BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

There are times when it seriously sucks to be the Dad.

I suppose I should back up just a bit and give you some background as to why I make that statement, because I suspect most of you know I am all about my kid. So, let me fill you in…

Some of you may or may not be aware that the animals in my novels – those being the two dogs and the three cats who share the abode with the main characters, Rowan and Felicity – are actually based on my own four-legged cohabitators. The dogs, as I have mentioned in the past, have since gone on to the other side, but they still live on in my books. So too, do the felines in many senses, as they are composites of the numerous cats we have rescued over the years. Emily – the cats in the novels are named Emily (Dickinson), Dickens (Charles), and Salinger (J.D.), go figure – is based on the real life felines, Data and Buffer, both calicos like their fictional composite. Data left us last year, peacefully, in her sleep. She was something on the order of a million years old… Well, around 18+ years to be a little more exact, but for a cat, that’s a fair piece of time. Buffer, however, was still around – until this weekend.

Buffer was only 14, but that is still a good lifetime for a feline. To be honest, where I come from, farm cats rarely made it past 5 or 6 years, but I digress as usual. The especially bad part about losing Buffer this weekend is that she went outside and got into an altercation with a vehicle.

The vehicle won.

EK and the Spawn were out shopping, which was fortunate, because I was the one who found her instead of them. As you can guess, when you are talking Feline vs. Auto, the results aren’t very pretty.

So, I found her… And, I got to be the one who cleaned up the remains, dug the hole, tried to convince my wife that the animal hadn’t suffered – though I really couldn’t know that for sure – and help console an 8 year old who misses her friend. Then, I got to toss and turn that night because the image of the aftermath played back for me each time I closed my eyes. And, you know, as it happens I miss the cat too. But, I have to be the strong one.

Hence, why it sometimes sucks to be the Dad, especially when a shovel an a shoebox are involved…

(sigh)

I suppose I should try to end this on a slightly cheerier note, so here goes…

Speaking of pets, I’m sure most everyone is aware of the latest Myspace rage, that being purchasing and selling your friends as “human pets”. Well, it seems I was purchased by an old friend, and she has since sold me… Since then I have been gifted, traded, and sold all over the place. But, just so all the bases are covered, I’ll mention here that if you purchase me, unlike Morrison, I am housebroken and fairly low maintenance.

BTW, I really like Pizza and beer, but I don’t do tricks. Well, I do, but that’s a whole ‘nother story…

More to come…

Murv

Okay, so I’m in the middle of writing and stuff, therefor this is just one of those quick “Did’ja ever notice” kind of blogs.

I won’t go into a long explanation of things because the info is readily available on the net, suffice it to say, anyone who has ever seen a Bond flick knows who “Q” is.

Here’s the thing – one of the delightful moments in most of the films (I say most because “Q” actually does NOT appear in ALL of them) is the bantering back and forth between Bond and “Q” as a new mess of insane gadgets are introduced. Now, I won’t even go into the odd paradox created by “Q” being upset about Bond destroying said gadgets, which by default is going to happen if he bothers to use them because most are designed to blow up at some point.

No, my question is this – How did “Q” become so prescient? I mean, think about it – everything he gives the double nought spy for that particular movie is something that comes in REAL handy like. It’s as if the “man who shall be known as a consonant” has some prior knowledge that “Double Nought Sevum” will be tied up over a shark tank in exactly X position, thereby requiring a watch that will double as a miniature buzz saw.

You know… I’m thinking maybe it would be a good idea for the Double Nought Spy folks to do a bit of internal investigation. From where I sit, it sure looks like some of their alphabet has defected to a different soup.

More to come…

Murv