8/28 SUNDAY

Cleo (short for Cleopatra) is three years old, and one of three cats that we have. We inherited her after my mother passed away last November. Cleo was so named because when she was younger (and thinner), her face and posture looked very much like those of Egyptian cats. Back to the issue now. Cleo is a wonderful cat -- a wonderful cat with a terrible problem. There is no doubt in my mind that she is addicted to Temptations cat treats. These unassuming cat treats have to be laced with heroin or another equally addictive opiate. She can’t get enough of them. There are four of us in my household, and Cleo is a master at working us. We must constantly communicate to keep track of who’s given her what when. Sadly, Cleo is a whore for Temptations. She’ll trade affection for treats any time, anywhere; going to lengths such as jumping up on any horizontal surface that would facilitate bringing her in close proximity to a potential treat-giver. Once upon a time she used to eat those devilish treats exclusively. Only after moving here with us did she begin to subsist primarily on “regular” cat food, and secondarily on her treats. Cleo can’t be the only cat to have become hooked on these babies. I don’t want to cut her off, only to temper her addiction to them.

I was watching CNN Headline News this morning, catching up on the night’s news, and saw the update of the hurricane preparation efforts in New Orleans. After recalling my first-hand experience with hurricane Andrew when I lived there, I thought of a billboard I saw in Kenner, Louisiana in 1991. The first time I saw the billboard advertising Wagner’s Meat Market, I nearly crashed. I couldn’t find a picture of the billboard on the internet, but I did find their web site.




Yesterday our digital thermometer registered 100 degrees by 12:30. The highest temp registered on it yesterday was 104. The “official” temperature, offered by our seemingly inept meteorologists, was 101. It was hot as hell, that’s all I know.

My son and I spent the morning organizing our tackle boxes and other assorted fishing stuff for the trip to Mustang Island next weekend. After we took inventory of our stock, we headed to the local sporting goods store. We spent about an hour-and-a-half, and close to $200 on fishing stuff for next weekend. Every time I prepare for a fishing trip I almost understand why so many women are like they are with shopping. My memory is short though, so it doesn’t take long to get back to my “I don’t understand how women can get so excited about shopping” mode. So we shopped: and fantasized aloud where we’re going to fish, when we’re going to fish, about how many fish we’ll catch, and about our victorious return to the condo with sack-o-filets for me to cook later in the evening, to the accolades of all.

Yesterday was a good day all in all. I grilled burgers out back at around 7:00pm when it had cooled down to a crispy 100 degrees. I crashed watching a rerun of Saturday Night Live.

Cj