There are a certain combination of words that will make people sit up and spur into action, even if they are busy attacking the first morning cup of coffee. Parizeau, for example, is said to have sprayed his café au lait all over Le Devoir, when he received a note on the morning of the referendum that read “did you remember the ethnic vote ?”. Likewise, Napoleon quickly grabbed a map of Russia after reading Josephine’s email, in which she told him to “forget about last night”, that these things happen, and could he be a dear and invade something just to make up for it.

But one does not have to be an emperor to react in such manner. Take for example last Tuesday morning. Our famous Halifax Fog™ had, overnight, seeped into some of my brain cells making the reading of the morning papers that much more difficult. I vaguely recall that I even had problems distinguishing between our two fine local publications, a strange phenomenon, since they differ severely: one is square, the other one distinctly rectangular.

Halifax’s rival rags also have a slightly different editorial outlook on events. Take for example last year’s heat induced death of a chicken at our annual agricultural fair. The Daily Blood’s lead with “ Fatal Fowl Fair “ and threw in a close-up of the chicken being put in a body bag. Its competitor, The Chronically Hurt, featured a large, colourful picture of a sad girl holding a balloon, flanked by an article titled “Chicken Victim of Global Warming”. The two papers, thus, differ in their approach, but agree on one thing: no story involving a cat is too insignificant to print.

[re-enter article plot, stage right]

In a fog induced trance, I was leafing through one of the papers, when suddenly the words ‘new Halifax cat by-law’, ‘ not allowed to leave owner’s property’, ‘ by-law enforces’ popped up. Only for a moment did I do my best impression of Rodin’s Thinker, before I sprang into action. Grabbing she-who-must-be obeyed’s two cats , I sprinted out of the house, placed them on my neighbour’s lawn, and waited.

The cats looked slightly confused, since for both of them the idea of grass was as foreign as a bull-fight is to a local legion hall. They adjusted quickly, however, and began doing what they had trained for all these years, namely to lie down and fall asleep . “Good”, I thought and ran back into the house.

By now, my mind was de-fogged and working with the precision of a Taiwanese watch. This, I figured, was the perfect opportunity to downsize our house-hold zoo. Next in line was the little one’s hamster. Luckily, he had decided not to go for one of his usual walkabouts, so it was a child’s game to get him out from underneath the couch cushions. Since our city counsel , for some unknown reason, only saw cats as a menace to society, I quickly fabricated a tail and two large pointy ears out of some string and cardboard. “Voila” , I thought, “ a perfect example of a Miniature Himalayan™ , and put him outside with the other members of his species.

The goldfish were next : I placed their bowl between the still sleeping cats, but not before sticking a ‘Long-tailed Mexican Water Tabby’™ label on the thing. “This will do”, I thought and resumed my wait. It would not be long before my neighbour would call the by-law inspector and the whole lot would be whisked away to newer and better homes .

Normally, waiting for by-law inspectors is one of my favourite hobbies, and usually I find their tardiness a charming character flaw. In this case, however, I was getting impatient , since the hamster was starting to look restless and the fishbowl took on an alarming shade of green. Drastic steps were in order.

There is an old Albanian saying: “If you are going to break one bylaw, you might as well break them all” . Keeping this in mind, I changed tactics. First off, I transplanted the entire menagerie from my neighbour’s lawn into the no parking zone in front of my house. Next, I grabbed a can of pesticide and started to spray it liberally around the animals. By-law number three had been broken. My final step was, what I thought, my masterpiece: I sprayed each animal with some cheap and rather pungent perfume. The Miniature Himalayan™ looked a bit miffed, but sacrifices had to be made. I was certain, that the no-scent police was going to hit the roof. All that remained was to wait, then wait some more.

When surrounded at Little Big Horn, Custer was heard to say “ Relax boys. We’ll just wait it out “. Had I been surrounded by By-law enforces, I am certain that I would have shared the General’s ease of mind. The battlefield on Bloomfield Street, however, was totally devoid of encirclements, causing me to become restless and slightly irritated with the whole by-law system. After all, if, on any given day, any given citizen can break any given number of by-laws without even a whisper from the powers to be, then the whole system must be utterly flawed. In disgust I retreated to my kitchen, and once again picked up the paper.

It is always a prudent thing to read a text in its entirety. When Napoleon planned his march into Russia, he previously consulted a memo on the subject. An impatient man, he only skimmed the thing. Thus, when he read that “Russia is an easy place to invade…”, he packed his bags and trundled Westward. Had he taken the time to read the entire sentence, he would have noticed the following warning: “… if it fails to snow” .

It quickly became apparent to me, that le Petit Corporal and I had one or two things in common. At the end of the article on our new cat by-law, the words “will be voted on in 2086” had been added since last time I perused it.


There was only one thing left to do. Defeated, I herded the cats back onto the bed, returned the hamster to his place under the couch cushion and placed the Mexican Water Tabbies back on the mantle piece.

Today, all is back to normal on Bloomfield Street. The nauseating smell of cheap perfume should be gone within a week or two.


PS. To my three faithful readers. Once in a while, every Nova Scotian has to do the unthinkable and leave this province. In my absence, please take good care of the best city in the world (not counting Cologne ) . I would also appreciate it greatly, if someone could take out my trash on Monday night. Oh, and please do forget to feed the cats ….