My (Best) Pal March 1991-March 31, 2010

Okay... if you aren't a pet person, this won't make much sense to you.  I am however.  All my life I've had cats, with the occasional foray into other parts of the animal kingdom, but always cats.  There were very short periods in between without any, but ultimately, somehow... sometimes from the blue, another pal would appear.

I've had equal mixes of females and males, colors of all kinds but mostly and sometime mangy little strays.  I am and always have been a sucker for the underdog, or cat or human.

Many years ago, after a divorce ended forever the life I had then, (and rebirth followed) Holly and I moved back to Fort McMurray, sans cats.  Young Whiskey was left behind in the care of friend Lorraine, and Pepper had moved to Grammy and Grampy's place, where she entertained for many years after.



The two of us moved into an apartment complex up in Abasand Heights.  The largest in town, we got a 3 bed on the third/top floor.  It was nice, had a fireplace, a rec center and was just on the edge of the woods, pretty quiet and that's what I needed at the time.  Wasn't long however that niece Margaret pops over for a visit and says there is a scraggly stray kitten hanging around the building, obviously abandoned, would I take him in.  I was reluctant at first, after all, money was very tight, both Holly and I were out of the apartment most of the day, and besides, we were on the third floor, not much roaming room for a young cat that was used to living outdoors much of his time.

Ultimately though I gave in and Einstein as Holly named him, came to live with us.

Boy, he was wild, biting at our ankles, bolting out the door at any opportunity, loud.  Of course he really had no where to run, except through the hallways.  Eventually he'd come back or we'd fetch him.  He was always a very scared cat, wanting only to hang around with me close by.

October 31, 1994, while Holly was out trick and treating (I'd suspect mostly treating) Snoop gave birth to 6 kittens, Einstein was a great Dad, looking after them much of the time.

After we'd moved to Calgary with by then three felines, Einstein of course, Snoopy and their daughter, Scribbles... everyone seemed to settle in, but Einstein began having health problems that no one I took him to, could cure.  He had a version of feline epilepsy.  They said he wouldn't live more than a few years at best, perhaps we should consider the alternative.  After trying several vets, I finally got a call back from a young woman that had taken an interest in him and his rare case.  She said she'd been reading up, and suggested I get a cat food with a higher concentration of Tourine, that was shown to reduce the symptoms in same cases.  I did and in the next 6 months his seizures became less frequent, he stopped twitching and foaming at the mouth and generally behaved like a normal everyday puss.  When I called the clinic back to inform her and propose to her... I learned she had only been a fill in vet and had moved on to parts unknown.  I sure owe that woman a debt of gratitude.

Snoopy in her last days.

Scribbles in her last days.

Scribbles died when she was 8 and her Mom, Snoopy at 12, both had kidney failure, common in cats.

Einstein, my cat boy on the other hand, the scraggly little bag of fur that had come to live with us so long ago, the one that shouldn't have lasted more than a few years, went on to live till he was 20.

Three years ago, in late March, tired as he obviously was by that time, showing his age, only occasionally going out into his back yard to explore, my Cat Boy died at home this day, March 31, 2010.

There isn't a day goes by that I don't remember the many cats that have enriched my life beyond measure.  I could write a book.  There was Smokey, a stray I befriended at age 5 that somehow found our new home after we'd moved 20 blocks across north Edmonton, Sunshine and Moto, Spirit, Sugar and Pepper just to name a few.  Some disappeared without a trace, some died young, some were hit by cars.  Then there was Einstein.

Through some of the darkest days of my life, when the odds were stacked against me, to the benefit of myself, Holly, Lisa and others, he was my bastion, my pillar, my fortress.  Protecting me from harm, listening to me through my divorce and my troubles, comforting me as only a cat can. 

I miss him every day.  I miss all of them every day.

Today, there are three more of his ilk in our new home.  Phoenix the stray that rode home in my Blazer from my home in Glendale AZ in January 2011.  Abby, a 5 year old female we adopted from her home in Stratford... and the newest, a little boy named Willy, with long gangly legs and some health issues himself, adopted from the humane society of Charlottetown.

They are all treasured... but that "cat boy", who shouldn't have survived... but did, to spend nearly two decades with me... well he holds an exalted place in my heart.

Geez Louise!

The day I bought her, in Victoria B.C.  Fitting pic eh?

I always liked the sound of that, haven't a clue where it originated, but try it... 

"G e e z... 
L o u i s e" 

Hmmm, when I say it like that, it does nothing for me, shoulda left well enough alone.

Guess, what?  It's snowing.  We're doing the impression of the snow globe thing (now weren't they cool?  Yeah for about 3 maybe 4 shakes till the novelty wore off)

I look out my large living room windows and see these huge flakes softly falling.  Like being in the SG.

Put the new battery into the Triumph today, bolted the seat back on and gave her a polish.  I hadn't ridden the bike much the past few years, away alot, had other bikes to ride... but this year, with it being my only street bike, I plan on riding it, a bunch.

On the ride home through the Rockies.

It's not a 'cruiser', nor a 'sport bike' nor is it anything other than what it is, a good looking, good working, great sounding, unusual, rare and faithful reproduction of a long line of Triumph Thunderbird's.

Cousin Erzsi and C.O.P.

More of these days in our future...

Flat seat good for about 200 miles, standard peg placement so your legs can actually support your body weight, decent fuel mileage, torquey engine that accelerates quickly from any speed, and coupled to a six speed transmission, fast smooth and quick.

I don't know if I can hold out all year without getting a sports touring type bike, but I'm gonna try.  Mind you, that 955RS still calls to me...

Oops... don't know how this snuck in here.  Geez Louise, I miss this car!

Pet Peeves file #412

Okay... just got back from Summerside, doing a grocery shop at the Superstore. 


 


Have you ever noticed that shopping centers are laid out on virtual perfect grids?

I mean there are no curves or hills, speed is typically .3 MPH or less.  Visibility is pretty good, there are no blinding snowstorms or sudden rain showers.  No operators license is required for pushing a cart, which themselves are pretty reliable lately, I have not had a wobbly wheeled grocery cart for years now.

So why is it in this near perfect environment, with W I D E boulevards, billiard smooth road surfaces and plenty of lighting, people still drive their carts as if they were the only friggin' person in the whole dam store!?

They park in the middle of the aisle, wandering off several rows over, they insist on driving on the wrong side of the road, they wander all over, speed inconsistent.  Back up suddenly, cut corners, change lanes without looking, yak/text on their mobile phones or I whatevers... and in general behave like idiots?

Why is this?

Is it any wonder that those same total twits, take to our roads and fail to signal, back up/change lanes without so much as a look see.  Drive as if they were the only person on the road creating havoc for responsible users, whether it be on the highway or the aisleway...

Sigh... 

Spring... has sprung?!

Sure sure... the calender says it's March 21, 2013... first day of Spring and all, but has it really sprung?

Been a mixed bag this last few days.  After melting near all the snow we had, leaving the little Polaris high and dry... there's a little mini blizzard yesterday.  Six inches of wet, heavy snow that was even hard for the Big old Bear to plow, refusing to roll off the blade, sticking to it like sap in your hair on a warm summer night.

I stuck inside most of the day after that, DELIVERING on our bathroom.  Happy to report, "it's a boy"... handed out the Cubans, and flushed the toilet, which thankfully, works.

Time... about 10 pm.

The last of the unfinished projects from the build (insert drum role here) is finished!!!  Amid rockets going off, the marching bands and hilarious little people strutting to and fro, yes I may have been a bit delirious, I have to say... I was immensely relieved. 

While waiting for glue to dry over the last few days, I continued the process of clearing out boxes and organizing the garage, a not so simple task.  Hate to admit it... but I think I still have some of my 'shite' in boxes since moving back to AB from PEI... the last time.  Sure I know the adage, if you haven't missed it, blah blah blah.  On the flip side, many a time a girlfriend or Bugs Bunny, (nyea, what's up Doc?)  have asked me, "I don't suppose you have one of these kicking around?" and... after rummaging through the stuff, successfully coming up with a whatchamacallit proudly displayed in my fingers and smugly on my face, I've felt vindicated for being a pack rat!  You men out there know what I'm talkin' bout here don't ya!



Okay, long hot shower lasting from 10:30-11 pm, followed by four scoops of Caramel cashew and Chocolate toffee treats, heaped with mixed nuts, followed by whipped topping (an edible oil treat) chocolate syrup and a large spoon... I rewarded myself for a Job well done!

Finally, a working jet tub and non jet loo!

Dairy treat, yum yum!

 Today, a cold Nor Easter blowing snow across County Line rd, flurries hinting of more of the same, backing up the ominous weather report of blizzards to come, faded away.


Blazing blue skies and temperatures approaching 10C by the time we reached Borden, felt a whole lot more like winter is done... and spring had arrived.  Why Borden you ask, former CN town terminus of the infamous PEI ferry crossing, and of course since the late 90's, the bridge.  Since Canada's Confederation, signed right here on this little Island where the country came into being, Islanders (or conversely invading mainlanders as they are called) have awaited the long promised... yet still missing, Fixed Link!

Since that time, when seemingly every one on the Island and thousands of foreigners were gainfully employed building the thing, you can actually 'drive from the Island, to the rest of Canada, year round.  Oh joy!

 Borden, I always thought as I crossed weekly from my store in Moncton, that for one's first view of the Oiland... was a pretty run down shabby one at that.

Fortunately the Gateway to PEI, has neatly cleaned up its act.  It's now a pretty community with park space, good lighting, signage while the dilapidated shacks filled with bucktoothed bootleggers have been bulldozed into quiet rubble, the shacks... not the bootleggers, of which I'm certain that some have survived.

Bootleggers have always been a part of PEI culture and although some have gone to that cold fridge full of Schooner and  Alpine in heaven... no doubt others still survive and thrive.

Arcona reno kitchen.

We looked at a five unit building for sale that once was a grand old rooming house in the days of seafaring captains and steam driven locomotives, pulling car loads of travelers or potatoes, or both!

The building must have been a sight in those heady days of Anne Shirley, and although somewhat worse for the ravages of time, is still funky as all get-out.  Lots of hardwood and ornate paneling, whether it's funky enough to own as an income property remains to be seen.

Closer to home... we did close a deal on a 6 plex (that used to be a church!) in Summerside, and hopefully there is still some good karma in there.

Followed by another.

Now... with the new banking rules making it even tougher for Canadians to borrow money (because we are so over stretched?!) we shall see if we can actually own the thing.

By this time next week, we will know if that piece of dream-works, becomes a reality.


Happy Birthday Liz!

Risk vs Reward?

THAT is the question. 

Earlier today, we... as in a couple of my old time/long time motorcycle buddies went driving.  The purpose of the mission was to find some chaps for one of the guys.  I myself have been using leather chaps for most of my motorcycling career.  I really don't care how they may look, mine are pretty ratty from decades of use.  They've covered my off road gear in Baja, added a layer of wind cheating warmth along a wet Angeles Crest Highway coming into L.A.  They've even covered my legs throughout much of Europe.

Unlike most of my gear, the chaps get little TLC.  Occasionally I wash off the accumulated road grime and bugs, by their very definition they are after all, an overall outside protective layer of cowhide.  I've worn them over said off road gear, jeans of course, under a rain suit or over my leathers.  They fold into a little bundle that fits in a saddlebag, tank bag or under an available cargo net.  If I were to lose them at some point, they have served me incredibly and were a bargain had they been thrice the price!  I'd just get another pair.



It's Saturday morning... our plan (loosely defined) was to go 'that away' and find this guy that Mike had heard about, who was selling some surplus gear from his garage.  As often happens in these situations, we wound our way along mostly deserted PEI back roads, past snow covered fields, ice covered bays and under gray skies.  Snowmobile tracks not dirt trails crossed the highway.  Jamie (his real name) had a pair that fit Mike (also his real name) decently and he even threw in (at a discount) a black leather vest. Nevin (an obvious alias) at over 6 feet tall, wasn't successful in finding anything that fit.

Now Mike, who along with his wife, were students of mine many years ago, had then bought an SR 250 T model (anyone remember those?) Yamaha from my shop, Freedom Cycle.  Honest, I swear, since then, he's been simmering on the back burner about riding once again.  He still fondly remembers a back road ride on shop Virago's that we did one year. Like I have often said, once the MC bug has bit you, it never goes away.  It may hibernate for a long period, just waiting for the right conditions to once again breathe.

Like three boys let loose on a Saturday, we then headed into the "BIG SMOKE"... otherwise known as Charlottetown, to a leather store that carried some MC gear and before leaving, popped over to the local Yamaha shop to check out a Suzuki C90T that Nev just purchased.

 

There I spoke to a couple of chaps about our age, that were coming back into motorcycling.  It was great fun talking once again to gents in whom the bug was stirring.  Never tire of talking bikes.

Our fearless trio, stopped at Hunter River, where my favorite bakery/cafe is located, to sit, put some grub in our bellies and of course swap lies/stories.

During this discussion, the topic of Risk came up.

I can tell you that having been in the motorcycle training experience for so long, and most recently a financial adviser, this whole risk thing is some what misunderstood.  After all... in the financial industry, its a word that is often bandied about, mostly, in my humble opinion, to scare people. Investing in RBC stock is certainly a good thing, but officially it's classed as 'risky.'  I say, what's the chances of the Royal Bank of Canada going belly up.  Not too bloody likely, maybe the same as hell freezing over, or a nuclear exchange and in those cases... it ain't gonna make no difference anyway!

On the other hand... what's the reward? They do after all... make money, a LOT of money!

You could go over there and chat up that drop dead gorgeous woman that everyone is ogling.  What's the risk?  Well you could bomb for sure, on the other hand, what's the reward... at worst you gain some experience or at best... maybe she marries you!



MANY things we do everyday are risky.  Getting out of bed and going to work could be risky to some people.  Flying in a commercial jet is considered high risk for others, Riding a motorcycle in some people's view, is courting death.  Almost akin to suicide right!

Sure, sure... one has to always weigh the risk vs reward, every day.

"Should I get out from under the covers/strap on my Titan booster rocket/ride my bike?" 

Yet there is a certain reward associated with each of these said risks, isn't there.  Seeing the Milky Way or Mother Earth from a shuttle orbiter, would certainly class as a fine reward to some, but not all.  Riding your C90T with saddlebags loaded and only a blue sky and rising sun to guide you some where over the horizon is not for all, but for some... just as good perhaps as flying around the planet at 30,000 mph.

Point is... there ain't nothing free in life, period.  You could die tomorrow or even today from a hundred things you weren't counting on.  The only thing we know for certain is that LIFE, is finite and death (and taxes) guaranteed. 

Everything we do in life amounts to taking a risk.  Do you want to hide from that fact, or will you embrace it and start living today?

Hearts from stones...

JUST to prove it could be done, hobbling on a single good digit and one slightly damaged, I prepared a welcome for Barb's arrival.  This was really a case of the pigeon with the broken wing, trying to do something special and romantic.  After all, Baja and this little beach, was if nothing else, a perfect romantic getaway.   

Dolphin patrol

Playa Las Coco's like many of the Conception Bay beaches is pure sand, trapped on either side by ancient volcanic mountains.  Highway 1, the Trans Peninsular, hugs the space between them, in our case as in others, narrow strips have been dynamited from the hill sides and a ribbon of asphalt laid on the track.  If you search the many boulders and rocks that border the west end of the beach, you'll find amongst them, petroglyphs etched by the prehistoric tribes that once lived in the caves here and took from the sea their bounty. 

These carvings showed something of the creatures that fed them or frightened them.  A glimpse at life here 5000 or more years ago.

One of many accessible small Islands in the Bay.

Today, one legged, in 90 degree heat, I gathered up softball sized boulders from the rubble, and made my own art.  Granted, I knew going it it wouldn't last thousands of years, I was hopeful that it may last a few days.  It was hard work, transiting hundred foot distance from the sand flats above high tide, to the rock field, carrying 3-4 at a time.  By my count, I ended up with over 230 individual pieces to create a 25' diameter  x"token of my affection"   

Dutifully, Ford providing the transportation, I arrived at the Loreto airport on time and on budget.  We spent the next few weeks, lazing on the beachfront, clambering over hill and dale, pig roasts in Mulege, kayaking and riding the bike. 

Snow saucer!

Like all good things, that Baja vacation came to an end, and the process of taking down the campsite, loading everything for the 5000km drive north late in November to priority.  Barb had already extended her trip by a week, two and she may have been jobless on her return.  

We hit winter weather by the time we got to Nevada.  Temperatures had gone from the 90's all the way into the basement, hitting well below zero before arriving at the Canadian border. 

We still had some fun using my beach saucer, that we used for rinsing our feet of sand, to what it was designed for... a slide down a snow covered hill.

Within days... it was back to the Alberta reality, another Baja adventure in the books.