A present with a tail

So, today's my birthday (#37 if you're counting -- which I have decided to no longer do, frankly), and to celebrate, I decided to get an unusual present for myself -- meet Bowie,* the new cat in our household. I spent much of yesterday afternoon over at the Auckland SPCA auditioning cats to be our new animal, always a tricky process. It'd been 13 years since I last did this for our wonderful Kudzu cat, who couldn't come with us from the US. It's never easy to look over lovely little animals and try to choose just one, knowing they all need a new home. But this little fella -- well, she just seemed right, somehow, from the way she began loudly purring as I took her out of her cage and her calm but not sullen disposition. Hopefully the boy doesn't drive her insane.

Speaking of which, Peter was so excited you'd have thought the cat was his birthday present. Bowie seems really affectionate but not too squawky (she barely meowed at all during the car ride home), and I have to admit, after two years or so without, I'm really going to dig having a fuzzy little cat in our lives again. Makes New Zealand feel a little more like home.

*The names were tricky; "Twist" was suggested by the SPCA after her bent left ear, while we considered such names as Iggy, Tardis (too geeky even for us) and Fantastic Birthday Cat (um, that one was Peter's). In the end I went to homage my favorite musician but also picked a name that's kind of cute and short and not too hard to say.

LIFE: Ore-going, Ore-gone

LIFE: Ore-going, Ore-gone

...So here we are, officially jobless and homeless for the next couple months. Goodbye Oregon, hello strangeness. We're all in a sort of gentle state of shock I think, down here now at my parents' house in my childhood hometown of Nevada City, California. Everything old is new again. We're here for a week or so before we depart on our previously mentioned America Mega-Trek on the 15th.

Leaving Roseburg was tough, though. In almost five years a place becomes familiar, and I realized as we cleared out our funky little house that it was the longest I've lived in one home since high school. "Robu" as us snooty media types called it was a quirky town, half redneck, half natural beauty galore, and pleasantly mellow. We've given up so very much of our everyday lives these last few months that it's no wonder we're dazed - all our furniture, a lot of books, clothes, CDs, etc., a nice job and a home. We're pared down to the essentials, nearly, even if there is a disturbingly large mountain of boxes here to store in my folks' garage that has to be dealt with someday, and another remarkably mound of things we're actually going to try to take to New Zealand next month.

And yet the single hardest moment of all this stripping away had to be getting rid of my fine little Kudzu cat Tuesday night, when we dropped her off with my friend (and master golfer) Christian and his wife Mary. I know Kudzu didn't know what was going on, and I can't anthropomorphize that she'll miss me much as I will her, but she was my cat for nearly 12 years, through thick and thin.

I got her mere weeks after I finished college in Mississippi, having just started my first "real" job. That scrawny runt of a shelter cat became my companion through many oddball moves and job changes, moving with me from Mississippi to California to Oregon. She was a comforting warm ball in my bed in winters and probably gave me the first inklings of true adult responsibility when I took her on at age 23 - she was a life I was in control of, or that controlled me, and paved the way for wives and kids and all the rest that comes to us. There were times when I felt she was the best friend I had in the world. Giving her up is almost like her dying, because with her at nearly 12 years old I know chances are slim I'll ever get to see her again. I hate having to leave her, but I know it's for the best. Goodbye, old pal, and thanks again Chris for taking her on.

OK, not to get all maudlin or anything... Anyway. Ah, but it surely would ease the angst if some of you would kindly consider buying my book, Spatula Forum: Greatest Hits 1994-2004. Not that I planned on making a million, but sales are a bit "sluggish," as they say, and your $15 or so for 200+ pages of writing goodness could be considered a charitable contribution to the Get Nik Out of America Fund. It's tax-deductible. Would I lie to you?

LIFE: Catatonic

LIFE: Catatonic

So I'm always doing the required proud parental posting of Toddler Peter's cute antics, but he's not the only one in this house doing wacky stuff, as witnessed by Kudzu's impromptu nap in the washing machine Sunday. Animal lovers, I only put her through the "rinse" cycle. Anyway, trying to figure out what to do with dear Kudzu here is one of the bigger moral dilemmas for me with the moving to New Zealand this October. We accepted that it's just not fair to her or us to try and take her – it's a tremendously hard thing to make a cat fly 12-13 hours in the cargo hold of a plane, and then be quarantined for 6 months or so on arrival. Not to mention the huge costs involved too. At nearly 12 years old, it's a lot to do to a poor cat just to satisfy our human ego.

Kudzu and I have been together well over 11 1/2 years now, ever since that day in January 1995 when I decided to get a cat and wandered over to the animal shelter in Oxford, Mississippi. It's always tough to go to those places and just pick one, but this tiny, runt-sized tortoiseshell kitten leapt out of her cage when I leaned close, and I was hooked. Kudzu was a tiny, sickly cat for a while, which makes me think she was a runt of the litter, but grew up into a really tough, smart cat (still on the small side though). She's been with me through my final years in Mississippi, flew with me on a plane to California (running through the Dallas airport with a freaked-out half-sedated cat in a carryon bag over my shoulders is one of my less fond pet-owner memories), and lived everywhere from tiny apartments to big houses to my parents' old 10-acre spread. She's slowed down some now from her frantic youth (and having a toddler for competition will mellow even the wildest of cats), but still is my furry buddy. I've gotten so used to the warm little lump curled up near my legs in bed at night that whenever we're out of town staying somewhere else, it's weird going to bed without her. I ain't one of those folks who antropomorphize their animals to death and call them snuggywuggy and such, but cat or not, she is one of my true constant friends and has been unconditionally great these past 11 1/2 years.

So anyway, we're trying to find Kudzu a new, happy home to live out her time in. My parents are unable to take her, so we're asking around family and friends. I really don't want to leave her with complete strangers, and part of me would hope I can even visit her maybe whenever we come back to the States. If anyone out there in the Northern California area is interested in a perfectly swell older cat companion... ? Just leave your washer closed.

...OK, some of you might not like cats, so here's Peter doing his best Elvis impersonation over at the beach on Bandon last weekend.

ETC.: The roof, the roof is on fire

ETC.: The roof, the roof is on fire

...And now for a brief break in my non-posting. Work has risen up from the primordial depths and chewed a hole into my innards, and Toddler Peter is at Level 5 in toddler neediness at home, so I'm pretty likely not to post much this week. Besides several major projects going on and new reporters to train, this weekend we had a series of electrical problems that ended up with multiple power outages and fire trucks outside putting out the power lines on fire while we were trying to get out Sunday's paper. We don't just print the news, we make the news! Today we're shutting down the entire office for several hours while an ancient transformer is replaced. Last week I had 10.5 hours of overtime! See the blood, sweat and tears that goes into this newspaper? And ink?

I'm also depressed because our former cat, Luna, had to be put to sleep yesterday. About a year or so ago we gave her to a friend of ours because it turned out a toddler + two cats wasn't working out for us, and we didn't want to give up our other cat Kudzu. Anyway, Luna was old when we got her from friends who couldn't keep her back in 2001, and after we gave her to our friend Chelsea she started declining, ending up being diagnosed with diabetes and liver/kidney problems. She made it to 14, not young, but still bummed she had to be put down... Luna was a pain in the butt sometimes, extremely affectionate and skittish at the same time, and much more of a hassle for us to keep than the placid Kudzu, but I'll miss her a bit all the same.

In any event... Thanks kindly to everyone who wrote in for my blog-iversary last week -- after a complicated series of mathematical equations, geopolitical surveys, alphabet games and asking Toddler Peter for advice, I am hereby awarding Ash with a copy of my soon-to-be-created Great Songs I've Heard In 2006 So Far CD. Look for it in the mail, Ash!

To keep you occupied while I fight powerline fires and sit in the dark waiting for the power to come back on, here's a couple recent reviews I did for my buddies at BlogCritics --
• The essayist Hal Crowther is one of my favorite Southern writers. I look at his new book, "Gathering At The River: Notes From The Post-Millennial South." Them's good writings!
• Hey, ever heard of the Beatles? Here's a look at the new remastered box set, The Capitol Years Vol. 2.

Tonight we take Toddler Peter to the circus. Hurray!