Well most of my friends know of the Wookie monster, my illegal cat. Some of you are new to her and have vistied my article "Is Your Pet an Illegal" recently.

It is good this damnable act is getting so much attention. But as we all know there are copy cats who wll do or say anything to get their 15 minutes of fame.

Let us hope it just goes away, and, she needs to do some hard time, hard work. After telling the press, It was just a cat and a joke, she needs to be locked up somewhere, for a while and during her stay, put into a garbage can for 15 hours or so.

Common sense tells us, this is not the first time she has done this.

Still hard to believe it happened. But remember she is a "banker."

Since Clemmie's death, Pharaoh has been the Kitty in Charge. He is still in the probationary phase of his position, but, as with all new executives, he is learning to 'fine tune' his areas of expertise with the demands of the job. Last night, I was sorely troubled, and sought his council. Our conversation went something like this.

Pharaoh was lying on the bed, sleeping peacefully, his eyes shut tightly, his little nose a pale pink, and his tail curled tightly around his body. I sat beside him and gently stoked the stripes on his head.

Me: "Pharaoh, can you talk with me a little bit? I am heart sick, and I need you."

Pharaoh's head came up, his ears pricked forward, blinking. Translation: "Yes, Mama?"

I continued to stroke his head gently. Me: "I'm so worried about this oil spill. Those little animals are going to die. People are going to lose their livelihoods. This is going to be a horrible mess. I think that the people in charge of our government care, but I don't think they know what to do. I feel such a heavy grief. I am filled with a nameless dread."

Pharaoh nudged my hand, with his nose, "mine" he said. Translation: "You are my Mama, and I love you. Will you rub under my chin?"

I rub under his chin, then run my hand gently down his back, and down his tail, pulling it to its full length. Me: "I don't know how to help them, Pharaoh. I don't know how to help the people or the animals. What do you think I should do?."

He stretched out his full length, rolling to his side and reaching out with his paws beside me. Translation: "Is there anything you can do to help? Many things are beyond our control. We can only do what we can do, Mama. You can only change the world one step at a time."

I stroke his sides, rubbing under his chin. Me: "I don't think there is anything I can do but to pray about it, Pharaoh. I don't know that I can do anything other than take care of my family, help where I can, and do my best. Think good thoughts and hope. I just feel so helpless!"

Pharaoh turned on his back, his white stomach so clean and soft, like a bunny rabbit's fur. Translation: "You can rub my belly. That is a positive thing to do. It makes me happy and it lowers your blood pressure. Besides, Mama, it is not up to us to propose or to dispose. We must have faith that we will be strong enough to meet whatever comes."

I obligingly stroked his stomach, stroking him under his chin and his little snow white outstretched arms. Me: "You mean that it is out of our hands? That we must have faith that God is in charge?"

He turned his head into my hand, and gently grabbed my arm with both front paws, his claws sheathed. Translation: "I love you, Mama. Yes. It is not up to us. Somehow, all of this is a part of God's plan. Do what you can do, Mama, no one asks more of you than that."

I hold his sweet head in my hand, cherishing him. Me: "Then my prayers will help."

He holds my arm in his paws, turning back to his side, and rubbing his little nose on my fingers. Translation: "That's right, Mama. Prayers help. Prayers always help. Some things are not our responsibility. We can only do our best and have faith that a greater power will take care of things."

I cradle his head in my hand, gently stroking the side of his face. Me: "I will try to do everything I can to help somehow. I will pray for God to help us all. Maybe some good will come of this-- if it makes the oil companies responsible for the messes they make. If it makes them clean up things, maybe it will have a larger purpose."

Pharaoh wrapped his tail around my other arm, like a monkey. Translation: "That is all you can do. Put it in God's hands, and try your best to help where you can. Be ready to give where it is needed, and let God handle the worry."

I climb into the bed beside him, pull him up closer to my pillow, and snuggle with him. He begins to purr, "Gray thumbs, gray thumbs, gray thumbs…" Translation: "Be at peace, Mama, rest."

Comforted and at peace, the Kitty in Charge has helped to soothe my spirit, and I am able to sleep without nightmares for the first night since the spill began. I awaken in the night to feel Pharaoh's paw touching my cheek, in comfort. He resumes purring, stoking up his own loving glow, singing me to sleep with his lullaby.

I have a renewed sense of energy and purpose in the morning. Put the worry in God's hands, and help where I can. Finally, something I can do. Pharaoh helped, more than he knows.
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Thank you for coming by!
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Poor kitty. Happy ending, except for the highly x-ray dosed cat.

This is as much to contest NV's inconsistent headline policy as it is to point out TSA's failures. No one can deny we're all paying a significant price for security. What explain's this failure?

I know, it is not the gist of the article, but it's in there, and the headline is accurate. There seems to be much talk about headline accuracy on NV and little consistency in NV policy as some of NV's most favorite practitioners violate the COH all the time with respect to headlines.

So what gives NV staff and writers? Is this an appropriate headline or not?