The Very Threatening Kitty of Winnipeg

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

We can’t argue with that. Our postman has just withstood the formidable challenge of walking down a tree-lined street on a sunny day with low humidity to bring us mail. Notice that we did not say it was our mail. But we digress, more about that later.

Canada has had mail delivery for over 500 years. The Hapsburg Empire’s first Postmaster General, Franz von Taxis, was given the exclusive right to deliver the royal mail in 1506. (Incidentally, and this is true, mail was only delivered to paying customers. You didn't get your mail if you didn't pay von Taxis.) Dog sleds were used to deliver mail in the Yukon Territory.

After half a millennium, Canada’s mail delivery service has been thwarted by a kitty.

This is a quote from the Winnipeg Free Press: “Canada's postal system has stopped delivering mail to a home in Winnipeg, Manitoba, after a mail carrier was scared away by a "very threatening cat…"

The Very Threatening Cat, whose name is Shadow, is eight years old and has been declawed. Shadow’s owner says that Shadow "likes to eat and sleep and cuddle.”

The mail carrier’s fear is understandable. What could be more frightening than a sleepy cuddly declawed kitty?

More from the Winnipeg Free Press: “A Canada Post spokeswoman said the agency was concerned about the safety of its carriers, although it hoped for an amicable solution."

Canada's postal system hopes to negotiate an agreement with a cat amicably?

A word of advice for Canada’s postal system: negotiate with the cat in good faith, but get the agreement in writing. If the settlement includes a catnip mouse, your mail carrier may escape relatively unharmed. That is as amicable as it is going to get. If you wait too long, the cuddly declawed kitty may be asleep, and where does that leave the mail carrier?

The mail we received today is addressed to a lady who lives in a bungalow two blocks away. We have never met her but because we have her mail, we now know that she reads The New Yorker and prefers John and Kira’s chocolates. We will deliver her mail this evening, after we feed the cat, and we expect that we will like her. John and Kira’s are really good chocolates.

Almost forgot to mention that the mayor of Winnipeg, home of the Very Threatening Kitty, is Sam Katz.

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For heaven’s sake, buy a new pair of pants, Mr. President

A friend sent us a photograph taken during the Queen’s recent visit to the United States. In the photograph, standing at the top of a staircase are, from left to right, Prince Philip, Laura Bush, Queen Elizabeth II, and George W. Bush. The Bushes are smiling.

Prince Philip is not. He clearly wants to be somewhere else and the expression on his face says that it doesn’t really matter where that somewhere else might be. He would prefer to be reading a biography of Winston Churchill, watching CSI: Miami, or having toes amputated. It wouldn’t matter to him. Laura Bush is wearing an aqua-colored dress that makes her look like a mermaid with hips as wide as a Greyhound bus.

The Queen is not smiling in this photograph. She is looking at W’s trousers. They don’t fit. Unless W’s legs have become two inches shorter, they are not his trousers. When we post the photo, look at his left leg. Either he hasn’t had them hemmed or he has borrowed pants from someone considerably taller.

This was the dinner menu:

Spring Pea Soup with Fernleaf Lavender
Chive Pizzelle with American Caviar

Newton Chardonnay “Unfiltered” 2004

Dover Sole Almondine
Roasted Artichokes, Pequillo Peppers and Olives

Saddle of Spring Lamb
Chanterelle Sauce
Fricassee of Baby Vegetables

Peter Michael “Les Pavots” 2003

Arugula, Savannah Mustard
and Mint Romaine

Champagne Dressing and Trio of Farmhouse Cheeses

“Rose Blossoms”

Schramsberg Brut Rosé 2004,

Mr. President, when you are having dinner with Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness The Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, is it too much to ask that your trousers fit? Go upstairs and change your pants, and take your mermaid with you.

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