The pretty kitty finally gets a name #MondayMadness

November 3, 2025JT Twissel 20 Comments

Way back in 2013 this cat started showing up on our deck. I guess he/she figured my husband fed the birds and squirrels and so why not feed him/her as well? But … cats and birds generally don’t get along and so hubby shooed him/her off the deck and out of our yard. We couldn’t imagine such a beautiful cat was homeless. And then the weather turned cold and we discovered the cat had been taking refuge under a pile of plant covers left on the bottom deck. Long story short, we ended up dragging the beast, by this time, its long fur matted in filthy dreadlocks, off the deck. For two weeks the cat hid out downstairs but thankfully knew how to use a litter box! Another long story short, the cat turned out to be a neutered male and unable to find his owners, we more or less adopted him.

Can’t you find a better name than Pretty Kitty?

For years we’ve tried to find a more appropriate name than Pretty Kitty but none has stuck. Then, last night … or rather early this morning … the name came to me in a dreamlike fugue. Percival. A noble but whimsical name, I think.

Percival Von Kitty from his royal perch.

Anyway, that’s how my week is starting out.

I’m hoping the cold weather will hold off long enough for these, my only tomatoes after months and months, to finally ripen.

But with a storm and a drop in temperature on Wednesday, I kinda doubt it.

We shall see. Only Percival the Perceptive knows and he’s not telling.

This daylight savings crap has got to go!

Let’s hope that, with Percival finally getting his name, things will start to improve in this stark raving mad country!

If there are passwords in heaven, I’m checking out that other place

August 12, 2025JT Twissel 17 Comments

I can see the need for usernames and passwords at financial institutions, but the other day I called Pampered Pet Ranch where we occasionally board our cat and was told to:

Visit their website and agree to all their cookies, disclaimers, policies, guidelines, etc.
Create an account with username, password, backup email, backup phone #, etc.
Validate our human existence by solving a set of visual brainteasers designed for those people with an IQ of 200 or above. You had three chances before being declared a bot.
Provide vet’s name, address, email and last health report.
Complete their extensive questionnaire:
- How many minutes a day does your pet require additional pampering (at $9.99 a minute)
- Does your pet have a pet name?
- How does your pet display anxiety?
Complete request for boarding
- Day and time of drop off
- Day and time of pick up
- Food requirements
Check back hourly for confirmation

In other words, they were no longer taking reservations over the phone.

*Do you suffer from anxiety Kitty?* **Are you kidding? I’m a cat!**

This left me wondering, how many people actually called Pampered Pet Ranch and made reservations for other people’s pets? If the answer is thousands, hundreds, or even a dozen, this country is even sicker than I thought. More than likely they found that gathering necessary information this way was more reliable that depending on their young staff. Or the fickleness of their clientele. At least they know where to put the blame for flub ups!

They also required Kitty’s mug shot, I guess in case an imposter tried to take his place.

Pampered Pet Ranch is not the only website requiring one of the hundreds of username/ password combos that clutter my little black book. I have usernames and passwords for:

Hotel chains I have visited once
Saline nasal pods for a machine that hasn’t worked for years
The toilet paper people who became so busy during the pandemic that they were always out
Our medical provider, Kaiser Permanente which provides preventative care for seniors provided those seniors can figure out their complicated and constantly “updated” online system.

*Sign seen while having a pelvic exam.* **Really? Having a lovely time with cold, metal instruments shoved up my vagina. @kaiser**

I think it’s unfair to expect aging baby boomers to keep up with technology. After all, we were the first people to own personal computers back when knowledge of a computer language was necessary to run the damn things. You couldn’t just bark orders at a Compaq or wave a magic finger over the screen.

I can still remember the secretaries in our office who vowed to never ever switch from their beloved typewriters to a computer! Never ever and indeed, it did take a while for many of them to change their minds.

The temp — The horrible machine that was going to make typewriters extinct!

I can also remember the day the internet captured my mother-in-law’s favorite granddaughter. It was my fault really. Bernita was staying with us when she heard from her other son that “darling Lena” had won a statewide award and that the ceremony had been broadcast over something called “the internet.” I found the site and showed her the ceremony on my computer screen. There was Lena, climbing the stairs to the stage and accepting her award. Huge smiles on her face. Applause all around.

Bernita turned to me in horror. “Oh my Lord. They’ve captured Lena! How horrible!” She began to quiver. “My darling Lena!”

“No Bernita, She won the grand prize in the state science fair and they put the ceremony on the web. That’s what I’m showing you. She’s fine.”

“She’s caught in the web?” By this time she was in full panic. “Turn that thing off! Make it stop stealing children!” She bolted from my tiny office and vowed never to enter that unholy chamber again.

It’s a good thing she never had to do a video conference with her doctor!

Yup … if there are passwords in heaven, I’m checking out that other place!

BTW – because of some oddness between Word and WordPress, I had to use the old Ctrl V (copy) Ctrl P (paste) commands to create this post. Commands I learned over thirty years ago. So much for progress. We’re going backwards in more ways that we can count.

The Prisoner of Twisselburg

April 11, 2018April 11, 2018JT Twissel 40 Comments

I don’t generally share upsetting news with my online friends because that’s not why I started this blog. I started it because my now-defunct publisher told me it was the way to sell books. The theory being, if you could get people to like you then they’d buy your books.

You don’t have to say it. I will. What a load of crap.

But by the time I made that stunning revelation I was hooked. Today I literally blog more than I write and from what I’ve read buzzing about the hive, I’m not the only one.

However certain things I just don’t like to write about such as Joel’s disease (chronic couch potatoitis) or the acute pain in my gluteus maximus (the result of my bizarre sleeping habits). Don’t get me wrong. I think bloggers who write candidly about issues such as depression and chronic pain do a great service and should be applauded for the bravery and candor. I’m just not one of them. Uptight? You betcha. It’s those Puritan genes. You know, skeletons staying in closets, dirty laundry staying in the hamper.

But today I cannot contain my grief. I’ve eaten all the saltines in the house, stuffed them into my mouth and chewed them into mush and still that’s not enough. The bottomless void in my heart has migrated to my stomach and it’s all over now Baby Blue, bring on the Tamborine Man.

You see, dear friends, my cat hates me. Absolutely despises me. Wouldn’t give the sweat off his balls (if he had them) to save me from eternal damnation. Of course, I’m not entirely sure he ever liked me but at least he would let me pet him during a full moon cycle at precisely five o’clock in the kitchen as he sniffed my gin and tonic hoping to get lucky. Now, nothing. Not even a look in my direction. It’s tense here, friends, very tense.

It all started when the back door was inadvertently left ajar and out he walked, tail high in the air like a question mark. I became aware of his escape when he strutted past the window and looked in at me, a little surprised at his own brilliance, “Holy Shit, I outsmarted you bozos.”

Once free, no amount of “Here Kitty” would entice him back in. He promptly found the nearest mud puddle and had himself a spa day and then, when the sun set and it started to get cold, finally submitted to Joel’s pleas.

I don’t know what the hell was in that mud but he returned a changed kitty. Arrogant and bossy. Demanding to be let out and when told no, a damn pain in the patootie and, as I previously mentioned, my patootie already has a pain.

“You used to have a pet, humans, now you have a caged beast who hates you. And don’t try buttering me up with various cat treats and toys. It wouldn’t work as long as I’m condemned to your lousy lockup!” Woe is me. On a positive note, the calla lilies are blooming.