In Buffalo we joke that we really live in a suburb of Toronto, and that
is most true in our love of hockey. People who aren't even hockey fans
wear Sabres jerseys because it is almost as much part of our culture as
it is to Canada's. People who have enough yard make ice rinks in the
winter so their kids can play hockey, and Louie's family did this in the
winter too. The neighborhood kids always came to play hockey with Louie
and his brothers, while several of the neighborhood cats hung around.

In that neighborhood (actually in Williamsville, a few miles outside the
city) there was a loose federation of cats who went bumming around
during the evening and came home to their devoted servants at sunrise.
Among them was the Singh's cat Sprinty, and two that belonged to the
next-door neighbors. Sprinty was small, speedy, and compact in build;
Lucifer was pure black, lithe and athletic; as for Moishe, Louie's best
description was that he was snow-white and cylindrical. Looked like a
walking knockwurst. Louie later learned that this was because Lucifer
and Moishe were fed pure foie gras several times a week. And people
accuse us of spoiling our cats!

There was a commotion in the yard one night that woke up my future
sister in law, Carol. She got up to find a late-night hockey game going
on in their backyard. Sprinty, Lucifer and Moishe, along with two or
three other cats in their gang, had found the sponge puck the kids used
and were chasing it around the homemade rink. I'm told that Moishe had a
hell of a time on the ice: his fat little paws would slide from beneath
him and he'd be more of a bowling ball rolling down the rink than
anything else, but when he bowled into another cat he did a fine
impersonation of a defenseman. They not only chased the sponge puck
around, but actually took aim at the goals. When one did "score," a cat
would fish out the sponge and begin afresh.

I didn't believe it until several family members corroborated Carol's
story and she produced pictures of one of several impromptu games she'd
taken. I fell over laughing when I saw them. Who'd have thought a cat
would pick up on hockey? I'm told they played far more fairly than many
of those twolegged players out there, too, and without a referee to make
sure they behaved.

Blessed be,
Baha