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Tundra # 7
Well played, Natasha, I mean, Vell played, Dahlink.— March 4, 2010 2:44 p.m.
Tundra # 7
Thirteen more to go, CF, thanks for asking.— March 4, 2010 10:01 a.m.
Tundra # 7
I can't remember exactly, Cuddlefish. I think it happened in July (longer, I guess, than a few months ago), and maybe he did come home the next day; it's been awhile since I heard the whole story. Thomas is a big orange cat, and my mother lives off of Wild Cat Canyon Road, an appropriate name, near San Vicente.— March 4, 2010 9:29 a.m.
Tundra # 7
This has nothing to do with anything; it’s just something interesting that happened. My mother lives in a very rural neighborhood in Ramona. She, and all her neighbors who own them, allows her cat, Thomas, to be an inside/outside cat. If they’re cunning enough to avoid the coyotes, then the cats, as far as their owners are concerned, have earned the right to prowl the neighborhood at night, if they choose to do so. One morning, a few month ago, my mother let Thomas out. She expected him to return four hours later for lunch, which was his custom. But he was a no show. He returned late that afternoon. Not only did he seem disoriented and groggy, but he’d been neutered and had had the tip of his right ear cut off. Apparently someone in the neighborhood thought Thomas was homeless and they called the Feral Cat people on him. I always wondered how they caught him. Did Thomas just allow himself to be approached and handled or did he put up a fight and they had to shoot him with a tranquilizer gun or snare him in a net? It could have gone either way, I suppose: a very calm event or one fraught with drama and excitement, like Marlin Perkins wrestling a leopard on “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild kingdom.” My mother’s taken it all in stride. “He seems much happier,” she told me. “Now he likes to stay at home most of the time and just relax. He doesn’t have to bother with the silliness of fighting, staking out territory, mating, and all that other nonsense. Yes,” she said with conviction, “he’s a very happy cat now.” (Neutering Tundra and Mushroom only made them angry.) My younger brother Jake, however, was unable to dismiss the whole thing so offhandedly. “Who the hell do they think they are, anyway? They can’t just go around neutering cats whenever they feel like it.” “Well, he wasn’t wearing a collar,” my mother pointed out. “How were they supposed to know?” Jake found no immediate satisfaction from this fact, but eventually he was able to let the whole thing go. Maybe he, as I have, has noticed that Thomas really “does” seem happier and more relaxed now.— March 4, 2010 1:28 a.m.
Tundra # 7
Yeah, SD, what Pete said.— March 3, 2010 3:09 p.m.
Tundra # 7
Oh, yeah, and thanks, Pete.— March 3, 2010 2:50 p.m.
Tundra # 7
I don't know what that fancy word means--but, yes.— March 3, 2010 2:49 p.m.
Tundra # 6
... so, anyway ...— February 25, 2010 1:07 a.m.
Tundra # 6
Uh ... whatever.— February 24, 2010 10:11 p.m.
Tundra # 3
My friend Troy from El Cajon and I got really drunk one night and stole the sign from his neighbor's lawn. Obviously, April and I were using the sign ironically ... we didn't want anyone defacing our crabgrass.— February 1, 2010 11:30 a.m.