cat burglar – chapter 2 October 27, 2006

Cats are too smart.

This morning I encountered another cat inside the house.  This one a far less agile black cat.

He tried to jump out the window 3 times – in his panic, hitting the wall instead.

But he left something in his wake.

One very soggy, but unmistakeable catnip sachet.

Is the black cat a local Robin Hood of the feline world?  Returning stolen possessions to their rightful owners?

Or is he merely a copycat, hoping to find treasures in Ciao Ciao’s kitty-palace like the first cat did?

Either way, it poses a problem.  Clearly I can’t let Ciao Ciao enter and exit the house as he pleases any longer.  Should I leave that window open, I’ll have the whole neighbourhood of strays in my house getting up to mischief.

If only Ciao Ciao were more territorial; scaring off the party-crashers.  Instead he entices the neighbourhood cats to help themselves to his food, toys and home.

carolina

cat burglar October 26, 2006

Yesterday I came home to a nice little package in the mail from my aunt in Ottawa.

I put in on the kitchen table looking forward to opening it after my typical bachelor dinner of soy products: steamed edamame beans (soy beans), miso soup (soy beans) and rice with soy sauce.

No sooner had I put the rice on when I espied my cat, dead set on being first to open the package from my aunt.

Ciao Ciao jimmied the envelope open, finding inside a stitched flannel bag of catnip.  This kind of mint is a feline favourite,  and so my cat proceeded to make out with the bag of nip, drooling all over the enclosed letter as well.

After his heavy make-out session with the nip, Ciao Ciao passed out on my bed for the evening.

So it came as a surprise when I heard playful cat sounds at 4 this morning when Ciao Ciao was still snoring on my bed.  (He’s like a husband – lying on his back, snoring away).

It was a cat burglar.

One of the many cats living on my street snuck his way into my pad and went straight for the catnip sachet.

Upon seeing me, the marauding mewler dashed through the kitchen and squeezed himself through a small opening.  With the catnip bag between his protective little jaws!

Now fully awake, I sat for a moment on the living room chair watching the little imp as he rolled around in the street with the nip; utterly oblivious to the puddles and falling rain.

And this morning, making my way to work, I espied the cat burglar under a bush.  Four hours later he still had the bag of cat nip firmly in his mouth.

briefly October 25, 2006

grrr.

my brand new hunk of shiny metal (aka Dell laptop) is in a coma.  50 dollars later, it’s flying somewhere over Canada; on it’s lonely way to Newmarket, Ontario.

So, now I’ve got to steal brief work moments for personal compositions.  Shhh, don’t tell.

I haven’t actually got much to say.  Life events and soggy weather joined forces earlier this week to overwhelm me.  And it worked.

But suddenly, in today’s late afternoon, the sun has popped out.  Miraculous how much better I feel.

Back to work, Carolina!

c

another installment of “I Love Rupert!” October 14, 2006

I have a couple of additions for my growing list of good thing about the north coast.

1) Autumn has stepped boldly into this land, and she has brought with her morning and evening fog to formally announce her presence. Thick stuff the likes of which I’ve never seen. And to herald this mysterious substance, the mournful fog horn. It lows like a lonely cattle over the Bay throughout the night. Rather than feeling awakened by it, it just makes me snuggle a little more deeply in my flannel blankets, feeling cheered that I’m not out in those deep waters on a cold fishing boat.

2) As we prepare for the onslaught of endless rain (I have yet to be convinced that this will actually happen), quirky rubber boots are starting to appear on all kinds of feet. Some people have the plain old black boots, others wear the bright yellow fisherman’s boot. But a few of us, from a more urban persuasion, have kick-ass Wellington’s with good colours and patterns. When in Vancouver I had a plan to go to Gravity Pope – the shoe store that leaves men and women feeling covetous and poor. I was going to splurge on a hundred-dollar pair of boots because, well if I had to wear rubber boots I was going to be darn stylish in them. Never made it to Gravity Pope – and thank my lucky stars for it. Today, feeling a deplorable urge to indulge in consumer-behaviour at our disappointing mall, I found myself in the Zellers. What did I espy out of the corner of my well-trained shopper’s eye? You guessed it a single pair of size 5 Wellington’s in fabulous colour and pattern. And at 50 % off the boots cost me a measly 10 bucks. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a place that offers all of that!

3) Staying on the rain topic. Halloween is synonymous with the winter deluge. So what do you do when it’s time to take the rug rats out trick or treating? You plop them into that fabulous knee-length plastic rain coat with the matching rubber boats designed to look like: a cowboy; a police man; a princess; or a fire chief! OK, so these adorable little outfits place girls and boys into prescribed roles of masculinity and feminity. But I don’t care – for the rainiest city in Canada this is pure genius!

4) Prince Rupert may have the world’s longest running international film fest on the planet. Once a month the Arts Council brings in one of the films making the festival circuit. And, you know, it doesn’t matter one jot what the movie actually is (though the council does take a long time deliberating on the selection). You just give praise that there is something worth seeing at the local cinema. And it’s an event with a capital “E”! The theatre is packed and everyone knows everyone. This makes it a social movie with people hooting and clapping where it’s appropriate. I loved it so much last night that, though the movie was entirely forgettable, I didn’t want it to end just so I could revel in the good-time community feeling.

5) Finally, there is one coffee shop in town that is undeniably “cool”. It’s the joint where young and old can go to drink hot bevvies with the whole town. And it so darn cute and down-home that there’s an ad in today’s paper for the owner. Jud is turning 40 later this month – and he wants the whole town to celebrate with him. So you can head to Cowpuccino’s (I kid you not), get a coffee for half price and chat with him about turning 40. And you will chat with him. He prides himself on knowing everyone – even names. And he’ll let you know just how cool he is because you are cool too and he knows you. Even if he doesn’t really. But for the ladies of the town, they all wish he knew them that well because he’s cute to boot. Does that make any sense at all? Oh well, deal with it…I’m off to get a coffee.
That’s enough of a Rupert love-in for one posting. Til next time,

Rupertina xo

a bad thing October 11, 2006

One last rant on plane travel (at least for this trip).

Prince Rupert has a teeny, tiny, eensy, weensy airport.  You can buy water and coke at the vending machine…that’s it.

Given the fact that you can only fly to Vancouver from this winky little spot I had a few assumptions about security here.  Like my carry-on bag (and only peice of luggage) would not undergo the same kind of scrutiny it might in Vancouver.

So wrong!  They didn’t care one jot about my digital camera.  But they did make me take out the vial of moisturizer, soap, makeup, tell them what it was and then place it single ziplock bag that I then had to label.

Because really, I might use my stick of foundation to cause destruction en route to Vancouver.

I was far more concerned about heading back from Vancouver.  Fearful I might lose all “moisture products”.  But nobody batted an eye at my moisturizer.

The security guards did freak out though about one thing in my bag.

A beautiful jar of apple butter made by two dear friends of mine.  It was a little jar…but just over the limit of 90 millilitres.

I was faced with a choice:

a) return to the check-in, buy a box to package the jar and then pay for having luggage or;

b) leave the precious jar with a security guard in polyester.

I sighed and asked what they would do with the apple butter.  The security guard merely shrugged, turned away and started into the next passenger’s bags.

I love flying!  I hate security!

a good thing October 11, 2006

Yes, Vancouver and Victoria were sunny and friend-filled.  It was a dazzling, too-brief city run of specialty coffees, dog walks, briefly intimate conversations and loads of food.

But I’m happy to report that my heart thrilled quietly when Kaien Island came into view from my loud little plane.  The man sitting next to me pointing out different areas I still need to explore: hot spring, shrimping areas, clam beds.

A  funny story about the man next to me on the plane.  At the beginning of the 2-hour flight I had gently asked him whether he’d consider switching seats so I could set next to my friend, Jill.  He declined (business men hold tight to their aisle seats in these flying sardine cans) politely and returned to reading a government publication on treaty negotiations.

I figured he was some political guy from Victoria doing some bureacratic thing.

And then he started to talk.

As it turns out he’s the Chief of the Hartley Bay Band (you may recall his temporary fame when the band saved people aboard the Queen of the North last Spring).

My but we had a good conversation about the impact of the leaking diesel from the sunken ferry on the clam beds, global warming, the methods of Gitsxan treaty negotiation, and then, to my delight, an invitation to come and stay in Hartley Bay.

Would you believe that on that very morning I was speaking to my mother about my wishes to receive an invitation to one of these islands!

I love this place.

no, really, it’s not raining October 4, 2006

In a bid to use the computer less at home, I’ve moved it to the top of an unused “butcher’s block” in the corner of my kitchen.  That means standing in a corner to type out my thoughts.

This is my excuse for a brief word on Prince Rupert and weather.

With just two days before I fly down to the big city, I’ve been talking to a lot of people.  Colleagues at CBC Vancouver, my parents in Victoria and more.

Here’s what I’ve noticed.  Most of the conversations focus on the unstoppable precipitation I must be encountering in “rainy Rupert”.

Even my stepfather said I must be delusional when I told him it’s been sunny all week.

That said, here’s the deal.  Each person I see is allowed one brief rainy remark.  After that we talk about things of way more importance and reality.

thank you all,

Carolina