S.R. Wild: Artist and Graphic Designer

More Magpie

I’m happy to report Magpie is loving her new home and is very happy. She really likes to eat and it shows — that’s not just a lot of fur. But, she also likes to play and so do I. Hopefully, with all that playing and eating right, she’ll get rid of those extra pounds and get her girlish figure back in no time.

As promised, here are some better photographs of her (she really likes the rocking chair in my bedroom).

This morning she woke me up by pressing her front paws up and down my legs — it was like a cat massage. I think she knew I was oversleeping and didn’t want me to be late for work. When I got home after work, she greeted me at the door with a few meows and we talked about each other’s day. Yeah, it’s great to live with something living again. Pinky is great and all, but she never does anything — she’s just eye candy.

Meet Magpie

I adopted a cat today from the Humane Society of Chittenden County. Her name is Magpie. She’s very friendly, mellow, intelligent, and a bit aloof. Plus, she matches my wardrobe and we both have green eyes. We were made for each other.

Molly was kind enough to accompany me to the Humane Society — thank you very much, Molly. There are so many lovely kitties there that need homes. We were there for almost three hours. After spending over an hour with Magpie, I fell for her and wanted to take her home.

She’s still getting used to her new home, so I didn’t want to bother her with too many pictures; I’ll post better ones soon. Don’t worry, this blog isn’t going to turn into a cat blog.

Not only is she a great companion, she’s also a great source for fur. Once I have a decent amount — it shouldn’t be long judging by the pile I obtained in one sitting — I’m going to have her fur made into yarn. Then, I think I’ll make a hat.

Magpie and I are going to watch Shadow of a Doubt. I hope she likes old movies, especially Hitchcock, because I watch them a lot.

Cat Missed

I was looking for something earlier and I came across a few photos of Tom, the cat who briefly lived with me. It was exactly a year ago when he was here.

Tom, I hope all is well. I miss you and think of you often. If you ever need a place to stay, you know where I am. I still have your litter box set up — it’s clean of course.

I need to stop or I’m going to cry.

Cat Found

The other morning I woke up to the sound of snorting and wheezing. I was surprised to find I wasn’t alone. Someone, or something, was in my bed with me. Then, like most mornings, the events of the previous night came flooding back to me. No, I didn’t bring an asthmatic trollop with a deviated septum home for a one night stand.

I received a phone call the previous night from Eva the Deadbeat requesting an odd favor—my favorite kind. The cat-loving folks at SpielPalast Cabaret found a stray cat roaming around where they were rehearsing. They thought he was dying because he was snorting and wheezing. Being so late, the animal shelter wasn’t open and no one else could take him. She asked if I could take the cat until they figured out what to do with him in the morning. I said, “suuuure.”

I drove down, got some supplies, picked up the cat, and brought him home. He wasn’t too happy about being in the cat carrier, so I quickly cleared an area for him in my kitchen and setup the litter box. I let him out and he went straight to the litter box—he was obviously domesticated.

It was suggested that I confine him to a room. I made do by blocking off a good-sized area in my kitchen. I gave him some food, hung out with him a bit, and went back to work. Other than the snorting, he seemed fine to me. I got the feeling it was normal for him.

After a few minutes he started crying. I checked on him, he stopped, and I went back to work. This went on a few more times until he escaped his little room. He quickly made himself at home in my apartment and was very friendly to me. He hung out with me while I worked and even jumped on my lap.

When I finally went to bed, he hopped on my bed and curled up next to me. I didn’t sleep much that night because he was making all these weird noises and, being such a worrier, I kept checking on him to make sure he wasn’t dying.

The next day, the animal shelter said they couldn’t take him until mid-June, so it looked liked I’d have him for awhile. We took him to the vet to have him checked out. Other than being dirty, fleas, and an infection he was fine (we also found out the cat was male, we named him Tom Doe). The snorting, wheezing, and oozing eyes are normal, but the infection was making it worse. She gave us some pills and some eye cream. The eye cream was very difficult to give him.

He inherited all the negative traits of an exotic shorthair—why must people mess with nature. He doesn’t have a muzzle, his eyes stick out further than his nose. He snorts because he’s nostrils are too small so he has to breath through his mouth. He’s lower jaw sticks out further than his upper jaw so his tongue is always sticking out. He has a hard time eating because his face is so flat. He ate by mashing his face into his food. Eventually the food would become too flat for him to get to and I’d have to pile it back up for him.

When Tom and I returned home after the vet he wasn’t in a good mood. He was pacing and making more noise then usually. He was doing his usually snorting along with a squeaking and farting noise all at the same time. He also made that distinct cat-going-to-vomit noise and then vomited on the floor. All the excitement must of made him sick. When I talked to the vet, she said cats have a stressful time at the vet because of all the pheromones left by other cats that tell them “bad things happened to kitties here”—I wonder if that happens with humans too.

I hung posters around town the other day—yes, I realize taddy should be tabby. While I was hanging one, some drunk asked what kind of show I was doing. I told him it was an all cat band. He then asked if he could get drunk there. I said he could try. Idiot.

The next day, Eva received a lot of calls from sketchy people offering to take the cat (sorry, I should have given my number). They probably thought they could make some money by selling him. One guy called who had Tom for the past few months. He found him at the bottom of his stairs one day. Tom ran up the stairs and started scratching at this guy’s door. He became sort of a mascot at his and his roommate’s apartment. He’s in a mural some friends painted on the wall. They thought he was a she, yet named him Sir Carl of Windsor. A week or so ago, he somehow escaped from their second floor apartment. A friend of his saw the poster and called him. This morning, Tom… Carl, was picked up and went back home.

Despite being so noisy and high maintenance, I must say, I’m going to miss him. I realize how dumb that sounds because he was only here for a few days, but he sort of grew on me and I easily become attached to things. It was… dare I say it… yes, I will… it was cute that he followed me around, greeted me at the door when I’d come home, and put his paw on my face in the morning. It’s too quite around here tonight. I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep alone tonight.

Now that I’ve caught up on my blogging, I’m going to try and catch a few hours of catless sleep. I need to be well rested for tomorrow because I’m going to Body Worlds. Oh yeah.

Dog to Ashes, Dog to Dust

As you may recall from a previous post, the Loominski family’s dog, Hooper, died. Instead of having his body stored somewhere until the ground thaws, they had him cremated. Since there wasn’t a crematorium in the area, they had his body delivered to the closest one. Yesterday, they received his ashes in the mail. Yes, that’s right, in the mail! They purchased two very small tins to split his ashes into, but they received more of Hooper than they expected. “We may have to get a big coffee container to fit that little f@%# into. Even now he’s adding frustration. Little f@%#er.”

R.I.P. 'Lil Pup

Another sad day: The youngest member of the Loominski family, Hooper (Cookies ’n’ Cream as I called him), passed away today.

Even though we barely got to know each other, I’ll always remember that cold night in November when you snuck out of your room to join me and the other furry fellas on the couch; how you’d get so excited you’d pee a little; your wagging nub of a tail; and how you’d hump the cat. I shall drop the first spoonful of cookies ’n’ cream ice cream on the ground in honor of you.

This combined with looming deadlines, a frustrating dentist appointment, creative blocks, old habits not dying, and loneliness make today officially suck.

I WANNA BE YOUR DOG!

A collection of covers of The Stooges’ “I wanna be your dog” by the likes of Sonic Youth, Swans, The Ramones, Slayer, Sex Pistols, GG Allin, and many more.

srwild.com v14.0 :: © MM–MMX S.R. Wild Industries LLC