Workshop pets?

[Steve Bliven]

Philistines. That's all that can be said of 'em.

Off topic, but I once called someone a "Philistine" and the response was, "The only reason you can call me a Philistine is because I'm being beaten by the jawbone of an ass." I slunk away humbled...

Best wishes and happy holidays.

Steve

[Nanohedron]

Philistines. That's all that can be said of 'em.

Off topic, but I once called someone a "Philistine" and the response was, "The only reason you can call me a Philistine is because I'm being beaten by the jawbone of an ass." I slunk away humbled...

Best wishes and happy holidays.

Steve

Good one. Most literary and all. But perhaps you slunk too soon, methinks: Since I have little self respect, I have equally little problem with the rejoinder, "Ass I may be, but 'tis you who've declared yourself beaten." You know, just to see where it goes from there...



"Am not!" "Are so!" "Am not!" "Are so!"

[Nanohedron]

I thought I saw a tail disappearing under my stock of flute timbers down in the workshop. Sure enough, caught the interloper this morning, outside the workshop but trying to get back in.

My question is: What's the attraction?

[Terry McGee]

My guess (and it's only that) is shelter - a nice warm place well out of the reach of sharp eyes and sharp claws (I'm looking at you, Mr & Mrs Kookaburra...). There's certainly little worth eating in there - maybe the occasional dead Christmas Beetle that bumbled through the doorway and couldn't find a way out?

Mention of Kookaburras take me back to a Comhaltas branch event in a pub in Dublin in the seventies. An old chap got up to recite a poem by Irish-Australian poet John O'Brien (actually Monsignor Patrick Joseph Hartigan - you can see why he wrote under cover!). It mentions the Kookaburra, but, with no guidance on how to pronounce Australian bird names, our man mangled it thoroughly as "koo-koo-boo-roo", causing the pair of us to burst out in badly timed laughter. We apologised to the chap later, chatted about John O'Brien and parted on very good terms.

O'Brien's most famous poem is probably "Said Hanrahan", http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/o ... rahan.html

After our bushfires, floods and pestilence, I'm with Hanrahan...

[kmag]

I know Peter Noy has a cockatiel as his shop pet. It loves to sing along when he plays. It seems to manage quite well not getting caught in the machinery.

[Terry McGee]

Our foolish and very fluffy Siberian rescue cat likes to sniff around in the workshop while I'm working. He got a little too close while I was using a dental-style flexible drill to sand inside rings I'd just soldered up. He brought the machine to a dead stop, and I had to unravel him. Fortunately, no harm done, but he did give me That Look. Rather like Susan in Pratchet's Diskworld series. Once you've seen it, you never want to see it again....

[Nanohedron]

He brought the machine to a dead stop, and I had to unravel him. Fortunately, no harm done, but he did give me That Look.

So typical, the close-up sniffing. It's how Lester got a temporary case of curled whiskers when he discovered lit candles. The vet even has a name for the apparently well-known syndrome: Candle Cat. But if it's the cat's doing, I never let That Look, should it occur, go unchallenged, or they'll milk it for all it's worth. No, I say. Pick the cat up so that it dangles, look it square in the eye, and and amusedly say, "Nice try, buddy." It will know exactly what you mean, and nine times out of ten it will grudgingly concede that its claim to the higher ground is spurious, and that gratitude for its disentanglement - all thanks to you - is the better course, if not openly to be acknowledged. And some cats are less invested in their egos than others. It depends. Living with cats is an exercise in negotiation, since the cat sees itself as its human's equal (aside from minor details like food and shelter and opening cans and doors).

Prior to Lester I had another cat, Mubu, who always "helped" me re-string my cittern. It was kind of fun, actually.

[Terry McGee]

Heh heh, as summarised so neatly by Garfield: "Remember Odie. Dogs have owners. Cats have staff."