Cato's Republic

Happy in her lappy

As what only can be termed a "scandal" our candidate has fled his Sonoma home for the relative obscurity of a neighborhood in the spa town of Calistoga in the Napa Valley. There he has been hiding in a closet; keeping out of the way of the prying eyes of his fans and the paparazzi. His fall was masterminded by the evil genius, Tyra Banks host of America's Next Top Model after a misunderstanding when he sat in her lap during an audition for the show.

Here is are two of a series of photos shot of our candidate after his disgraceful fall.

Note the sadness in his eyes. Despite the fact that he is not a female, between the ages of ages of 18 and 27 years old and a height of five feet seven inches tall, Banks egged him on, telling him they were looking for super-sized models. Being the trusting feline that he is, he bought her line, only to find his aspirations as America's Next Feline Top Model squashed when she alleged that he got "happy in her lappy" as the National Enquirer termed it.

At only three years old, 15 inches high, and a neutered male to boot, he was obviously not suited to the contest. Frankly, his fellow contestants were not that nice to him, putting up a catfight whenever he tried to be friendly. But, as he has been a candidate for the Governor of California for four months, he understands the vagaries of the public taste.

This morning, I am happy to report, he was able to eat and drink again, something he has refused to do for several days.

At this moment he is happily ensconced in the closet on his favorite blanket plotting his next escapade -- running for the President of Mexico.

Jumping with Ted

Revelations about riding come and go. You reach a plateau in your training and frustration -- months of frustration -- can set in. Practicing the same movement over and over makes one sour and crabby. It was during just such a period that Ted and I discovered jumping.

The first time we tried it, it was an excuse to find someone, anyone, that could help me get Ted into the canter. Ted cantered for everyone else, but me. I asked a hunter jumper trainer if she would instruct me. This instructor is an affable woman who is liable to laugh rather than to yell while teaching. I felt safe making mistakes. She had the patience to see that I learned to do everything the right way.

The first time I took a lesson with her, she realized I did not really know the basic cues for trot and canter. She addressed this with me immediately. It was a revelation. Trotting and cantering became a part of our routine. Before that it was hit and miss. I would attempt a trot, but frequently the exercise turned into kicking, bucking and rearing.

(At first, I thought this reaction on Ted's part was irritation with my inept riding, but now I think he had managed to get rid of his amateur riders with this behavior. But not me. I stuck to it and inch by inch, I have been able to get him forward without a fuss.)

After I learned to trot and canter, we started trotting poles. Ted could pick his legs up and do the exercise, but had to look at each pole while he did it. Eventually we graduated to cantering poles. Ted relaxed and began to work through these automatically.

I was given an old stirrup leather to grab onto for balance and began to learn the half-seat. Initially when I grabbed the stirrup leather around Ted's neck, I would lose the reins entirely. There I would be, standing in the stirrups with no reins. Despite what it sounds like, I was thrilled. I was learning to balance on my horse, something I had not really achieved in dressage.

The first time Ted and I took a jump, my heart leaped out of my chest. I was afraid and just a bit over stimulated -- excited. I started laughing and couldn't stop. Ted smiled. It was fun.

Gradually we began to work over a series of jumps, and Ted, ever precise, Ted began to gage where he should be with each jump. He moved forward on his own without being asked. Suddenly I had a forward horse. He was just as excited as I was about jumping.

Ted has no reservations about the work at all. When we head to the jumping arena he is willing, eager. To get to the arena we must walk down a long scary gravel road with palm trees. At first the dry rattle of the trees was a problem, he would bolt and buck his way back to the barn. Now he, more often than not, keeps it together until we get to the arena.

Last week, Ted misjudged a jump and blew through it, knocking it over. He was so aggravated, he bucked his way over the second. It scared me. My instructor asked me to take him over the same jump again. He did not misjudge it the second time. He went over with ease and just a bit of extra height. It was an act of faith that I agreed to take Ted over a second time. He rose to the occasion. This small exercise changed the dynamic in our relationship. He trusts me more. I feel safer on his back.

I watched my instructor take Ted over a series of jumps he hadn't gone over before. She asked him to turn quickly, to switch leads and to trust her judgement. He refused one jump, a slotted barrier that was set at an angle. She took him over again. He bent way over to look at it while he was going over and then kicked out. Was it going to eat him? The next time she sent him over it, he didn't even look. The exercise was eye opening. I could see the level of trust he had in her. He went over all the jumps at speed and he looked happy doing it. What was even more pleasing was he looked like an natural. He didn't look like a dressage horse out for a bit of a change of scene. He looked like a jumper.

What have we learned? Ted has a forward button. He has a naturally exuberant nature -- it has a lot to do with the work. I have learned to balance in the half-seat. I have learned to trust a horse I was once sure was out to get me off his back. I have learned to be quiet and to put my hands together and hold them still for straightness.

We have both learned the joy of doing something together that is mutually satisfying. Our attitude has changed. Ted is trying more and more to please me and I him. In the dressage arena, I have more horse than I have ever had before. In the dressage arena, I am a less brittle rider. My hands are quieter, my seat better and my temper less of a monument.

Thank you to Christy for the photos!

Voice lesson

"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points (out) how the strong....stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the {woman) who is actually in the arena; ....who knows...great enthusiasm(s);.... who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if (she) fails, at least fails while daring (to try)......" Teddy Roosevelt

The second dressage show of the season is the make or break show. It's when one thinks seriously about one's talent (or lack there of) and one's pocket book.

Intending to do great things in January suddenly meets the actualities of May.

May is the cruel month that can, if you are wise, bring a full stop to your winter dreams.

May is also the month that brings job cutbacks, losing one's house, ongoing menopausal body pain and oppressive heat. What to do with my "very cute hose with a lot of ability...that must be motivated to move forward?" This must be balanced with the twists of fate (and the heart).

Dressage doesn't allow for an amateur's life. It is a pass time for the professional. The rider who rides umpteen horses a day, every day. Who has the time to refine everything  -- from how you put your shoe polish on your boots; to the absolute balance of your body while a top a horse. The individual who has found a way to get paid to practice, practice, practice the movements for each test.

But I can't complain, I can be extremely happy with a ribbon and a decent score. Teddy and I were ready for this show. A show on home territory where your friends are your competitors. How bad can any loss be when you are surrounded by people you love and respect?

Again, Teddy and I are trying to stay forward at Training Level 3. This test is a challenge because the figures are so difficult. How can a double circle at "X" (the center of an oblong arena) be so difficult? Try it with a horse that seems to sink into the sand. His toes dragging deeper and deeper, all the while he is claiming he is so tired he needs Geritol to get out of bed.

At the same time, this is the horse who is too sensitive to trot past a nasty tree in one corner of the arena because it sports teradactyls ready to pounce. It's a stop-go situation and you don't want to think too much about either. You don't want to use your whip in an outrageous manner and you really can't hop off and give him the pick-me-up he says he so badly needs.

What to do? Put your hands together, smile and sub-vocalize that you will slit his throat if he doesn't behave, now! It's not legal. Not advised to vocalize out loud where the judge can hear. But I am a noisy rider that comments on every mistake made while riding. I yell, I scream, I plead, I beg -- the only way to keep me quiet is to tape my mouth shut!

Teddy and I slowly make our way through the test, all the while I am whispering threats in his ears. "If you do not canter now, you will never get another carrot in your life." He canters, but delays it to the last moment, the moment well past the letter "A." On and on, I whisper sweet nothings under my breath. We finish the test with a perfectly square halt. I was flushed with pride. There were no absolute zeros on this test. I suddenly felt effective. I had cantered and no one could stop me!

On to Training Level 4, one of the most boring tests in existence. I have done this test 12 billion times. I am tired of it and yet, I have not mastered it. We begin well. We halt square at "X." We then nail our shallow serpentine from "M" to "X" to "F." And although the canter depart is against my hand, we again get the canter. "Hurray," I whisper to Teddy. "You are actually paying attention." Then there is a string of 7s -- quality of canter, balance and smoothness during transition, quality of trot, quality of transition and walk, straightness, quality of walk, transitions to walk. A dream come true and then it all falls apart. Teddy has gone to sleep, it's been too quiet from my quarter. We are approaching the shallow serpentine from the opposite direction (who thinks these things up? A better movement, at least for Ted, would be flop down on the sofa at F and take a rest for 45 minutes!). And then the dreaded canter depart. We are moving so slowly there will be no canter depart. My heart chills when I hear myself yell, out loud, right in front of the judge --  "Go!" -- I did not swear. I could have, but I didn't.

Ted kept his cool, flicked his tail and gave me that, "I told you so" look. He was right. My mistake cost us two points.

Photo by Lake Web Design.

Master of the lap dance

While Cato may be under the bed this morning purring contentedly, last night he partied with the mighty. "All I can say is there were a lot of warm laps to sit on," he said with a smile before he retired well after midnight to his usual spot. There he slept deeply, snoring happily after what must have been his most glittering and colorful gubernatorial fund raiser yet.

While his opponents solicited children to recommend them to voters -- "The whole dog and pony show" -- Cato chose to give his deep pocket supporters a real treat inspired by his favorite late-night program G-String Divas. And, while Cato doesn't wear pants, much less a g-string, all agreed that he was a master at the lap dance.

The glitterati lined up to take a turn on the "champagne court" with Cato doing the honors.

"He was all that I imagined and more," said Donald Trump, the real estate mogul. He was warm, intelligent and very inspiring. I believe he can go farther than anyone I've ever met in politics. He is very advanced for a cat and as a businessman, I would hire him in an instant!"

Cato found Trump a little warmer than the norm. "By the time I got done sitting on his lap, I was perspiring. The guy has energy to burn, but what's up with his hair?" Cato recommends Hair Club for Men for the Donald. "It worked for me. I have a glorious coat!"

Super Model Christy Turlington took her turn with Cato and gushed afterwards. "He's such a gentleman. Such a charmer. He got me to open my checkbook."

Cato confirmed that Turlington had written him a check for $1.8 million for his campaign. Calling her warm and funny. He stated:"she's purrrrfect," after he took his turn on her lap.

All told, there were at least 100 celebs that opened their wallets during Cato's special lap dance.

Comments heard from the crowd:

Warren Beatty and Annette Benning: "Cato has extraordinary depth. He would be a great character actor. He is devoted to his religion and still has a sense of fun. A real all-American cat. He should be running for President of the United States."

Clint Eastwood: "He's dirtier than Dirty Hairy, literally. Why didn't anyone think to clean him up for this event?" The only response given was by Cato's campaign manager. "We tried to get him into the chair to brush out the dust, but Cato believes a little debris adds character." All celebs were give damp cloths to wipe their hands and laps after Eastwood's complaint.

Paul Newman: "I offered him a little homemade dressing to spice up his small animal assortment. We struck a deal. Cato's photo will be appearing on 'Mice Spice' an exclusive line of feline products we'll be introducing in the near future," Newman said. "It was all his idea," said the aging actor. "I just put up the money and lent my experimental kitchen to get the blend of ingredients right." When asked what went into Mice Spice he replied that it was proprietary information and could not be divulged. Cato's response was simply "Yummy!"