Journal of a Sabbatical

April 19, 2000

the mop has an 800 number?!?

Adopt cats at Merrimack River Feline Rescue Society.

Today's Reading: Thoreau's Country by David R. Foster, today's journal entries for 1855-1861 from the Thoreau Home Page

Today's Starting Pitcher:
Brian Rose - he of the 16.something ERA - facing Hideo Nomo in Detroit

This just in from Detroit: Brian Rose just completed six shutout innings! That sure helps his ERA.

Not Mondrian's [Pipe and ] Glasses

Another cold and rainy day makes the forsythia and the daffodils look surreally bright along the road to Salisbury, in among the "Vote No on the Casino" signs. The cats are all in good moods though except for Mayo, who looks miserably depressed - I even asked Kendra if he was on St. John's Wort but she says no he's taking Star of Bethlehem - and a new huge cat who refuses to eat.

Chloe was friendly, all sweetness and light, with me and Bob. She tolerated petting not just on the very top of her head, which is all she'll usually take, but also down the back of her head to just past her neck. Still no stroking on the back allowed.

OK, wait a minute, why am I saying they were all in good moods? Sandy nipped Kendra. Mayo scared Bob so badly that Bob forgot to put poor Mayo's food dish back in the cage. There's another huge new cat who is even huger than Buddy at his hugest. She had big mats on her back where she couldn't reach to groom so they had to cut them off. Now she's got this bare V at the base of her tail. Miss Newburyport keeps making noises like she's about to throw up and then doesn't. Two newbies, a white one and a gray tabby, meow back and forth to each other constantly. So it's pretty much business as usual. Maybe I'm the one who's in a good mood today.

A gull flies by outside the window calling, mewing, making whatever that herring gull sound is. Sandy, who was curled up asleep in a cat bed near the window, wakes up instantly on full alert and is at the window faster than you can say "gull". His tail is twitching. His eyes are intent. He's gonna get that bird if only he can get the window out of his way. The fact that the gull is bigger than he is doesn't even enter into it. Only one other cat reacts, one of the quarantine kitties in the rabies room. Sandy continues staring out the window long after the gull is gone. Maybe he's hoping for another try at it.

The mop needs a new sponge thingie. Much discussion swirls around me while I'm concentrating on the sink. What kind to get? Do they have them at Wal Mart? Stuff I don't hear all of. Suddenly Kendra announces: "The mop has an 800 number." The mop has an 800 number?!?! What happens when you call it? I get this mental image of a mop answering the phone at some corporate office manned (mopped?) by mops, and start laughing. When I tell everybody what I'm laughing at, they start laughing. Gee, and Giggle Girl isn't even here today (it's school vacation week). Chris thinks I'm losing it. We're all punchy. Bob, the official shopper, puts the mop sponge thingie on the shopping list along with non-clumping litter and heads off into the abyss (received wisdom about Wal Mart included for postmodernists) without putting Mayo's food dish and litter box back.

A guy comes to look at cats about 15 minutes before we open. Fortunately he doesn't mind leaning over a tower of wet litter boxes to look at the bulletin board of foster kitten pictures, and Celeste is here to handle adoptions already. Meowster loves this guy. We never know how much encouragement is too much when somebody is interested in an older cat. If we start pushing for him to adopt Meowster will he think there's something wrong with him? But I can't help encouraging the guy - after all Meowster likes him!  (Of course, by that reasoning, I would have to take Chloe home 'cause she likes me ... and we won't go there.)

Celeste has brought a visitor from Pittsburgh, Flat Freddie. Flat Freddie arrived in the mail from her niece, for a surrogate visit to Auntie Celeste. He is indeed flat. He's about 6 inches tall, neatly drawn and cutout, wearing nicely crayoned blue pants, white shirt, and tie. He poses for pictures with the foster kitten bulletin board (and its surrounding pyramid of air-drying litter boxes), and other colorful aspects of the shelter. Celeste is looking for suggestions for other places to visit with Freddie. Several people suggest he go to Wal Mart with Bob, but Bob has already left. I suggest a visit to the Parker River refuge so he can have a picture taken with the gatehouse attendant or law enforcement in their US Fish and Wildlife Service uniforms. (At home tonight I tell Nancy about Flat Freddie and she suggests faxing him to BiB in Kosovo. I'll have to suggest that to Celeste.)

Karen notices that Mayo has no food and litter. Chris realizes she has emptied the food dish thinking it was extra. We agree Mayo must have really scared Bob. Karen gets Mayo all set up with food and litter without any hissing - he just backs away from her to the farthest corner of his cage. Poor Mayo. He's so scared.

Three new cats start singing in harmony. They're actually quite melodic. The surrenderor claimed they were kittens so imagine everybody's surprise when they turn out to be adults between one and two years old. Good singers.

Time to take the pictures. But what's this? The low battery light is flashing. But this battery had 45 minutes left on it! It did this on Sunday too, but stopped when I turned it on and off a few times and then showed the correct minutes remaining. Don't know whether the camera's low battery detector has developed dementia or there's something wrong with the battery. Didn't think to bring the spare battery so no cat pics for the MRFRS web site - or my journal - today.

OK, so further research back home indicates that it's the battery not the camera. With the spare battery, everything works fine. I take artsy photos of things on my desk to be sure. Whereas, the old battery when stuck into the charger, pretends to be already charged. Methinks it simply won't hold a charge anymore. Time for a new one.

Another stumper from old Henry David: Rana fontinalis.

None of my frog reference books list anything called Rana fontinalis, and the usual search engines yield nothing except advice to check my spelling (which I did repeatedly). His descriptions make it seem a little bit like a green frog (Rana clamitans) and a little bit like a bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana). He gives very detailed descriptions of both the bullfrog and this Rana fontinalis but does not mention the one characteristic that clearly distinguishes the bullfrog from the green frog - that little fold behind the ear. Ol' Henry separates them based on the lack of yellow on the throat, and the green line on the jaw. I'm not a herpetologist, but I really think he's talking about a mixed group of bullfrogs and green frogs with lots of females of both species. It's possible that he mistook the female green frog for a separate species. Males of both species can show yellow on the throat. So now, if I can only confirm that Rana clamitans was formerly called Rana fontinalis, I can put this puzzler to rest.