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Praetorium Honoris

Thursday, October 3, 2024

How the Week Goes ...

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I cannot begin to describe the dislike I have for being on my own with The Missus Herself out in California. I like having somebody around to talk with, or not talk with, as the mood strikes either of us. With no more felines on station, I don't even have that going for me.

I know, I know, I could get another cat or two, were it something not absolutely banned by my better half. Her reasoning is sound, it's tough to lose them and she'd rather spare herself having to go through that again. Together we've weathered the loss of four of our feline companions. While the first was particularly rough, as Tiger was so young, it did not get easier.

At my age I view it as similar to what would I do if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to The Missus Herself? I would not remarry, nothing could replace her. Absolutely nothing.

We had our last cat, Anya, for nearly twenty years. We got to know each other's idiosyncrasies, moods, likes and dislikes, and all manner of things. Some have mentioned adopting a senior cat, a feline who perhaps lost his/her humans and is stuck at the shelter. As much as the idea appeals to me, The Missus Herself has said, in no uncertain terms, "No more."

So yeah, it gets lonely at Chez Sarge, especially as the days grow short and the temperature begins to venture into those numbers which are somewhat uncomfortable. While it ain't cold yet, the late nights and early mornings are a bit brisk. I'm not ready for that, not quite yet.

But, she returns next week and all (hopefully) will be well.


I have grandchildren, eight in fact. They range in age from twenty-two months old to sixteen years old. Three boys, five girls, and yes, the granddaughters have me wrapped around their little fingers, they know grandpa is a sucker for a cute smile.

I get to talk with my grandson Roberto a lot. His Mom, The Nuke, likes to stay in touch and her boys like seeing and talking to their grandparents. Grandson Finnegan, the youngest of the grandsons (in fact the youngest of them all), is just starting to talk. So while he will chatter away, he's not really communicating yet. That is, when Grandpa tries to employ his subtle wit, Finnegan will just stare at me.

Hhmm, come to think of it, I get that from a lot of people, not just Finnegan.

Anyhoo, Roberto loves to roughhouse. If I'm not paying attention, he will try a flying body block on me, knocking me ass over teakettle if I'm not prepared for it. Of course, he finds that hysterical. As do I, as long as the fall wasn't too painful. (I am getting up there ya know.)

Now thing is, Roberto has two sets of grandparents, Tuttle's dad apparently is not a big fan of being tackled, abused, or beaten on by his four year old grandson. Something I "enjoy," to a certain extent. So guess who has to make up for that when he visits?

Yup, Your Humble Scribe. Not that I mind, much. But visits to Maryland are starting to remind me of my very brief involvement in college football ...

I went out for the team as a walk-on, practices were rather fun until we had tackling drill. I was a rather smallish linebacker. More of a speed bump really.

The running back was a rather big fellow, bit bigger than me as a matter of fact. When the coach blew his whistle, the big fella started running at me. My brain registered the size disparity and I realized that my chances of bringing him down with a standard tackle were rather akin to trying to stop a rhinoceros with a .22 short round.

But if you hit them in just the right place ...

I kinda threw myself at his feet, figured I'd get tangled up in his wheels, so to speak, and at least make him stumble.

Well, I managed to hit the rhino just right, he went down in a heap. He popped up and said, "Nice tackle!"

I sort of groaned, nodded, and hobbled off to the locker room to turn in my equipment.

Visits to Roberto's house can be kinda like that, leaving me bruised and battered. Fortunately, his parents will get him to stop beating me up from time to time. Allows me to recover a bit before heading back into the lists.

But man, do I love wrestling with my grandsons. Now that there are two of 'em down in Maryland, I think I need to start getting sneakier! Soon they will be able to coordinate their attacks (or be-tacks as Roberto calls them) and I won't stand a chance.

But it's better'n being alone, innit?




28 comments:

  1. I feel for your loss(es) Sir.

    My own Dante passed away recently at almost twenty years and 5 months.
    I know dog lovers can be crazy about their animals but cat lovers can take it to a nearly pathological level...

    They can never be replaced no matter how many good reasons there might be, like adopting another one in need.

    They really take a piece of us when they're gone, don't they?
    Amazing little creatures, and freakishly sentient too.

    Enjoy your grandchildren, they grow up fast!

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    Replies
    1. Great name, Dante, my condolences. They take a huge piece of you when they go.

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    2. Aye, losing our four-legged family was so hard; the pack was cut in half last year, with only the bipeds remaining. Bride said " I hate coming home to an empty house"; and so had just started looking for breeders when my Dad died. We had offered to take their dog and were pleased when the offer was accepted. He's 8 and a great dog who was obviously bereft at losing both of his people within two months. We're all working at assimilating. We've known this dog since my folks got him five years ago, so the transition has been somewhat less abrupt; but transition it is.
      Obviously this was 'sposed to be, so keep your heart open, Sarge.

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    3. Roger that!

      (If it happens, well then, it happens.)

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  2. "as long as the fall wasn't too painful. IT'S THE getting up ya know.)"

    Fixed your typo. :-) No grandkids, but it's amazing how much further it is to UP after a fall now than 20 years ago.

    Pets - it's amazing how big a chunk of your heart they tear out when they pass, or we have to have them put to sleep. "“A dog is better than I am, for he has love and does not judge.” Abba Xanthias

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  3. Keep that muscle ointment around Sarge, a four year old can stay very determined. Yah....short days, sunrise 0714 and sunset 1848 today.....:(

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  4. Sarge, I sympathize. I am about midway through a two month stretch without The Ravishing Mrs. B in town. To my mind, I think this has just about been our longest period of being apart in 31 years of marriage. I do still have Joy the Rabbit, which helps at least give me someone to chat at (although she is far more standoffish than a cat).

    There are moments even now when I wonder what I missed by not being in a team sport like football. Then I look at friends that did it in high school and the fact I still have reasonable use of my back, shoulders, and knees, and think I made a solid choice.

    Mayhap one thing that retirement will bring is more time to visit.

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    Replies
    1. It's the "more time to visit" thing I am most looking forward to.

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  5. A four year old beating you up? Sound like an unfair fight- with you on the losing end. I get you on not wanting any new feline companionship. When our Corgis pass, we will pass on getting replacements. However, when my M.I.L passes, we will likely take in her Corgi Gracie (a half sister to ours) and we're fine with that. While we didn't encourage her in her later years to get another pet, we saw how much life it brings her. She has someone to talk to, a companion she needs since she's a widow, and exercise that's good for both of them. Not necessarily the same case for you, but something to think about.

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    Replies
    1. Before my Dad passed they had just lost their last cat. Dad said "no more." When he died, my brothers got my Mom two new cats, brother and sister, she adored them. Only one is left but my Mom dotes on that feline.

      If I ever wind up alone, bet your ass I'm getting another cat.

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    2. Sarge, in the interim, suggest a turtle (not real exciting) or a parrot (better yet) a pet (both are likely to outlast you). The Missus could teach it to berate you as a proxy in her absence.

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    3. I'm a cat man, nothing else will do.

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    4. Gandalf says Hi!, to all cat guys!

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  6. Perhaps you need to introduce your grandsons to the wonders of Nerf Warfare. Less painful than full-contact sports, well, as long as there are some rules.

    Nice thing about retirement is that maybe you can travel with The Missus so you won't be missing her.

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    Replies
    1. Nerf Warfare, hhmm, I like that.

      That is another thing about retirement, if I was, I would be in California right now.

      Sigh ...

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    2. The World of Nerf has everything from pistols to full-up battery-powered gatling guns (kind of like the one used in "Predator" but firing Nerf.)

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    3. This opens up a whole new world.

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    4. The Nerfular Proliferation is awesome- Crossbows, Machine Guns with 30 round mags- so much fun to be had.

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    5. Sounds like I need to go shopping!

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  7. Another miserable week at the Badger's Burrow. SassyCat crossed the Rainbow Bridge to keep her sister Peanut company.
    SassyCat and Peanut were very small for four month old kittens, but Gandalf, their brother is twice the size of either of his late sisters.

    I have been told that because of their small size, they may have had bad hearts, and it may have just been their times. But it still hurts intensely.
    I have in my herd, a tuxedo cat named Elsa, whose sister is a calico named Anya. Now that I have experience with an Anya, I understand your affection for a cat by that name.

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Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)
Can't be nice, go somewhere else...

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