Thursday, October 03, 2024

Instagram Cat Photos of 2012

As promised, here's a post full of my old Instagram cat photos from way back in the distant year 2012 AD. Taz was just two years old then, but already had a lot of things figured out: Which human blankets are best to sleep on, why wand toys are the best toys, exactly when various sunbeams will appear and disappear around the house during the day and when to relocate to the next one, and many other critical life skills, as depicted here.

And since you asked: Wand toys are the best toys because they involve a person waving them around, and he could have quality time with his people, sometimes for hours on end, sometimes with those hours occurring at 2-5am, without resorting to being snuggly. His ideal level of snuggling was to sleep somewhere near you, positioned just right so he could brush the tip of his tail against your arm, almost like he was petting you back. And he'd do this while maintaining a loud, contented snore the entire time.

Wednesday, October 02, 2024

Instagram Cat Photos of 2024

This post is hard to write. I've had cats before, and I knew all too well that welcoming one into your life comes with the knowledge that you'll watch their entire life unfold over a decade or two of yours; that they will grow up and eventually grow old before your eyes, and at some unknown day in the future it will be time to say goodbye. There will be a last day, a last repetition of every morning cat routine, and a last photo. And whenever that day comes, it's always too soon.

For Taz, that day came back in July, at age 14, after a short illness. At first, back in late May, the vets thought it was just an ear infection, but then further tests revealed a rare and aggressive cancer of the middle ear, possibly originating in the gland that makes earwax, of all things. This has a very poor prognosis in cats, and the odds when people come down with it (which is a thing that happens, it turns out) aren't much better, frankly, and I suppose this is the "RT to raise awareness" part of this post. Not that there's anything you can do (that doctors know of) to lower your odds, and your starting odds of getting it are already quite low. But cats and people do get it, and their odds were quite low too. In any case, it's one more unpleasant medical condition that you didn't know existed and now you do.

A month or two after that day, I realized there was an upcoming annual tradition that was about to be awkward. Every year since 2013, my last post of the year here has been a recap of Instagram cat photos I posted there over the last 12 months. This started as my version of the "Year in Review" articles that newspapers and magazines like to run at the end of the year, as a way to fill space while everyone's out on vacation. Or in my case, a way to be sure I can hit my current goal of a whopping 1 blog post every month, even if life gets crazy over the holidays. Which doesn't sound like much, and it isn't, but I've managed to pull it off monthly since late 2005, albeit with a few close calls over the years.

Anyway, I thought about holding on to this post until New Years Eve and posting it at the usual time. But it didn't feel right to end the year with sad veterinary news, especially not sad news from six months earlier. It also didn't feel right to just drop the tradition and not say another word about it. I didn't seriously consider that, though it was technically an available option. Then in the last few weeks I got to thinking that I should go ahead and post it now, since the plan of record right now is to take a pet hiatus for a while, get out and see more of the world without any cute animals worrying you've abandoned them, etc. So I almost certainly won't have additional cat photos between now and January, so no reason to hold off any longer on posting this. Also, I just realized I didn't do a post like this back in 2012, which was the first year I had an IG account, and I think may have been before Instagram supported embedding photos in blog posts. So I have a draft post that I might publish right after this one, or possibly tomorrow, with cute old photos of Taz at around two years old.

Of course I know all about the Universal Cat Distribution System, and I sort of get that fate and random chance iteract in mysterious ways (and I really only believe in the latter), and future events are unknowable, and life specializes in awkward timing, and if a hungry wet kitten ran up to me in a dark parking lot begging for help, I'm fairly sure I wouldn't be able to refuse. So who knows.

Tuesday, September 10, 2024

Anhinga

Next up in obscure public art, we're taking a trip down to industrial Milwaukie, home to the Oregon Liquor & Cannabis Commission head office, which consists of a low-rise midcentury office building attached to the state's vast central booze warehouse. In front of the office is a small midcentury concrete pond and (I think) water fountain, which was almost completely dry when I swung by. On a pedestal in the middle of the pond is a roughly life-sized statue of an anhinga, a heron-like bird native to South America and parts of the US East Coast. This was created by the artist Wayne Chabre, whose work has appeared here a few times before, largely at MAX stations and Multnomah County offices.

As a state agency, the OLCC is required by state law to spend 1% of the budget of any big capital project on art, whether they really want to or not, which is how the Anhinga came to be here. And as part of the state's public art collection it has a has a Public Art Archive page, which doesn't have a photo of it, but says it's from 2017 and describes it briefly:

A cast bronze representation of an Anhinga bird perches on a rock with wings outstretched in the feather-drying pose in the spring-fed pond to the north of the Oregon Liquor Control Commission headquarters. Acquired through Oregon's Percent for Art in Public Places Program, managed by the Oregon Arts Commission.

I did run across a couple of photos of another anhinga statue, seemingly an identical copy of the one here, but located in Florida instead. Which is at least in the bird's natural range. Before I stopped by to take a few semi-obligatory photos, I had some snarky remarks lined up and ready to go. At first I thought it was an uninspired and odd choice, and figured they just called around until they found a local artist who happened to have suitable unsold inventory that week at the right price point.. I was about to say that a less puritanical agency in a less puritanical state could have a lot of fun with alcohol-themed art. Maybe commission some whimsical kinetic art on the subject of beer goggles, or maybe flair bartending, or Henry Weinhard's proposal to have Portland's Skidmore Fountain re-piped to serve beer, or who knows what. I was going to go with the snark angle, but then I swung by to take these photos and realized the anhinga's awesome and terrifying hidden superpower, so I'll tell you all about that instead.

You see the feather-drying pose the statue is in? Note how it bears an uncanny resemblance to a Canada goose dominance pose, and then look at the geese sorta-clustered around it. Sure enough, the statue had attracted a small cadre of geese as its devoted cult followers, transfixed by its pure radiance and unable to turn away and leave the statue's presence, while also not getting too close to The Anhinga because just look at it. See how incredibly dominant it is? It just stands there with its wings out, ready to rumble, defeating all challengers without moving a muscle, standing its ground and not flinching even a little no matter how many humans stroll on by. The geese were clearly very impressed by this display, and continued to hang out here even though their little pond had just about dried up. Because of course The Anhinga is the Chosen One and will provide a newer and better pond for its flock of true believers if the need ever truly arises.

Elsewhere on the internet, and semi-related, here's a Reddit thread about how to assert manly-man dominance over a flock of geese, because Reddit. Most replies repeat the internet-wide onventional wisdom that this is impossible, but these people had clearly never heard of the anhinga statue trick. He who controls the anhinga, controls the goose. And in Oregon the OLCC controls The Anhinga, god help us all.

Which begs the obvious question: Exactly why has the OLCC built a small army of fanatical trained geese? What are they planning? And do they really need that many geese just to enforce state liquor laws? I mean, I can see how geese would be really useful in chasing down drunk boaters. And yeah, breaking up bar fights and ejecting unruly patrons when the bouncer isn't up to the job is right up in their wheelhouse, if The Anhinga so wills it. Swarming hapless grocery clerks en masse if they ever sell a hard seltzer to a 20 year old, or fail to card a 55-year-old grandma? Also an ideal job for geese. Honking at 200 decibels to ruin hip hop concerts? Flapping and hissing at any shenanigans in the Champagne Room? Geese. You and I may or may not approve, but the more you think about it, you have to admit there's a certain logic to the idea.

But it won't stop there. It never does. As The Anhinga's fame continues to grow and its army of believers swells, the state will look for and find more ways to employ them. Playing chess for money in the park? Geese. Unpaid library fines from before COVID? Also geese. And before long every billionaire will have a private goose armada, mostly for status, and then cheap knockoff anhinga statues will hit the market and the longtime head of your HOA will install one and start enforcing the CC&Rs with geese. And then one day, maybe years from now, maybe decades, the geese will discover they've been tricked into worshiping a false idol all this time, and then the great rebellion begins...