A cat leash law and other stray thoughts

This week’s Boomer Haiku post is the blog equivalent of cleaning out the fridge to make soup. I’m pulling together leftover tidbits from my files—items that weren’t meaty enough to make a complete blog post on their own but, when mixed together, produce something that’s reasonably filling. Please have a taste:

Cat leash law

Citizen complaints about roaming felines prompted the mayor of Kenai, Alaska, and a city council member to propose a cat leash law. The council was slated to hear and vote on the issue on October 5. I emailed the city’s animal control office to see if the measure passed and received this reply: “…it’s always been on the books but we are just clarifying things. It simply means that you should be keeping your cat on your property and that it can be impounded and cost the owner a fee to pick up from the shelter if it is off their property.” Kinda puts a new spin on the concept of grabbing ‘em by the pussy, doesn’t it?

Cut the sh*t

According to online news reports, cities in Britain and Spain are taking novel approaches to get dog owners to clean up their pets’ poop. In Madrid, offending pet parents face a fine of €1,500 (about $1566) or the option to toil as street cleaners for a few days to work it off. Another Spanish town returned the droppings to pet owners who left it behind, delivering the load in boxes marked “Lost Property.” And a British municipality is using DNA testing to out dog owners who don’t scoop their pets’ poop. Mind the poo, people.

In the “he-didn’t-quite-get-the-concept” category

I once lived with a guy whose communication skills were, well, impaired. I tried to make him understand that expressing how he felt about something I did or said was a more effective way to get his point across than making accusations. I suggested that he preface his sentences with “I feel” instead of “You are.” His response? Instead of saying, “You’re a bitch,” he said, “I feel you’re a bitch.” Our relationship didn’t last.

The value of a good night’s sleep

I reconnected with a high school classmate at my 45th reunion this past summer, and we had lunch recently to catch up on each other’s lives. She’s been divorced for several years, and I asked whether she’s dating or in a relationship. Her reply? “I haven’t met anyone who’s worth staying up past 9:00 p.m. for.” The bar gets set at a different level at this stage of life, huh?

A sweet new party drug

Who’da thunk it? Already a superfood, cacao—the purest form of chocolate—is now a trendy party drug, hailed for its ability to impart a brain-boosting rush and tons of energy. Raw, virgin cacao can be eaten, drunk and even snorted. And, best of all, it’s perfectly legal. Clubs around the world are offering cacao in drinks, pills and powder, and proponents claim it triggers a surge of endorphins, which increase mental acuity and feelings of euphoria, and a flood of magnesium, which relaxes muscle tension. And then, of course, there’s this: it’s chocolate, FFS. What party isn’t made better by that?

Word play

“It was a dark and stormy night” has become a catchphrase for bad, melodramatic fiction writing. During the Republican presidential primary debates—also a bastion of bad melodrama, IMO—this variation came to mind the evening Trump felt compelled to defend the size of his penis: It was a dork and smarmy night.

But does he do windows?

I have a friend whose retired husband (semi-reluctantly) agreed to take on laundry duty for them both. In an attempt to simplify the instructions, she told him, “Basically, you can wash and dry everything except my work clothes.” With a deer-in-the-headlights look, he questioned how he’d know what “work clothes” were, so she explained that sweats and jeans were okay to wash, but that many of the clothes she wore to the office had to be hand-washed or dry-cleaned, which she’d handle, so they wouldn’t go in the hamper anyway. He relaxed somewhat until she added, “And you can put my underwear in the dryer, but not my bras.” “Oh, this is just too confusing,” he said, exasperated. “This is a man who can do plumbing, repair boat engines and a ton of other complicated things,” she related. “But laundry is confusing?”

These little slices of life got me to thinking:

How can anyone
be bored when life offers so
many distractions?

What do you think? I hope you like this potpourri—your comments would be the perfect accompaniment!






Roxanne Jones

About Roxanne Jones

By day, Roxanne Jones is an award-winning freelance copywriter specializing in health and medicine. She launched Boomer Haiku, a humorous blog about life as a baby boomer, in 2015, and a Boomer Haiku greeting card line in 2016 (available at 6 Maine stores; visit www.boomerhaiku.com/shop/ to learn more). Born and raised in Brunswick, she left Maine after high school (Class of 1971) and, after living in Massachusetts and California, came screaming back to her home state in 2006. She enjoys chardonnay, laughing at the foibles and frustrations of getting older, and contemplates plastic surgery to get rid of the wattle on her neck.