Oxford Union Rule #50

RULE 46: DOGS

Any Member introducing or causing to be introduced a dog into the Society’s premises

shall be liable to a fine of £5 inflicted by the Treasurer.

Any animal leading a blind person shall be deemed to be a cat.

Any animal entering on Police business shall be deemed to be a wombat.

–The Oxford Union Rules, from The Oxford Union’s Official Website

I don’t get my cat quotes from just one source, but have been exploring a multitude of sites to obtain them. This morning I ran across this quote, without the wombat line, on several different sites. I like to attribute quotes whenever possible, and to verify quotes if they seem a little off. I was sure this quote wasn’t quite on the up-and-up, so I checked. To my gratification, The Oxford Union provides a complete set of their rules on their website. And it was a good thing I checked too. Rule #46 had nothing to do with seeing eye dogs. It was Rule #50 I wanted.

We inhabit a very strange universe, and it’s mostly our own fault.

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Last night was uneventful, filled with plans and intentions that pretty much all died before hatching. The Professor, however, seems to be the exact opposite of my slug-a-bug self right now, and did an incredibly thorough cleaning of the kitchen floor and counters while I was at work yesterday. The stove top didn’t look as good on the day I moved in as it looks now. He’d done a purge of the vegetable bin just the day before, which I believe resulted in the extirpation of completely new life forms never recorded in the annals of zoology. A pity, that … I might have been able to make a Ph.D. project out of it. Though from the described smell, Piled Higher and Deeper was probably not a good idea for that primordial goo.

I did make a quick run to the grocery store last night to pick up some diet Pepsi (Pepsi RULES) and found Clueless Wonder II wandering the hallways of our apartment building on my way out. CWII is Migraine Man’s cat, who coincidentally has the same name as my cat. CWII looks nothing like the original CW though, but is instead a grey tabby, small, lithe and very athletic.

We aren’t permitted to let our animals roam the apartment complex on their own, but that has never stopped Migraine Man. CWII has learned how to open the closed door of Migraine Man’s second floor balcony, and then jump from there to the railing of the stairway leading to our building’s door, thereby gaining his freedom. Mr. Migraine says there’s no way to stop him from doing it, which I interpret as sheer laziness. CWII has no collar with identifying tags, so if he ever gets into any trouble, the poor cat is on his own. I spoke to Mr. Migraine about it, and having gotten no response, gave it up as a lost cause.

Last weekend CWII disappeared for four days. Mr. Migraine was searching for him all over, though hardly frantic about it. He did say that he was going to get a collar and tags for CWII when he returned. Well, CWII did return, but I noted last night there was still no collar on the poor thing. I’ve half a mind to buy a nice safety collar for CWII myself, as a parting gift to the building. That would be tantemont to my saying it was OK for Migraine Man to let his cat run free, though, and that is a statement I do not wish to make!

Migraine Man was perhaps the first denizen of the complex I’m living in who I met. He moved in a month or so after I did, and had no reservations about stepping right up and introducing himself. He then had no reservations about finding absolutely everything out about me that he could. Name, rank and serial number were definitely insufficient for his needs. One of the first things he checked out with me was marital status, but he also wanted to know where I worked and what I did for a living, how old I was, did I have any kids, where was I born, where did I go to school. The questions continued as my tenure in the building continued. Who was the Professor? Who were those two girls going in and out of my apartment while we were on vacation? I’ve been invited to his church, and invited to his apartment for coffee and donuts (both politely declined).

It is often difficult to get into the apartment building because Migraine Man lurks outside the front door and initiates conversations that can become difficult to extract oneself from. Indeed, that is how I first met him. After the question and answer period, I was treated to a rendition of the story of his visit to the local emergency room the night before. He’d gotten a migraine, went to the hospital, and ended up spending three hours lying on the floor of the waiting room because it took so long for them to get to him. I’m afraid the name “Migraine Man” took hold that very first day, and never let go.

Other inhabitents of my building include Yorkie Lady (the apartment directly below us), and Big Momma and Big Daddy, a substantial couple who live on the ground floor in the apartment that used to belong to Beemer Boy. With a separate entrance to our new apartment, I imagine that there will be less opportunity for nicknames for the neighbors.