Waterbowl Wednesday

Set down your coffee to read this one, folks. It doesn’t marry well with toilet bowl. I stumbled upon this image early this morning, perusing pics for a Facebook birthday post. I wondered why I had kept this Polaroid for nigh on 40 years. You can see the Polaroid edges, no? In it, the family cat of my tweens, Ran Tan, has decided to rehydrate from an exhaustive day of lounging and nibbling.

Did I keep it because I will always have a special place in my heart for her? No. She was a cat. She was not a dog. The special place is clearly filled with our dog.

But it speaks to a time where one did not have a camera in one’s pocket. If one had stumbled upon the cat mid-drink, one would never have time enough to go find the Polaroid and lug it to the water closet before said cat had vanished. I don’t recall the circumstances of how perchance the shot exists, or even who took it, though it’s been in my possession all these decades. It must have been happenstance.

It also speaks to growing up in a house with one potty for all to share. Patience was a virtue. My son grew up in a home where each bottom has its own toilet. Ah, luxury!

I imagine we sprinkled the bowl with Comet soon afterward. Note the stylish tiles, which, if original to the home, would be nearly 100 years old now. And how often do you see a black toilet seat? It complimented Ran Tan’s fur just fine.

Perhaps the point is the cliché seize the day, seize pleasure where you find it. Perhaps the point is to stay hydrated. Or perhaps the point is to save at least one picture of your family cat, even if it’s just the tail.

A Load Of Malarky

The precious ginger child in her Little House on the Prairie ensemble

There are times in your life when you become aware of what seems like it should be such common knowledge, that you are embarrassed it took you this long to know it. You question your upbringing, your education, your ability to retain facts. Such a thing happened to me today, when I learned that Amy Carter, daughter of President Jimmy Carter, had a cat named Misty Malarky Ying Yang.

Being several years younger than Miss Carter, it is forgivable that I did not know this. But how have 40 years passed wherein this has not worked its way into conversation? Why don’t people make reference to such a delightful moniker?


It’s true. While in the White House, Amy (who turns 47 today) had a we-are-Siamese-if-you-please kitty cat named Misty Malarky Ying Yang. Ying Yang was the last cat to occupy the White House until the Clintons’ Socks, because only a liberal would be willing to feed and house such an arrogant, ungrateful creature. Just kidding.

So happy birthday, Four Eyes! Yes, Ying Yang looks positively thrilled to be in your arms.


%d bloggers like this: