Francis the Killer Kitten

NOTE: The below was written in November and never published. There is an update at the end. Thanks.


About a month back, my wife sent me a rather alarming email. My wife and a coworker heard an abandoned kitten crying just outside her office. My wife wrote that no one at her office was able to take the kitten home permanently. I was reluctant because I know my wife - she always wants to adopt another cat, so I have to serve as the voice of reason. Janessa resorted to low blow tactics, however, by sending me the following photo:



Try saying no to that face! Anyway, we ultimately decided to take the kitten in on a provisional basis. We were both concerned that his presence might negatively affect Rewind and Louis, our two cats, and resolved to find the kitten a suitable home should it be necessary.

We isolated our kitten in its own room, both to ease the transition and because it had not yet had its shots (it was too small, only a few weeks old). After lots of eating and pampering, he began to come out of his shell. My wife and I had several discussions about what to name him, with me preferring non-human names and my wife the opposite. In the end, the kitten's name just came to me one day as I stared into his little eyes: Francis. This is what such a small cute thing should be called. Janessa loved the name and it stuck.

I'd never had a kitten before. Rewind was my first cat and she was about 10 months old when I got here. Several people told me it was a bad idea to get a kitten as my first cat and I grudgingly listened to them. It worked out great, of course, because that's the only reason I ended up with Rewind. Well, I finally learned exactly why it had been a bad idea to start with a kitten! They are unstoppable perpetual motion machines lacking boundaries, order and common sense. Of course they are also adorable, which goes a long way.

Like most kittens, Francis is a natural born hunter. It didn't take long at all before he was stalking toys and pouncing on whatever moved - often our feet. Right at the beginning he started doing what we think of as his trademark: popping up on his back legs and raising his arms as a threat of attack. Francis wants to look big, and this move frequently comes in the middle of play sessions. It is incredibly cute and endearing.

Francis never stops. He basically plays, poops and eats, with the latter two making his play even more spirited. It was weeks before I caught him relaxed enough to purr - though when he does it is LOUD, his whole body shakes. We can literally play with Francis for hours. The nice thing is that he is so crazy that we can often do it with minimal effort, sitting on a couch and waving a toy around. Sometimes he is so crazy he doesn't need us at all and simply attacks the toy on his own. Sometimes WE become his target and he goes crazy trying to attack any part of us he can reach. Sometimes I think kittens are sponsored by Band-Aids.

Also, Francis is fearless. We're finally at the point where Francis can be in the same room with the other cats for small periods and hopefully soon, all the time. I was concerned about how he would do with such bigger cats around (and how they would respond to him). In fact it only took a few minutes before Francis started to attack Louis like crazy and chase him throughout the house. Francis somehow instantly sensed that Louis was a pushover and, before we knew it - became a bully to a cat roughly 5 times his size. Louis does stand up for himself sometimes, though, although occasionally we have to give him a break and put Francis away.

As fearless as Francis is though, he is far from the alpha kitty. Rewind is and will always be the dominant cat in our house. She is STONE COLD. Francis will approach her and Rewind will not even flinch. She may swat at him a bit if he gets too close, but mostly just a glance in his direction seems to communicate everything. Whenever Francis gets even within a small area of Rewind, he treads carefully. Rewind is not impressed with Francis and barely pays him any attention at all. Several times we've seen Francis get his audacity up and walk up to her proudly only to slink away at the last moment. It's really quite amazing. We are glad Francis is learning something about boundaries, at least.

One of the best side effects of crazy kitten time has been its effect on both Louis and Rewind who are now more playful than they have each been in years. They constantly hear Francis playing in the adjacent room and his spirit seems to have infected them. Both of them could use more exercise, so we are thrilled with this result. Of course neither can keep up with Francis for long so they are not exactly playmates, but both Rewind and Louis are healthier for it.

Francis has been a wonderful addition to our family and we can't wait to watch him grow into cathood. We are both so glad we decided to save him. Here he is being held by me:



Edit: January 2, 2012:

I'd meant to publish this long ago, but it slipped off my desk. Since I wrote it, lots of things have changed. Francis has become much more integrated with the other cats, and much calmer as a result. We now have him out all day long and only put him away at night so that we can sleep. He's still crazy, but he's a little more under control.

Also, his (excuse the pun) pussyfooting around Rewind ended quickly. He realized pretty fast that Rewind was all threat and no follow-through and started attacking. Most of the time, he wins, because Rewind is too lazy to fight back and gets annoyed and runs away. Photographic evidence of Francis' courage:

The Silent Page

For a writer, there is a silent tyranny to the blank page. The blankness suggests a vacuum in the writer's own heart - a lack of direction, inspiration - motivation, that never finally dissipates. The chase to fill this empty space can occupy a writer forever and that writer can still lose in the end.

Most of my life, I've been told that I should be a writer - one form of writer or another. It's understandable. Language dominates my interface with the world. I learned to read when I was 4 and never stopped. I was one of those kids who would borrow ten books from the library at once, read them all in a week and come back for more. In the pre-internet era, imagination was as magical and vivid as we dreamed it could be. Books were only truly successful when they were a collaborative experience between the reader and the writer. Creativity was as natural - and as effortless - as breathing.

As I've aged, my fascination with language and writing has only increased, but my creativity seems to be on a continuous downward slope. I think that, in part, this is due to the flood of media now surrounding us at every turn. Creativity consists of filling the gaps. When there are no gaps, there is nothing to create and originality suffers. To be sure, this is at least as much my own fault as my environment. I've become a bit too lazy, a bit too relaxed and happy. This condition is good for one's physical health, perhaps, but anathema to one's creative health.

At many points in the past few years I have realized that my desire to write can only be accomplished by actually writing - and that this can only be accomplished with a daily discipline that I seem to lack. Intellectually, I know that writing is like any other pursuit one wishes to be habitual - the first two or three weeks are the most difficult part. Creating a routine, ironically, is the key to true creative success. Only repetition can breed originality.

So this blog entry represents the first step in my latest attempt to transform myself from a dreamer to a doer. I am hopeful that committing myself to doing some writing everyday - even on mundane subjects - will stoke my creative fires and motivate me to get off my ass and DO SOMETHING. Whether this will just be another failed attempt or an actual beginning is unclear to me at this moment. But I have to try.

edit: no dice, but I'm going to keep trying...

One Year No Coffee Anniversary

One year ago today I sipped my morning coffee only to feel a strong burning sensation in my stomach. Intuiting that this wasn't a good thing - I stopped, and set up a doctor's appointment. My stomach had been bothering me for a few days quite a bit. I assumed it was just a bug because the wife had just finished a two week stomach ordeal that matched my symptoms almost exactly.

I was wrong.

Sadly, I soon came to understand that I had extreme GERD - chronic heartburn, in other words. I'd had some problems with heartburn in the past but had been taking nexium for several years and this had succeeded in suppressing the symptoms - until now. I underwent an endoscopy and my GI doctor told me flat out that I had to quit drinking all caffeine for my own good - to allow my gut to heal. Maybe not forever, but for several years at the very least.

I was livid and actively rejected this analysis for some time. I kept drinking tea, though I didn't touch coffee, because I believed that it was the tannins - not the caffeine - that was causing my problem. I was half right. It was both.

After taking a few weeks completely off caffeine during an intense work phase, I tried a cup of white tea one morning - the lowest dose of caffeine in a drink available. My stomach burned in pain for two days.

Uh oh.

Slowly, I began to accept reality. It still took me until early this year to part with my nearly twenty pounds of green (unroasted) coffee. I kept thinking things would turn around. Well, they haven't. I hope they do one day, but I am caffeine free for the foreseeable future.

If you told me tomorrow I could drink coffee without destroying my stomach - I would. But the truth is, I know I am healthier this way. I feel better, have more energy, sleep better and my day is much less of a roller coaster.

Still, it's crazy to think that a year ago I was returning from WSOP and drinking coffee and now can't drink coffee and online poker has been effectively stolen from my grasp by the DOJ. Life is crazy sometimes. I am happier than ever despite it all, and I guess that's what counts.

On Television and the Communal Experience

Last night, I had the pleasure of attending PaleyFest2011's 'Parks and Recreation' night. The entire cast - with the exception of Rob Lowe - and the co-creators, Michael Schur and Greg Daniels, were in attendance. As with all PaleyFest events, the night began with an airing of an episode of the show - this one has not aired yet and will not air until March 17. I won't spoil anything, I will simply say it's probably the best episode yet - don't miss it. The episode was followed by a Q&A by the cast, which was great.

This isn't the first PaleyFest event I've been to, but each time it feels odd to watch an episode of television in a huge room full of people. The feeling is so different from sitting on your couch at home. For one thing, the screen is massive. But the really significant part is the shared feeling of experiencing something that the audience loves.

The nature of television is inherently isolating. Most television is watched alone or with family. Occasionally, for a big event like a season finale, there are viewing parties. By and large, though television is most often experienced in a solitary setting. This is in stark contrast to film, where I'd argue that the communal nature of a theatrical release is at least as significant a part of the experience as the actual film itself.

For most of the history of television, film has had this advantage over television, but that advantage has greatly diminished. The Internet has transformed television from a largely solitary pursuit to an interactive media experience. Buzz over television used to be limited to the water-cooler. Today, countless sites like Vulture and the AV Club pick apart every episode of popular programs. Critics like Alan Sepinwall give near-instant breakdowns of shows that are read and commented on by thousands of people. Facebook and Twitter allow viewers to update their responses to programming in real time and interact with each other in the process. As a result, TV no longer lacks the communal qualities inherent in film and live theater. And, while the experience is still qualitatively different than viewing a film or play in a room full of people, television is a far richer experience than it once was, and the Net is a big part of the reason why.

On the decaf brain

Well folks, I'm eight months deep in caffeine sobriety and doing surprisingly well.

I've long had a passion for coffee that lead me to roast my own beans and savor every cup with reverence and abandon. Consequently, I was devastated to hear my gastroenterologist say that I'd have to quit caffeine period back in June - due to extreme GERD.

At first - denial. I did entirely stop drinking coffee the middle of June last year. I switched to lower Caffiene content white tea, in an effort to convince myself that the tannins, rather than the caffeine, were primarily responsible for my stomach's souring. Sadly, I was wrong. I endured another month of gutpain before I finally took the plunge and dropped caffiene entirely. I had a trial a few weeks out and didn't need the tummy drama. I figured after the trial I would try again and hope my inflammed belly had cooled.

Well that trial got continued, and I was distressed to find out that two weeks were not nearly enough away from caffeine to handle it again. One cup of white tea made my stomach fire for two days. That, my friends, is a sensitive stomach. Slowly, I began to accept reality. My doctor suggested I might be able to have caffeine again in "2 or 3 years" and I began to mentally and emotionally adapt to circumstances.

Quitting caffeine itself was not the issue. I broke the addiction pretty easily - the pain was so great with it that any withdrawal seemed pale by comparison. And I had long thought that it was probably healthier to avoid caffeine. My problem was that I loved coffee and tea - the flavor and texture of them, the ritual in preparing them, the nerdy gathering of international coffees to compare and contrast their terroir and varietal. I can't even drink decaf coffee because, while the tanins are not the sole cause of my issues with coffee - they are still a cause. The same fact makes me drink red wine only scarely. (White wine, which fortunaetly for me, I like better, doesn't seem to be an issue, thankfully).

So you might say quitting was difficult for me. Indeed, I can't count the number of days I've thought to myself or aloud how much I wanted a cup of joe. That fragarent warmth coming off the cup and refreshing my mind and cleansing me of fog.

But what can I do? I really don't have a choice. As much as I love coffee, I love living and being healthy even more.

So I wearily accepted reality and hocked off 14 pounds of dry green coffee that I'd been holding in some vain hope of ever roasting them. I still have not given up the cause - I am keeping my Behmor Coffee Roaster, two Chemex brewers, and expensive bean grinder - in hopes that someday in the next few years I can use them once again. The coffee though was perishable, and I finally accepted that I wouldn't drink this particular batch.

This isn't to say my decaf brain is ALL bad. In fact, health wise it's quite good. I wake up with far more energy than before. I sleep deeper and feel more refreshed on waking. My stomach is of course happier - not just for want of acid but for my digestion. And perhaps best of all, my day does not contain as many highs and lows, but an evenness that helps me focus on the task at hand.

So I'm here to say, if you have to quit caffeine, and you don't want to - have hope. You can get through it, not just the short term but the long term. I doubt many people love coffee more than I do, but I'm through the other side.

Still, I hope you can keep drinking it.