Starting Stuff, Pup Baby & Colored Cats, Basic Training, Opossum Huntin’, Rambo of The EastWing

Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.

Ever notice how there’s the “official” start of the seasons, and how we have our own “unofficial” start of stuff. Most everybody knows that summer starts on Memorial Day, and ends on Labor Day, Fall starts the next day, and winter starts on December 1st. Course we all don’t use the very same “unofficial” days so that’s why we have to have the regular calendar so we all can agree on a few things in this world. Lord knows we seem to have such few things to agree on now days, and getting even fewer as time goes on. Why even my dogs and cats are having difficulty agreeing on things in the EastWing.

It was just the other day that Sophia The Republican Cat and The Pup Baby got into such a terrible spat. One that bordered on violence, physical violence, mind you, between dogs and cats . It was so close, I had to step in and end it all. Seems Sophia, freshly back from her summer sabbatical, had accused The Pup Baby of being a part of the social problem of entitlement benefits from the federal government along with the ever growing difficulties in providing such benefits, and no effort on the part of the recipients of these federal benefits to make any endeavor to better themselves in the future.

It was when I heard “ YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU, BIRDDOG YOU!!” that I knew I had a problem in the EastWing. The cat had run out of exploitatives to express her anger, and the cat has a good command of exploitatives in the language. Sophia can cuss with the best of ‘em.

In fact, Sophia can cuss in four languages and six different dialects. Don’t remember if I told you or not ‘bout Sophia being first runner up in the 2010 International Cat Cussing Contest, held in, of all places, Mozambique. Sophia was the first runner up in the Cat Cussing Contest due solely to the fact of that a large African Lion laid out the big F Bomb in Portuguese, Berber, Igbo, Swahili, and Hausa. Sophia could on get the F Bomb in Igbo, but she done good in Swahili, so good in fact, it earned her first runner up. Now if for any reason that African Lion can’t serve, Sophia then takes over. Not too bad for a little Calico Cat who was taught to cuss by LeRoy Brown, on the south side of Chicago.

With her knives exposed, the cat hit the ceiling in the EastWing, that height was 14’ the last time I measured. As she landed, I grabbed Sophia by the back of the neck and picked her just inches off the floor. Gently swinging her side to side I stimulated the release of hormones within her body, these hormone that keep baby cats calm while they’re moved about by their mother from the time of birth. All God’s creatures have this hormone, it’s good for life. When dealing with wild cats, it’s a good thing to know ‘bout. As I gently swung Sophia mere inches off the floor, she put the knives away. The hormones kicked in, and Pup Baby was speared the wrath of Sophia.

Sophia once again became a rational cat and able to talk without showing the knives, she told me that The Pup Baby, Mustina, had played the race card and called her “C” word. I didn’t know ‘bout the “C” word. So I asked what the hell she’s talking ‘bout . Sophia said that Mustina had called her a Colored Cat.

As I looked at my beautiful Sophia, my Calico Cat, my Calico Girl, I said “Sophia, you’re yellow, orange, red, brown, black, gray and white. You’re a colored cat”. Sophia screamed “RACE CARD!” As she once again hit the ceiling in the EastWing, at 14’ the last time I measured. On her way down, I again grabbed Sophia by the back of the neck and gently swung her a few inches off the floor until the hormones flowed, and she again retracted the claws.

“What do you expect Mustina to call you except a colored cat?” I said. Sophia said “Mustina can call me a Multi-Colored Female Feline”. It was at that point where I showed Sophia my knives. I said, “Sophia you, like all God’s creatures, have a choice in this life, you can continue be my inside girl cat, and live with the 2girldogs and Spike The Man Cat, or you can become one of my outside cats. Keep in mind, inside I have two cats, you and Spike, the Man Cat. Outside I have a pride of 14, and you will become the 15th member in my outside pride of cats.” There was silence for several very, very long seconds, as Sophia pondered her fate, then said “what colors did you say I was again?”

It was the smile that ended the war, the Calico Cat Smile. Nothing can compare to the smile of a Calico Cat. It melts your heart. It turns rain into rainbows, snow into snow angels and darkness into sunshine. It’s a special gift from God, reserved only for Calico Cats, that smile. The Pup Baby, Mustina, saw the smile also, and gently wagged her tail in acceptance of the apology from the colored cat.

A Sea of Tranquility washed over the EastWing. The Calico Cat Smiled, Mustina accepted the apology and I saw the sunshine. Damn Republican Cat!

There’s a thief in this town Mister! The rascal’s been identified and his days are numbered, or maybe I should say his nights are numbered. A big fat opossum comes at night and eats the outside cat food. I know when he’s out there by the barking of the 2girldogs. The problem was I had no way to defend the home front from an attack of the opossums. My son Johnny came to the rescue and remedied that situation.

After receiving supervised training on the firing range (Me and Johnny shot cans behind the house), and classroom training in firearms safety, (Johnny said, “don’t point this gun at yourself, else you’ll shoot your eye out), I’m now armed with a flat black 22 caliber semi automatic action handgun, equipped with laser technology, and two 10 round clips. A war machine. A death star for opossums.

Best I can figure out, this 22 caliber handgun, equipped with laser technology, this semi automatic weapon of close in destruction, it’s kinda like a gun for dummies. Even after all my extensive firearms training, seems it all comes down to just one fact. With this gun, you point that little red dot where you want the bullet to go. You pull the trigger, and that little red dot, well, it’s replaced by the bullet. End of Opossum Wars. Wherever you point that little red dot, so goes the bullet.

As I sit in the darkness every night, fully capable of defending the EastWing, the home front, from any sneak opossum attack, the battle plan is simple, when opossums appear on the north deck, I follow the recipe :

1. Take gun from the holster

2. Open north EastWing glass door (Important step here DO NOT SHOOT THRU GLASS DOOR)

3. Push button to turn on the laser

4. Pull hammer of the gun all the way back

5. Point little red dot on head of opossum

6. Push safety to off position

7. Slowly squeeze trigger

8. Tomorrow’s Supper: Opossum Stew

I love being Rambo of the EastWing.

Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan.

From the EastWing, Starting Stuff, Pup Baby & Colored Cats, Basic Training, Opossum Huntin’, Rambo of The EastWing

I wish you well,