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CinderCat is a killer Cat!
Tuesday, August 25 2009
 
Written by Ricey Wild,
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CinderCat is a Killer cat. Fortunately for my household, aka my wigwam’s inhabitants, our food caches are not yet empty (thank you USDA).

Despite that, CinderCat, whom I accidentally adopted six years ago, proudly dragged home some game meat in his fangs. In this case it was a scrawny little chipmunk. Apparently he thinks all we need is more nutritious rodential diversity to achieve a healthy, balanced diet. His current available cuisine is either too dry and crunchy which is unsatisfying, and the canned stuff, though delicious, is ‘processed beyond recognition as actual acceptable consumable nutrition’, his words.

Yet, Cinder unrepentantly loves his ‘dollops’, which is milk-ishy half and half, but "hey"! Everyone has their weakness. Mine is buckets of Popeye’s red beans and rice. And then there’s...well I have only so much space. 

To continue, I now have an itty bitty striped rodent to carve up and dress. I “Googled” and found no tasty recipes for chipmunks. The closest I got to one was squirrel, and while I despise those hateful, vicious, ornery critters, I will not knowingly chomp any up (no matter how juicy they appear).

We’ll...maybe their flesh could be somewhat disguised in a tasty hot chile soup with hominy or chopped up into an ‘Indian Taco’...but to continue...I’m becoming hungry. I betcha you are too. Yum. Chipmunk. Good? Ack!

I have just recovered from being partly to mostly dead. Yup. For five days I did not leave my rez house and ate only twice during that time... it was straight mac, and gasp! I picked up my paycheck way late. Now, you know an Indian is sick when they don’t pick up their hard-earned frybread, or instruct a relative or friend who just left your deathbed to do so. That’s the bottom line measure of how horrendously ill I was.

When I was physically capable to coordinate my limbs and eyes well enough to go out and see my Doc, she said there had been other Rezberrian’s who had similar symptoms as me (not as bad as mine of course). Well, it turns out there is a very high possibility that I had been suffering from Miz Piggy Flu, also known as H1N1 virus which has now classified as a pandemic disease. Watch out! It could be in your cubbyhole of Rezberry at this moment!

My suggestion to all of you is wash your paws extremely well and avoid other people as much as possible, at your personal discetion of course. Yer welcome for the excuse. It may be the only thing that will keep you somewhat safe. If you are unable to do that? Well, you’re on your own there. What I know for certain is that I am a chronic, fastidious hand-washer and I still went down with the ‘swine’ flu. My Doc did say that it was good that I had got it now rather than in the regular flu season, when it may have been even worse. Here we are, modern day American Indians still having to cope with and die of, or hopefully recover from, diseases we did not create. Sigh.

Now more about that scrawny chipmunk that CinderCat bagged. I am thinking that I will scrape its hide to make a really cool beverage coaster. Not something you see every day, you know? Then it will be a cool cultural conversation starter as long as the fur lasts.

We Indians and our cats use all parts of the critter we may or may not have driven over a cliff. Depends I guess. Do you like your meat ground? Ay!

As I conclude this column I must acknowledge the death of Michael Jackson, the ever so talented kid of my naive, impressionable youth. I don’t recall now the first time I heard ‘ABC’ or ‘Got to be There’ and my favorite ‘Man in the Mirror’ or when Diana Ross said, “Thats what I look like?” after his initial plastic surgeries – in an attempt to resemble her. What did happen is that my friends and me shook our groove things and boogied until we just could’nt boogy no more.

 It ain’t easy going from a yummy, gorgeous black guy to a ghoulish, Britney Spears wannabe who became a global super POP star. But Michael Jackson did it. I will miss him. So excuse me, I got to moonwalk out of here.


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