Behold! FCN's first Guest Blogger!

After being a loyal reader of the “Forever Circling” blog, I have been awarded with the prestigious honor of being a guest blog contributor.  Rather than waste the readerships precious time and attention span (I’ve done some research on the subject and found that readers spend only 96 seconds per blog) with a boring background of this author- I will simply leave you with a ghost name of “Bob” and the knowledge of my rough childhood of growing up in depression era rural South Dakota circa 1980.  Plus the limited knowledge adds a little to the “mystery” contributions.  And maybe this is an “Andy Kaufman” type situation and the author is delving into the deep psyche of the loyal readers?

So what topic do I expand on for my brief blogging moment of fame?  While a seemingly unending supply of topics to entertain the masses- most when put on paper lacked a certain d’humour.  I thought of taking you through a week’s worth of received mail (which while seemingly boring- had its moments), or relating scenes from a recent overseas flight (why would the airline give you socks) and then watching a 60+ year old lady try to utilize the socks in the close confines of airlines seats would be worth the price of admission- but had to be there to get the full humor.  Any of my childhood stories would drive the readership to drink or perhaps a submission of my name to Oprah so those will be avoided- leaving the other member of my household for some 10+ odd years as the first blogging topic..my cat….I’m sure everybody has the “pet” that assumes a personality which can best be described as quirky, so if nothing else, you will be able to relate.  Her nocturnal stalking, her 3 AM cleaning rituals not 6 inches from my ear that sound like my name being whispered (which post Paranormal Activity movies, can play tricks with your mind), her burrowing under the pillow (which I think is actually an attempt to push the pillow over my face), her fairly violent reaction to some recent dates (don’t wear flip flops and leave one of the little piggies exposed around her), her evil, mischievous look all make her somewhat unique.

Now before I get labeled as some uber sensitive type for having a cat or taking in some poor stray from the shelter (unless you’re a 30 something SWF who likes those labels, then I can adjust), there was a legitimate reason for this odd matching.  Pre-2000, I was living in a very rural area with a company house situated very close to a field….which as most know living in rural country areas also brings about a higher population of field mice.   Outside of the sanitary issues- the seasonal ritual of increased mice counts really didn’t bother me.  I’d set traps, kills some mice and then reset the traps.  All was good.   But then I believe the real life example of Darwinism surfaced.  I actively killed mice via traps- some cheese, some chocolate, you name it, was all good bait and at peak times would trim the population by 5-6 mice a day.  The problem was, I think all it did was kill off the slow stupid mice and breed back a superior type of mouse- kind of like the next generation terminator.  The frustration bubbled over one night as I had a mouse run over my chest and instinctively grabbing the mouse as I wavered between sleep and consciousness and throwing the mouse across the room.  Realizing the mice had crossed the line- I went to biological control.  A co-worker told me about a batch of “kittens” she had.  This seemed like a perfect solution- but upon picking up the kitten- I realize that this kitten had already outgrown the cute “kitten” stage.  No matter- she was there for “mousing”.  And what a “mouser” she was- on several occasions, I’d find the remains of 3 or 4 mice at my bedroom doorstep.  All was good…until….that little kitten reached an age of maturity.  With a quick phone call to the vet- I was told this problem couldn’t be fixed, until the cycle had finished and a urging I should have had it done earlier (but did he know she had mice to catch?).  Who would know that one small cat could make that much noise to break free from the confines of a house in search of some Tom.  One day- I was sloppy and the door was left ajar just enough- and she bolted.  And 2 days later, that little kitten came back pretty satisfied.  A couple weeks later, I realized I was probably going to be buying more cat food.  As the big day approached- something didn’t quite seem right-there were complications.  A quick trip to the vet, disclosed that one of the kittens had ruptured the lining and it didn’t look good for the home team.  It was either euthanize or surgery with no guarantee.  Having grown somewhat attached to the cat, I had to give the surgery a chance.  Well $250 later, $50 in some sort of cream that needed to spread on the stiches and some pills that had a snowballs chance of getting down her, I had my cat back.  She looked like death warmed over with stiches running along her belly and shaved legs (IV’s?).  An amazed vet told me “She’s a tough little bugger”. 

Since that time- she’s moved across states and has settled into a very lazy- retirement like attitude as her mousing days are behind her.  I can’t even get her to scare a rabbit away through the window.  Her only visible scar from the surgery is an “undercarriage”.   Fortunately, she carries some extra pounds these days, so I don’t think she’s too concerned about how she’s perceived.  With the 96 seconds long past- I will refrain from adding more to the “middle” and “late” years until later blogs.  But it could be worse- I’ll leave you with a picture of my brothers blind cat watching TV. (You can’t make stuff like that up!)