Minus one feline...

RIP Pittising
1997-2011


She was the smallest kitten I'd ever seen, not much bigger than my fist, and she had a coat the texture of a Brillo pad. She was ill when we adopted her; she had giardia, which meant, in quick succession and despite the ridiculous amounts of handwashing, we got giardia. (I have never felt so awful, and hopefully never will again. I can remember that it was the summer of 1997 because I ate the first solid food I'd had in a week on the day it was reported that Princess Diana had died.)

She didn't stay small, though. She was a big gray cat of indeterminate lineage, a 20lb monster. (She did, however, eventually get a nice soft coat.) When this cat jumped on your lap or on your stomach in bed, you damn well knew it. She would be petted on her own terms, when she wanted it, and was one of those cats who would lie across your hands on the keyboard. All twenty pounds, on your fingers, on the keyboard. The shoving-of-the-butt-in-your-face-while-watching-TV was another favorite game.

But she was a sweetheart. She adopted the new kittens as her own, even carrying them in her mouth and grooming them. She accepted the advent of the hairless kittens with reasonable grace, though I would get these looks like, "I don't mean to tell you your business, but those things ought to be hunting for themselves by now." She was the first cat to accept the kids and seek out their affection. The two boys were so thrilled the first time she deigned to sit in their laps.

She hated the vet like no other animal I've ever known. She never attacked, but would sulk to beat the band, and go hide and hiss at anyone who came near. Extracting her from under the waterbed was always an interesting challenge.

But 14 is pretty old, even for an indoor cat. I hope she wasn't uncomfortable, towards the end. I don't think she was. Even tonight, before it became clear that a trip to the veterinary ER was in our immediate future, she singled out and snuggled up to each of us. My grandmother always said that animals would say good-bye to those they loved before they died, and I hope she was right.

That's all I have to say about that.

Sunday Miscellany: National Creamsicle Day Edition

The word "zany" dates from the 16th century, and comes from the name of some of the peasant class characters in the Commedia dell'Arte.

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Southern Utah is beautiful. Remote, but beautiful.

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I bought a CD of dirty jokes, songs and stories recorded on Edison cylinders at the turn of the 20th century, and WOW are some of them blue. There's nothing new under the sun...

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There was a legit reason for the no brown M&Ms clause.

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I'm currently reading The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. It's easy to forget that most of the really interesting hippie stuff happened before 1969.

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There is a Circle of Hell in which you eternally shop for school supplies.

For my once and future Iowa peeps: Green River recipe

I got to thinking about these after reading an article about soda jerks and old-style soda fountains (read it: it's got recipes) and after hearing about a friend's RAGBRAI experiences.

These are SO good. You may want to scale the recipe down a bit, though.

Green River

Lemon Syrup:

1 gallon boiling water
15 pounds granulated sugar
1 1/2 oz lemon extract
1/2 oz citric fruit acid

Lime Syrup:

1 gallon boiling water
15 pounds granulated sugar
1 1/2 oz lime extract
1/2 oz citric fruit acid

Crushed ice
Carbonated water

To make the lemon syrup, pour boiling water over sugar. Cool and strain. Ad extract and citric fruit acid. Pour into gallon jug and store. Follow the same method for preparing lime syrup. When ready to serve, pour 1 1/2 oz. of each syrup into an 8 ounce glass. Fill with crushed ice and carbonated water. Stir and serve.

Makes 88 servings.

(From A Cook's Tour of Iowa by Susan Puckett)