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The Citizen, 2009-09-24, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2009. PAGE 5. Bonnie Gropp TThhee sshhoorrtt ooff iitt There’s a story in my paper about Daisy, a Vancouver feline of dubious lineage who is currently being, no pun intended, lionized for returning to her home without the assistance of a human, a Google Earth download or a GPS reckoning device. Big deal, I say. Daisy’s a cat. What did they expect? Granted, Daisy’s story is unusual in that she waited a year before coming home, but she was just using her inscrutable feline head. Daisy knew that her owners were travelling the world. There was no sense going back to a houseful of strangers, so she bided her time. Any sensible cat would. Daisy could have told her owners that giving her up for temporary adoption with a friend while they travelled was a bad idea from the get-go, but nobody asked. Not that Daisy didn’t try. “From the moment we took her (to her new home), she just ran and hid and it was like ‘I just can’t stay here’,” recalls Lianna Walden, her (smirk) owner. Daisy ran away in a huff the very next day. Ms Walden was distressed, but the plans were laid, the house had been sold, the tickets were waiting. After a frantic last minute search, she headed for the airport, leaving her friend’s number with the SPCA in case Daisy turned up. Autumn came and went. So did winter, spring and summer. Daisy never showed a whisker. Suddenly last month, when the owners had returned to Canada and a full year after Daisy disappeared, a call from the SPCA. They’d picked up a cat wearing a collar that said her name was Daisy. Ring any bells? She’d been found at the front door of her old house, four kilometres from the house she’d rejected. “She’s very happy,” says Walden. “She knew this was our house. She’s not leaving.” I’m sure if Daisy deigned to comment, she’d say “Well, duh…” I am a confirmed dog person, but I never fool myself about the relative braininess of cats and dogs. Dogs will run and fetch a tennis ball until they suffer cardiac arrest. A cat will stare at the ball hurler with a look that says “Who, me? You’re joking, right?” As comedian Jeff Valdez said, “You’d never get eight cats to pull a sled through snow.” If you want to talk cat smarts, consider the case of Casper, a 12-year-old ball of fluff who rides the city bus in Devon, England every day. By himself. Hops aboard the Number 3 at 10:55 every morning, takes a window seat for the 11- kilometre tour past the dockyard, the naval base, a few suburbs and the town’s red-light district until his home stop rolls around again and Casper disembarks. “He usually just curls up at the back of the bus,” says a regular driver, “he never causes any trouble.” Well, of course Casper doesn’t cause any trouble. What did they take him for – a Rottweiler? Cats glide through the world like ballet dancers doing Swan Lake. They avoid friction; eschew awkwardness. They’re too smart for that. Or perhaps not. A study conducted by psychologists at Canterbury Christ Church University in Kent, England, suggests that cats aren’t as clever as we think they are. The researchers tried to confuse 15 test cats by teasing them with bits of biscuits and fish attached to strings. The bait was placed behind a screen and the cats were allowed to tug at the strings with their paws. The cats were tested with single baited strings, parallel pairs of strings of which only one was baited, and finally a pair of strings which were partially baited, but crossed. Basically, the cats, screwed up. They got the single baited string every time, but when it came to the combinations they did no better than, well, a Dalmatian, really. Between you and me I’d have to know a lot more about the experiment before I’d give it any credence. ‘Fish treats’. Are we talking pilchard or sockeye? ‘Biscuits’– would that be Fortnum and Mason petit fours or some crumby, off-the-shelf cookie from Tesco? These details matter to a cat. They’re fussy. Like the tortoiseshell who died and went to heaven. “You need anything?” God asked him. “Well,” said the tortoiseshell, “I had to sleep on a hard wood floor my whole life. A pillow would be nice.” “You got it,” said God and he turned his attention to a half dozen mice which had just arrived. “What about you guys,” said God. “Anything I can do to make you comfy?” The mice conferred for a moment then said. “Roller skates. All our lives we ran like crazy to get away from cats and dogs. We’d really like to zoom around on roller skates.” “No problem,” said God. The mice each got a pair of golden roller skates. A couple of weeks later God checked up on the tortoiseshell. “How’s it going?” he asked. “You got everything you need?” “The pillow is terrific,” said the cat. “And those meals on wheels you sent over were delicious.” Arthur Black Other Views Time to paws for thought Aby-election here has shed light on some of the key issues in Ontario politics and one, less-discussed, voters should care about. A win by the Liberals in midtown St. Paul’s riding suggests Premier Dalton McGuinty’s party is not ready to fall, despite being caught repeatedly failing to stop greedy appointees to the provincial payroll wasting taxpayers’ money. The Progressive Conservatives under new leader Tim Hudak have been unable to capitalize on this, are not on their way back and are slowed by their connection to the far- right premier Mike Harris. The Liberals’harmonizing of provincial and federal sales taxes, which the opposition parties tried to make the major issue, so far has not damaged their chances of re-election. But it’s not in effect yet and they should be wary. The most interesting issue in the campaign to some reporters who cover the legislature, however, was one of their own, the far-right city hall columnist for the Toronto Sun, Sue-Ann Levy, running for the Conserva- tives. News media are supposed to be neutral, but there were fears The Sun would try to ram its employee down voters’ throats, as it did when others among its writers ran for public office. The most memorable example was when the paper’s then editor-in-chief, Peter Worthington, ran in a by-election and his fellow-writers made this sound more important than the emergence of a Barack Obama. To be fair The Sun has a tradition of publicizing its own writers, whether they are running for office or not, as a means of connecting them to readers. But the paper’s support for him went far beyond this and was unfair to other candidates. It ran editorials with such headlines as “Good luck, Peter!” Associate editor Barbara Amiel, now married to jailed financier Conrad Black, wrote columns in which she pictured her boss resembling Jesus Christ, because he had moral qualities so high the public would not accept them. Columnists vied to see who could praise Worthington most. Dalton Camp called Worthington “provocative, vigorous, clear and independent” and Paul Hellyer said he is “a free spirit, who cannot be bottled up.” Lubor Zink lauded Worthington for his “well-defined and articulated political philosophy,” Ottawa columnist Douglas Fisher thought “it would be a delight if Worthington were to win” and Paul Rimstead, who normally wrote of his drinking exploits, felt Worthington “might just be the most honest man I ever met.” Provincial affairs columnist Claire Hoy urged voters to “cheer on” Worthington and municipal columnist John Downing, while deploring his paper devoting too much space to this by-election, added “Worthington will win and I think should win.” Morton Shulman, a former New Democrat MPP turned columnist, recommended “Every person with intelligence should vote for Worthington” and TV columnist Dennis Braithwaite declared his boss “capable, independent and gutsy.” Patrick Conlon lamented his contract prevented him writing about politics, but had to mention Worthington would make a great politician, and Washington correspondent Peter Brimelow strayed from his beat to urge “Worthington to power.” Even The Sun’s restaurant reviewer managed to praise his editor, on the tenuous ground he was reviewing a restaurant in the same riding. This unbalanced support by a newspaper for one of its own may have turned off readers, because Worthington lost. (Incidentally, he deserves some praise, because in his 80s he still writes lucid columns almost daily and may be the oldest full-time writer for papers in Canada.) In the by-election Levy contested, The Sun’s provincial affairs columnist wrote she is a good friend, passionate crusader against pomposity and tireless watchdog who makes sure tax dollars are well spent. Another Sun columnist, who reports on happenings around town, declared he was not a friend, did not care if she won, but she was a pit bull who would stir up things at the legislature. But the paper this time gave equal space and praise to all candidates and while its columnist did not win, it was a big step forward for journalism. Eric Dowd FFrroomm QQuueeeenn’’ss PPaarrkk T he pressure built with an intensity that only equalled the frustration. Days passed with no ease or comfort. Then three weeks after things had started going a little off, something new was added to the mix, beginning a Lemony Snicket dose of reality. What had begun as a mildly irritating physical ailment, when followed by a series of unfortunate events had now landed me nothing short of incapacitated. At the beginning of last week, after suffering from a rather prolonged headache, I found myself with some new and somewhat unsettling conditions. Weary, light-headed, a little short of breath, I was most in agony from the pain across the back of my head which was now making its way down my neck and jaw into the chest and shoulder blade. So by afternoon of that day I decided that perhaps I should see a doctor, albeit with reluctance. While absolutely convinced there are health issues that can only be treated by science and medicine, there is also I’m convinced an unfortunate tendency for physicians to treat the symptoms rather than the disease. However, in my opinion, drugs are best avoided unless necessary to recovery and long-term health, or they come packaged in a wine bottle. Making the call to the clinic, I was anticipating it would be at least a day before I would be able to see someone. Imagine my surprise when it was suggested that I make my way immediately to the emergency room. I cannot fault the staff for the attention I received or the care I was given. They were gentle, kind, efficient and patient, while taking every step to ensure that what I was experiencing was not in any way heart-related as the symptoms suggested. No the problem began when having determined that I was ticking along as should be in that area, little was done to determine what was wrong. After finding myself on the wrong side of a shot of Gravol, and after swallowing an anti-inflammatory, it wasn’t long before what had been wrong was surpassed by a whole new set of problems. You see, I don't take pills for a reason; I’m generally worse off with them. So it was that I spent one day out of two in a sound sleep, waking only to the realization from time to time that the pain was still there and I was no further ahead in knowing why. If I could have laughed I would have. Thanks to my understanding, and highly versatile colleagues at work, who patiently took over the mess I left them when they had little time to deal with it I was able to take some time for self-care. To them, I’m grateful. Armed too with some non-chemical suggestions from my family physician, the time to rest and focus on my well-being had me feeling, if not my old self, then at least an only slightly more pathetic version by the beginning of this week. Obviously medications have their place. There are illnesses and conditions which can only be treated with drugs, and must if any semblance of a normal life will be achieved. But my situation was not one of them. Certainly when pain or illness hits, the idea of a simple pill to take it all away can be tempting. But it’s important to keep in mind it’s only smoke and mirrors. Their magic brings relief, not a cure. I feel fortunate that I have a doctor willing to look at alternatives that I’m comfortable with and that actually might correct the problem, not just cover it. By-election sheds light on big issues What a pain!