Cato's Republic

My sordid life

Cato confesses to catnip abuse on Catnip Anonymous.

Rutherford Dust

Early Sunday February 18th on Conn Creek Rd. Glorious mustard and the promise of a fine day for horse back riding.

Frogs Leap Winery is not far down the road. Past the winery is the town of Rutherford. I had the complete view of Rutherford dust.

A duck and a truck

Winter in Northern California isn't really hard. I spent most of my life living in a state where the sun went down in November and didn't return until May. I wore my long underwear (I had dozens of pairs.) the whole time because I was so skinny it was impossible to stay warm.

No, winter in Northern California isn't bad. The temperatures stay at around 50 degrees and it rains for long periods. It is just rain. It started raining on Thursday and it is Sunday. It hasn't stopped yet. This wouldn't be a problem for anyone who sits at home and reads books and watches TV, but if you want to ride your horse it is a drag.

Our normally commodious riding center goes from seven arenas to two covered arenas when it rains. That is several hundred people sharing the same space. The combination of hunter/jumper and dressage riders is bad enough, but when you add in ponies and children, lessons, and sales barn horses that are barely trained, people get a little testy -- or at least I do.

After Teddy received a clean bill of health from UC Davis, he was started back to work. Because of his long lay off, the cold and the fact that there were a huge number of people in the arena, even my trainer could not ride Ted. He seemed to be more inclined to go up and bolt than anything else, so I made the decision to send him up north to be rehabbed. Patriot Farms outside of Loomis has an automatic walker that can take a horse from walking to trotting in easy steps. This can be done without anyone climbing on the horse's back.

At Patriot Farms, Teddy had a huge luxury stall. He was fed three times a day and was exercised twice a day. At the end of the month he was trotting 25 minutes in an hour work out. Psychologically he was much better off, so I made the decision to bring him home to continue conditioning with a rider on his back at our facility.

Teddy came home with a new attitude. Oh, he was still the same old Ted, didn't offer to go forward, but when pressed he walked out well enough. He got a new stall in an old wooden barn, so if he kicked he wouldn't contact metal. The first time I climbed on his back, it felt good. He seemed happy. The weather was dry and warm and I took him out to the round pen and walked and trotted him easily. I could not wipe the grin from my face. It had been since September since I'd been able to ride him. What a pleasure.

That was last weekend. I didn't think much about the weather when it started raining. I prefer drought. I live in an agricultural community, so rain is key, but I don't care. Rain means mud to me. It means crowded riding conditions. Rain means moldy tack, a car covered with rice hulls and more mud. It means my clothes are not just sweat soaked, they are wet period. Rain means stormy horse personalities.

So when I tacked him up yesterday morning, I expected a quiet and relaxed horse. He was composed in the tack up. Ready for a treat, if I was handing them out. My friend Christy was tacking her horse Sante up for a similar workout. It was pouring rain and we were going to walk in the arena early to miss all the Saturday hubbub. Sante had been off for three months. He had spent the morning work out session the day before rearing. It was important to get an early start to prevent problems.

The arena was quiet, empty. I mounted and began the endless walk -- one hour of walking is a long time. The covered arena next door was filled with lunging horses and jumpers. Ted was calm, interested, but not too interested.

Christy entered with Sante and began to hand walk him around the arena. He seem 'OK', so she climbed aboard and walked him in a circle. This is when I noticed the truck hauling hay coming down the drive. Following it was a huge forklift. Christy saw it too and came to a stop. I continued walking Ted sure that this would not be a problem.

The truck whizzed past both arenas to stop in front of the hay barn. Noisy unloading commenced. Sante seemed OK. Ted seemed OK. Christy and I were giddy. There would be no death defying antics from our horses. Rain was nothing. An arena full of noisy jumpers and little children on ponies next door did not seem to matter. We were going to both make it through the hour with out incident. In fact, Ted and I were walking so swiftly, we were working up a sweat.

That's when the duck began to walk across the pavement towards us. Simultaneously, the forklift reached the back of the hay truck. The motor grinding, it was lifting the hay off the end and lowering it with swiftness. Then, the piece de resistance appeared from the barn opposite. A loud-colored horse with a green blanket wrapped around the saddle came walking towards us. Suddenly, Ted and I were spinning out of control. I couldn't hold on. I hit the ground and waited for Ted to step on me. I yelled at the little girl with the colored horse to hold still.  She stopped.

Ted stood a few feet away snorting. He waited for me to have a fit. I didn't have one. Sante hopped around at the other end of the arena. I waited to see what would transpire. Sante stopped.

Deciding it was a one-time occurrence, I climbed back into the saddle. I was in no pain? There was no pain, I must have bounced.

Ted began to snort again. We stopped. Sante hopped. This went on for 2-3 minutes and then Christy decided she had had enough. She didn't want to hit the ground. I walked Ted around the arena without incident for another 20 minutes. The duck, loud-colored horse and the hay truck had all left the area by the time I was done.

Was it the curse of the loud-colored horse?

After both horses were back in their stalls, Christy and I were both outside the barn rehashing the incident, trying to figure out what set it off. My cell phone rang. I took the call. When I told my nonriding friend on the other end of the call what had happened, I told her it was just a matter of a duck and a truck. Christy, who was loading her car at the time, doubled over in laugher. That's what it was, a matter of a duck and a truck. No other words could explain it.

Photo illustrations are of Sante at a show and the automated walker at Patriot Farms.

I am self cleaning

"Take Real Madrid and former Manchester United star footballer, David Beckham. When people follow him in a celebrity magazine, they are not, by and large, interested in the human being with the name David Beckham. Rather, they are interested in the media icon, the freely-available public face, the thing with which the wider community has a relationship: this is the brand."

"Celebrity Branding: Not as glamorous as it looks" by Chris Gannell and Ruwan Jayawardena

Jackie Collins mentioned that David Beckham was moving to the LA Galaxy, I wasn't sure what she was talking about. I had never heard of the LA Galaxy.

But I had heard of David Beckham. I'd seen his pajama bottoms ads. "Quite a fellow," I thought, "he can wear pants without trouble (unlike me) quite a talent." I had no idea he was a sportsman, much less a soccer player. "Oh, honey," Jackie said. "He is quite a player and his wife will have to watch out for predators when they move to LA." Being a predator, I was intrigued.

His celebrity also sparked my imagination. Here was an icon. Here was a celebrity with great brand --something I had been striving to achieve with my presidential campaign. Now, I am not a fan of cold calling, but I knew a fellow that knew a fellow....to make a long story short, I came up with a phone number and talked my way into a meeting.

We got together in Madrid in a little grill near the Bernabeu stadium. I recognized him right away. After we shook hands, I realized I could not understand a word he was saying; his accent was incomprehensible. After several minutes of pantomime and a bout of passing notes back and forth, we came to an understanding. Affable, quick and charming are the words I would use to describe David. Quite the gent, all in all. Here is what I learned about branding from the master:

"First you must define exactly what it is you have to offer. What is your core essence? You are not just a cat, nor are you just a presidential candidate. You are a nonhuman that thinks capably about the human species in a way that humans cannot. You are a global thinker. You realize there is a world out there, unlike many of our current and past presidential candidates.

You are global thinker, but with a predatory spin. You have the experience of eating raw flesh, and yet you have a refined palate. You are able to enjoy a '71 Petrus and talk about it knowledgeably while dining on a small bird or mouse.

"You are neutered, thus you completely understand the biological roots of many human foibles, including war. You have retractable claws. The human race has not seen a candidate like you. Consider your visionary qualities. You are an artist in the realm of statecraft. You sit in your enemy's lap and purr, is that detente or what? For god's sake, you are the only candidate that is a professional lap dancer and still you appear warm and cuddly --not unseemly or dirty.

"So, now we must figure out who would vote for you and then refine your image to appeal to this group of individuals. To appeal you must look as good on TV as you do on paper. You combine all the great qualities of the Siamese breed with the common touch of a striped, short haired cat. You are photogenic and well-spoken. You do need to drop some weight, however, or you will appear twice your size on TV.

"Let's look at your other features. Neutering will be at once repugnant to American voters, and an object of fascination. I should think that you should first look for an audience that looks on purity as a positive feature for a presidential candidate to have. Those that believe in sin and redemption. A religious audience will look on your neutered state as positive perhpas priestly. You are untainted by sex. We could further divide this group into Catholics, Methodists and maybe Lutherans, but let's not eliminate anyone yet.

"Because you have tasted raw flesh and crave it, you should look for those that are interested in fetishes. You also lap dance so we should look among those who crave thrills without attachment. Those voters who enjoy and indulge in pornography regularly. This is about In 80 percent of the male population -- cutting across all social strata. So let's say you begin to wear pants, just a little, and emphasize your metrosexual qualities. You become the 'pure' fetish for the sake of your campaign. You eat flesh, you don't fuck it. It's like you are the animal star on all those nature channels on television. You are the embodiment of Animal Planet. This category takes in a whole other population of voters -- the conservationists. Man, you've got it happening all over and we haven't even addressed your cuddly side -- the Hello Kitty vote.

"At this point, we have to turn, albeit briefly to your competition. While the field is full, there is no candidate that can stand up to your talents. Let's just take lap dancing for example. You have refined your technique over years of lap sitting for pleasure. You purr....can you imagine Hillary Clinton sitting in Donald Trump's lap purring? You shift positions exquisitely, particularly if you encounter a bony seat. You have learned to deal with the fat lap and the breast shelf. You have learned to dodge the sweaters and the clammy hands. You use your claws to cool down a lap dance that has gotten too "hot." My God, you have your own portable champaign court (sometimes called a VIP lounge). You are the consummate lap dancing candidate, you have no competition!

"Now we turn to the benefits of your presidency. In the forefront is your ability to guide Americans in self-reflection, particularly on the war in Iraq.  You have direct experience in combat. You kill your prey; then you eat it. You will have the vote of every NRA member in America!

"Let's look at your ability to deal with international conflict. What candidate can bring the heads of Arab nations into his own portable champaign court and lap dance his way to detente? Your charm is as as soft as your fur. You are cuddly. You are cute. Those qualities coupled with your claws, evil, glassy stare and your thrashing tail will help you persuade those jokers that enough is enough. Time to join the 21st Century and put in indoor plumbing.

"The biggest drawback to your campaign will be your intelligence. Americans are the most ill-educated, anti-intellectual lot in the world. You are going have to emphasize you humble beginnings. You father's abandonment of your family. Growing up in a bread bowl on a kitchen table. You will need to talk about monster trucks, the cultivation of corn and NASCAR racing. Americans are more likely to elect a likable idiot and you must appear to be one.

"So here is your positioning statement. "Vote for me. I am the candidate who is likable enough to sit at the kitchen table with you and talk about your family. I am so likable that I can sit in your lap and keep you warm in the winter. Not only am I warm and comfy, but I am pure because I am neutered. Because I am neutered, I am objective and can make decision based on facts and sound financial judgement. Because I am objective, I will not take your children's future down a financial and environmental hole. Because I am pure, I can sit on the lap of our evil enemies and tame their dark hearts and bring them into the light. Because I am part-Siamese, I am vocal. I speak my mind and I insist there be peace in the neighborhood. Because I have claws, I can enforce peace quickly and with finality. Because I have claws and move with lightening speed, I can feed myself. Because I am feline, I am a creature of nature. I am exciting. I am self cleaning.

"Take these ideas. Refine them a little and then put out a simple statement. You should also take some time to develop a logo and color that will express who you are and what your presidential candidacy is about."

Before we parted for the day, David offered to let me sit in his lap. An indescribable experience. What a man. What a player. What a lap!