Lock the cell and throw away the key!

I know there are more pressing things to worry about in the news (I’ve been mulling over some of the outrageous things that TOTUS and his band of merry kool aid drinkers have done) but the recent arrest of the teenager who has been killing beloved pet cats in Miami area just got me angry enough to type yet again.

Look at the two faces at the bottom of this page—my cats Ryan and Cammi. I have others I love just as much—Scottie and Matt, a pair of tabbies. These cats get food before I do—if money is short, I’m eating ramen and cheese, they still get their Royal Canin 33 premium food. My cats are important to me, and I am sure the owners of the cats carved up in Miami loved theirs just as much.

The authorities began to investigate this case when residents and pet owners in two neighborhoods, Palmetto Bay and Cutler Bay, reported finding beloved pet cats killed and mutilated in their yards. There have been 30 cat deaths in the neighborhood, and 19 of those have finally been traced to a single killer—18-year old Tyler Hayes Weinman. I’m not going to post his mug shot, but suffice it to say he sure doesn’t look terribly upset that he’s been arrested. Basically, he looks smug.

Four of the cats killed lived on the same street as Weinman.

Reporters who went to the suspect’s home, presumably to interview his mother, found a welcome mat with pictures of pawprints on it, and the message “Wipe your paws,” along with a sticker near the door informing fire and law enforcement that a feline resided in the home.

Weinman graduated from high school this spring. Instead of looking for a summer job, he’s in jail on a $154,500 bond. Guess he decided his summer job would be killing cats …

If there is anything in this horrible crime to be happy about, it’s that this kid killed those cats in Florida, a state that’s a bit tougher on crime than here in California. Weinman is charged with 19 counts each of animal cruelty and improperly disposing of an animal body, and four counts of burglary related to the deaths. If convicted, he faces pretty much life in prison (158 years by one report).

Here in California, we’d be asked to “understand” him and be told “he’s sick and needs therapy.” He might do a bit of time for burglary, or some DA would let him plea to something that amounts to little more than a slap on the wrist.

I am not a tort-crazy person either—I hate the idea of frivolous law suits. But in this case, I hope that the owners of those poor felines get together and sue the socks off of this kid and his custodial parent. I also trust that the Miami-Dade County DA remember a lesson from Serial Killers 101—that many serial killers start out by practicing on small animals. I am sure a Florida jury will also do the right thing—guilty as charged. Put this kid in the big house with the big boys—I think pet killers rate as high as rapists and child murderers.

Next time I promise to rant about TOTUS. Or my father’s greedy widow. Whichever irritates me the most first…

AP story about the arrest of this despicable kid here.

P.S. Cammi cat is feeling much better, too! She's back to her little princess ways, demanding a can of Weruva or Tiki Cat (fish flesh) canned food twice a day!

Strollin’ with Ryan

I am sick of feeling like crap, so on this fine spring day I decided to take a stroll with my dear friend Ryan. 

Ryan’s photo is on the bottom of this page, too.

Ryan has a bit of a colorful history. He was born in ‘da hood region of San Jose, somewhere around Quimby Street, the last week of March, 2007. A week before he ended up at San José’s Animal Care and Control, animal control officers had picked up a 5–6 week old tuxedo kitten with a medallion on his chest, and that kitten ended up at Unconditional Love Rescue in Los Gatos. A week later, some kids walked up to the same animal control officer with an identical kitten and told the officer to take the kitten or they were going to drown it. That kitten was Ryan, who was taken to Animal Control and then picked up by Unconditional Love and named Franc (his twin was Florian).

I adopted Ryan on June 1, the same day he was neutered. He was still high on kitty pain meds when I brought him home. I'd lost my 16 1/2 year old cat that March, about a week before Ryan was born. I missed having a tuxedo cat around the house. Ryan is so different from Elliott it's scary. 

Ryan used to really enjoy strolling with Scottie, but Ryan is now too big to share the stroller with anyone. He’s a bit of a tough guy wanna-be thug who is scared of strangers and likes to chase my daughter upstairs. He’s quite the stealth gangsta killah kitty so he wears a bell collar so he can’t sneak up on anyone.

The photo on the top of this entry is Ryan with Scottie back when they could still share the stroller.

I wasn’t fussy as to who went with me for a walk. I am so tired of not being able to walk any great distances due to pain in my foot, knees and back (and of course being out of shape sucks!) so I pulled the stroller out of the corner (it doubles as Cammi’s bedroom) and I grabbed the first cat who showed any interest. That happened to be Ryan. We did a pretty decent walk, a bit over a mile—for me that is quite the feat. However, I chose to walk along Capitol Expressway, which of course is busy with cars and Ryan wasn’t real happy with the cars. He laid down in the stroller and peered out cautiously and miaowed when I waited to cross the street.

I am sure I will pay for this dearly tomorrow. I am not as sore as I expected to be after walking down the incline at the BLVD Tavern last night after checking out the Vinyl Trees. Nothing like a bit of live music and people-watching. In previous entries I’ve talked about former NHL player Mark Smith’s band, and I was curious about the music. I mean come on, how many bands can you name that feature the digeridoo? Hmmmm? Former Shark (current Avalanche player) Scott Hannan showed up to support Smitty. Unfortunately the bar was also full of hockey groupie girls who were all three sheets to the wind, no doubt helping Smitty and his band earn a decent percentage of the bar take. Between Patricia and I, we had only three drinks. And NO I wasn't there in the capacity of hockey groupie, though yes, I have worked with Smitty and Scott back in my Hockeycorp days. I doubt either would remember me out of context, and I did not approach either. Wasn't the place ... no reason to do so.

Drunk people are funny. I was not one of them last night nor was my friend Patricia. But I think it’s safe to say that some of the idiocy we saw was pretty damn funny.

Off to ice my back and hope I am not too sore tomorrow … 

The best thing about the Clinton White House ...

Forgive the photo of Bill Clinton, it's an image of Socks the Cat I was looking for!

The most honest creature that lived in the White House with the Clintons went to the Rainbow Bridge today.

Socks Currie, former "pet" of Chelsea Clinton, had been fighting mouth and jaw cancer. Those of us who love cats know that's a tough thing to overcome, and Socks was thought to be 19 or 20 years of age. He was helped to the Bridge this morning in Maryland, where he'd lived since the Clintons left the White House in 2001.

You might recall the Clintons chose for Socks to stay with former secretary Betty Currie rather than take him—a family member—with them to NY. Probably for the best. Look what happened to the dog they chose over Socks (poor Buddie got run over a short time after the move).

Betty Currie took great care of the cat, and gave him all the love he deserved. I read she specially prepared chicken for him to eat.

Bless you Betty Currie for taking care of this sweet creature. He is health and whole again and he's waiting for YOU at the Bridge. It's you he will be looking for, not any of the Clintons.