Something happened recently that I have never before seen in my nearly 30 years in journalism: Our cat got a letter.
It was stamped and sent to Finn Corcoran care of our work address at 84 Dover St., Unit 2, Chatham.
I can only guess that the mail carrier reads the paper, as it didn’t say “The Chatham Voice” on the letter anywhere, was written in pencil, and had a drawing of a cat on it.
The letter as signed by “Dotty,” another cat. It reads:
“Dear Finn, I made a very nice mousie for you to play with.
“Did your mommy name you after a fish or Huckleberry?
“You better stop being bad or you may have to go to the glue factory.
“I used to be an orphan, but not any more.
“Sometimes I bite. That’s bad.
“I don’t like tomcats very well. They don’t smell very good.
“Yer friend, Dotty.”
And the letter did indeed contain a catnip-filled homemade mouse!
This had everyone in the office laughing last week. It’s classic!
For someone to take the time to pen the letter, let alone make a cat toy for Finn, I must say, we were floored by the effort.
I must thank “Dotty” and her owner for the kind effort. Again, I’ve never seen such a thing in all my years writing.
Our cat took one sniff of the mouse, snatched it up and went into his play tunnel to play with it – and rub it all over himself. He loved it!
Finn, by the way, got his name because it’s Irish, and rather unique. But he still doesn’t answer to it like a dog would. But our daughter Brenna thinks it is because he is confused. She calls him Finn, while Mary calls him “Cat!” and I, while using “Finn” and “Cat” still often call him “Satan.”
He was in full “Satan” mode Sunday night, after our daughter returned from a weekend with her aunt and uncle and nephew near Goderrich. Finn likes to burn the midnight oil, but he was actually panting at times as he was so wired. We double-checked on his water, but I think he was just over-stimulated. Efforts to calm the maniac down failed until he went after our front blinds. He received a top-of-the-lungs shout from me. And of course I didn’t use his name. “Cat!” was followed by several expletives.
He stopped what he was doing and slinked away. I caught him, held him up for a face-to-face chat, saw that he had finally started to calm down, and let him go. It’s as if he needs some form of intervention to shut off his turbocharger.
The ladies went off to the bedroom to continue chatting, while I closed my eyes in the recliner. Next thing I know, Finn quietly hops up and lies across my chest, purring, and we both fall asleep.
He’s soon due to be neutered. I can only hope that trims away some of his upper-end insanity.
There are days I can play with him for 30 minutes in the evening and he’s ready to call it a night, and others, like Sunday, when his motor just keeps running, even after more than an hour of chasing stuff around.
It’s the little things that count
As most readers know, I enjoy the little things in life, and appreciate even nice gestures, big and small.
So, on a recent hot Thursday, while cruising through South Kent dropping off copies of The Chatham Voice and visiting various clients, I stopped in Merlin at the Erie Cafe & Variety, where I drop papers each week for folks to enjoy. As per usual, I walked to the back fridge to grab a cool beverage to stay hydrated for the rest of the trip back to Chatham.
But as I pulled out my wallet to pay, the kind, smiling owner looked at me and said she’d buy me the pop, as I was a busy delivery guy.
I left with a smile on my face, and a cold drink in my hand.
It’s the little things and gestures in life that one can and should really appreciate.
The gesture left me in a great mood for the rest of the day.
Back to the barbecue
OK, I admit it, I haven’t been barbecuing enough. And I haven’t been talking about the Big Green Egg and the yummy stuff that comes off it enough.
I fired it up Sunday and got the multi-faceted reminder of why we use it and lump charcoal rather than a gas barbecue.
Don’t get me wrong. There is nothing wrong about cooking with gas. I used to do it for many years, and if I come across a small propane powered unit at the right price, I’d probably get one again for the quick burger and hot dog cooks, or to keep things warm in while food cooks on the Egg.
But on Sunday, it was steak time. We purchased a couple of wonderful strip loins from Schinkels’ Gourmet Meats on Friday. Mary seasoned them with Coffee Rub, also from Schinkels’.
So, with a light breeze blowing, I lit the Egg and let it warm up. Classic rock – Eric Burdon, Loggins & Messina, The Rolling Stones, etc. – played as I had a beer and chilled. Great atmosphere just relaxing as the barbecue heated up. I didn’t even try to speed the process, as if I want, I can generally get the Egg to heat up in about 10 minutes.
Instead, I drank my tall can of Moretti and enjoyed the time out back. On went the thick steaks at about five or six minutes a side at about 400 F.
Off came two perfect medium rare steaks that were amazingly tender and full of flavour.
We enjoyed them with some potato salad (it is summer, after all) and some shrimp done in garlic and butter (in a frying pan, not on the Egg, although we often do them on the Egg.
The only thing missing was a salad. Next time.
As for anticipated Egg cookings this week: chicken breasts and ballpark franks. Maybe we’ll sneak in some salmon too.
