Oh, He Is That Leo

This post is about the importance of having the correct gear.

And, it is about Leo, the cat I serve.

Leo at rest.

At the beginning of the year we received a notice from the Veterinarian informing us it was time for Leo to have his shots updated. Heather called to set up an appointment. Leo doesn't like to go to the Vet. He makes no effort to hide his displeasure. He has developed a reputation at the animal hospital we go to.

When reminded who Leo was, of his prior visits, and the previous discussions about even the possibility of the Doctor making a home visit the technician said, "Oh, he is that Leo." She added, "Let me talk with the Doctor and I'll call you back." She didn't call back

Leo, in one of his more regal moments.

Leo is a cat with a history. He was found next to road when he was a kitten. They estimate he was approximately seven months old. He had been hit by a car and had a broken pelvis. He was nursed back to health and put up for adoption. This is when Heather came into the picture. She adopted Leo. He still has some nerve damage which effects his gait. It was quite pronounced when Heather first got him. He came with the name Mr. Weebles. Heather thought that demeaning and changed his name to Leo. Because he has limitations with his rear legs and uses his front legs to pull himself up on things, declawing him has never been an option, which should classify him as a lethal weapon.

Leo is what one could call a cat with personality. To say Heather found herself with a spirited cat is like saying a hurricane is breezy. When I came onto the scene a few months after Leo things weren't going very well. Heather was afraid of Leo.

I grew up on a farm and was raised around barn cats; some tame, some nearly feral, and most somewhere in between. I've had cats most of my life, but I'd never met a cat like Leo. He'd hiss and swipe at me like those wilder cats I'd grew up with, but he wouldn't run. Maybe he didn't know he could. Anyway,  he would get this wild look in his eye and it was difficult to not feel like you were his prey. Looking back I suspect he too was afraid, but I must say at the time I thought Heather had a mentally ill kitty on her hands.

I don't know if it was the firm hand I brought into the household when I arrived or if it just took a long time for Leo to adjust to his new surroundings, but whatever the case he seems to have turned it around, at least with us. Heather has commented how she never expected him to be a lap cat, but  seldom is he not on one of ours.

But, going to the Vet is still a problem. I've never had an animal who liked going to the Vet, but Leo's aversion to it is epic. And, although we hadn't received a call back, we did continue to receive notices from the animal hospital in the mail. Heather has been ignoring them, but now with us moving into the "windows open" season it seemed a good idea to get Leo's shots taken care of.

In the past Heather has taken Leo to the Vet. This time I was brought into it.  And, I was ready.

Kevlar jacket? Check.

Insulated and reinforced FXR Racing gloves? Check.

When we got to the Vet Leo threw his normal hissy fit. He growled, hissed, bit, clawed and tore away at me, but no damage was done. As he was carrying on the Vet commented, "Those are some awesome gloves."

Those are teeth marks. That could have been my hand.

As is the case with these things, it was all over rather quickly. And, Leo was back home to continue his charmed life.

Leo, no worse for wear, having survived his visit to the Vet settled in on the bed to do some light reading.

It's all about having the right gear and wearing it.

There Is No Such Thing

He was my mother's favorite cousin. My memory is of being told he lived with my grandparents for a while. His father was probably an alcoholic. His mother would occasionally babysit my sister and me.

His beginnings were not easy, but he was making a life for himself. I don't remember anything about his wife. I don't know if he was divorced or what, but I do know he had a son.

He rode a motorcycle. He, also, drove a milk truck.  Not the kind that delivers milk to stores, but the kind that picked up milk in bulk from diary farms. During the summer he would ride his motorcycle to where the truck was parked and his son would ride with him. 

On a morning like so many other mornings my mother's cousin was riding to work with his son riding behind him, but this morning turned out to be a morning unlike any other. Was he a little later than usual or perhaps a little earlier? Was he in a hurry? I don't know. All I know is on this day an intersection that he and his son had been though probably hundreds of times, an intersection that seemed routine and harmless turned fatal. There was another car. They collided. I'm told he died instantly.  The son lived. He was the only one to survive the accident. With broken bones he managed to make his way the half mile or so to the nearest house. His Dad needed help and his determination pushed him to get it. He didn't know his Dad was already dead. It was all very sad.

I don't think my mother ever liked motorcycles much, but after her cousin was killed riding one she hated them. By the time I began riding my mother had been gone for a number of years. I'm sure if she had lived to see me riding she would not have been pleased. Truthfully, if she were still alive I suspect I wouldn't be riding.

I hadn't thought of my mother's cousin for years, but when I began riding that changed. He comes to mind often. He is in my head now. He won't let me forget that there is no such thing as a routine and harmless intersection. Never. Ever.

Billie Went Down, But . . . And, I Went Down, But . . .

Billie went down, but I was not with her.

Last week during one of those "Scattered Thunderstorms, Some Possibly Severe" that "pop" up from time to time here in St. Louis during the Summer, the wind blew Billie, my Symba, over. One of the maintenance guys called the Fileroom trying to contact me, but I was in the other Courthouse at the time. So, my boss and Walter went down and set Billie back upright. When I got back, I went down and found her mostly damage free. It's good to be taken care of. I really appreciate Mark and Walter for being Billie's guardian angels.

The only real damage to Billie was to one of the panniers. I must admit to having a love hate affair with these panniers. I got them as part of a special deal when I bought the bike. They had to be ordered. When I first saw them they seemed very flimsy. Later, when they were installed the service techs said they couldn't hook up the lights in the panniers. This meant the original tail lights could only be seen by the person directly behind me. I didn't like this and eventually got them to install another set of lights in addition to the regular lights at my expense. These lights quit working after a month or two. Not a pleasant customer service or product quality experience.

I mentioned how flimsy these panniers seemed, yes? Well, they were plastic and the lids rubbed together. It was hard plastic on hard plastic. They were noisy and there was a trail of plastic dust on the panniers from the lid and the bottom of the panniers grinding away on each other. I lined both the lid and base with electrical tape and it stopped the rattling. Another annoyance was the need to remove the top box to open the panniers. Needless to say I didn't use them for storage very much.

Ah, but when Mike took over the service department at Maplewood Scooter my relationship to the panniers was transformed. He said it would be no problem to wire up the lights. And, when I finally got a chance to see how cool they were, well, all the pannier's past sins and shortcomings were forgiven, but not forgotten.

Flimsy?

Yes.

I will miss the lights, but we'll come up with something. And, I will miss the place to put stickers, but other than that: Good riddance!

 

And, I went down, but Billie wasn't with me.

Last Monday evening I was inline skating on Grant's Trail. The previous Saturday I'd done a nice long slow skate of twenty miles (32.1km) and was doing intervals -- nearly full out sprints followed by recovery time. One cyclist had clocked me on one of my sprints as doing 18mph (29km/h).

As I approached where the trail crosses Union Road I had sprinting on my mind. I was due to begin one shortly after crossing Union. When I saw in the distance the clock on the crossing sign showed eight seconds. I figured if I began my sprint it would be tight but I could complete the crossing before the light changed . . . and I could have. What I hadn't allowed for was the car preparing to run a red light. We suspect he was going 35 to 40mph when he hit me. I remember impact and remember as much as is possible in such instances of what happened during the impact. I pretty well trashed his windshield. The first responders think my head hit there. I'm not so sure, but I know I was thrown ten or fifteen feet down the road after impact. I'm sure my head hit the pavement.

Importantly, given my head injury past, I was lucid all the time. There was no unconscious time. The helmet did its job. So, after an ambulance ride to St. Anthony's Hospital. I got to spend the evening meeting X-Ray and CAT scan technicians. I had an EKG. Everything checked out. I spent a couple of additional hours trying to give a urine specimen to rule out bleeding from the kidneys. That took forever, but I was finally successful and was released.

Yesterday, I was sore, but not as sore as I expected. I have had days after an American Rules Football game where I felt worse. I've felt no need to take any pain medication.

Today, I'm even less sore overall, but it is becoming clear to me where the points of contact were. I'm getting out and about. I drove over to have breakfast with Heather before she left for work. She took yesterday off to make sure I behaved myself. I, also, went by the the eyeglasses place to begin the process of replacing my glasses. The glasses didn't break and the vision technician said I did a good job of straightening them out, but the lenses are scratched pretty badly. Oh well, it was time for new glasses anyway.

My face is swelled up on one side where the glasses seem to have been jammed into my face, but it looks like I will avoid having a black eye. I still suspect the whole of my left leg will eventually blossom into one gigantic bruise. My right elbow has a scape on it. One small area of concern is some vertigo I'm experiencing, but that seems to be lessening. I took at least one major blow to the right side of the head and suspect this may be balance related and not concussion since it only happens when I bend over to get something or rollover in bed. In bed if I keep my head elevated as I roll no dizziness.


Tomorrow? I may actually go back to work. It is hard to believe I was hit by a car just two days ago.

The ER Physician, Dr. Vincent, saw some pictures one of the EMT's had taken of the car and of the scene of the accident. He was amazed I walked away from it. I was lucky. And, Dr. Vincent also pointed out being in really good physical condition certainly helped. Needless to say, wearing protective gear helped perhaps most of all. In addition to the helmet I was wearing knee and wrist guards.

Heather took these photos of my helmet . It has a major owie. Time for a new helmet.

Oh well, add being hit by a car whilst inline skating to my resume.

His Garden

There are two intersections on my evening commute that are just too exciting for my taste. In the morning they are fine, but after work the traffic is heavier and this can create situations I'd rather avoid. So, now I have a new route home.

My new route led to the discovery of a house with a yard that is nearly all vegetable garden. It was obvious this was the home of a serious gardener. I had an uncle who was such a gardener. He was always out in his garden doing something. On Grant's trail I inline skate by a couple of gardens that remind me of his, but the garden I now pass on my commute home has a different feel to it. I think it has to do with it literally saturating the lot the house is on. It is a marvelously intense garden.

I kept hoping to get some photos of the garden before it had grown to the point where it would be difficult to get anything other than the vines growing up the fence, but either the weather kept promising rain and my camera isn't waterproof or I'd just forget to take the camera with me. I, also, really felt I wanted to ask the owner's permission before I took any photos.

Finally, one day I noticed a man weeding the garden. I stopped. He was delighted that I was delighted in his garden. Somehow it came up that I worked at the Courthouse Downtown. He asked me if that was where he would come to take the oath. It took me a moment to figure out that he was talking about becoming a citizen. He is originally from the Philippines, but was going to become an American citizen in just a couple of days. I told him that would be the Federal Courthouse, the one with the green dome. I work in the State Courthouse. We chatted for a while and as I prepared to leave he told me to feel free to stop and take as many pictures as I wished anytime I wished.

Last Wednesday I was able to stop by and not only take some pictures but congratulate my new gardening friend on becoming a new citizen. I was going to take some pictures from the outside, but he would have none of that. No, I had to come in a take lots of pictures of his garden. So, I did. He made me promise to come back when he was harvesting the fruits of his labors. I told him that I would. I suspect I will from time to time post photos of his garden. I'm looking forward to paying attention to how his garden grows.

Billie, my SYM Symba, waiting patiently as my new gardener friend shows me his garden.

Trying to keep the varmints out.

Maybe a fake snake will deter some critters.

And, as I took pictures he went back to work.

Once again, I'm grateful for another gift my commuting to work on the Symba has given me.

That Was A Very Good Answer

They drove up just as I was beginning my walk up the ramp to the employee entrance of the Courthouse. They are both investigators for the Circuit Attorneys Office and I see them often. We speak in passing, but I can't say I remember ever actually interacting with them.

They came up the steps and I made it to the door just before them. I opened the door and motioned for them to go ahead. He acting the gentleman let her enter first. As she entered she said to me, "Why thank you, sir."

I said nothing, but as he passed me I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "I guess she thinks I was holding the door for her."

We all laughed. "Nope," she said, "I figured you were holding it for him. He's much nicer than I am."

I had to take off my helmet and have my messenger bag scanned, but still caught up to them at the elevators.

As the doors to one of the elevators opened she hurried to be first and then pretending to hold the door said, "Here let me return the favor and hold the doors for you." She bowed and added, "After you gentlemen."

As I entered the elevator I playfully pointed out to her that the doors had opened by themselves and that wasn't much of a payback. We were all laughing and she said, "Okay, if you're going to be that way, let me do something else for you." Then  she added, "I know, let me hold your helmet for you."

I looked at her and with a straight face said, "I'm not sure I can handle a woman holding my helmet this early in the morning."

She stopped laughing, looked at me, and shook her index finger at me. I'm thinking this is not good. Then she spoke, "That was a very good answer," and laughed. Then she added, "Now that we are all wide awake, I think it is time we start our work day ."

It Was Worth The Wait

The other evening I needed to pay my internet bill. It was due. Yes, I could have paid it online, but whenever possible I prefer to deal face to face.

When I walked in the manager was once again manning the triage desk. One of the things about paying my bill in all kinds of weather while wearing my gear is folk tend to remember me. He and I have this little dance we do each month. I tell him I want to pay my bill. He tries to direct me to one of the self service machines. I remind him that since my head injury I don't do machines. He says he remembers and I believe him. But even so, he next offers as he does every month to walk me over to the machine and do all the work for me. Each month I decline and every month he reminds me how much he hates to see me wait. We go through this every month. This month he was particularly keen to get me to a machine since I might be facing as much as a thirty minute wait. I assured him it really was fine. Finally, he gave up. He wrote down my name and I retreated to the wall of windows that face somewhat west.

Waiting for me was a view of a most remarkable sunset. I knew that if not for this unintentional wait I would have missed this sight completely. I would have finished my commute, had the bike hooked up to the battery tender, and been in my condo feeding the cat. As it was, I had nothing else to do but stand there and watch the sunset intensify in color--orange, yellow, multiple shades of purple, and even some green.

At one point I noticed the manager dealing with a particularly angry customer. I admired his patience, but thought I detected a certain sense of burden on him. I began to suspect this had not been an easy day for him.

I watched the sunset unfold and waited for the manager to be free of customers. When this happened I called to him and motioned him to come over to where I was standing next to the door. He came over. I told him to open the door, step outside and look west. To my surprise he didn't question me, but just did as I asked.

I watched him stand there looking at the sunset. He stood there for at least a full minute, maybe longer. Then he came back in.

"Pretty cool, hey?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said and smiled at me.

As he left me, it seemed he had a little more bounce in his step, but these things are difficult to gauge and I was well aware I could have imagined it. I went back to watching the sunset and waiting to pay my bill.

Later, the manager walked a customer to the door. They have a custom at this store. After your dealings are completed, the person who waits on you walks you to door, opens it for you, and thanks you for your business. It is a nice touch and I like it. Anyway, the sunset was waning, but still glorious as he closed the door. I said to him, "You didn't ask her to look at the sunset."

"No, but I did text my wife and asked her to look at it," he said, smiling as he pulled out his phone and showed me the proof.

"Cool," I said.

Eventually, I managed to pay my bill. The whole transaction took maybe a minute and a half tops. And, it was worth the wait.

Hey, I'm Wearing Hose

I don't know her name. I see her around the Courthouse. She works for a different part of the Judiciary than I do. She has the most wonderful smile. I had not seen her for sometime and had actually wondered if she had moved on to another position or to a different building.

This morning I was running a little earlier than I normally do. As I walked toward the Courthouse there she was crossing the street. We walked together and chatted. She wondered how it was that I didn't freeze riding to work in the cold. I pointed out to her that I was wearing gloves--she was not. I was wearing a hat--she was not. And, I was wearing pants--she was not.

"Hey, I'm wearing hose," she protested and we both laughed.

"Of course, I'm teasing you," I said, "But seriously, it's all about dressing appropriately. Actually, in this gear I'm nice and toasty."

She asked me if I rode a motorcycle or a scooter. I told her I rode a small motorcycle. When I mentioned I get over 100mpg, her eyes got really big. "That's awesome," she said.

"And, it's great fun," I said, and added, "And, I get to wear all these really cool looking warm clothes!"

"And, you look damn good doing it," she said.

I liked her response better than the guy at the coffee shop. When I walked in earlier this morning he said, "The Martian has landed."

Oh well, it was a little bit warmer this morning. It was 16F when I left the house. The forecasters are predicting a warm-up for the next couple of days, but the weekend could bring first rain, then snow with temperatures dropping into the single digits by Sunday night.