Blue Jays & BB Guns, Heaven’s Gate and Kitty City, When Miss Daisy Missed The Dot, Sophia & A Democrat Cat House

Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the EastWing.

Had to kill a Blue Jay the other day. Just had to, and I don’t like to kill anything, even flies and bugs, ‘cause I really believe God puts everything on this Earth for a reason. Now one of these days I’m gona talk about why I so believe that flies and bugs were put on this earth for a reason and how important these little feller were to the forensic autopsy work I used to do, back in the day. Flies & bugs, they helped me out a lot, I gotta love ‘em all.

But that Blue Jay just wouldn’t listen to reason, or maybe he forgot that part ‘bout God putting him here for a purpose. I told the Blue Jay that my Hummingbird had the same right to exist as did he. He didn’t agree. He should have. It would have been better for him had he listened to my side of the argument.

As a kid, I had a Red Rider BB Gun. Somewhere in the process of growing up, maybe not growing up, just getting older, I lost my Red Rider BB Gun along the way. It was with much excitement that a few years ago, my babies got for me the best of all Christmas Presents ever, a Red Rider BB Gun. And it was the same one as I had a while back. SWEET! It was the one where ya turn the top of the barrel sideways and put the BB in. Yeah, that kind. It had the wooden stock, not the plastic stock. I love BB Guns.

The Blue Jay insisted on attacking my Hummingbirds. He just wouldn’t listen to my point of view. He should have, as the Red Rider was the equalization factor in the discussion. With the BB Gun in the equation, The score turned out to be Red Rider one, Blue Jay zero.

I preached the funeral for that Blue Jay. No matter what, when one of God’s creatures die, somebody’s gotta preach the funeral. And ya never preach ‘em into hell, ya always preach ‘em into heaven. Even the ones ya think may deserve to be in hell. Ya just give ‘me lots of room at the end of their life, ‘cause it don’t take long to see a pathway to heaven, even as ya die. And besides, it’s not my call on who goes where. Sometimes, maybe it’s my call as to when, but never where. Only God can call the where part.

I learned that little bit ‘bout preaching ‘em all into heaven from my dad, the Preacher Man in my life, back in the day, when we both lived in Downtown Toto. So even the Blue Jay that killed my Hummingbird, I preached him into heaven. I gave ‘em lots of room, and then I buried that ole Blue Jay out there in the north Garden, not too far from my dear Pup Baby. R.I.P. Blue Jay

Just a few short weeks ago I introduced to the world, Miss Daisy James as the new girl dog of the EastWing. And so she was, until such time she became totally comfortable in her new home. It was at that point Miss Daisy James decided to attack the residents of Kitty City with a ferociousness seldom seen at the EastWing.

Everybody knows, when ya attack Kitty City, ya attack me. ‘Cause in Kitty City, I am the law. And when ya attack the law, you’re always gona come up short on the deal, that’s just the way it is in the EastWing as well as life elsewhere. Now when the faller wrote the song ‘bout “I fought the law and the law won”, he’s talking about the law in Kitty City.

After Miss Daisy had already turned to the dark side when it came to the outside cats of Kitty City, she damn near killed Spike the Man Cat right in front of me in the EastWing that same night. Spike, having no fear what so ever of dogs, was laying on his back in the EastWing floor right next to my chair in front of the computer, he was reaching up with his paws to garb Miss Daisy in play. Miss Daisy grabbed Spike with his full body in her mouth and began the death shake which would have killed Spike in an instance.

Thank God I was within arm’s reach. On instinct alone, I grabbed Miss Daisy by the back of the neck, with Spike still in her mouth, grabbed ‘em both off the floor in one grand swoop, as I stood up. One hand, mind you, one hand. I’m still amazed that I could do that. With an out stretched arm, I picked up a 48 lb dog and a 12 lb cat. That’s 60 lbs any way ya add it up. At arm’s length, I’m holding 60 lbs straight out, damn. Am I strong or what?

I’m not at all strong, actually I’m a wimp. It’s just an example of how the human body reacts to an emergency situations. It’s called adrenalin. It’s a hormone secreted by the medulla of the adrenal gland, especially in times of stress or in response to fright, or in times of trouble in the EastWing. I’s called adrenalin, and for a very short period of time, that adrenaline stuff, well, it makes ya almost like Superman. But just for a little bit, and then it goes away. While it lasts, WOW! Bend Steele in your bare hands. And then you’re a regular person again, and damn near scared to death, so scared ya don’t know if you peed your paints or not. I didn’t pee my pants, thank God.

In that instance, adrenaline saved the life of Spike The Man Cat. Both dog and cat lifted off the floor in a heartbeat. Four foot off the floor. Dog dropped cat, cat ran like hell for his life. Dog could not run for her life. I held her life in my hand, at arm’s length out stretched. Here in the EastWing, we live in harmony, dogs and cats, and me and the She, not hostility, dogs and cats and me and the She. That harmony part of the EastWing extends also into Kitty City. Four dead cats can’t be reversed. Miss Daisy’s fate and tenure in the EastWing was sealed.

Serious consideration was given to being judge, jury and executioner for Miss Daisy. I opted not to do that. The temptation was there, the temptation was great. After all, there were four dead cats from the attack of Kitty City. There were multiple eye witnesses including myself. The temptation was enormous. Especially in light of the fact that my very favorite resident in all of Kitty City was among the dead. But I was the judge and the jury, the sentence was expulsion from the EastWing.

Had my son, Johnny, not come a while back and retrieved his hand gun that I’d used to dispose of the ‘Possum that’d harassed Kitty City, the gun that with the little red dot where you wanted the bullet to go, that laser site gun, I may have been judge, jury, and executioner for Miss Daisy. I’m glad the laser hand gun was not in the EastWing when I held the Daisy dog at arm’s length after rescuing Spike The Man Cat from her jaws of death. It would’ve been too tempting to put the little red dot where it needed to be, then squeeze.

A thin line exist between justice and revenge. I walked close to that line with Miss Daisy. Miss Daisy was returned to the Starke County Humane Society the next morning. I explained to the lady there that she did not get along well with cats. In fact, if they could find her a new home it would have to be “cat free”. Other than the issue with cats, I gave Miss Daisy a most high rating. She was a good dog, a pretty dog, just couldn’t live in an environment that included cats. At the EastWing, we includes cats.

Miss Daisy went back to the Humane Society and four new kitty graves are now out there alongside my Pup Baby’s Grave. Those little darling kitten graves, they were friends of Pup Baby. Now you’ve heard the saying “All good dogs go to heaven”, well the rest of that story is “all good kittens go too”. I preached all four of those little kitty funerals at one time. I cried. And yap, I preached ‘em into heaven.

I’ve since been told by the Starke County Humane Society that Miss Daisy has, in fact, has been adopted out to a young single man in his mid twenties who fell in love with Miss Daisy at first site. When told that Miss Daisy was there only because she killed cats. He responded “I for sure can’t condone her killing cats, but I don’t like ‘em either, so I think me and Miss Daisy will get along fine”.

I hope they do get along fine. I wish Miss Daisy well in her future life. She will never know how close she came to suffering the same fate as the Blue Jay. Had such a fate occurred to Miss Daisy, I’d also have preached Miss Daisy into heaven, but maybe not in the front row, after all, four dead kittens from Kitty City have to be addressed.

While all this Miss Daisy issue was playing out with Spike the Man Cat and the residents of Kitty City, Sophia The Republican Cat had run for her life. She ran for the safety of the basement and stayed in hiding for four days. It was on the 5th day when Sophia came back from her lair to make sure it was safe to once again traverse the EastWing without fear for her life. I assured Sophia she was safe, and would remain so forever.

When Sophia realized that Miss Daisy was no longer a member of the EastWing family, she was one happy little Calico Republican Cat. Seems that Sophia too, had escaped the Miss Daisy jaws of death, only by her speed of getting into the basement and up into the rafters safe from the reach of Miss Daisy. She bore the marks of an attack which must have occurred while I was at work.

Then in typical Sophia fashion, she said that she didn’t trust that damn dog anyways, always thought that Miss Daisy was a democrat plant trying to get her off-message from the upcoming election, and to foil her attacks on the presidents record of un-accomplishments, and un-wanted crap like that ObamaCare that everybody hates except those who live off the fat of this great land to begin with, and want everything for free, without ever having to work for it, and the Supreme Court that called it a tax even after the president told ‘em that it was not a tax, so don’t even think about calling it a tax. And they didn’t listen to him either, ‘cause they too thought it was too stupid to talk about, and then said it was a tax, so there. After all that tirade, I got the special Sophia Smile, the one that even a community organizer would love.

It was then after the smile that Sophia laid the bomb on me when she said that she’d be in Charolette NC a week or so before the democrats came to town for their National Convention. Sophia said she’s gona do some community organizing. Gona show ‘em how to set up Cat Houses, there in Charolette NC. ‘Cause all good democrats love Cat Houses. All ya gotta do is just look at that volume of business on the south side of Chicago there in the Cat Houses. And I never thought Sophia would become a community organizer. Damn Republican Cat.

Stay safe in Afghanistan.

From the EastWing, Blue Jays & BB Guns, Heaven’s Gate and Kitty City, When Miss Daisy Missed The Dot, Sophia & A Democrat Cat House

I wish you well,