"Want hammy? Want hammy?"
(Want hammy?)
I go into the kitchen and there's Trygg lying on the floor, on his back.
"Meow."
(Meow?)
My wife is getting a deli bag out of the fridge.
Trygg looks over at me. "Meow."
My wife is feeding Trygg. Trygg is playing up this whole CAT thing big-time. My wife? My wife is going crazy over it. Okay, no harm done. That was the other day. Last night?
"Who want chickie? Want chickie? You my Chickie Boy? Hmmm?"
Trygg is sitting upright, in front of the sofa, by my wife. My wife has bits of chicken from the roast chicken the other night.
"See! He knows."
(I do not correct my wife on the use of pronouns. Still, it makes it difficult for me to teach Trygg, but I digress.)
"I taught him, hammy and chickie and out. And tweepy." (Sleep.)
Trygg is downing the chicken like he's never seen a meal. Then, too, this is in the parlour. Rules? Out the window.
After dinner Trygg is up on the back of the sofa taking a bath in the window. (I really do have to teach him something about modesty.)
The situation has become complicated. It seems that a mother and her three kittens have appeared. Now, Pood and Friend are letting the kittens crash in their pad: It has carpeting, use of the patio, the picnic table, step service. (Meals twice a day, fresh water, and the snacks.)
I am starting to wonder if Trygg knew they were coming. He eats Kit n Kaboodle. Lately, he's been calling it kitten kaboodoo. That, I know, he learned from my wife.
"That is so cuuuuuute," he'd said.
"That is what my wife says about you."
"It works both ways. What? Don't you think you do things that I think are cute?"
"Like what?"
"Like, uh, oops. Uh,"
"Like when my wife says, 'kitten kaboodoo?"
"Yeah. Nice save."
"Never mind."
None-the-less, I tell him about Jennifer and the kittens. He suggests the consulting thing.
"We could have discussed this last night. I could have worked up some preliminary figures."
"You were too busy dining on chickie. Chickie Boy."
"You talk to Jennifer. I'll be working on the kitten thing."
"Please."
"Please what."
(Silence.)
"Please talk to Jennifer. I'll put together some ideas for the kittens."
"Custom consulting on spec?"
"The same information can be used over again."
I get ready to leave. All of a sudden, I see all this tying together. Trygg's disappeared. I am not surprise.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
de Trygg: Eminence Grise or Enfant Terrible
This introduces the conversation I am having with Trygg at 4:15 am.
"L'Enfant Terrible or Eminence Grise? That is the question," Trygg says.
"That is Shakespeare, and it's misquoted."
"Don't change the subject. I am at a crucial point in my life."
"As Yogi Berra said, 'When you come to a fork in the road, take it.'"
"And who am I supposed to be? Boo Boo?
(Let it go.)
"What is this crucial crisis in self you are tormenting yourself with at 4:15 in the morning."
"I am not in mourning. I am facing up to the challenge. I am seeking my identity."
"And all this time you've been telling me you're a cat, I believed you."
"Cat's are the quintessential existentialists."
"When do you ever determine your own development through sheer acts of will."
"When I decided to go for my G.E.D."
"Touche. Which brings me to the next question. After months of acting like Andy Capp, why this emphasis on the Gallic? And, please, spare me the pun.:
"My Latin. Imperium Galliarum. And it wouldn't hurt you to posh things up a bit. Croissant instead of biscuits. Cafe instead of coffee. Filet de Boeuf en Croûte with a duxelle filling."
At this point I notice Trygg is drinking his water from a demitasse. I also notice he separate his chicken and cheese onto two plates.
"And here I am having a cup of coffee and a piece of toast." I regretted the words as soon as I said them.
"Not French Toast?"
"Ran out of maple syrup."
"That's French-Canadian."
I have a feeling this is not going to get better.
"I'll clean up. You go read your paper."
I go into the parlour to read the paper. Trygg is quietly moving things about in the kitchen.
Trygg comes in dragging a book.
(A book?)
"No iPad this morning?'
"iPad?"
"On-line dictionary."
"This is the la Rousse."
"Anything like the sauraus."
"Nothing to do with dinosaurs, mon ami."
(How did I know that was coming?)
"Though a dictionary, hmph, I mean, sérieuse-ment."
I see Trygg has his notebook out again. The good one I bought him after he moved in. I am about to ask him what this is all about, but I am not up to a litany on etiquette at this hour. And, too, he remembered the rule: No fountain pen on the sofa.
Trygg closes his eyes and smiles. I am beginning to suspect something. While he's smiling with his eyes closed is a good time to find out.
"How is Kelly, bon ami?"
"Mmm, ooh la la."
"Is Kelly French?"
"On her Mother's side."
"Don't forget iris."
"Iris? Whom is Iris?"
(Whom?)
"When you go to see Kelly. Aller à visiter. Bring Kelly some irides. Flowers."
"Ah! Iris latifolia."
"Of course."
"Great idea. Je vous remercie! May I leave now?
I get up to let Trygg out. I imagine I shall have to weather the storm. Still, if it helps him to improve his manners....
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
"L'Enfant Terrible or Eminence Grise? That is the question," Trygg says.
"That is Shakespeare, and it's misquoted."
"Don't change the subject. I am at a crucial point in my life."
"As Yogi Berra said, 'When you come to a fork in the road, take it.'"
"And who am I supposed to be? Boo Boo?
(Let it go.)
"What is this crucial crisis in self you are tormenting yourself with at 4:15 in the morning."
"I am not in mourning. I am facing up to the challenge. I am seeking my identity."
"And all this time you've been telling me you're a cat, I believed you."
"Cat's are the quintessential existentialists."
"When do you ever determine your own development through sheer acts of will."
"When I decided to go for my G.E.D."
"Touche. Which brings me to the next question. After months of acting like Andy Capp, why this emphasis on the Gallic? And, please, spare me the pun.:
"My Latin. Imperium Galliarum. And it wouldn't hurt you to posh things up a bit. Croissant instead of biscuits. Cafe instead of coffee. Filet de Boeuf en Croûte with a duxelle filling."
At this point I notice Trygg is drinking his water from a demitasse. I also notice he separate his chicken and cheese onto two plates.
"And here I am having a cup of coffee and a piece of toast." I regretted the words as soon as I said them.
"Not French Toast?"
"Ran out of maple syrup."
"That's French-Canadian."
I have a feeling this is not going to get better.
"I'll clean up. You go read your paper."
I go into the parlour to read the paper. Trygg is quietly moving things about in the kitchen.
Trygg comes in dragging a book.
(A book?)
"No iPad this morning?'
"iPad?"
"On-line dictionary."
"This is the la Rousse."
"Anything like the sauraus."
"Nothing to do with dinosaurs, mon ami."
(How did I know that was coming?)
"Though a dictionary, hmph, I mean, sérieuse-ment."
I see Trygg has his notebook out again. The good one I bought him after he moved in. I am about to ask him what this is all about, but I am not up to a litany on etiquette at this hour. And, too, he remembered the rule: No fountain pen on the sofa.
Trygg closes his eyes and smiles. I am beginning to suspect something. While he's smiling with his eyes closed is a good time to find out.
"How is Kelly, bon ami?"
"Mmm, ooh la la."
"Is Kelly French?"
"On her Mother's side."
"Don't forget iris."
"Iris? Whom is Iris?"
(Whom?)
"When you go to see Kelly. Aller à visiter. Bring Kelly some irides. Flowers."
"Ah! Iris latifolia."
"Of course."
"Great idea. Je vous remercie! May I leave now?
I get up to let Trygg out. I imagine I shall have to weather the storm. Still, if it helps him to improve his manners....
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Petty Fours and Galoshes
"Cat's don't wear galoshes."
"It was a petty four."
(Petty four?)
"Do you mean, metaphor?"
"Pardon my French. Metaphor. I dragged out that booster seat you call a dictionary."
"You mean that dictionary you call a booster seat."
"Whatever. I was looking up Simon the Beaver.
(Simon the Beaver?)
"The French existentialist."
"Do you mean, Simone de Beauvoir?"
"You complain when I say things in French, you complain when I say things in English."
"The burden of the existentialist, Trygg. Now, what does this have to do with galoshes?"
"Simone de Beauvoir is French. Simone de Beauvoir is an existentialist. I am not French. I am a cat. Ipso facto, I am a catalyst.
(A catalyst?)
"Which brings us back to petty fours."
I don't know why, but I get a bad feeling about this.
"Does this have anything to do with your rattling about in the kitchen in the middle of the night?"
"Middle of the night is comparative."
"Never mind."
"I made you petty fours. Come on. Let's go eat."
I follow Trygg into the kitchen. There I open up the fridge to find sandwiches on a plate covered in a napkin. Actually, it's one sandwich, crusts removed, cut into four. I take it out."
"Chicken salad and cress petty fours."
"Two each?"
I get that bewildered cat look.
"I am a cat. I don't eat sandwiches."
I serve Trygg the chicken on a plate. Hold the mayo. I pour myself a cup of tea.
"Would you like some tea?"
"I don't drink tea. I'm a cat.
I pour Trygg's water into one of the tea cups. I put his lunch down on the floor. I sit beside him. Trygg starts to unroll his napkin.
"Trygg?"
"Oops."
"We say grace."
I'm sitting there eating the petty fours when my wife comes in. (In French it's petit fours, cakes not sandwiches, but I'm not going to split hairs with Trygg after his gracious gesture.)
"Aw...that is so precious."
My wife looks at us all gooey.
"I'm going out." She gives me a kiss. "This is so, so, you. Maybe I'll pick up something special for dinner. Just for the two of us--and Trygg.
My wife leaves.
Trygg looks at me.
"See? I'm a catalyst."
I still don't know what this has to do with galoshes. However, the chicken and cress sandwiches are delicious; and Trygg did cut the crusts off. He's not allowed to use the sharp knives so I don't know how he managed it. But I'm not complaining. I offer Trygg more chicken then pour myself another cup of tea and join Trygg back on the floor.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
"It was a petty four."
(Petty four?)
"Do you mean, metaphor?"
"Pardon my French. Metaphor. I dragged out that booster seat you call a dictionary."
"You mean that dictionary you call a booster seat."
"Whatever. I was looking up Simon the Beaver.
(Simon the Beaver?)
"The French existentialist."
"Do you mean, Simone de Beauvoir?"
"You complain when I say things in French, you complain when I say things in English."
"The burden of the existentialist, Trygg. Now, what does this have to do with galoshes?"
"Simone de Beauvoir is French. Simone de Beauvoir is an existentialist. I am not French. I am a cat. Ipso facto, I am a catalyst.
(A catalyst?)
"Which brings us back to petty fours."
I don't know why, but I get a bad feeling about this.
"Does this have anything to do with your rattling about in the kitchen in the middle of the night?"
"Middle of the night is comparative."
"Never mind."
"I made you petty fours. Come on. Let's go eat."
I follow Trygg into the kitchen. There I open up the fridge to find sandwiches on a plate covered in a napkin. Actually, it's one sandwich, crusts removed, cut into four. I take it out."
"Chicken salad and cress petty fours."
"Two each?"
I get that bewildered cat look.
"I am a cat. I don't eat sandwiches."
I serve Trygg the chicken on a plate. Hold the mayo. I pour myself a cup of tea.
"Would you like some tea?"
"I don't drink tea. I'm a cat.
I pour Trygg's water into one of the tea cups. I put his lunch down on the floor. I sit beside him. Trygg starts to unroll his napkin.
"Trygg?"
"Oops."
"We say grace."
I'm sitting there eating the petty fours when my wife comes in. (In French it's petit fours, cakes not sandwiches, but I'm not going to split hairs with Trygg after his gracious gesture.)
"Aw...that is so precious."
My wife looks at us all gooey.
"I'm going out." She gives me a kiss. "This is so, so, you. Maybe I'll pick up something special for dinner. Just for the two of us--and Trygg.
My wife leaves.
Trygg looks at me.
"See? I'm a catalyst."
I still don't know what this has to do with galoshes. However, the chicken and cress sandwiches are delicious; and Trygg did cut the crusts off. He's not allowed to use the sharp knives so I don't know how he managed it. But I'm not complaining. I offer Trygg more chicken then pour myself another cup of tea and join Trygg back on the floor.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Trygg Visits his Mom for Mother's Day
I took off a few days. From keeping you up to date on Trygg. That is because Trygg took off for a few days. He went to see his mom for Mother's Day.
He came back late yesterday. No problem.
"How did it go? Was your Mom surprised to see you?"
"Oh, yeah. It was a big get-together," Trygg said. "My brothers and sisters, that's about 20, then there were my aunts, another 4, plus cousins....I guess it was all tolled about 100 or so."
(100 or so?)
Trygg says this in his matter of fact way.
"Glad you had a good time."
Trygg hops up on the sofa and sits close to me. He looks up at me.
"Yes."
"Promise you won't think this is silly?"
"Of course not."
"I got my mom something for Mother's Day. I just wanted to tell you about it. I want to know what you think."
"Okay." (Oh, Lord.) "What did you get your Mom?"
"Well, first, I gave her a feather on a string. Then, a jingle bell. Then..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I gave her the toy you made for me. I hope you're not hurt or insulted, or--"
"No, Trygg. In fact, I am very proud that you thought the toy I made for you was good enough to give to your Mom. And the other presents were great too. I specially like the jingle bell."
"Mom used to play with me when I was a kitten. She'd bat the jingle bell around and I'd chase it. That seems so long ago. It got lost, I guess. You know how it is when you have all those kittens around."
"I think it was a very touching gift. And I want to thank you for sharing. That is so special. It means so much to me."
"I didn't mean for you to get all mushy."
"Sorry. So, anything else happen?"
"My Grandmother came."
"Really? That must have been great."
"It was. Still, speaking of great, Grandma couldn't stay long. She went to visit her mother."
"Your Great-grandmother?"
"It sometimes works that way."
"Of course."
"Great Grandma was going to come too, but then, with all the aunts and cousins and all, we would have had more than 200 for Mother's Day. Not a really cool present for Mom."
"Well, I am glad you had a good time."
I noticed Trygg start to get misty. That is so unlike Trygg. We just sat there quietly for a few minutes and then he got up.
"It's getting late. I think I'll take a nap before bed-time."
Trygg went and pulled his blanket from under his chair and crawled up onto the back of the sofa to take a nap. I went to pour a cup of tea and read the paper.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
He came back late yesterday. No problem.
"How did it go? Was your Mom surprised to see you?"
"Oh, yeah. It was a big get-together," Trygg said. "My brothers and sisters, that's about 20, then there were my aunts, another 4, plus cousins....I guess it was all tolled about 100 or so."
(100 or so?)
Trygg says this in his matter of fact way.
"Glad you had a good time."
Trygg hops up on the sofa and sits close to me. He looks up at me.
"Yes."
"Promise you won't think this is silly?"
"Of course not."
"I got my mom something for Mother's Day. I just wanted to tell you about it. I want to know what you think."
"Okay." (Oh, Lord.) "What did you get your Mom?"
"Well, first, I gave her a feather on a string. Then, a jingle bell. Then..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I gave her the toy you made for me. I hope you're not hurt or insulted, or--"
"No, Trygg. In fact, I am very proud that you thought the toy I made for you was good enough to give to your Mom. And the other presents were great too. I specially like the jingle bell."
"Mom used to play with me when I was a kitten. She'd bat the jingle bell around and I'd chase it. That seems so long ago. It got lost, I guess. You know how it is when you have all those kittens around."
"I think it was a very touching gift. And I want to thank you for sharing. That is so special. It means so much to me."
"I didn't mean for you to get all mushy."
"Sorry. So, anything else happen?"
"My Grandmother came."
"Really? That must have been great."
"It was. Still, speaking of great, Grandma couldn't stay long. She went to visit her mother."
"Your Great-grandmother?"
"It sometimes works that way."
"Of course."
"Great Grandma was going to come too, but then, with all the aunts and cousins and all, we would have had more than 200 for Mother's Day. Not a really cool present for Mom."
"Well, I am glad you had a good time."
I noticed Trygg start to get misty. That is so unlike Trygg. We just sat there quietly for a few minutes and then he got up.
"It's getting late. I think I'll take a nap before bed-time."
Trygg went and pulled his blanket from under his chair and crawled up onto the back of the sofa to take a nap. I went to pour a cup of tea and read the paper.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
Monday, May 2, 2011
What's Normal?
What's Normal?
Normal: Of and or pertaining to the norms.
Norms: Prevalent characteristics of a demographic subset.
This subject came up the other day after Trygg found my old dictionary. He dragged it out and began flipping through the pages.
"This is so cool," he said. "You can look words up in this thing just like a real dictionary."
"It is a real dictionary."
"No, but, I mean, there aren't any links, no hotspots, I can't copy paste anything into an email. How dull is this?"
I went back to reading and ignored him. He continued flipping though the book.
This is how it really started.
See, I have no problem with Trygg doing things around the house that I consider normal. Like flossing. However, Trygg and I do have a few grey areas. For example, the other day he was going to see his girlfriend, Kelly. I got out his dental floss.
"Your breath smells like tuna fish."
"Thank you. What's the floss for?"
"To floss before you go out."
"Can I use yours?"
"May I use yours."
"You don't like mine, it's minty."
(I don't pursue this.)
"Why do you want to use my dental floss?"
"I don't want the minty stuff to kill the smell of the tuna fish."
I hand Trygg my floss. For a moment, I forgot he is a cat. And therein lies the problem. I mean, putting his dishes in the sink, making his bed, fine. Then he goes and does something totally off the wall and I have trouble understanding him. For example:
Last night, and again this morning, he kept walking around and through my legs, rubbing up against me, going over to his food dish, taking a bite or two, coming back, rubbing my leg, walking back to his food dish, eating a few bites, and so on. This, I don't understand. I just don't see this as normal behaviour. Why does he do this? He woke me up twice last night to watch him eat. Then, again, this morning.
Is Trygg insecure all of a sudden? He seems normal. He still uses his napkin. He licks up any spills around his water dish. He remembers to lick his paws before coming into the house. Why, all of a sudden, is he putting on a real performance at meal time? Or whatever he considers meal time. There, however, I have no grounds for dispute. I eat at off times as well.
I can even understand and allow for his getting excited over Arsenals loss and toilet-papering the bathroom and soaping up the mirror. I mean, let's be real here. Cat's do play with toilet paper.
If all goes along as normal, we will man up and move on. It will pass. Still, I don't understand it. Perhaps someone could explain it. Trygg is too reticent on these issues and it would be rude for me to ask.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Mail: slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
Normal: Of and or pertaining to the norms.
Norms: Prevalent characteristics of a demographic subset.
This subject came up the other day after Trygg found my old dictionary. He dragged it out and began flipping through the pages.
"This is so cool," he said. "You can look words up in this thing just like a real dictionary."
"It is a real dictionary."
"No, but, I mean, there aren't any links, no hotspots, I can't copy paste anything into an email. How dull is this?"
I went back to reading and ignored him. He continued flipping though the book.
This is how it really started.
See, I have no problem with Trygg doing things around the house that I consider normal. Like flossing. However, Trygg and I do have a few grey areas. For example, the other day he was going to see his girlfriend, Kelly. I got out his dental floss.
"Your breath smells like tuna fish."
"Thank you. What's the floss for?"
"To floss before you go out."
"Can I use yours?"
"May I use yours."
"You don't like mine, it's minty."
(I don't pursue this.)
"Why do you want to use my dental floss?"
"I don't want the minty stuff to kill the smell of the tuna fish."
I hand Trygg my floss. For a moment, I forgot he is a cat. And therein lies the problem. I mean, putting his dishes in the sink, making his bed, fine. Then he goes and does something totally off the wall and I have trouble understanding him. For example:
Last night, and again this morning, he kept walking around and through my legs, rubbing up against me, going over to his food dish, taking a bite or two, coming back, rubbing my leg, walking back to his food dish, eating a few bites, and so on. This, I don't understand. I just don't see this as normal behaviour. Why does he do this? He woke me up twice last night to watch him eat. Then, again, this morning.
Is Trygg insecure all of a sudden? He seems normal. He still uses his napkin. He licks up any spills around his water dish. He remembers to lick his paws before coming into the house. Why, all of a sudden, is he putting on a real performance at meal time? Or whatever he considers meal time. There, however, I have no grounds for dispute. I eat at off times as well.
I can even understand and allow for his getting excited over Arsenals loss and toilet-papering the bathroom and soaping up the mirror. I mean, let's be real here. Cat's do play with toilet paper.
If all goes along as normal, we will man up and move on. It will pass. Still, I don't understand it. Perhaps someone could explain it. Trygg is too reticent on these issues and it would be rude for me to ask.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Mail: slimfairview@yahoo.com
Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview
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