The cat-whisperer

Last week, I was back in farm country visiting Schmidt again. I spent all day on Saturday the 9 driving there, and all day on Monday the 18 driving home. Marie visited too during the exact same stretch, except that she went back home the next day. We visited some, listened to music, watched some old movies, and generally hung out. Some notes follow.  

What was the occasion?

Schmidt had hernia surgery scheduled for Monday the 11. His doctors told him not to lift anything heavy for six weeks after. Schmidt had already explained to us that he had no intention of following this instruction literally, because he knew ways to use leverage to make the work easier on his healing incision. And he made a big point of saying that he could manage by himself if he had to. But he needed someone to drive him home from the hospital, because he would still have a lot of opiates in his system then. And yes, he supposed he could use some help with a few tasks around the farm in the early days.

So Marie and I came to visit. We drove him home, and we fixed dinners for a week. When we all went out shopping, I carried the big carton of cat litter that he bought (to supplement one he already owned). He pushed the cart so that he could lean on it. So I guess we helped in little ways. We also kept him company.

The cat-whisperer

Schmidt discussed his approach to training cats. (See also this post and this one.) He actually used the phrase "cat whisperer" for himself, as an allusion or hommage to the work of Buck Brannaman (see also this documentary), who has been nicknamed "the horse whisperer." Schmidt's basic point is the same as Buck's: it is your job to understand the animal you want to train. You can't expect the cat (or horse) to understand you, or to think like a human being. You have to think like a cat (or horse), and use that insight to encourage the behaviors you want. Schmidt went on to say that the conventional myth about cats being arrogant and uncooperative is just that—a myth and no more. He said that using his methods, he has had geat success—within reasonable limits, of course—getting his cats to do what he wants.

Schmidt and Marie talked about cats a lot. I didn't have much to contribute to those conversations.

Music

Schmidt listens to a lot of classical music. That's the music he knows, and he uses it to express how he feels. This is another point of contact between him and Marie. Back when we were all in college together, he was the first one to introduce Marie to classical music, and they have kept in touch ever since regarding which new versions they've heard (or which old versions they finally got on disk). So this visit was no exception. Schmidt played a lot of music, and Marie discussed it with him. Sometimes she wept.

I don't listen to nearly as much music as either of them, notwithstanding that I have occasionally posted about this or that bit that I've heard recently. So I didn't have nearly as much to contribute to the discussion.

Movies

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Fantasia 2000. Yellow Submarine. All fun things to watch. All on the last day (Sunday) before I left.

Wine-tasting

While it's true that Schmidt lives way out in the boonies, it's also true that there is a vineyard in his town. It's a small town, so of course he knows the owner. Anyway, we visited the vineyard during the few hours of the week when their tasting room was open. We sat and talked and tasted and I ended up buying four bottles to bring home.

Sex

Between me and Marie, of course, not Schmidt. Well yes, there was some. Schmidt put us in a guest room with two fold-out twin beds that squeaked and rolled. It wasn't the best environment. And of course I suffered the old-man debilities I've talked about before. That said, we did manage to spend a couple of nights and mornings kind of busy. Marie got plenty of gratification out of it, and I got more than I expected. So I suppose that part is all good.

Marie is getting better at keeping quiet during sex. (No more embarrassing moments like this one!) Still, the walls in Schmidt's place are really thin. So I wonder how much he heard. But he said nothing.

There's not a lot more to talk about. It was a very slow week. That has its charms, of course.