Chip Shot: Cat owners will understand me

February 19, 2021 at 10:44 p.m.
Chip Shot: Cat owners will understand me
Chip Shot: Cat owners will understand me

By Chip Davenport-

I used to own five cats. One died in July 2020, and another was returned to a more feral, farm environment. I’m down to three, and wondering what I was doing owning five cats, changing five litter boxes (well, my kids did 90 percent of that).

Last week I mentioned indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love.

With that, will you understand why I hate cats?

My former boss, an owner of four dogs and father of four boys, said in a meeting, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

He caught himself and asked if I was offended because I’m a cat lover/owner.

“No”, I replied, “I do love cats, but by owning five I also know why people hate cats! You have four dogs and four boys, and you probably hate each species too.”

That’s early February for me. I hate it.

So much of what I love envelopes me in a tight schedule… I just hate it. I am fully accountable for this experience. I am not a conscript among any of the occupations and mediums I juggle.

At the launching of high school winter sports post-seasons, beginning the month closing the books by day (and sometimes back at it late at night), and broadcasting ballgames, writing about ballgames, wrestling tournaments, swim recaps, three-game basketball sectional runs, an opinion column, and feature article writing. Sprinkle some public address announcing in there, too.

I hate working it all out on the calendar most of all because I know I might be flirting with possible snow dates, rescheduling among early days in an already tight February. Then I feel the pre-deadline work heat, and pregame prep heat, radio mic check, getting to each venue in the nick of time. I’m feeling heat on all sides.

I curse the 40-minute commute from work to the Tiger Den but praise it all the same because I relax listening to Roger Grossman’s JV boys’ basketball contest and use the game’s remaining time to gage how much time I have left to get there.

However, once I’m in the moment, I love it! I love it because I just hated it, and it feels like a reversal of fortune, a rollercoaster ride. The journey is done, the destination is here in the moment. I have so much fun once I’m doing all these things.

It instantly occurs to me it’s a privilege in this current climate to be in a high school gymnasium as soon as I arrive and see the restricted attendance.

The love comes back in full force!

I do impersonations of Kermit and Miss Piggy on a pregame mic check for the studio. I groom students for their broadcasting roles with advice, and even telling them they’re young adults. Young adults must always carry a pen. I tell the radio and video livestream fans listening how much I miss them. I feel like I’m the kid peeping through a fence hole to illustrate an inner-city game on a schoolyards’ asphalt court for all the other kids who covet a peek.

While I cover the game for the Times-Union, away games without the radio headset, the story starts to build in my head. Instead of typing a narrative for January financial results, I’m shifting to the joy of correlating lack of opponent ball security to Tiger transition buckets. I’m seeing a guy like Caleb Sands come out of nowhere to energize a scoring run resulting in an insurmountable lead. I’m watching Bishop Walters light up a first quarter game-changing run against a state-ranked team who had no idea what was gonna’ hit ‘em.

My feature article at the beginning of the month, upon arrival for the interview, was heartwarming in an instant. Journey over, destination engaged. I hit my daytime deadlines, and I was embarrassed about running late, but Mama Sands has a presence that decompresses you. I bet it’s why so many neighbors and friends crossed her front threshold over the years. Ninety minutes later, I drove home calm, happy, and privileged to talk with the subjects of my feature.

I write another Chip Shot, that starts out like one measly acorn stunted by writer’s block, then grows… okay, okay, I won’t complete the cliched analysis.

I understand why people hate cats because I love and own three of them. I hate early February because my schedule is overflowing with things I love to do once I arrive at the scene.

I can’t wait for early February 2022. Same time next year!

I used to own five cats. One died in July 2020, and another was returned to a more feral, farm environment. I’m down to three, and wondering what I was doing owning five cats, changing five litter boxes (well, my kids did 90 percent of that).

Last week I mentioned indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love.

With that, will you understand why I hate cats?

My former boss, an owner of four dogs and father of four boys, said in a meeting, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

He caught himself and asked if I was offended because I’m a cat lover/owner.

“No”, I replied, “I do love cats, but by owning five I also know why people hate cats! You have four dogs and four boys, and you probably hate each species too.”

That’s early February for me. I hate it.

So much of what I love envelopes me in a tight schedule… I just hate it. I am fully accountable for this experience. I am not a conscript among any of the occupations and mediums I juggle.

At the launching of high school winter sports post-seasons, beginning the month closing the books by day (and sometimes back at it late at night), and broadcasting ballgames, writing about ballgames, wrestling tournaments, swim recaps, three-game basketball sectional runs, an opinion column, and feature article writing. Sprinkle some public address announcing in there, too.

I hate working it all out on the calendar most of all because I know I might be flirting with possible snow dates, rescheduling among early days in an already tight February. Then I feel the pre-deadline work heat, and pregame prep heat, radio mic check, getting to each venue in the nick of time. I’m feeling heat on all sides.

I curse the 40-minute commute from work to the Tiger Den but praise it all the same because I relax listening to Roger Grossman’s JV boys’ basketball contest and use the game’s remaining time to gage how much time I have left to get there.

However, once I’m in the moment, I love it! I love it because I just hated it, and it feels like a reversal of fortune, a rollercoaster ride. The journey is done, the destination is here in the moment. I have so much fun once I’m doing all these things.

It instantly occurs to me it’s a privilege in this current climate to be in a high school gymnasium as soon as I arrive and see the restricted attendance.

The love comes back in full force!

I do impersonations of Kermit and Miss Piggy on a pregame mic check for the studio. I groom students for their broadcasting roles with advice, and even telling them they’re young adults. Young adults must always carry a pen. I tell the radio and video livestream fans listening how much I miss them. I feel like I’m the kid peeping through a fence hole to illustrate an inner-city game on a schoolyards’ asphalt court for all the other kids who covet a peek.

While I cover the game for the Times-Union, away games without the radio headset, the story starts to build in my head. Instead of typing a narrative for January financial results, I’m shifting to the joy of correlating lack of opponent ball security to Tiger transition buckets. I’m seeing a guy like Caleb Sands come out of nowhere to energize a scoring run resulting in an insurmountable lead. I’m watching Bishop Walters light up a first quarter game-changing run against a state-ranked team who had no idea what was gonna’ hit ‘em.

My feature article at the beginning of the month, upon arrival for the interview, was heartwarming in an instant. Journey over, destination engaged. I hit my daytime deadlines, and I was embarrassed about running late, but Mama Sands has a presence that decompresses you. I bet it’s why so many neighbors and friends crossed her front threshold over the years. Ninety minutes later, I drove home calm, happy, and privileged to talk with the subjects of my feature.

I write another Chip Shot, that starts out like one measly acorn stunted by writer’s block, then grows… okay, okay, I won’t complete the cliched analysis.

I understand why people hate cats because I love and own three of them. I hate early February because my schedule is overflowing with things I love to do once I arrive at the scene.

I can’t wait for early February 2022. Same time next year!

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