Cat Crossing

Dora remains on the lam. Big Doug has left for Cuba. Computer Doug is still unemployed.

Gordon has the flu and Oscar still has man boobs. Young Doo was suspended from school for three days because of crimes against humanity. Meanwhile, Elizabeth has apparently coloured her hair. According to Oscar, her hair now has a lovely orange hue.

Finally, Jeff Christ still hasn't decided if he'll accept an invitation to join the Canadian Forces. He started working at the call centre last week. He only has two more weeks before his decision must be made.

This is Sack life in the midst of a cold February.

***

Twice in the past week, a black cat ran in front of the Wonders' car as I drove in the vicinity of the Sack. On both occasions, I slowed down to ensure the feline's safety. Your agent does, after all, have a fondness for critters.

The first black cat was youthful, small and agile. It sprinted across the street in front of the car. The second cat was larger and heavier. Clearly in the heavyweight division, it laboured across the road with obvious exertion.

Oscar was aghast when he heard about my black cat encounters. If he was in my shoes, he told me with a serious tone, he'd be very worried about the imminent onset of terrible luck.

"Something very bad is going to come your way," he said with concern.

***

There was only one recourse available to me, according to Oscar. I would have to seek out a third black cat and have the critter pass in front of me. This, he claimed, would erase the bad karma and replace it with very good fortune.

"Two black cats are very bad," Oscar said, "but three black cats are like three cherries on a slot machine."

Then he added, "You could hit the jackpot, man."

***

Little Doug, of course, owns a posse of bird-eating cats. One is a scruffy, long-haired tomcat. He also happens to be black. Fittingly, his name is Tom.

Oscar said he would be very happy to speak with Little Doug and ask for the loan of this particular cat. He said we could induce Tom to walk in front of the Wonders' car, while your agent sat in the driver's seat.

Although born in the central region of Canuckistan itself, Northern Irish blood still runs through my veins. Superstition was a persistent presence in the Wonders' boyhood home. New shoes would never grace a table's surface. Spilled salt was thrown solemnly over the left shoulder. An umbrella never darkened the door for fear of an accidental opening inside.

Over the years, however, your agent has freed himself from the bonds of primitive belief. Although an inner core of spirituality remains, it's now buffered by a healthy respect for scientific evidence.

In other words, black cats, in any number, can cross my path to their heart's content.

***

Oscar looked crestfallen when I told him that I wouldn't have any truck with his superstitious ideas. But then I realized he was about to sneeze. Oscar's pre-sneeze facial expression is remarkably similar to his crestfallen look.

Sometimes you have to wait for a sneeze, before being certain about his level of disappointment in something.

We were standing at the bottom of the Wonders' driveway. Although it was cold outside, the sun was shining. It's good to spend some time in the winter sunshine, even when it's cold. According to Computer Doug, exposing oneself to the natural light is good for your mood.

Oscar and I chatted for a few more minutes and then we parted. As he walked away, he looked back at me and said seriously, "You take good care of yourself, now."

***

About fifteen minutes later, the Wonders' doorbell rang.

Oscar and Weed were standing on the front porch. I could see them through the window as I walked down the stairs to the front entry. Weed was holding a restless bundle of fur in his arms. This turned out to be Tom, Little Doug's black cat.

Oscar was quite insistent that we perform the "bad karma removal ritual." He also said it would be entirely up to me, if I chose to share any of the good fortune that would undoubtedly arise. This was, I told him, a very gracious thing to say.

In the end, I agreed to participate in the plan to undo the unspeakable horrors that surely awaited me. Although I prefer not to orchestrate shenanigans for the sake of the blogging machine, I considered that something amusing might arise from the whole affair.

"Okay," I said finally. "Let's do it."

***

Weed, of course, was very keen on the plan to instigate the deliberate crossing of a black cat. He also claimed to have great interest in fighting against the forces of evil. He said this is listed on his curriculum vitae under "Personal Interests."

Oscar added that Weed was also willing to participate because Little Doug was in control of the television remote for the rest of the afternoon. Little Doug, of course, is very fond of fishing shows. Weed, unfortunately, is not.

But Weed also claimed that participation in an exorcism remains on his list of life objectives. This, too, is recorded under "Personal Interests"

"But I'm getting kind of doubtful that I'll ever be able to do that," he said wistfully, "so this black cat thing might be the closest I'll get to it."

***

The Wonders's car was parked in the driveway. It was facing toward the street. Oscar instructed me to sit in the driver's seat and start the engine.

"Why do I have to start the car?" I asked.

"Just to be on the safe side. We have to make this as real as possible," he replied.

"That makes sense," I answered.

***

Weed stood about six feet from one side of the Wonders' driveway. Tom continued to struggle restlessly in his arms. Oscar stood an equal distance away on the car's other side.

The plan called for Weed to release Tom, who would then walk toward Oscar's beckoning calls. He would pass directly in front of the Wonders' car. Oscar knelt down and began to call out for Tom. The black feline continued to wrestle in Weed's arms. On a cue from Oscar, he released Tom from his grasp.

Tom stood on the street for a few seconds and regarded Oscar with mild curiosity. He was now making smooching sounds in hopes of enticing Tom in his direction.

But Tom had no interest in participating in our little ritual. He stretched his body to its fullest extent and then collapsed on the ground. He looked up at the shining sun and then started to lick his front paws.

***

"We need a lure," Oscar said, as he joined your agent and Weed in front of the Wonders' car.

Oscar asked Weed if he could obtain some cat food from Little Doug's house. Weed sprinted away, leaving Tom sprawled on the pavement. I gently massaged the top of Tom's head. He started to make a sound like a finely tuned motor.

Weed returned with a small tupperware container filled with dry cat food. Oscar held it in front of Tom's nose for a few seconds. The contents seemed to capture his attention.

Oscar slowly backed into his previous position. Weed picked up Tom and returned to his assigned place. Oscar started to rustle the container in Tom's direction. Then he made some provocative statements about the tastiness of its contents.

Weed released Tom, this time giving the cat a gentle prod in Oscar's direction. Tom took a few steps forward and then promptly headed back toward Little Doug's house.

***

"I'm going to get Dick out here," Weed said, with determination in his voice.

Dick is Daisy's cat. It's a white, shorthaired cat of Siamese origin. Tom, apparently, doesn't like Dick. Weed said Tom was sure to make a beeline toward Dick, if Oscar held it in his arms.

Weed returned with Dick in his arms. Unlike Tom, Dick was limp and cooperative. He passed the cat into Oscar's outstretched hands and then went to retrieve Tom. Tom was holding a statesmanlike pose at the foot of Little Doug's front steps.

Back in their positions, Oscar and Weed held their respective cats while I returned to the Wonders' car. Tom started to struggle again under Weed's firm grip. It was unclear whether Dick was the source of his consternation.

Again, at Oscar's cue, Weed released Tom. Once again, he sprawled on the pavement and stretched. This seemed to disturb Dick. The white cat began to wriggle violently, causing Oscar to release his hold on the animal.

Dick made a beeline for Little Doug's front door. Within seconds, he was rubbing the side of his body against its kick plate. Tom remained on the pavement. He looked like he was asleep.

***

"What about Harry?" Oscar asked Weed.

Harry is another one of Little Doug's cats. He also has another one named Fluffy. While Daisy owns Dick, Little Doug has Tom, Harry and Fluffy. Not surprisingly, Weed was responsible for Dick's name.

"Harry," Weed replied, "is out right now." Harry is rumoured to be the most destructive of the cats, when it comes to the matter of bird killing. Rain or shine, this is Harry's focus during daylight hours.

***

Daisy came out and let Dick back into the house. Tom was still prone on the pavement, basking in the sun.

"I think you're screwed," Oscar said to me. I was still sitting in the car, but I had rolled down the driver's window. Weed said I should probably speak with Jeff Christ to see if he could help with my impending bad fortune.

Just as Weed and Oscar arrived at the car window, we heard deep, angry barking coming from the direction of Burning Manor. Tom heard it as well. He was now on his feet and looking alertly toward Burning Manor.

Suddenly, Dirk's big, barking dog came barreling through the side yard of Burning Manor and into the middle of the street. Spying Tom, he barked madly and then broke into a gallop. He was heading directly toward us.

Tom wasted no time in seeking his escape. He sprinted past the Wonder's car and disappeared into the backyard of Little Doug's house. The big, barking dog stopped in front of the house and continued to bark, this time with even more gusto.

Good fortune, it seemed, would be mine, after all.

***

I turned the car off and approached Oscar and Weed on the driveway. Oscar was elated. He turned and gave Weed a high-five. He was about to do the same with me, when he remembered my high-five policy.

I do not, under any circumstance, engage in high-fives. It's not because I have small, girlish hands, a phobia about germs or a reluctance to engage in human contact.

I'm just not a high-five kind of fellow.

***

Dirk appeared and brought his big, barking dog back into Burning Manor. He nodded toward us and, smiling, said something unintelligible as he passed. Weed said it sounded like "howzitgoin, eh?"

I thanked Oscar and Weed for their service in saving my life. Oscar nodded humbly, as if he had just cleansed me of evil spirits.

"Anytime, my friend," he said, with obvious warmth, "anytime at all."

***

While Oscar was content with the outcome of the affair, your agent remained nonplussed.

Both good and bad things happen in our lives. While we have control over many aspects of our existence, both good and bad fortune will occur despite our best efforts. Besides, without experiencing the valleys, it's hard to appreciate the peaks.

Facing difficult life events also invites learning, new wisdom and experience. I'm not saying that bad things are inherently good for us, of course. Bad things just aren't all bad, that's all.

So three black cats make no difference to me at all.

***

The next morning, I went out early to buy a newspaper. The rocker chick who delivers the Daily Snooze had failed to appear.

But the Wonders' car failed to start. Despite my best efforts, it refused to come to life. Later, Little Doug would determine that the alternator was likely shot.

I'm fairly certain the black cats had nothing to do with it.

***