Cato's Republic

A vice president for the birds

In an unprecedented move, Cato has begun interviewing potentital candidates for vice president within the avian community. Within the past week has had two interviews with cockatoos living at Lyon Ranch, an animal refuge in Sonoma County, California.

Number one on Cato's short list of vice presidential candidates is Spike. "What is striking about him, " Cato said in an interview after their meeting, "is his size and color. He is all white with a tangerine tint. Just a stunning individual. That coupled with his Ph.D. in economics from the London School makes him a terrific candidate. He is articulate, jovial and earthy. Perhaps his greatest strength, and maybe his greatest fault, is that he seems to fall in love everyone he meets," Cato said with a sign. "If there were more people on this earth like Spike, there would be no need to campaign for president. We would all live peaceful, productive lives, knowing we were loved."

When asked to comment on the obvious problem an parrot would pose for the Feline Party of God, Cato responded this way: "It is time for my fellow felines to consider a vegetarian life. Cats the world over are marauding unchecked in their frenzy to capture and eat small animals. Maybe it is time to grow out of these instincts and take on some responsibility to improve the earth. In doing so, kitties everywhere should realize that many already get breakfast and dinner provided by their bankers. Maybe it is time to play with those toys we neglect. Maybe it is time to savor Friskies Mixed Grill rather than disdaining it for mouse or bird."

Apparently the admiration was mutual. In response to reporter's questions after the meeting, Spike said: "He is a great statesman. He is gentle and kind. An intelligent individual, with a measured temperament and appetite.  I would be pleased to stand with him in the next presidential election."

Cato also interviewed Bert a lively umbrella cockatoo. "He was found wandering the slums of Paris, there he learned to dance for his dinner. During our interview," Cato said, "he danced around and around my chair. It was hard to gage his interest in running as a vice president as he seemed to only want to engage me in games," Cato laughed. "In some respects this makes him the perfect candidate.  He has entertainment value; and talk about the way he hops up an down -- sheer genius. A Nijinsky in white. In any television spot, he would immediately attract attention. An artistic and nimble candidate. Together we would be sure fire front runners."

The third and final candidate Cato met with was Gertrude a blue and gold Macaw, who is differently abled. "She grew up with her handicap and has overcome it to be a valued member of society. Her cookbooks, featuring recipes for strawberries, are re-known. As a columnist, her sense of humor is unparalleled. She is a Psittacidae's Erma Bombeck. Under her examination, everything becomes delightful. I have retained her as my publicist."

My apologies to the Lyon Family and my thanks for a delightful afternoon with your feathered friends.

Google mon amour

"I've searched your face, your limbs, your lips, even the tone of your voice; searched for some memory that must be buried in my past," Cato whispered. "It seems I've known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you, I think you are more beautiful now than then." He flicked his tail across Google's face, just the hint of a caress.

As his campaign manager, I rolled my eyes. "Why, why, why do I always have to witness these bull fests?" Wasn't it enough to know that he had no intention of following up his hot little endearments with anything, anything at all physical? The light rubbing of the ankle. The bumping of the forehead. The slight fishy smell of his breath as he tucked his chin under his listener's own. "Oh, God," I thought to myself. Why me?"

But I stopped mid-thought, there was something about Google's posture that told me that it was sucking up what Cato was saying.

Cato continued: "Rather than the face of a young company, I prefer your face as it is now..."

I waited for the shock of the word "ravaged." How would he say it? Would he whisper it as he daintily brought his whiskers closer to Google's face?

Instead, like the clever politician that he is, he edited the Duras text and left it out.

I couldn't believe that Google didn't recognize the quote, but like most techies, he fell for a literary line.

Google gave him the invitation to sit in its lap. Good God, this was going better than both of us had expected.

Cato leapt into the powerhouse company's lap. He ogled Google. "Oh, it was exquisite wasn't it. Very titanish......" I couldn't keep him from washing his paws and ears. He actually whispered  "My Cronus," in that big galoot's ear. Followed it with the slight lick from the tip of his tongue. Google blushed.

I was transfixed waiting for his next line. A line we had rehearsed with different inflections; different paw and claw motions; a line we had squeezed to the limit.

Laying himself across Google, as he had done with Donald Trump, he whispered: "Buy me," both of them gasped. I turned away to smile. Now we were getting somewhere.

"What the..," Google said, threatening to unseat him.

Cato dug his claws in and held on mightily. He said: "I need you and you need me. It's just that simple. As president, I can help you get legislation that's important to your business and you can help me out with a direct contribution to my campaign fund.

Google deftly removed Cato's claws from its thighs.

"Network neutrality," Google asked. "You'd support it?"

"As you grow larger, you need someone in your corner to watch out for you, who better than me? Why invest in a Republican or a Democrat? You're Google, you do things differently. I'm different, we need each other.

Besides, I actually understand the industry unlike my competitors. I know its venal side, I recognize that you are predators at heart. I know you have a cynical sense of humor, right?"

"Do no evil," Google said as it rearranged it's lap giving Cato a bigger spot to curl up on.

"I see everything, everything, all the things we could do together," Cato resumed whispering.

"You saw nothing in Google, nothing," it said as it pulled a large wad of cash from its back pocket.

"I saw everything, everything."

I left them alone, together.

Apologies to Marguerite Duras, Hiroshima Mon Amour, 1959.

De agri cultura

1. 

   Recipe for Coan wine: Take sea-water at a distance from the shore, where fresh water does not come, when the sea is calm and no wind is blowing, seventy days before vintage. After taking it from the sea, pour into a jar, filling it not fully but to within five quadrantals of the top. Cover the jar, leaving space for air, and thirty days later pour it slowly and carefully into another jar, leaving the sediment in the bottom. Twenty days later pour in the same way into a third jar, and leave until vintage. Allow the grapes from which you intend to make the Coan wine to remain on the vine, let them ripen thoroughly, and pick them when they have dried after a rain. Place them in the sun for two days, or in the open for three days, unless it is raining, in which case put them under cover in baskets; clear out any berries which have rotted. Then take the above-mentioned sea-water and pour 10 quadrantals into a jar holding 50; then pick the berries of ordinary grapes from the stem into the jar until you have filled it. Press the berries with the hand so that they may soak in the sea-water. When the jar is full, cover it, leaving space for air, and three days later remove the grapes from the jar, tread out in the pressing-room, and store the wine in jars which have been washed clean and dried. From De Agri Cultura the first surviving work of Latin written by Cato the Elder in 150 B.C. Grapes from the Oakville Appellation, the Napa Valley, California, circa 2006, awaiting harvest.

 

The rhumba

Learning to ride can be a humiliating experience if you come to it cold at age 40. Having never done anything remotely athletic in my life, is seemed doubly so. Born before Title IX went into effect, the only athletic endeavors available at school were girl's basketball. Never was there a more boring and taxing sport. I studiously avoided basketball altogether getting my physician to sign a note saying I had developed Osgood-Schlatter Disease and could not strain my knees.

Throughout my life, I have learned and mastered most things by force of will and persistence. Faced with learning to ride a horse and to achieve the refinement that dressage demands has served as an challenge to me -- the firmly potato'd individual. I am excellent at reading books. I can write and surf the Internet for hours. I can sit on my butt and make it a fine art. But ask me to move; coordinate all four limbs and guide a horse in movement as well, is a foreign country. I have no map for it. It has to be done by braille (touch and feel).

On this journey into the great unknown, I have had several horses. Most have been willing to go forward lightly with almost no need for spur or whip. They were both Arabians; both intelligent; neither were well suited for dressage. When I finally bought a horse that cost just a bit too much, but came with all the movement I could handle, I was in for a surprise. Seems I hadn't spent enough for the hind end motor. It would cost another $15,000 for that, and at that point, I was tapped out.

How much of horse behavior is taught and how much is genetic? Teddy had never been asked to carry his own weight with a rider and when we did, it created an uncomfortable situation. He came apart. He blustered about. He kicked out. He slowed. He reared and bucked. I wondered if this relationship would be one of never ending turmoil. I wondered if I should sell.

When I got Ted, my trainer said he would teach me how to ride. She said I would learn timing and tact. I would learn how to get him forward without a struggle; that one day I would simply have him in front of my leg and on the aids. I believed.

For two years, Teddy has been schooled twice a week by my trainer and her assistants who have better timing and feel than I have. They have asked him to move forward and have spanked his bottom if he hasn't responded. Forward and light has been his mantra.

Forward and light has been mine as well.

Six days a week Ted is ridden. Three of those days, he and I practice. A fourth day he and I jump. My best times with him are on Friday nights when no one is in the arena and there are no distractions. Slowly I have learned to let go with my knees, to stretch my legs down, to hold myself in the saddle with my tummy muscles, to balance and to sit the trot. Almost two years into this partnership, things have changed.

Our scores for our most recent show are improved. One score rising a full 5 percentage points. There are major differences in our warm-up. In this last show, Ted was forward, willing and over his back. I was more relaxed. Ted felt like he was going to follow my lead, rather than determine where he wanted to go.He seemed to want to please me.

The test itself was quiet. My hands were still and together. There was no kicking. I didn't use the whip. There were no exasperated grunts of frustration. Ted didn't respond to the scary trees in the corner. He was in front of my leg for a full five minutes while we rhumb'd through the test.

He was pleased with himself afterwards and took his time working his way out of the arena. He seemed to be saying, "See, you see, surprised you didn't I?"

Brushing the folds of pink taffeta away

In the summer when national candidates have nothing better to do, they go to the Iowa State Fair to campaign, talk to farmers, swat flies and eat corn. Because many of Cato's relatives (the striped ones) live in Des Moines, he decided to got to a family reunion and take a turn in the Iowa State Fair Parade. He wanted to see the famous Butter Cow for himself and mingle with the crowds in the Varied Industries Building. He wanted to tour the farm implements, chow down on  a corn dog and take a peak at the Fair's largest hog.

In the past, because of Iowa's early caucus, which may be over by 2008, many presidential candidates have walked in the fair parade. People like George McGovern, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, Lyndon Johnson, George Bush (elder and younger), kooks and criminals alike, they all came to press the flesh at the fair.

This year the fair was over run with candidates. New York Gov. George Pataki (R), Newt Gingrich (R), Iowa Gov. Tom Vilsack (D), John Edwards (D), Sen. Joe Biden (D_DE), Sen. Evan Bayh (D-IN), Sen. John McCain (R-AZ), and Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-TN) all came to press the flesh and let the people of Iowa know who they were.

"People in Iowa get tired of rubes and space holders when it comes to legitimate candidates, " Cato snapped as he was forced to stand around with Newt Gingrich and George Pataki; both waiting for a photo op with the Pork Queen. "I haven't seen this many losers since I made a guest appearance on America's Top Model."

He announced to the media that he was at the fair to have a good time and eat some cotton candy. When informed that Sen. Hillary Clinton (D-NY) would not be attending the fair this year, he was visibly aggravated. He snapped at the media and was heard to say (was the mike open deliberately or not is still a matter of speculation) that he was at the fair to face off "with the damn broad."

He did announce that he planned to clear the playing field by November. "This group of jokers couldn't win an election for prom queen," he told members of the national press as he tested out the substantial lap provided by the Pork Queen. Seated in the young girl's overly warm lap (it was in the 90s that day) he was seen to wipe his brow (cats do not sweat) and brush the folds of pink taffeta away from his whiskers before declaring "Hillary is the only opposition I have and I expect to take her out in early 2007!"

When asked by reporters why Hillary is his focus, he responded: "Her stand on Iraq. The fact that she didn't have Bill neutered when the Monica Lewinsky scandal hit and the fact that I don't think she understands health care at all. We cannot have any more Presidents who do not understand health care!"

After addressing the press he toured the Butter Cow and posed for Duffy Lyon, who is putting the finishing touches on the butter cat to be shown at the upcoming Feline Party of God conference in Bogota. "She's very good and captured a complete likeness of me down to the pants."

Touring the Avenue of Breeds, Cato stopped to chat up the champion swine Crinkles. The two talked about the Great Cat and the Feline Party of God as well as pork futures. Crinkles promised Cato that he would make a stop in Bogota, during the Latin American lap of his world tour as champion hog, for a sit down to discuss his potential as running mate. Unfortunately, neither had anticipated that he would be sold at auction the next day! On learning of his demise, Cato said: "More potential vice presidents are eaten by Iowans than in any other state, it is a travesty!" Then he headed for the midway for a corn dog and a ride on the ferris wheel.