The Passing of Tiger

This was the year I remembered to say it.  

I finally managed to say "Rabbit, Rabbit" and make a New Year's wish.

I wished that Tiger would have it easy when his time came.

Tiger

1990-2011

Nobody owned more human hearts than Tiger and his sister Spooky.

Spooky

1990-2009

Litter mates born to a feral mom, as different as day and night, the two of them charmed everyone they met.  Even hardcore cat haters.

Tiger and Spooky lucked into the household of Pie Man and Scout, and their two little girls, the Chick's best friends. 

The first time I ever saw Tiger he was fast asleep in a basket of clean laundry.  He stubbornly hunkered more deeply into the folded shirts and towels when I stopped to pat him, but the fierce purring let me know he appreciated a good scratch under the chin.

We inherited the pair for what was to be one year, when their family moved to Korea and couldn't take them along. 

Spooky and Tiger took instant possession of our household.  The Captain, a confirmed cat hater, was quickly converted.  The Chick, of course, was delighted.  Keeta the Aussie, a little wary to find such strange creatures sharing her house, quickly became both cat lover and willing servant, cleaning up their dishes after each and every meal.

By the time Pie Man and Scout extended their contract in Korea for a second year, no way were we giving them back.

Tiger and Spooky saw the Chick to adulthood with a household of her own.  They were company and comfort for us humans when Keeta, their agemate, died at 14. They provided their own brand of soft furry comfort as I transitioned to a second marriage. 

They kneadingly insisted that I get up in the morning.  They welcomed me at the door.  Spooky brought me gifts.  They both posed in funny positions to make me laugh when it seemed as if laughing again was years away.  And when Popeye showed up, they accepted him unconditionally into their collection of pet humans.

Spooky, the silky black huntress, the polite one, the loudest purrer of all time, had a stroke in October a year ago.  Two weeks later, sobbing and shaking, I stroked her shiny black fur over and over, as she closed her eyes for the last time on the veterinary table.  It was the first time I ever had to put a pet down. 

Tiger, ever the mellow fellow, died in his sleep this weekend while we were at Felasco.  The Critter Sitters found him Saturday morning.  He was curled up in his favorite spot on the couch, exactly where they had left him, alive and happy, well brushed and purring loudly, the night before. 

We buried Tiger on Sunday, next to Keeta and Spooky, just a few yards from his catnip patch.

So it seems that a Rabbit-Rabbit wish really can come true.

The Lifestyle To Which We Are Accustomed

It's 7:22 AM and I think I've had enough of herding cats for one day.

Though my heart is in denial, my head knows that Tiger, who is nearly twenty years old, will some morning fail to show up on the doorstep for his breakfast.  I continue to let him out every night as I always have, though.  He would be worried and upset if I changed his routine on him now.  He's always been a relaxed fellow, and somehow I believe his longevity depends on him staying that way.

This particular morning, after a search of the front yard and the neighbor's bushes, I go around back and find him curled up sleeping on top of the tiny catnip plants we put in last week.

Once he is dusted off, and the baby catnips propped back up, he consumes both his breakfast and what's left of Gypsy's, and resumes napping in his usual spot on the desk, snugged up close enough to my computer to trigger the Caps Lock now and then.  

All is well in Tiger-World. 

Cats never have to think about money, which probably also contributes to longevity.  Usually I am pretty catlike, myself.  As long as my stomach is full, I don't think too much about it either.

But this morning, I woke up thinking about getting your money's worth.

Another meeting with the builder last night raised cost questions I never dreamed of.  There is roofing and flooring and windows and lighting.  Every decision, large or small, is crucial to driving the total cost.

How much will we have to cut back to do this?

Good thing we have such a cheap hobby. 

Once you have the bike, all you really need to do is get on it and go out the door.  Sure, tires wear out and chains need replacing, but for the most part, there's not a lot of expense after the initial purchase. 

A helmet lasts pretty much until you fall and break it.  Broken helmet?  Nowhere near the cost of a broken head. 

I did get new blue bike sandals this year.  They replaced the black ones I have been wearing ever since they cooled my toes for my one and only Ironman, back in 2003.

Much like my bike computer, a dashboard readout on my Honda Fit keeps me apprized of the miles per gallon on the current tankful.  Yesterday, it read 42.1. 

I figure, even on a hot day, I get about twice that on my bike.  I am not sure, but I'm guessing that Gatorade and gasoline are about the same price.  Even throwing in the occasional Clif Bar, Gu, or peanut butter sandwich, one is probably still a little better off going by bike.   

Yesterday I heard someone remark, why would I pay $40 to ride the same course I ride every Saturday? I don't know. We do it every year though, including this year, with the Intracoastal coming up.  

(I checked with the Intracoastal organizer yesterday.  This year the money will go to Breast Cancer and several smaller charities.)

  

If you look at miles per dollar, a century ride is pretty cheap. 


Last Sunday, the Horsefarm Hundred provided a one hundred and four mile tour of green and groomed countryside, hundreds of sleek thoroughbreds, 2 adorable donkeys, four different ride length choices (with both signs and pavement markings), and a phenomonal array of snacks and drinks, all for $30.  That's just under 29 cents per mile for the hundred mile group.  Killer and I only did 100k though, 63 miles, basically making my hot dog at the finish cost a bit more than Popeye's, who rolled in less than five minutes behind me. 

All those horses - and 2 donkeys.

After touring horsefarm heaven, the route finishes up with a stretch on the Hawthorn Trail.

Saturday we joined our hostess Northstar, and over 600 other riders for the 37 mile Tour de KSC (Kennedy Space Center).  It included the spectacular sight of Discovery's last stand on the pad, a tee shirt designed by our very own Northstar, and a stack of pizzas nearly as high as the VAB.  It cost $25, about 67 cents per mile.  But think of the overhead.

Discovery on Pad A for the last time.

A football field wide, and 15,000 feet long.

Riding to the end and back on one of the world's longest landing strips adds some mileage.

If I remember correctly, in 2003, Florida Ironman cost $300 to enter.  $2.13 per mile.  A bargain considering the hundreds and hundreds of training miles I got out of it.  (And bragging rights are forever, don't forget.  Priceless!)  

I see that the 2010 Ironman Florida cost $575.  At 140.7 miles, that's close to $4/mile.  With the race next week, I hope this year's entrants got in an inflated amount of mileage too.

Sprint-tri's have become trendiest road tri's of all, and the most expensive.  Our local sprint triathlon, Pineapple Man, seemed prohibitive this year at $90.  18.5 total miles = 4.86/mile!  Did you win a pineapple?  You saved a "mile" of  your cost!

Then again, if you simply go by the hour, some of us get a LOT more for our money than others.

By the hour, for example, Miami XTerra turned out to be much more cost effective for my age group than Popeye's.  $24 per hour for me, $36 for him.  What can I say?  I have hours more fun than he does whenever we race!  (Actually, I often have hours more fun than ANYone else, in any race that I enter.)

Of course THE most cost effective race anywhere, ever, by any standard, miles, hours, or just plain fun, is the Wickham Park Marathon, 50, 100, and 200 mile fun run.  200 miles.  4 days long.  Absolutely free.  Although you do have to provide your own Gatorade and food, some folks economize more than others and run it barefoot, saving a bundle on footwear.

But for my money, the best bargain anywhere is a bike hash.

For $5 hash-cash, you usually get a 15 mile trail (and sometimes more, depending how badly you "#^%$"  it up).  You also get all the beer you care to drink.  On a hot summer day, needless to say, every hasher gets more than his money's worth.  As a bonus, if you ride to the ride, you can save not only gas, but double your mileage for you money!  

So, after a little thought, it's pretty clear that we won't have to stay home on the couch just because of a new mortgage.  Whew!  

And Tiger?  With zero miles per day on 35 cents worth of catfood, he  won't have to stay home on the couch either. 

Unless, of course, he wants to.  

Ya think?