Arts and Cats

The high school I graduated from holds a juried crafts show every year about this time. I hadn’t been for years, and when I saw the coupons at work for $1 off the admission price I decided that it would be fun to go this year. I asked Dr. Nineteen Cats if she were interested last weekend, and so this week she and I met at my old stomping grounds to check things out.

It was strange to walk into the building that I’d spent three years of my late teens in. They’ve done some major structural changes to it, and I was lost almost immediately upon entering the front door. I remembered the lobby being much bigger than it was today; I rather doubt that the apparent change had anything to do with the remodeling of the building though.

Just inside the lobby were students trying to sell old back copies of the year book. I have to admit, that’s a rather clever ploy to raise some additional money without having to invest additional revenue. I asked as a joke if they had any old yearbooks from 1974, and they looked at me as though I’d suddently grown antlers and purple spots. Kids have no respect for their elders these days.

There was a fair amount of stuff there that I didn’t bother looking at for more than a few seconds. The Christmas dolls/ornaments/decorations were mostly of the Americana Folk variety, and while they might have made diverting cat toys, I was unwilling to invest that much money into something that was going to end up giving my fleet of felines indigestion. Some of the jewelry was absolutely gorgeous, but it was fortunately priced well above my means so that I wasn’t even tempted to try anything on. There was a booth with all-weather garden sculptures that amused me; one was a groundhog hole with the upper half of a groundhog peeking up out of it. The Younger Sister, who lives for her gardens in the summer, would have loved that since she has a soft spot in her heart for groundhogs (even though they are capable of agricultural holocaust). She and I agreed on no expensive gift exchanges this year though, so I left it where I saw it.

I was nearly safely out the door when I ran across a booth of drawings by Bruce S. Garrabrandt. You can see samples of his artwork at Artistinn.com. I can’t say that I like all his work, but Dr. Nineteen Cats and I were cackling away looking at his pictures and then reading their titles. Then I came across “Kitty Litter.” And I had to have it. So I didn’t escape with my wallet intact, as I’d originally planned to do. I’m sure you’ll understand why I had to possess this print (limited edition, I got #7 of 500) once you see it:

That picture, by the way, was *not* posed. I placed my new purchase by my desk, and the Grey Menace, ever the art critic, eventually had to come over to investigate it. Somewhere I have (or at least had) a picture of G.M. that looked very much like this drawing. He’s captured the look on her little face exactly: smug, satisfied, angelic in the face of mass destruction. This is a man who knows cats.

Afterward, Dr. Nineteen Cats and I went across the street to J.D.’s restaurant, a little diner hole-in-the-wall that serves good food inexpensively. Their only downside is that they seem to think that the only barrier needed between the smoking and non-smoking sections is a sign that says “Nonsmoking” with an arrow to the left. Fortunately there were few smokers there while we ate, so the atmosphere remained bearable.

We ordered, and while we waited for lunch to arrive I called Clueless’s vet to see if the results of his cystocentesis were in. Test results indicated that he’s concentrating his urine well (a *good* sign), with the only abnormality being some red blood cells in the sample. We’re still awaiting results on the culture and sensitivity, but his vet suggested giving him a course of antibiotics prophilactically. I can’t say I’m a big proponent of antibiotics if there is no overt sign of infection, but she convinced me that in this case there could be an occult infection, so I went along with it. Clueless will love it, since it means he gets treats twice a day instead of just once. He’s yet to figure out that his Pounce treats are little Trojan Horses with nasty pills inside. If that cat ever learns to chew, I’m in big trouble, but right now pilling him is a breeze.