow my niece and nephew to live with them and cater to their every whim. Yes, that's more like it.

Styx is the baby of the family and has thoroughly disrupted the (formerly) calm and quiet life of his elder sibling. But after a long day of chasing tails and pestering big bro, even a bouncy ginger kitten like Styx needs a bit of a nap...

Samcat will be back next week. He's hiding from kitten cousins on the Friday Ark, at Carnival of the Cats (hosted this Sunday by Mind of Mog), and under the table at Kate in the Kitchen for Weekend Catblogging #86.

take a deep breath...and bake

2007-01-24T08:06:00.000-05:00

To simply say the last couple of days at work have been busy would be a gross understatement. They've been the non-stop 'fun' that makes hours pass like minutes quitting time comes and you wonder where the day went blink and you'd miss it kinda days.

Don't get me wrong. I like being busy at work. (Sure beats the alternative.) But it doesn't make me an interesting blogger. Once I get home, I just want to turn the ol' brain off for a while, brew a good hot cuppa tea, coax the bird onto the shoulder, the cat onto the lap, and settle in for a quietly mindless evening of TV.

And then the munchies hit. One of my new years resolutions was a vow to not keep junk food and munchie-type things in the house. If I want something sweet or salty, I'm going to have to walk across the park to get it or make it myself ... a kind of work-off-the-calories-in-advance approach. It's been working pretty well, too. I'm indulging a lot less frequently. But when the gotta-have-its hit, this is a favourite quick and easy recipe of mine. The son, the cat, and the bird say they like it, too. Be warned: these butterscotch brownies are very sweet at first but mellow nicely for the second day. Can't report on day three...they never seem to last that long.

Mom's Butterscotch Brownies

1/4 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar (packed)
1 egg, lightly beaten
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. vanilla

Melt butter, blend in sugar and let mixture cool. Stir in egg and vanilla.

Sift dry ingredients together and blend with sugar mixture. Result will be quite stiff.

Spread batter in well-oiled 8x8 pan and bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Cut into squares while warm.

who's the boss?

2007-01-19T00:19:00.000-05:00

Here at chez stillpoint, I'm pretty sure 'the boss' is not me. Case in point: Sam the Cat has decided to make my favourite easy chair 'his spot'. Perfectly understandable. After all, it is an extremely comfortable chair with a great view of the room, and it's upholstered in ever-so-soft burgundy red fabric. He looks good on that chair. (And he knows it!)

So, for the last couple of months, Sam has been spending a good part of every day curled up in cozy catly comfort on the big red chair, shedding his white cat hair by the bucketful to mark his spot. Okay, maybe 'bucketful' is a bit of an exaggeration, but since I'm now known around the building as "furry pants" I think it must be pretty close to accurate.

I tried recommending another chair — one with a seductively catnip-scented mat on it — but that was only good for a quick roll-about and then it was back to Big Red.

I tried covering Big Red with a sheet. Turns out Sam is a tunnelling cat, so sheet and chair got hairy.

Then I had a brilliant idea. A foolproof plan that would make Big Red even more cat-comfy and solve my furry pants problem at the same time. You see, Sam likes to cuddle up with stuffed animals, fuzzy blankets, my neighbour's hat (but that's another story) ... so a warm sheepskin throw, strategically placed on his snuggling spot, should have him purring with delight, right? White cat hair would be invisible on it and Big Red would stay hair free and tidy underneath. I'd just lift it off onto the floor when it was my turn to relax and put my feet up.

Um ... I said "foolproof", didn't I?

But.

No.

Upon his discovery of The Big Furry White Thing in his comfy spot, Sam decided to claim the higher ground.

Perhaps I should just give up and sit on the sofa.

Sam will be lounging around on the Friday Ark, at Sunday's Carnival of the Cats (hosted this week by Enrevanche), and with the Weekend Catblogging crew at Cat Blogosphere.

collecting...

2007-01-17T00:05:00.001-05:00

Have you ever wondered why people collect things? I know I sometimes wonder about my own collections, especially when I start to run out of places to put them and my small apartment begins to feel even smaller. Every once in a while I consider packing them all away. But that means taking a good hard look at them, touching them, holding them, and then I understand. Collections are more than just "things". They're memories.

I've been collecting blue glass poison bottles for nearly 30 years now. I still remember finding the first one, hidden in the ruins of an old log cabin near Kaladar. What kind of poison was it? Who tucked the little bottle up into the rafters so long ago...and why? I was hooked. Even though most of my later "finds" were at flea markets and antique shows, the mysteries of cobalt glass still intrigue me and there's no denying its beauty.

I've always enjoyed having a special mug for my tea and coffee. Once upon a time, my taste leaned more toward the unique, handmade kinds of pottery vessels found at artist studios and craft shows but my brother-in-law had a different idea of the perfect mug.

Wayne was a talented performer who loved music in all its forms. One of his greatest joys was live theatre. If he wasn't on stage, he'd be in the audience and whenever he could find one, he'd buy a souvenir mug to remind him of the show.

Wayne was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 1999 and for the next few months he battled with every ounce of his strength and incredible courage. His last performance was New Year's Eve 2000. It was a wonderful show. Two weeks later, Wayne passed away. His collection of mugs came to me. The memories they hold may be bittersweet but they are very, very special. And I think he'd be pleased to know I've been adding a couple of new show mugs to his collection every year since. "Here's to you, Wayne. Thanks for the music."

story sharing

2007-01-15T11:48:00.000-05:00

In Toronto, the big story today is the weather. I woke at 6:30 to CBC Radio's litany of collisions and cancellations. Seemed like a good excuse to pull the blankets over my head and declare a personal ice and snow day.

As I lay abed, comfortably pondering the merits of napping vs. coffee, I found myself listening to an interview with Ontario's lieutenant-governor, James Bartleman who is again asking the public to donate books for schools and libraries in Canada's remote north. Over a million books were donated in the first year of the program but the need is still great. This year the campaign focuses on books for children and adolescents. "Without books," said Bartleman in an earlier CBC interview, "the children will never learn to read, will never develop the self-esteem that comes from obtaining an education, and will never escape the despair that fuels the suicide epidemic among children and youth that has been raging out of sight and out of mind in the north of our province." New or gently used books can be dropped off at any police station in Toronto or at OPP offices anywhere in Ontario. Deadline is January 31st.

Have you ever walked past an old building or driven down an interesting street in your city and wondered about the history of the place? [murmur] is a program in Toronto (also in Vancouver, Montreal, and San Jose) that lets you listen, by phone, to the stories and reminiscences of people who know. You can try it out online, too, by clicking a red dot on the map. What a great idea, and yet another incentive to get out there walking.

When it comes to sharing stories, Suzanne Beacher of DearReader.com, should win a prize. She's personally responsible for at least 50% of my own to-be-read pile, which is pretty much out of control. (I've even got paperbacks stashed in my son's sock drawer...and when you consider that his bedroom is so small it was once used as a closet, you get some idea of just how dire the situation is!) I try to abide by a one-in/one-out rule, passing on the books I've read to friends, family, and charities. But just when I think I've got a handle on things, Suzanne sends along another intriguing story or two, I forget my rule, and the pile(s) grow again. This week, she's tempting me with excerpts from:

THE BOOK OF NAMES by Jill Gregory & Karen Tintori - "A fast-paced historical thriller that explores Jewish mysticism, ancient history, and the Kabbalah." ('Read it First' email book club)

47 RULES OF HIGHLY EFFECTIVE BANK ROBBERS by Troy Cook - "What if your father raised you to be a bank robber? Instead of Barbie & Ken, you played with Smith & Wesson? And now you're twenty-two and ready to flee the nest, but your homicidal pop won't let you go?" ('Mystery' email book club)

JOURNEY INTO THE HEART by David Monagan - "...compelling biography and a multifaceted tale of medical discovery and business intrigue. The twentieth-century journey to understand the human heart was an epic saga, on par with the race to the moon. This book tells the story as never before." ('Prepub' email book club)

Sadly, I won't be catching up on any reading this afternoon, though. Snow days just haven't been the same since the invention of telecommuting. Break's over. It's back to the ol' remote desktop for me.

aloha!

2007-01-12T11:13:00.000-05:00

Middle Son and his fiance, the lovely Miss T, have just returned from sunny Hawaii and they brought presents! For the humans, some fresh and juicy-ripe pineapples. Yum! And Sam got his very own Weasel Ball. What a thoughtful aunt and uncle.

What the heck is this crazy thing?

Yum! Now this is good!

Clearly, Sam was more impressed by the delicious pineapple than he was by the buzzing, squirming, dash-about weasel. But give him time. I predict many hours of stalking, attacking, and murderous plotting fun. Meanwhile, check the action on Sam's first videos: Mighty Hunter and Pineapple Cat.

Sam will be chasing the weasel aboard the Friday Ark, at Sunday's Carnival of the Cats (hosted this week at Pet's Garden Blog), and with the Weekend Catblogging crew at What Did You Eat?

the monkey didn't make it

2007-01-10T18:51:00.000-05:00

Several years ago a good friend and I decided that instead of exchanging birthday and Christmas gifts (and never knowing what on earth to give each other) we'd invest in a theatre ticket subscription for two. It has definitely paid off.

We're nearing the end of our third season now and we've had early and excellent seats at big-ticket shows like Lord of the Rings and Les Miserables, as well as many excellent plays we might not otherwise have discovered (Da Kink in My Hair, The Last Empress, and Wicked to name just a few).

Even better, our investment guarantees we'll have a regular excuse to get together for a night on the town, a chance to catch up on what's been happening in our busy lives. We're both workaholics, so these regularly scheduled 'escapes' are a Very Good Thing.

Tuesday night was this month's escape night. We met uptown after work for a pleasant wander through Teatro Verde —one of my favourite wishful-shopping spots. Next, we eased into dinner at Arthur's* with a couple of sour apple martinis. Chef Michael (formerly of Canoe) served up food that was nothing short of sublime and anything but ordinary (our meals came with cassava croquettes instead of the more traditional potato dish). Yum!

After dinner it was off to the Royal Alex for Tennessee Williams' Orpheus Descending. I'm sitting here now, fingers poised above the keys, still uncertain of what I want to say about the play, even though I've been pondering it for much of the day. Hmmm...

In almost every book or play there's one scene or snippet of dialogue that seems to stick in my mind. Last night it was a reminiscence by Lady Torrance (played by Seana McKenna). "The show is over," she said. "The monkey is dead." The show wasn't over and the monkey was just a childhood memory but that statement set the tone of the play. The action takes place in a small town in the American south, circa 1940. It's about choices, morality (or lack of it), regrets, fears, hope, retribution and, of course, sex. The characters are angry, unhappy, sometimes downright crazy ... but the result is engaging in a you-know-they're-going-to-crash-but-you-just-can't-look-away kind of way.

In his program notes, director Miles Potter quotes David Mamet (who's paraphrasing Stanislavsky), "And there are plays...that are perhaps upsetting or intricate or unusual that leave you unsure, but which you think about perhaps the next day, and perhaps for a week, and perhaps for the rest of your life. Because they aren't clean, they aren't neat, but there's something in them that comes from the heart and, so, goes to the heart."

I guess that just about covers it.

* Arthur's is at 501 College Street in Toronto (416-413-9998)

speaking of long drops...

2007-01-08T21:08:00.000-05:00

For the past few weeks, I've been avidly reading Pammie On The Go's account of her 2003 climb to the summit of Kilimanjaro. What an amazing adventure. For an armchair traveler like me, it was probably the closest I'll ever come to experiencing not only the sights and sounds but also the emotions, the physical and mental pain, and the ultimate joy of making such a challenging trip.

That said, one particular line from the saga stands out in my mind: "Terrible long drop toilets with many short drop accidents."

Believe me, I'd much rather have a line about the incredible journey or the awesome vistas or the even the altitude sickness stuck in my mind, but when I read those words in Episode 6, I flashed back to a long ago and mercifully forgotten (until now) moment. And then ... I blushed.

Let me explain...

A goodly number of years ago, back in the days when I still thought sleeping on the ground was fun, I embarked on a cross-country camping trip with my husband and our one-year-old son. We had a big old Chevy van that we'd outfitted with a homemade version of camper chic — flower-printed curtains, bench seats with built-in storage bins underneath, and a fold-out double bed for cozy nights in the wild. We had our trusty two-burner Coleman stove for cooking, a comfy travel cot for baby boy and, luxury of luxuries, a folding portable toilet.

Well...at the time, hubby was working as a parks planner. Our first overnight stop was to be at one of the campgrounds he'd designed in northern Ontario. But before we reached the park, hubby decided it would be fun to stop in and say hello to his co-workers at the MNR district office. We parked in a shady spot in the lot behind the building, I pulled out my book and a bottle of juice and put my feet up to enjoy a little quiet time while hubby visited and baby boy slept in his cot.

Minutes ticked by. Make that an hour or more. Baby boy was still fast asleep, I'd finished my book, and I probably shouldn't have finished the juice because... well, let's just say nature was calling my name. I knew there'd be a nice, civilized washroom inside the building but I didn't want to wake baby and wouldn't leave him alone in the van. Still no sign of hubby and my situation was fast becoming critical. The solution was obvious.

Moments later, I had the little folding toilet all set up, complete with a blue plastic 'baggie' to catch the, er...payload. I pulled the van's sliding door closed for privacy, dropped my shorts and sat. About two seconds later I knew I was in trouble. The seat seemed to be listing sideways. I tried to adjust but felt the whole thing start to collapse. It was dumping me off toward the door. I jumped up. A five-foot-three woman should never jump up in the four-foot-three interior of a van. My head hit the roof. Hard. I flung out a hand to steady myself and managed to grab the door latch.

You know how sometimes when things are happening too fast you almost feel as if you're moving in slow motion?

The van door rolled slooowwly open. The wretched little toilet tipped and rolled, sailing in a gentle arc out onto the gravel parking lot. It skidded to a stop a few feet away. And I was right behind it. One sandal strap gave way and my bare foot shot out into thin air. My grasping fingers couldn't keep hold of the doorframe. The ground rose up to meet me.

Dust billowed. Gravel scraped my hands and knees but I felt no pain, focussed as I was on the building where hubby was still visiting. It had two rows of windows overlooking the parking area and, I imagined, dozens of workers behind those windows, enjoying the afternoon show. "Hey, get a load of the woman with her shorts around her ankles!"

That's when the slow motion shifted to fast-forward. Next thing I knew, I was back inside the van with the door shut, peering out through a crack in the curtains, searching for faces in the windows and desperately hoping I hadn't been seen. Too embarrassed to retrieve the toilet, I sat sniffling in the dark until hubby returned and drove me — quickly — to the closest campground washroom.

And that, Pammie, is my great adventure with a toilet and an accidental "long drop". Not quite Kilimanjaro but thanks for the memories!

what's in a name?

2007-01-05T01:39:00.000-05:00

Before a Cat will condescend
To treat you as a trusted friend,
Some little token of esteem
Is needed, like a dish of cream;
And you might now and then supply
Some caviar, or Strassburg Pie,
Some potted grouse, or salmon paste —
He's sure to have his personal taste.

(I know a Cat, who makes a habit
Of eating nothing else but rabbit,
And when he's finished, licks his paws
So's not to waste the onion sauce.)
A Cat's entitled to expect
These evidences of respect.
And so in time you reach your aim,
And finally call him by his NAME.

So this is this, and that is that:
And there's how you AD-DRESS A CAT.
excerpt from The Ad-dressing of Cats by T. S. Eliot

I'm often asked about Sam's name ... people seem to think it's a very plain name for such a character as he. But I tell them in all honesty: it's not my doing. This cat named himself.

It was a warm September afternoon back in 2002. I was on my way home from work and stopped at the local PETsMart to pick up a jar of Jazz-the-bird's favourite oats 'n groats birdseed. While I was there, I couldn't resist checking out the humane society adoption centre. I'd visited with J the previous weekend when the little room was full of adorable kittens but now all the cages stood empty. All but one, that is. Peering out at me was a big white cat with lopsided tabby patches on his face and a dark, striped tail that might have been borrowed from a raccoon. A chunk of his right ear was missing.

I looked at him. He looked at me. In the next instant, he hurled himself at the glass door, hitting it hard with his shoulder and yowling piteously. "Get me out of here!" he seemed to say.

What could I do? This was not the cuddly kitten J had wished for. This was a two-year-old brawler with a questionable past that included a failed adoption. But when the blue-smocked attendant opened the door and the big cat launched himself into my arms there was no turning back. An hour later I was loading the trunk with supplies: litter box and gravel, food, dishes, treats, toys, a fluffy bed, and a bright red collar*. I strapped the cat carrier into the front passenger seat, got behind the wheel and turned the key.

"We're going home," I said to the cat.

"Sam," said he.

And he kept right on saying "Sam" all the way home. A forty minute trip.

I figure he must have been trying to tell me his name because (a) when I said "Sam" back it seemed to calm him momentarily, and (b) he hasn't said it since.

As for T.S. Eliot's theory about cats needing three different names, well, I guess we've got the "sensible everyday name" covered. What could be more sensible than Sam? But we've been together over four years now and I'm a little worried that we still haven't discovered his second "particular" name:

But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
excerpt from The Naming of Cats by T. S. Eliot

It's possible, I suppose, that Sam doesn't want or need a "particular" name. (I sometimes think he's quite happy just to be called, Sir.) But I can't help wondering if he feels a bit envious of those cats with luxurious, mouth-filling, roll-off-the-tongue names like Pangur Ban or Ozymandias.

And what about his third name? I wonder if maybe he slipped up on that sunny, September day in 2002. Did stress loosen his catty tongue? Maybe "Sam" is that mysterious third name. The "deep and inscrutable singular Name" ... the one we humans aren't supposed to know.

Hmmm.

Sam will be name-dropping on the Friday Ark, at Sunday's Carnival of the Cats (hosted this week at Leslie's Omnibus), and at Weekend Catblogging.

* And birdseed. I didn't forget the birdseed!