Cat Psychology

I've been suffering an identity crisis on behalf of my cat for the past few days.

He continues to be a psychic homosexual with an Oedipal complex, but his origins are questionable now.

I originally acquired him almost ten years ago (!) from the Washington County animal shelter. I remember he was very tiny, huddled in the back of the cage, and absolutely adorable. Someone had already staked a claim on him, but given that the person hadn't cared enough to put down a cash deposit the shelter worker decided that I got to take him home with me.

Samson, if you haven't met him, looks like a gray tabby cat. But he yowls like a siamese and has these piercing blue eyes that everyone seems to fall in love with.

The first time I took him into the vet I asked some sort of question as to whether she could ascertain what type of cat Samson was. I don't recall the exact wording, but I'm quite confident that I phrased it in a matter of "I'd like to know, but it's not going to significantly impact my life one way or the other if you can't tell me." Maybe I didn't even ask her anything, I honestly don't remember.

What I do remember is that, without missing a beat (or without being prompted), with such complete confidence in her voice no one could doubt her, she proclaimed that Samson was almost entirely blue point siamese. If he were a purebred the only distinction would be a thumbprint-sized marking on one of his ears. I had no reason to doubt her, so I've spent the last 10 years believing that I own an almost purebred blue point siamese.

The other night I was mindlessly surfing the web, and something compelled me to do a search on "blue point siamese". I found some pictures. There is no way on the face of this planet that my cat is a blue point siamese.If you've met my cat you need only look at these photos for proof. OK, he might have some blue point blood in him. Maybe a grandparent or a more distant relative, but somewhere along the line some grey tabby cat blood got into the lineage, and it's showing its full colors now.

At first this disturbed me. We've been living a lie for all these years. But now it seems fitting. Being adopted myself, I have no idea what my heritage is. As I like to put it, I'm whatever I want to be as the mood strikes. Now Samson has the same freedom. He can be a blue point siamese if he wants, or a gray tabby cat if that's more fitting the occasion. He's still a psychic homosexual with an Oedipal complex, but that's just what makes him Samson.

Report to your lifeboats -- the ship may be going down.

I bought a lottery ticket today. I know that it's often called a tax on those who can't do math, but to me it's a $1 ticket to give myself the opportunity to dream about what I'd do if I DID win the $150 million. (Yeah, I know that TECHNICALLY I could dream without spending the $1, but it's not the same). Today's dream is: never work again. That's all. Buy a house, be able to go to pay the bills and have a car and go on vacation without the stress of wondering about the next paycheck.

There's been stuff going on at work lately - bosses in closed doors meetings ALL DAY yesterday. Today the mystery was out, and the punchline is 2 (of 4) salaried staff were let go. That leaves two salaried staff left, and I'm one of them.

The good news: I'm safe. As the senior of the salaried staff, and being in a position where they need at least one salaried person to get the job I do done, if I don't have a job anymore NO ONE has a job anymore.

The bad news: It sucks when colleagues you consider friends are forced to leave. All the folks who have been fired from this job previously needed to go because they were horrible co-workers (some of them were very nice people, just not good colleagues. All the good colleagues that have gone have left of their own free will.) The other remaining salaried person was basically told that IF they were to have to cut back more she would be the next to go, and gave her a phone number to call so she could get something in line if it came to that. This part REALLY sucks because she moved here for this job, and now is probably going to move again - 6 months later - so she can be closer to her kids. I'd almost prefer if they would line me up with a new job so that she could stay in the salaried position here.

There's a fine line between "loyal" and "sucker". Unfortunately, it's a line you can't see unless you're looking in the rearview mirror. I think I'm still on the right side of the line, but only time will tell. The saving grace is that with the experience that I've gained over the past 18 months and with the connections the bosses have in the industry, whatever happens they should be able to hook me up with a job.

Maybe this weeks events warrant a $2 investment in that lottery.

What's that big bright thing in the sky?

I know there is this myth circulating around the world that Seattle is a cold, gray, depressing city. During the winter I won't argue with you, but during the summer it's nothing more than a myth. According to the City of Seattle website during the month of June we see an average of 9 rain/snow days with an average of 1.53" of rain for the month. That computes to 21 clear days and .17" of rain on those days where there is precipitation. July and August are even nicer.

So why is it the instant the sun makes its first major appearance of the year everyone's brain simultaneously shorts out and we're all so excited you'd think every citizen of the city had simultaneously discovered electricity? We must be suffering from the first known case of city-wide amnesia.

Additionally, once the temprature hits 80 degrees we start melting into the asphalt. It's not even a terribly humid 80 degrees if you've ever spent 5 minutes in the midwest in the summertime. And given that most of the people I've met here are transplants from somwhere else, I think they're just complaining because it's the chic thing to do.

If nothing else, spending my freshman year of college at Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas, prepared me for whatever the weather may provide. In San Antonio they start putting on winter coats and turtlenecks when the weather hits 60 degrees. Having spent 10 years in the Pacific Northwest, I would go so far as to throw a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and shorts. When my friends in Oregon were calling in January to tell me they got the day off due to the snown I was sitting my air conditioned dorm room. When I returned to Oregon the next year my body couldn't handle all the changes, so the internal thermostat all but shut down. It's got to be spectacularly hot or cold out before it really starts to bother me.

Seattle summers rank high on the list of reasons I live here, and I'm going to enjoy the continued good weather we are forecasted to be receiving.

In with the New...

My weblog is taking up its roots and moving. A few months ago I began posting on Live Journal. It was a nice entry into the world of blogging, but now I've decided to move over to Blogger.

I don't know my way around html very well yet, so bear with me. It's actually part of the inspiration for the move... it will force me to expand my computer skills, and therefore make this a learning experience.

Feedback is always welcome.