When the cats come a-knocking

I never knew we had so many cats around.  All it took was a little catnip in the front yard.  

“We’ll grow it for our cat,” my wife said eagerly last spring. “See what she thinks of it.” 

The problem is, we never let our cat out of the house. And just because we have catnip doesn’t mean she can partake every day. As responsible pet owners, we limit her dosage. The catnip consequently grew, and soon we were attracting every furry feline in the neighbourhood. 

First there was the fat old orange one. We’ll call him Carl. He’s a haggard tom cat who prefers short walks. Rarely will you see him traveling further than a block to get his high. Carl’s at that point in life when it really doesn’t matter if he falls off the wagon, if he was ever on it. 

Then there’s the Siamese beauty we’ll call Vicky. Vicky only shows up occasionally, but her pompous gate reflects on upscale upbringing. She’s one of those pampered cats; one that gets a full can of Whiskas every meal. She enjoys a short dip in the ‘nip every now in then, careful not to become too impaired before returning home to what I imagine will be a tasty tuna stroganoff. 

Little Johnny is a bit of a character. He’s a black short-hair, and a friendly one, too.  Problem is, he gets a little too friendly. Every time we opened our front door, he’d be there. I didn’t want to throw my shoe at him (honestly), but he was getting a little too frisky.  

A few months later we found a Wanted poster in our mailbox: Little Johnny was on the loose. He was on a binge, more than likely – wandering the streets, looking for his next big hit of catnip or dumpster fish. Or maybe he finally got into someone else’s house and they decided to keep him. I’m sure not everyone throws their shoes at him. 

Cats have had a long relationship with humans – since the dawn of agriculture, when pest control became an issue. They were so good at this, they came to be revered as deities in ancient Egypt. Some cat owners even wanted their dear furniture-scratchers mummified with them into the afterlife. 

That all changed in medieval times, when cats somehow got caught up in the witch trials and evil-is-everywhere hype. In some places it was believed the only way to exorcise the evil was to throw the devilish felines off of tall buildings. The tradition exists to this day in the city of Ypres, Belgium, where mercifully, toy cats are used instead.  

Today we’re much more civil. We treat cats like they’re one of us. Stray cats are rescued from the street where they receive medical care that's the envy of some humans. 

And for what? Their affection is notoriously selective. They won’t greet you like a dog when you come home – they'll most likely just meow for some food. And they’ll scratch your furniture whenever they please, even the new couch. Don’t try to make them feel guilty, either, for snatching that sausage off your kitchen table. The minute you leave the room, they’ll be back into it. 

All that said, I like our cat more than I care to admit. We’ve recently started a strange hide-and-seek game where I chase her through the house. She also enjoys running up and down the stairs after “space mice” – small, scrunched up balls of tin foil. And there’s nothing more comforting than her warm body snuggling up to you while you watch TV, even though her claws might first knead deep into your thighs. 

A "rescue cat" from the Humane Society, she didn't cost much either. When the vet told us a loose tooth would cost $700 to pull out, I pulled it out on my own. Don't worry, she hardly flinched. It was forcing Gravol down her throat that was the hard part (I later found it on the carpet). 

And her flight risk is zero. While other cats are prancing around the neighbourhood, jumping in and out of our catnip like drunken ballerinas, she watches intently at the window. When we open our front door, she hesitates to even stick her head out. When visitors come by, she can be found in the basement ceiling above the duct work. 

She’s what you might call a scaredy-cat. And that’s okay. Whatever keeps her on the straight and narrow.

Daisy in the duct work

 

We are who our personality test says we are

I’m a Green, the personality test tells me. Or an Investigator, says another. Or even better: Melancholy. 

Melancholy is the least flattering but perhaps the easiest to understand. I don’t get very excited about things, or at least I don’t show it. At times you may think I’m bored when actually I’m extremely happy... or hopping mad. 

As a Green Melancholy, I like to analyze things – to death. It makes me a great critic but not a great leader. I won’t lead a revolution, but I will critique it. 

I can also be very indecisive. Give me a month to make a decision so I’m sure of my choice. Even after I’ve made my choice, however, I may second guess myself. I hold on to receipts waaaay too long, and leave the tags on clothing until I absolutely have to cut them off. 

I didn’t know it, but I’m also a know-it-all. That’s what my results tell me. I didn’t realize how annoying this could be until I sat down with a bunch of people with the same personality. They kept trying to tell me they knew better, but they didn’t. 

I often find myself arguing with my 12-year-old daughter, who’s a similar personality. As an all-knowing Green parent, I calmly argue my point until she understands that I’m right and she’s wrong. Our stubbornness can lead to some strange arguments, over things like particle theory. (Her science teacher, God bless her, doesn’t know the first thing about how particles react to heat.) We argue about stupid little things that most extroverts could care less about.  

I don’t understand extroverts, but I’ve come to accept they’re necessary in our society. Without them, we wouldn’t have parties or any fun at social functions. Typically, extroverts are like an open book and, sometimes, a long novel. It only takes you a minute to fully understand who they are, what they like and dislike, and what they had for breakfast. 

A true introvert can take years to know and understand. We had one such co-worker who rarely came out of his office. To this day, we’re still not sure what he worked on. It was only during his retirement party (a subdued affair) when we started to get to know the guy. Who knew he was actually a trained architect? It made us wonder even more what kind of work he did. 

Another aspect of personality is whether you are task- or people-oriented. To be clear, introverts can be just as people-oriented as extroverts. They tend to be those laid-back individuals who like to just hang out. I’m not one of those, as I don’t know how to just hang and can’t be out for too long. 

If we were to meet up, I would prefer a purpose to our meeting. Let’s get something done, or at least talk about something that could be of benefit to us. While I can tolerate some idle chit-chat, I don’t want to hear everything you did yesterday – where you ate lunch, what you did after lunch, and who you met on the street. 

The problem is, as a task-oriented individual I thrive on accomplishing things, no matter how insignificant. Even if I dust off my night stand before I go to bed, at least I did something.  

This personality trait has its downfalls. When I have nothing to do, I lose self-esteem fast. And at times I forget that I need to build relationships by talking to people (sadly, even family members) and to simply hang out.  

Otherwise I start to feel down. Sometimes even depressed. 

Woe is me... Melancholy.

Keeping media honest in time of Trump

When President Trump said he would order all federal government agencies to cancel their subscriptions to the Washington Post and the New York Times, I chuckled softly to myself. 

For all his longing to be a dictator, Trump’s only hope of hurting the press is to cancel his subscriptions.  

How much he must envy his autocratic friends in China and Russia who actually own the media. He can only watch with disdain as the major newspapers print article after article about him, often repeating his own mindless messaging. 

Instead of hurting, the major media outlets are profiting from Trump’s chaotic presidency. Trump’s nature is so corrosive and corrupt that he practically spoon-feeds the media their stories. The owners of these companies hope beyond hope that Trump survives to fight a second term (but let’s not go there). 

This creates an interesting symbiosis between a polarizing president and the media. For networks like Fox News, Trump’s biggest cheerleader, the relationship is borderline corrupt. Their most popular host, Sean Hannity, is practically an advisor to the current president. If there was such a thing as state-owned media, or at least one owned by Trump, Fox News would be it. 

For other networks, like CNN and MSNBC, the relationship is entirely adversarial. Watching Anderson Cooper, host of CNN’s flagship show, is like watching a prosecutor in a courtroom with Trump continually on trial. By the time Cooper has completed his one-minute long questions, there’s really nothing left for his interviewee to say. 

This is in part why the public has become so polarized. There’s a lack of neutrality in the news. People watch the news channel whose viewpoint they agree with, where their worldview gets reaffirmed over and over again. And the news hosts, those “super tough” interrogators, become the star attractions. 

While most journalists in Canada tend not to become celebrities (alas, not even Peter Mansbridge), they’re still at risk of sounding biased. Educated, non-religious and often holding liberal values, most can’t relate to a significant portion of the population.  

 To offer a recent example, last week the Alberta finance minister was asked by a Toronto-based news host why he supported cuts to programs for the disabled while at the same time cutting the corporate tax rate. He explained quite clearly why they made this decision, yet was asked again and again the same question. It became obvious the interviewer didn’t appreciate his response.  

To be clear, cutting programs for the disabled never sounds good and should be questioned, but this was one small part of a budget that cut almost every aspect of government spending to reign in a significant deficit. Her repeated questioning sounded more like an attack from the official opposition than that of a neutral journalist. 

These subtle interactions may not sound like much, but they have the impact of turning many people off. In the Trump era, it’s understandable that journalists, more than ever, want to correct falsehoods and shine a light on the truth. But there’s a delicate balance of asking the hard questions while at the same time letting people speak their view. If the person being interviewed sounds disingenuous, let others say so. Leave that to the columnists and panelists (and bloggers), who can be as biased as they want. 

As bold and righteous as some journalists may feel, there remains a need to keep even Trump interested in reading what they have to say. 

Or, in the case of this president, watching what they have to say.