Happy Men’s Day to you all.
I was given a warm Men’s Day greeting from my wife this morning in
response to an emergency call regarding animal health. We will get to the medical tragedy soon
enough, but first a word about Men’s Day.
The wife wished me well without a shred of understanding of the holiday,
but I have done my research. It appears
that “Men’s Day” is a Russian holiday celebrating the formation of the Red Army
in 1918. During the Russian Civil War
and on the heels of the Bolshevik revolution, Lenin believed that control of
what was then known as Petrograd (St. Petersburg) was being threatened and in
February of 1918 formed what became known as The Red Army. After a defeat of the Nazi’s in World War II,
the army was renamed to the more familiar “Soviet Army”. Originally, this day was celebrated as “Red
Army Day” but later received recognition as “Soviet Army and Navy Day” and most recently
“Defender of the Fatherland Day”. The intent was to recognize those that had and
were currently serving in the Russian Armed Forces. Think of it as a sort of
sexist Memorial Day. It seems that in
modern day Russia and in many of the former Soviet States, the day has been
popularly converted into a day of recognition for all men, not just for those
that served in the Armed Forces. Now
popularly known as “Men’s Day”, it is common place for the women in Russia to
give gifts to the men in their lives, especially husbands, fathers and sons.
Since my woman is currently a “woman in Russia”, I am
thoroughly expecting a gift. When in
Rome . . . RIGHT? Looking for nearly any
reason to leave the house, the boys and I decided to go out for a little Men’s
Day celebration of our own. There were
only two obstacles standing in our way.
First, a fairly temperamental automobile and second, an injured
feline. Both of these “cats” could have
well ruined our festivities. First, I
needed to check on my Lion badged personal transport. Everything looked OK. She looked a bit haggard and tired from a
day’s worth of medical intervention, but upon the first turn of the key, she
fired right up and purred like a kitten.
Letting her warm a bit, I ran back into the house to help the youngest
clad his feet in sneakers and grab my wallet.
As we were gathering ourselves to go out for a lovely Men’s Day lunch
together, the eldest announced that the cat was injured. Immediately I ran to the window to
check. Nope, all was well. She was still sitting outside purring and
shimmying just like she ought to.
OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, he means the REAL cat.
I walked into the kitchen to find what appeared to be a crime
scene. With a pool of blood here and a
pool of blood there, it was hard to guess what had happened. Tracking her down, I discovered that one of
her back paws was bleeding. Having a
received an honorary veterinary training certificate by proxy, I assessed that
the injury was not fatal, so it seemed time for a bit of lunch.
Once in the car, I began to become increasingly concerned
that I had dismissed the cat’s injury too quickly and felt certain we would
come back to the house to find that she had bled out on the bathroom floor in our
absence. The whole thing sort of
overshadowed my Men’s Day festivities. Concerned for my feline companion, we rushed back to the house after
lunch and found that she was still alive and well. It seems she merely tore the claw off of one of her hind feet, er paws . . . whatever. Fortunately the severity of her injuries are
not such that they will not keep until the regular on-call veterinarian returns
to relieve me of my duty. With that
said, it is time to call it a day and wind down our Men’s Day celebration in
favor of a bit of packing and laundry as the wife’s business travel always
seems to place vacation preparation firmly on my shoulders. That’s right, Old Jack Butler will be on
vacation this coming week, so enjoy the break and catch back up with us when we
return. R
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