Oxbow's World

Well I just wanted to wish you all a happy and safe Labor Day.

Say, what is labor anyway?

First of all, I will acknowledge that I’m not supposed to be up on the kitchen island. But what are Those Two going to do about it? Nothing! Because as they say, I’m “so stinkin’ cute” that any attempt at discipline on their part will lack credibility. Besides, to hear them tell it, I am not a terror in the kitchen like my predecessor, Carrot, apparently was.

They tell stories of having bites of food en route to their mouths swiped from their forks by Carrot. They say they could leave absolutely no food sitting out unattended, not even for a minute, because Carrot loved ALL kinds of people food. There’s even a video of him eating some potato soup! He reportedly had a particular fondness for dairy, especially butter. There’s the classic story of how Those Two caught him, during one of their brunches attended by a handful of friends, out on the island licking the top of a freshly baked mushroom and spinach quiche that was cooling. Like any nervous hostesses would, they checked to make sure no one had been looking, and served the quiche without a word. The guests said it was tasty.

So my mamas are especially grateful that I have absolutely no interest in any of the food they eat. Besides, Mama G has been shirking her shopping duties lately, so there really isn’t a whole lot to tempt me. Even Carrot would have been disappointed.

You may remember that back in May when I introduced myself, I started this blog because I was upset after learning that Donald Trump is the first president in 168 years to have no pets. Pets are such a part of the American psyche that it just seems like there has to be something fundamentally wrong with someone who doesn’t have one. And given recent events, I rest my case.

The last American president to have had no pets was James K. Polk, who served from 1845 to 1849. In modern times, we’ve grown accustomed to media coverage of the nation’s “first pets,” such as George W. Bush’s Scottish terrier, Barney, and the Obamas’ Portuguese water dogs, Bo and Sunny. Bill Clinton broke a string of first dogs back in 1993 with Socks, a cat who apparently liked the trappings of the White House. I’m not sure what I’m channeling here, but I imagine him saying at this press briefing, “I did not inhale the catnip.”

Anyway, according to this list of presidential pets, this nation’s leaders have had some pretty interesting companions. John Quincy Adams, for instance, had silkworms. I’m not sure about the attraction of silkworms, shown here in all their cuddly glory, but I imagine if a candidate today were to admit to having such a pet, it would be as toxic to his or her candidacy as admitting to being an atheist. Just imagine the usual photo of the president and his family on their way to a well-deserved vacation, only instead of the president confidently strolling across the South Lawn of the White House toward Marine One with a dog’s leash in hand, he has a fistful of silkworms!

William Henry Harrison, Abraham Lincoln and Benjamin Harrison all had goats. Theodore Roosevelt had a large and interesting collection of pets that included a badger named Josiah, a rat named Jonathan and a garter snake named Emily Spinach. Calvin Coolidge had a black bear, two lion cubs and a pygmy hippopotamus. Herbert Hoover had two alligators. Presumably none of these pets resided at the White House.

And then there are some of the names, which may offer clues as to what these presidents were about. George Washington had four coonhounds named Drunkard, Taster, Tipler and Typsy. James Garfield had a dog named Veto. Benjamin Harrison had opossums named Mr. Reciprocity and Mr. Protection. John F. Kennedy had a canary named Robin, which I mention only because it seems to me to indicate some sort of internal conflict.

So Mr. Trump, it’s not too late for you to get with the program and try to save your image by adopting a pet of some kind … something, anything. Even Andrew Johnson, who had no named pets, at least fed the mice he found in his bedroom!

The Human says …

Oxbow says …

Just let go! Chances are good you’ll land on your feet.

When I first began this blog three months ago, I wondered whether anyone would really care what a house cat had to say. But thanks to a handy little counter embedded here, I get to see how many people — or who knows, maybe even other cats — are viewing. As of this morning, my blog had received 1,236 views from 284 different visitors.

Now I’m not able to see exactly who is viewing the blog — that would border on Orwellian creepy! — but sometimes I get personal comments posted here, or Those Two pass along compliments they’ve received from their friends and co-workers. One such compliment arrived in the form of a text the other day from their friend Babs, who comments here frequently under the alias of Barbara.

Babs wrote that I join her every morning for breakfast, at least in spirit, via the official Oxbow’s World mug she received as part of Mama G’s merchandising campaign to help make me famous. She sent this photo. Babs has said before that she looks forward to reading each new post of mine, and that they’re even sometimes the highlight of her day.

The above-mentioned viewing statistics, while not too shabby, show that I’m a long way from becoming famous, but knowing that people such as Babs look forward to reading me will keep me going.

Writing is such a soul-baring exercise. We writers make ourselves very vulnerable sometimes, with the personal stories we share, and it is nice to know that our words are having on impact on people’s lives, even if it is just to make someone laugh or smile while eating breakfast.

So what happened yesterday, did I miss it?

I guess I did. I heard the president decided to have a look at the eclipse minus protective eyewear. I don’t think he has much regard for facts or science, with all that “fake news” he keeps talking about. Hope he doesn’t end up with fake eyesight soon.

Go figure: even I had more sense!

If it’s one thing humans know how to do well, it’s hype an event to the point where disappointment is almost sure to follow. Today’s excitement over the first total eclipse of the sun since 1918 is likely to be just another example of such folly.

I’ll probably sleep through it, but just in case …

My Mama G is a pilot. She earned her pilot’s license back in 2013, after many years of looking skyward and dreaming of piloting a plane someday. I understand completely, because every time I hear a plane pass over our house, I run to the window and watch it, wondering, too, what it would be like to be up there. Mama G says I would make a good pilot, because I’m good at spotting “traffic.” Apparently that’s a fine skill to have in the cockpit.

Sometimes I try to help her plan her flights. I would love to go flying with Mama G someday, but she doesn’t think it would be a good idea.

There is, however, one lucky cat out there who gets to go flying with her dad. She’s a beauty named Iris, and you can watch her land in a Cessna 172 here. She seems pretty calm and content.

So at least for the time being, I will have to settle for dreaming about flying, and listening to Mama G’s stories about her adventures aloft. A fellow can always dream, right?

“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.                                                                                                                                   — Leonardo da Vinci

 

Well our overnight visitors have departed and I’ve emerged from my safe space in the basement ceiling. My mamas keep talking about how much they miss their company, and how cute and sweet 3-year-old Jackson was. And I’m feeling really ashamed that I didn’t come out and play with him, especially after Those Two told me that while they were all enjoying a nice breakfast yesterday morning, Jackson was coloring a picture of me. I have to say, I think the kid has some talent. His color choices are spot-on!

My reluctance to make my presence known was even more embarrassing because Mama G’s niece and Jackson’s mother, Stephanie, had been joking in text messages before their visit about meeting me: “Oxbow: the man, the myth, the legend … the cat with a blog,” as she put it. I don’t think I lived up to my reputation. That’s the problem with being in the public eye: sometimes people assume they know you, but they really don’t.

My shyness is my protection, but also a curse at times. I know that by hiding, I potentially miss out on a lot of fun. What was I thinking this weekend? I’m so sorry, Jackson. I hope you’ll forgive me!

 

Who is that little tyke who has taken over my chair?

My mamas don’t entertain a lot, so it was quite a surprise when late last night a family of three showed up at our door. I had wondered why Those Two were still hanging around yesterday after all that house cleaning!

The visitors were Mama G’s niece and her husband, and their 3-year-old son, Jackson. They were stopping by for an overnight visit on their way from Delaware to Maine.

As you may remember, I hide from visitors, at least at first. I’m painfully shy. One of last night’s visitors in particular was very different! I don’t have a lot of experience around miniature humans, so Jackson’s playful shrieks upon entering the house were enough to send me rocketing down to my safe space in the basement ceiling even faster than usual. Jackson has more energy than 10 kittens!

My urge to hide was especially unfortunate because Jackson had reportedly spent a good part of their trip here talking about how eager he was to meet me. Mama C was able to coax me out from the ceiling with some treats, so he at least got to see me briefly. This morning I wanted so badly to enter the guest bedroom and investigate further, since they were all still sleeping, but I’m just not quite ready yet.

Maybe I’ll be braver later today. They sure sound like they’re having fun!