Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

Literally, I’m afraid.  Great book so far. ( When His Highness isn’t using it as an unholy altar, that is.)

Originally published at LonPrater.com. You can comment here or there.

About a year ago, I’d made the plunge and decided to get a cat.  I was looking on Craiglsist for a Manx while still ’shipping long distance with Shelley. ( Her own kitty had died a couple months prior and Shelley was due to be moving up in September.)  I saw an ad on Craigslist for a Sphynx (no papers) for $50 and she got pretty excited about it.  She’d always wanted one, but they were too far out of her price range.  Butt-Ugly as they looked to me at the time, the decision was made.  He became, in effect, her early birthday present.

I went out to a skydiving site to see the cat.  He was living in a camper with a furry momma cat and their 3 recently born progeny, all furry.  He went by the name “Cypress” at that time.  Or maybe “Cedar”  Something plant-acular and tree-riffic named after a skydiving equipment manufacturer, at any rate.  The skydiver dude followed the jumping weather North and South in his camper with a girlfriend.  They had been her cats.  Then the girlfriend abandoned both he and the cats and she’d been gone 5 weeks already.  It was time for him to bachelor up and find the kitties a new home.

Well ”Cypress” as a name wouldn’t do.  After going through a dozen or so options, we realized that the day I got him had been either exactly or just before H.P. Lovecraft’s birthday.  There being a few other literary Howards I or we have been enamored of over the years (Howard Waldrop, Robert E. Howard, and The Fountainhead’s Howard Roark), we decided the world needed at least one more bizarre and unique character named Howard.  Thus he was christened Howard P. Lovecat, or “Howie” for short.

Mr. Lovecat, if you’re nasty.

So it’s been a year since the little buddy came into the picture, scaring the crap out of me as he perched gargoyle-like over the fridge, or jumping at ghosts only he can see.  We’re guessing he’s turning 4 this year, based on what I recall the skydiver saying.  This is the longest I’ve had a pet in the house since I got out of high school.  Occasional pain in the butt or not, I guess we’re stuck with him now!     Or rather, as Rorschach would say:  “We’re stuck in here with him.”

So Happy birthday to my little buddy. You’re still a big nerd.

The answer is "Meow-velous."



Well, mostly, anyway.  We had a minor scare with a suspicious lump on his right haunch.  It was not kitty cancer, but still needed to go.  Kinda worrisome for the week or so it took to get the biopsy results back.  And before that it was the revelation that the previous owners had let him get infested with worms.  For a craigslist bargain, he's racked up some medical expenses.  Hoping all that is past us now.  He's a cuddly ball of suede who answers to "buddy" as much he does to Howie, and anyone who comments on his resemblance to a plucked turkey will probably be stalked and pounced upon like a cloth mouse... (fair warning!) 




good_bye_kitty  took this one.  More often than not, it seems like she has the better eye for composition.

#1. Close the laptop when you leave the house.


Sometime in the last few hours between me leaving for work and then popping in to check on things at lunch, Linux prodigy Howie *  opened up about 62 instances of Yelp, a few Search File screens, and apparently was just about to take a screenshot, which he would have given the rather inscrutable name of i8m7iiiiiiiiiiiiiii8e3hnQ.png.

Thus proving he knows more about Ubuntu than I do.

Showoff.


* H0VV13 must be his "leet" name.

For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. He is the kin of the jungle’s lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient than the Sphinx, and remembers that which she hath forgotten.





Damn frightening, looking up to see this on the fridge when you're sneaking some milk out of the carton.



Howie is an early birthday present for good_bye_kitty , who'll soon be joining me in Dayton. I was originally thinking I wanted a Manx, but she talked a good game about the joys of hairless cats*. Once I saw that this ugly but affectionate fella needed rescuing, I knew it was a match made in Shub-Niggurath. Or maybe Yith.

Yes, the name is tied a bit to tomorrow being H. P. Lovecraft's birthday, and the Sphynx breed looking a bit, err,  shoggothy. (But there are a few other literary Howards being "honored" in the name we've given him, too.) :D

*More like a fine down of peachfuzz over his entire Shar-Pei wrinkly body. The ear tips and nose have the most fur, but still not enough to brag about.