winner, deceit, hating cats

First things first: a winner has been hand picked from Saturday’s giveaway. Literally, hand picked. I put some names in a bowl and had Steve draw one once he walked in the door tonight. So you all know this is completely fair and unbiased (but who knows, maybe I made some slips of paper bigger than others). Yes, I did want to make sure a loyal reader won, but I know that all I have is loyal readers. And people that accidentally stumble across by blog by googling something insane like “epilepsy blog.” Thank you to my loyal readers, you make me want to type a new post day after every other day and hope for comments.

Steve likes to pretend he has nothing to do with my blog, but I’m outting him here. He is the first to read my every post and gives me comments the old-fashioned way, to my face, much to my dismay. I try to urge him to post something online but he much prefers to seem aloof and like he just don’t care. Men. Anyway, my very involved silent blog partner has chosen the winner to be Mrs. Van Gilder. Send me over your contact info and I will get your prize shipped off. Woo hoo! And here’s hoping I get a raise and am able to do many more giveaways in the future.

Second things second: two quick animal anecdotes. One which you’ll believe, one which you won’t. First off, I know every pet owner thinks their pet is smart (and I would like to forcefully disagree in most of these cases, but people are pretty sensitive about that, apparently). Well my dog is beyond smart: he’s cunning and deceitful. (For those of you who have not yet evolved your above average smarts into that direction, that’s where you’re going should you choose to be profitable. The evil world of counting cards, creating pyramid schemes and other tricks that only geniuses can pull off).

Because that’s how they did it when he was a kid, Steve has adamantly demanded Tucker receive a treat every time he poops outside. I think it’s a bit excessive, but hey: I’m also against dogs licking our plates, so what do I know. Any way, ever since we moved into this house and Tucker has free range of our fenced back yard and is no longer tethered to a leash, I give him treats based on instinct. If he seemed to be out there a long time and comes in extremely hyper, I give it to him. What the hell. He lives for these. So I did so today at four. At five, he was following me around as if he had to crap. So I let him out again. And watched him. And saw him crap. And then he came in, looking at me for a treat. What a treacherous little bitch (and yes, I know that “bitch” is a bit of a harsh term to use about an innocent little animal, but obviously my dog is and I know strong words pack a stronger punch. And if you’re offended like some member of PETA, you best stop reading now as this next story will cause you some extreme psychological damage).

2b in our index of animal anecdotes: this is a true story told to me second hand today from an extremely reliable source. You will not believe it unless you’ve seen “Donnie Darko,” so I aim to enlighten everyone all the true cruelties of the world. A man we’ll call “Tom” had a stray enter his garage and bite him. Since this cat was not his own, just a mangy creature roaming the earth for the mere reason of biting people, Tom picked up the cat by the neck with one hand and punched it with his free hand. He broke the cat’s neck and killed it instantly. Then, rather than polluting his own trash can, he threw the cat in the back of his truck bed, crossed state lines, and disposed of it in the dumpster outside his work. Sick. Now I hate cats more than the average person, so I wasn’t all too horrified, but definitely taken aback. Anything that has that affect on me is worth sharing.

And that reminds me of a calendar I had as a child cat-hater that my sister coveted. It’s called “I hate cats” by Skip Morrow and has all sorts of ways to torture them (but in cartoon – so it’s completely funny and not disturbing at all). I will share a few of those w/you in closing. Oh, and I do love animals. Well, one at least. My tricky little bastard of a dog.

(yeah – as if cats can do tricks)