It has come to the attention of the staff here “At the Center with Freddie and Benny” that this blog, in its inception, was meant to highlight the work done at the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center and… …what, Freddie?
“Speaking of attention, Benny, did you see all of the JMU students who have stopped by! Oh, my paws, it was one big cuddle- fest! I mean to say, when one is a tuxedo cat of extraordinary lovable-ity, one has occasion to enjoy more than the occasional head scratch, but this week was something special. One wonders…”
“No. This is the problem! It’s never ‘one wonders.’ It’s Freddie who wonders. That’s all you write about. The purpose of this column is to let people know about the important work that the Center does.”
“Well, if your going to be like that- The important volunteers unlocked the front door so that many JMU students, all of whom seemed to be missing their cats at home and in need of a little feline therapy could come in and scratch my ears. Oh, what’s wrong now?”
“Well, it’s kind of more of the same. I mean Cat’s Cradle puts a lot of work into the principles and practices which are making the Shenandoah Valley a places where all cats…”
“Have JMU students! Great idea. It reminds me of the time when I was a kitten and…”
“No. Enjoy the safety of a community empowered to act on their compassion. Oh for the love of laser pointers! Could you just shut up and let me finish?”
“Well, Benny, that doesn’t sound very compassionate.”
“In a second here I can think of one area of the Valley which isn’t going to be safe either.”
“Benny!”
“Sorry. But this is important.”
“I know that! But listen, the column is called ‘At the Center with Freddie and Benny,’ not ‘At the Center with Principles and Practices.’ I mean, would you really want your picture next to that?”
“I see what you mean.”
“So we do what we do best! Be winsome. Be handsome. Charm.”
“We are good at that. But no board minutes?”
“Have you actually gotten around to reading them, Benny?”
“I meant to, Freddie.”
“I know, Benny, I know.”
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Et Tu, Benny
It’s so good to be back at 124 W. Main Street. Cat’s Cradle’s adoption center may not be a ‘forever home,’ but the undeniable comforts of a familiar kitty gym, ping pong ball and patches of sunlight lead me, Freddie, to bound from the cat carrier when I returned from the dark grasp of illness. I was all the more eager to see my dear friend…
“Na,na,nananana, Catman!”
No, not ‘Catman.’ Benny, who, despite certain rumors of disloyalty reaching my ailing ears, greeted me most enthusiastically. I hardly even noticed Ethan (who’s name means he-who-moves-in-with-your-best-friend-the-second-you-turn-around) in the background as…
CRASH!!!!!
“Benny! Why, for the love of catnip, did you just jump off our cage and onto the volunteer’s desk? And why do you have a dishtowel tied around your neck?”
“Isn’t it brilliant? Ethan thought of it! I’m Catman and he’s my ward, Kitten Grayson. It’s a publicity stunt.”
“It is not brilliant. First, nothing Ethan does is brilliant. He has the approximate IQ of a concussed canine. Second, who does publicity stunts when the adoption center is closed? And last, a publicity stunt for what?”
“Didn’t you get the e-mail?”
“I didn’t get any e-mail! Maybe Ethan stole it. He steals lots of things.”
“So, you don’t know??”
“Yes. I mean, no. Know what?”
“We’re moving!”
“What??? First, my best friend takes up with some strange kitten. Then they find forever homes together. No one even tells me. Treachery! To think I…”
“Freddie, no, no, no! you know I wouldn’t leave without you! We have a pact! I wouldn’t break it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
"Then what's all this about moving?”
“It’s the column that’s moving! At the Center with Freddie & Benny will now come out on Tuesdays. Ethan just wants to do some publicity for it because he’s a HUGE fan of your work.”
“He is?”
“Yup.”
“I always said he was a bright one. Come here, kid, let Uncle Freddie help you with that cape. “
“Na,na,nananana, Catman!”
No, not ‘Catman.’ Benny, who, despite certain rumors of disloyalty reaching my ailing ears, greeted me most enthusiastically. I hardly even noticed Ethan (who’s name means he-who-moves-in-with-your-best-friend-the-second-you-turn-around) in the background as…
CRASH!!!!!
“Benny! Why, for the love of catnip, did you just jump off our cage and onto the volunteer’s desk? And why do you have a dishtowel tied around your neck?”
“Isn’t it brilliant? Ethan thought of it! I’m Catman and he’s my ward, Kitten Grayson. It’s a publicity stunt.”
“It is not brilliant. First, nothing Ethan does is brilliant. He has the approximate IQ of a concussed canine. Second, who does publicity stunts when the adoption center is closed? And last, a publicity stunt for what?”
“Didn’t you get the e-mail?”
“I didn’t get any e-mail! Maybe Ethan stole it. He steals lots of things.”
“So, you don’t know??”
“Yes. I mean, no. Know what?”
“We’re moving!”
“What??? First, my best friend takes up with some strange kitten. Then they find forever homes together. No one even tells me. Treachery! To think I…”
“Freddie, no, no, no! you know I wouldn’t leave without you! We have a pact! I wouldn’t break it.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
"Then what's all this about moving?”
“It’s the column that’s moving! At the Center with Freddie & Benny will now come out on Tuesdays. Ethan just wants to do some publicity for it because he’s a HUGE fan of your work.”
“He is?”
“Yup.”
“I always said he was a bright one. Come here, kid, let Uncle Freddie help you with that cape. “
Friday, September 18, 2009
Going to the Dogs
Hello Gentle Human,
Benny here. Normally Freddie, my colleague, roommate and confidant, issues these Friday columns but he is unavailable. He developed a touch of ague earlier in the week. When we fall ill, one of Cat’s Cradle’s foster families takes us for a few days, soothes our fevered brows, scratches that place between our eyes, and keeps our roommates from becoming ill (which is greatly appreciated, let me tell you).
Actually, I was the one who noticed Freddie wasn’t feeling up to scratch. He was lying in the tube at the bottom of the kitty gym looking abstracted and slightly more miserable than one’s average Tuesday warrants. I crawled in with him and nuzzled his head.
“Hey, Freddie, you okay?”
“That depends. Is my head actually incased in cement?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Well it feels like it. My head feels so stuffy I can’t think.”
“Can’t think, hmmm” I began to make some mental notes. “What else? Excessive drooling?”
He nodded. “Little bit.”
“Feel like you smell wrong?”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
“No, no, no! Just asking. Trying for a diagnosis, you know. No judgment. Honest.”
“Well,” he closed his eyes, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have this sort of… well…”
“Heavy, dank overpowering odor?”
“Yes! Benny, what do you think is wrong with me??”
I thought for a moment, hoping not to have to confirm the worst. “…inability to think, excessive drooling… repugnant odor.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Regrettable odor?”
“Better.”
“Well, there’s no softening the truth. Freddie, you’re becoming a dog.”
“WHAT???”
I nodded. “I know. We always assumed we would grow from kittens to cats, but perhaps it is not always so. I mean, dogs do have to come from somewhere…”
“Puppies, Benny, puppies.”
“Oh. Right. Um, Freddy? You want me to get our humans? One of them is a retired doctor. That’s not quite as good as a vet, but she might know something.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
“And Freddie? I’m so glad you aren’t becoming a dog.”
“Me too, Benny. Me too.”
Benny here. Normally Freddie, my colleague, roommate and confidant, issues these Friday columns but he is unavailable. He developed a touch of ague earlier in the week. When we fall ill, one of Cat’s Cradle’s foster families takes us for a few days, soothes our fevered brows, scratches that place between our eyes, and keeps our roommates from becoming ill (which is greatly appreciated, let me tell you).
Actually, I was the one who noticed Freddie wasn’t feeling up to scratch. He was lying in the tube at the bottom of the kitty gym looking abstracted and slightly more miserable than one’s average Tuesday warrants. I crawled in with him and nuzzled his head.
“Hey, Freddie, you okay?”
“That depends. Is my head actually incased in cement?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“Well it feels like it. My head feels so stuffy I can’t think.”
“Can’t think, hmmm” I began to make some mental notes. “What else? Excessive drooling?”
He nodded. “Little bit.”
“Feel like you smell wrong?”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
“No, no, no! Just asking. Trying for a diagnosis, you know. No judgment. Honest.”
“Well,” he closed his eyes, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have this sort of… well…”
“Heavy, dank overpowering odor?”
“Yes! Benny, what do you think is wrong with me??”
I thought for a moment, hoping not to have to confirm the worst. “…inability to think, excessive drooling… repugnant odor.”
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“Regrettable odor?”
“Better.”
“Well, there’s no softening the truth. Freddie, you’re becoming a dog.”
“WHAT???”
I nodded. “I know. We always assumed we would grow from kittens to cats, but perhaps it is not always so. I mean, dogs do have to come from somewhere…”
“Puppies, Benny, puppies.”
“Oh. Right. Um, Freddy? You want me to get our humans? One of them is a retired doctor. That’s not quite as good as a vet, but she might know something.”
“Thanks, Benny.”
“And Freddie? I’m so glad you aren’t becoming a dog.”
“Me too, Benny. Me too.”
Friday, September 11, 2009
Walkin' on Sunshine
It was a gray day here at 124 S. Main; the kind of day which sits heavily upon the feline soul. Even the youngest kitten could not muster the will to bat the ping-pong ball around its track on the toy middle of the adoption center’s floor. Your intrepid author felt that while art is eternal and life brief, he might be better served by a nap. Yet a cat of courage knows that all who…
WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT
“No, Benny, we don’t.”
“but…”
“We go back up to the top of the kitty gym and let me finish in peace.”
“No. You have to hear this”
“I have to finish writing my melancholy yet worldly-wise…”
“Listen,”
"Do you know why Einstein was able to discover the Theory of Relativity? Why Tennessee Williams was able to write Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? It’s because their roommates went to the top of the kitty gym and left them alone.”
“But, Freddy, it’s about you!”
“Well, if it’s important…”
WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Freddie has a sponsor! Steve & Christine Cornwell from Kentucky couldn’t bring Freddie home with them so they decided to pay his bill!
“Really?”
“Really.”
Writing to our director, they said, “We have Freddie's picture framed above our computer, at our home desk.”
It was a glorious day at 124 S. Main! Not even the grey skies could dampen the spirits of the Cat’s Cradle Cats. Everyone, from senior to kitten purred with contentment. It was the kind of day which stirs the feline soul with gratitude.
WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT
“No, Benny, we don’t.”
“but…”
“We go back up to the top of the kitty gym and let me finish in peace.”
“No. You have to hear this”
“I have to finish writing my melancholy yet worldly-wise…”
“Listen,”
"Do you know why Einstein was able to discover the Theory of Relativity? Why Tennessee Williams was able to write Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? It’s because their roommates went to the top of the kitty gym and left them alone.”
“But, Freddy, it’s about you!”
“Well, if it’s important…”
WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Freddie has a sponsor! Steve & Christine Cornwell from Kentucky couldn’t bring Freddie home with them so they decided to pay his bill!
“Really?”
“Really.”
Writing to our director, they said, “We have Freddie's picture framed above our computer, at our home desk.”
It was a glorious day at 124 S. Main! Not even the grey skies could dampen the spirits of the Cat’s Cradle Cats. Everyone, from senior to kitten purred with contentment. It was the kind of day which stirs the feline soul with gratitude.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Definitely NOT a Dead Mouse”
Benny likes to sleep late. Not that I’m complaining. As delightful as it is to live with Benny, I, Freddie, like a little quiet in the morning. When the first light comes through that high bank of windows at 124 S. Main, I stretch, wash and have a little breakfast before my roommate has even opened his eyes.
But this morning, right after a bit of grooming I went to the water bowl. It was entirely blocked by Benny’s head. He was staring at his reflection in our dish. Without moving so that anyone could get so much as a sip of water, he began to talk.
“Do you like my face better from the front or the side?”
“I like your face over by the litter pan so I can have a drink.”
“Come on, this is serious.”
“So is dehydration. Now scoot.”
“Just answer my question.”
I foresaw a day of thirst if I didn’t capitulate. “You, Benny, have a majestic profile.”
“Seriously? Thanks!”
“Eh hem..”
“Oh. Sorry.” he moved. “It’s just that it’s picture day.”
“And?”
It is often picture day. When one lives in the public eye as Benny and I do here in the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center, the woods (as it were) are thick with photographers. I am particularly fond of one taken by downtown photographer Deb. It happens to be of me, but no matter.
Benny wasn’t the least put off. “And? And I need a picture to send to Kaitlyn!”
“Ah. It’s all clear now.” It was. Kaitlyn was the lovely young lady who had come in the day before. She and Benny had become so taken with each other that I feared my roommate would be leaving in her coat pocket. Fortunately, it’s hot outside, so she didn’t have a coat pocket. She could not take him home, but so wonderfully did they understand each other that she left Cat’s Cradle a generous donation so that the two of us could maintain the high style to which we are accustomed.
Benny was agitated by a thought. “Or does that look too arrogant? I mean, I could send her something else. But I don’t know what she reads. Or if she’s allergic to flowers. I need to send something anyone would want.” He paced a bit, stopped and began to purr. “I know! I’ll send her a dead mouse!”
Tact was called for. “I think,” I said, grooming his ears for him, “a picture of you would be perfect. In any case, since she is a young friend of the two-legged variety, definitely NOT a dead mouse.”
Benny likes to sleep late. Not that I’m complaining. As delightful as it is to live with Benny, I, Freddie, like a little quiet in the morning. When the first light comes through that high bank of windows at 124 S. Main, I stretch, wash and have a little breakfast before my roommate has even opened his eyes.
But this morning, right after a bit of grooming I went to the water bowl. It was entirely blocked by Benny’s head. He was staring at his reflection in our dish. Without moving so that anyone could get so much as a sip of water, he began to talk.
“Do you like my face better from the front or the side?”
“I like your face over by the litter pan so I can have a drink.”
“Come on, this is serious.”
“So is dehydration. Now scoot.”
“Just answer my question.”
I foresaw a day of thirst if I didn’t capitulate. “You, Benny, have a majestic profile.”
“Seriously? Thanks!”
“Eh hem..”
“Oh. Sorry.” he moved. “It’s just that it’s picture day.”
“And?”
It is often picture day. When one lives in the public eye as Benny and I do here in the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center, the woods (as it were) are thick with photographers. I am particularly fond of one taken by downtown photographer Deb. It happens to be of me, but no matter.
Benny wasn’t the least put off. “And? And I need a picture to send to Kaitlyn!”
“Ah. It’s all clear now.” It was. Kaitlyn was the lovely young lady who had come in the day before. She and Benny had become so taken with each other that I feared my roommate would be leaving in her coat pocket. Fortunately, it’s hot outside, so she didn’t have a coat pocket. She could not take him home, but so wonderfully did they understand each other that she left Cat’s Cradle a generous donation so that the two of us could maintain the high style to which we are accustomed.
Benny was agitated by a thought. “Or does that look too arrogant? I mean, I could send her something else. But I don’t know what she reads. Or if she’s allergic to flowers. I need to send something anyone would want.” He paced a bit, stopped and began to purr. “I know! I’ll send her a dead mouse!”
Tact was called for. “I think,” I said, grooming his ears for him, “a picture of you would be perfect. In any case, since she is a young friend of the two-legged variety, definitely NOT a dead mouse.”
Friday, September 4, 2009
Allow us to introduce ourselves…
As two impeccably groomed young gentlemen in tuxedos moved into the rear penthouse at 124 S. Main St. (Editor’s note: the cat cage next to the volunteers’ desk in the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center ), Harrisonburg wonders, who are these cats? And who is their tailor? Where did they come from? Are two such…
“Why do you always end up sitting on my head?”
“Shh, Benny! That is not what all of Harrisonburg is wondering. No one is wondering about you being sat on, primarily because no one cares.”
“Um, all of Harrisonburg would be wondering if, every time they closed their eyes for a cat nap, they woke when the business end of Freddy caught them right between the eyes.”
“And yet no one is asking because nobody wakes up to that every time they nap. Even you. Stop complaining.”
“I mean, I don’t sit on you.”
“Do you mind? Trying for a tone here.”
“Okay. Okay, just admit you sit on me, say sorry and I’ll be quiet.”
“I’m sorry I sat on you. Now… …may I?”
“By all means.”
Are two such dashing young dandies available? Receiving callers? What is Freddy’s secret ambition?
“I don’t know anything about a secret ambition. What do you mean, secret ambition?”
“Secret! Defined as: Not told to Benny. That kind of a secret.”
“Oh. Okay. Go on.”
All these questions and more will be answered (hopefully without interruption)…
“You mean me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
..in the new Cat’s Cradle blog: At the Center with Freddy & Benny.
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