My Name Is Buddy

I didn't used to be a "cat guy." I'm not sure I am even now, though we have three cats (Bear, named after Barry White; Shadow, named because he used to follow Bear around all the time; and Zoom, who's faster than any four-legged animal I've ever seen). I must say, though, that I do look out for them, and they are a constant source of amusement. That's Bear, uh, sleeping, in the photo at the top.

I was interested in this NPR story about the latest Ry Cooder project, "My Name Is 'Buddy'." It's an allegorical tale about the Dust Bowl Midwest and the hard-luck, picaresque journey of "a farm cat who hooks up with a labor-agitating mouse and a blind preacher toad."

Give it a listen, a read, and enjoy one of the most inventive and talented musicians telling a wonderful story.

I bring this up partly because of two recent cat events that have come up. First, my friend Rick Hall told me that he has adopted a cat from his neighborhood. So I loaned him my copy of Willie Morris's little book, My Cat Spit McGee, the sequel to "My Dog Skip." And second because Neil MacKenzie's cat, also named "Buddy," recently passed after about 13 lives and, ultimately, cancer. What is it about cats that melts even the hardest people?