It'll stop... eventually

I realized on Monday that this is the first time in 18 years that we haven't had a pet in our home. It is also the first time in over 30 years that I haven't had some kind of pet.

We adopted Sam in 1993, the same year we got married. We picked her, and her "brother" Quincy, at the Ottawa Humane Society. I'll be honest and say that she wasn't my first pick. I had seen a solid grey kitten but it turned out that she had ear mites. They said they would give us the drops for them, but because we were getting two kittens, we'd have to buy more to treat the other cat at the same time as a preventative measure. I continued my search and noticed a black and white kitten. She stuck out a little more because she was a little larger than the other kittens. In the end, she was smaller than most cats and I couldn't have chosen a better cat. Or maybe she chose me; that's how it works with cats, isn't it?

We picked the names for Samantha and Quincy while we sat in the car at the Blair Animal Hospital, when we took them for their first visit to get a checkup. I don't remember why I chose "Samantha". Perhaps because it could be shortened.

I had other cats when I was growing up and none lived as long as Sam. We had a famiy dog, Peanut, who also lived to around 18 years old.

I took a break from surfing the web on Monday night and got up to get a cup of water. Without even thinking, I glanced over to where she would normally be lying on the floor, waiting for that familiar little "Mrrr?" as she would get up to follow me. Her floor space was empty.

"Oh yeh... right."

In the kitchen, as I finished filling my cup, I looked down at my feet so I wouldn't step on her if she was sitting behind me, waiting to ask for food.

I then instinctively looked to where her bowls used to sit, to see if she still had food, and they weren't there.

I heard noises, again, later as I was sitting at my computer. Not imaginary noises. I'm sure it's just the house settling, but the first thing I assumed was that it was Sam hopping off the couch or the automan, or playing with a toy... and then I remembered. It gave me goose bumps.

The other evenings this week were more of the same.

I keep replaying Sunday's events in my head. It's like a bad dream. She has a problem with her foot. They'll fix it. We'll pay a big vet bill. We'll all go home. That's how it was supposed play out.

We had canned food and an unopened bag of dry food that we bought from PetSmart a week or two ago. Sandra called them on Monday and they let us return it. I went to the Humane Society web site on Tuesday morning and made a donation.

For such a tiny furball, she sure left a big hole in our home.

7/52 — Week 9

I have plenty of photos for this week, and didn't have much difficulty in choosing which ones to post. Oddly enough, it turns out that all of those I chose were shot today.

First up, is my son hugging our cat. Our cat is 17 years old. My son is 15. It's only been in the last two or three years that she let anyone, aside from my wife and I, go near her. She used to be extremely timid and cautions of our kids. I'm pretty sure she lost her hearing in the last two or three years, which seems to have contributed to her calming down. Sounds weird, but I can't explain it any other way. She'll even sit in his lap as he uses the computer. They're best friends now.

Sam watching the bird feeder and "chattering" at the birds.

Today I took a trip out to Rideau Falls, with the hope that I'd be able to shoot massive chunks of ice piled up at the bottom of the falls. They did the ice blasting last weekend. It was not to be. Maybe I'm still too early?  It was damn cold with the wind coming off the river though.

A closeup of the cool ice formations at Rideau Falls.

I saw a couple of workers on the bridge just before leaving Rideau Falls. I think what they were doing was thawing the sluice gate with hot, pressurized water.

There's a somewhat humourous story to these next two. As I drove to Rideau Falls, I passed a cool, snow covered tree that I thought would make a great photo. I decided I would stop on the way back and shoot it. So I did. Kinda.

In the winter, there's only one parking lot open along the Rockliffe Parkway and I knew it would probably be a fair walk to get to the tree. I parked and walked. And walked. And walked. In foot-deep snow. I kept thinking it had to be "soon". I couldn't find the damn tree. Either that or it looked much different than what I saw when I first passed it. After about 30 minutes of wishing I had brought my snow shoes, I knew I had to be mistaken about what it looked like. On the way back, so my walk wasn't all for nothing, I shot some of the trees. This isn't what I saw, but it's still cool nonetheless.

Looking back to where I went...

At least I got some decent exercise. I also realized that it didn't tire me out as much as it used to, when I smoked and was more out of shape.

Name change? WTF?

Yep, I changed the name of my blog. And I added a fancy new graphic that took all of two or three minutes to throw together (subject to change). It took longer trying to figure out what code in the blog template forced it to be centered. *sigh*

So now the name matches the domain name.

I recently started digging into my family ancestry and figured that naming it with my own name might make it easier to find, should I ever decided to break off with some family tree stuff here as well.

Incidentally, you can also get here using www.scottpaterson.org. I thought that scottpaterson.org would also work, but apparently it doesn’t. I must have messed it up.

Who stole my little boy? And who is this man in my house?

Everyone says “Kids… oh my god, they grow so fast!”

It wasn’t until around Christmas that I realized how much of an understatement that is. They don’t just grow fast – they grow incredibly fast.

Since last summer, my 14 year-old son (soon to be 15) has changed from a whiny little kid, who could bring tears to his eyes simply by telling him he was losing computer privileges, to a deep voiced (and getting deeper), hairy-legged, long-haired monster with a Sidney Crosby moustache (circa 2009) who could probably come pretty close to taking me down in a wrestling match.

Where the hell did my little boy go?

Where did the time go?

I am still shocked every day that I see him, or when he opens his mouth.

I can’t help but feel that I have I have somehow missed a year or two of his life during this transition. Seriously. I got ripped off.

Let this be a warning to parents who have children around the same age. If they still look like kids to you, enjoy every moment you can… because one day you’re going to blink and miss it.

Things that I remember about my Dad

I remember once when we were visiting friends of our family, we were in the backyard playing badminton... it was hot and I asked him for a sip of his beer. I must have been like 11 or 12 years old. He let me have a sip and I remember not liking it.

One morning, when I was really young, my Mother woke us up and warned us that my Father had been in a fight the night before. He got punched in the face by some thieves breaking into a car in downtown Montreal. He thought they locked themselves out of their car and checked to see if they needed help. Not his brightest moment. He was greeted with a punch to the face, breaking his dentures and causing a deep cut above one of his eyes that required stitches. For weeks, while he waited for new dentures, he had to eat soft food. He got the soft toast in the morning. He called it his "wallopy bit".

His favourite beer was Molson Export.

He had THE smelliest feet ever. After a day of work, his feet could stop a herd of bull elephants in their tracks. And kill them.

He had a mole, dead center, on his back. It looked like a Jelly Tot stuck to his back.

I remember the first time my Dad said "Fuck". We were driving in our car and some kid threw a snowball at it. It startled him and he said something like "What the fuck was that?". It was eerily quiet in the car after that, when he realized what he said. The second time I heard him say it was when I visited him at work one day. Someone came into his office to ask about some changes on a set of plans, or something like that, and he mumbled "They don't know what the fuck they're talking about..."

My Dad was my best man at my wedding. On the morning of my wedding, I was sitting in the Minister's office talking to the Minister while we waited for my Dad to arrive. He was late. Apparently, in all of the confusion of who was driving who, and when, my Dad was forgotten. When he finally arrived, he rushed into the Minister's office, wiping the sweat from his brow, and said "Jesus, it's hot out there!" He then noticed the Minister, remembered where he was, and said “Oops… sorry!”. The Minister responded, "That's ok, we say that a lot around here."

He would always wear his kilt on New Year's Eve. I have a picture somewhere of him wearing it to walk our dog, one New Year's Eve.

I remember cutting off all contact with him after he left my Mother and all of their debts. As a result, he never got to meet either of my children. He lived in Louisiana, so it wasn't too difficult. Still, it’s not something I’m proud of.

I remember calling him when he was in the hospital, in the days before he passed away, and letting him speak with his 3½ year-old grandson for the first time. It was also the last time. I heard later that he was so happy.

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My Dad passed away after a very short battle with liver cancer and all the hell that goes in December 1998. If you have a few bucks to spare, please make a donation in support of my participation in the Canadian Cancer Society’s Relay for Life scheduled for June 18th. Any amount is greatly appreciated, thanks!

Click here!

Week 17 - Our Lights

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Our Lights (17/52)
Originally uploaded by Twister65
A pretty sad photo of our Christmas lights this year taken with my cell phone.

This is actually the first year that we put lights up. It started off with two strings along the eaves-trough and around the window. That ended up looking rather pathetic. So we picked up two more strings of lights and I ran them down the drain pike, and along the bottom edge for the house.

I plan to take a better photo and put it up soon.