Leopards in Singapore?

Back in school, we studied the early history of Singapore and the wildlife that once walked this island.

The most impressive beast by far was the Sumatra Tiger. Then there are the hordes of moneys that are still around, lots of snakes, the odd civet cat and the occasional scaly anteater.

Growing up in Bukit Timah right smack in the nature reserve, we always had our fair share of wildlife encounters - a baby python curled up on a chair, monkeys raiding our Rambutan trees when they were in season and every now and then I would spy a black cobra what lived in a pandan bush. But I never knew Singapore was once home to leopards.

And the bells toll

There is something quite … well surreal I guess would be the word … about weddings. Even those that start at the unGodly hour of 9am on a Saturday morning when the rest of the world is allowed to sleep in.

That was how I spent this morning - in church bearing witness to an ancient rite of passage for a guy I’ve known all his life.

From his birth as a “blue baby” with a possible hole in the heart complication which thankfully didn’t materialise, to a very happy child with - at least to me - was a very large head!

While I’ve watched him grow up - and I’m sure I’ve changed a nappy or two of his - in many ways, he will also be that quite kid, always in the background, perfectly behaved.

And now he stood beaming in his suit waiting for his bride to arrive. It’s still hard to reconcile that this was the same sweet little guy who was moments away from taking a wife and starting down a new path.

Maybe it’s just me but the brain doesn’t quite comprehend the passing of the years. In many ways I don’t feel all that different from when I was 16. Okay maybe the eyesight has grown progressively worse such that I now need reading glasses, the mid-rift spread has long since happened and the act of sitting down isn’t complete without the age-telling “ahhhh”. But apart from all this - mentally perhaps - I don’t feel any older.

As I watched him take his vows and put the ring on her finger, something clicked in the ole brain … this was all real and time has marched forth for all of us. I’m happy for him… for them … but at the same time there was more than a tinge of sadness in the heart - that while a new chapter has begun, the pages which have gone before are worth embracing … just one last time.

Got the message?

TOH sent me this email a few days ago … the message is well …less than subtle …

BEFORE MARRIAGE

AFTER MARRIAGE

AFTER DIVORCE

The guilty mind (which is inherent in every red-blooded male of the species) tells me that I’ve probably done many things to deserve this little “reminder” … but just can’t help wondering which little secret she’s on to …

Acting on instinct

You’re stupid enough to climb over a fence, wade across a moat, get into an enclosure with the largest livings cats on the face of the earth and now you’re dead!

Serves you right you fuckin’ idiot.

If you want to kill yourself there are many ways to do it. If you wanna grab your 15 minutes of fame in the process, well then, you should be happy. You made the front page of many newspapers and you upset some Big Cats who were just acting on instinct.

Animals, not unlike people, are territorial. If you barge into my home, start throwing things at me, irrespective if your pathetic mental state, you are going to pay the consequences.

So what causes a moron to act like this. Maybe the press was right - he flipped out, just lost it. Well too bad for you.

Why get worked up over such inane stupidity? It’s simple. The drama could have ended much differently in seconds. Think of a zoo keeper arriving with a shotgun in hand. He sees the man fighting for his life. He’s got no time to find out what happened minutes before. He wouldn’t know the asshole climbed into the enclosure of his own accord looking for a fight (or something to that effect).

The poor zookeeper is faced with a life-or- death decision - one he has to make in seconds. He has no choice. His finger moves to the trigger.

You can’t fire a warning shot in the air - each round of a shotgun contains many steel pellets sprayed out at a 60 degree angle. When they come down, innocent people may get hurt.

Fire into the moat and hope the sound will scare of the cats? Maybe but you can’t risk it. The “victim” is seconds away from death. Nope - it’s not an option.

You can’t shoot the ground - the spray could injure the tigers making them even more dangerous.

Your only option is to get in close, near point-blank range, put your own life on the line - squeeze and take that kill shot.

The end result? One or more tigers would be laying dead … and for what?

And for the bleedin’ hearts are so quick to blame the tigers for doing what they do to protect themselves from an intruder on their turf, or the Singapore Zoo for not being built to prevent the intrusion … all I can say is WTF people …you’ve got the picture all wrong.

A Date with a Tree

It's the 15th of November and in my family (okay it's really just me), this is the sacred date for the big Christmas ritual of putting up the tree.

The Nov 15 ritual started back in 1995 when I moved out on my own and had a four-room flat all to myself. I bought the biggest tree I could find - a seven-footer and decorated it - make that over-decorated it. I had always wanted my own tree and trimming it my way. So that was fun.

Since then, Nov 15 was has been decreed as Tree Day. I remember growing up with had this white tree. It was so old, many of the tinsel "leaves" had fallen, the decorations were positively ancient and we had to spread "angel hair" white fiberglass-like cotton-wool like veil over the tree to give it a look of snow. You don't see that anymore (I'm the one being carried at the back in this 1964 picture).

In later years, the magic of the tree still remains even though it's now a source of tension. Blame that on the cats.

We have 15 of these little buggers. For all of them, the tree with its twinkling lights is like a new toy. Many will just sit and stare, some will sniff and ignore... then there's the rabble Boys from the Hood who will try and claim the tree as their very own turf.

They will climb up the branches, bite bulbs, remove ornaments and hide them under sofas where they are discovered in July ... the list of misdeeds goes on ... (I can certainly relate to this video)



A few years back the tree nearly toppled over on one of their Everest conquests. Since then, I had to take the additional precaution of tying it to the wall with fishline. It helps the tree last the required time until January 6 when it all comes back down.

Ahh the joys of Christmas ... I'm sure the boys are waiting for me to get started ...

Watch that crack!

It's one of the quaint quirks of my childhood... Someone ... I think it was the Grandmother ... once told me that it's bad luck to step on a pavement crack.

I can't recall the rationalisation. Maybe it has to do with karma. And it always better luck to cross the crack with your right leg first rather than the left - something about wishes coming true if you do.

Yes, yes I know none of this makes any sense but there you are ... dusty folklore handed down through the generations was not something to be trifled with.

So there I was as a little kid ... believing just about anything I was told (hey it was the 60s - we respected elders back then - no questions asked) always walking with my head down looking out for cracks in the pavement, adjusting the pace so I'll cross it with the right foot. It must have been a strange sight indeed.

I'm not that conscious about it now but when I do happen to spy a pavement crack up ahead, some primordial instinct kicks in, the stride is automatically adjusted and it's still right leg first.

Hey why tempt fate! Did any of the wishes some true ... come to think of it they all did ... because the only wish at the time was crossing with my right leg first!!

Why do we have to wait till someone passes on ...

Today is November 2. My sister SMS-ed me to remind me it is All Souls Day - quite a big deal in the Catholic calendar if I remember correctly (yes it has been a while). It's the day we remember those that have gone before us especially those that have passed on within the past year.

For me that means two people. One was a relative that fought his cancer bravely for two long and obviously painful years. The last time I saw him in January, he was in a hospice. He knew his time was just about up. Still he smiled, we made small talk and pretended that all was well. He didn't bring up the subject of his condition, so neither did I. We shook hands warmly, said I'll visit him soon. He died the next week.

Then there was J, a few years younger than me. We were both senior editors in a publishing company. Hell we were smoking buddies and we never let work get in the way of our sacred retreat no matter how hectic times got. We lost touch for a few years - each going our own way. He gave up smoking a few months before he found that he had cancer. The gang - all ex-staff from that same company - found out about his condition when someone stumbled across his Facebook account in which he gave faithful updates to friends and family.

I saw him in SGH. He looked the same just that he had lost all his hair cos of the chemo. He spoke so candidly about his condition. Said it was fate. He said he didn't think it had anything to do with smoking. I didn't argue the point - it was moot anyway and would be striking to close to home. Told him we'll visit him soon, exchanged handfone numbers, I gave him a pat on the back and said we'll talk again soon - be strong and all the usual macho horseshit guys indulge in at awkward times. Well we never spoke again. He died a few weeks later. I never found out the details. Guess I really didn't want to know.

So I remember them in my thoughts today. More importantly I like to think about those people still around, still around me who have made a difference. If women wear their hearts on their sleeve.. well guys wear a mask of aloofness and soon the heart grows to fit it ... and that's sad.

Think I really should appreciate people more - family, friends, the people at work, the faithful dustbin at my smoking point, my smoking kaki from whom I bum the occasional ciggie, the people in my team, the security guard who keeps giving me the thumbs up for no apparent reason and lots of others. Life would be different without each one and that makes them well ... precious. Will I be any nicer to them tomorrow? - probably not. Well maybe my grunt as I walk by will sound more friendly. Maybe they'll notice ... probably not.

But since this is a blog post I should say a big thank you to my TWO loyal readers - strawberry (what happened to our Halloween date??) and blogolicious (last time I saw u, you were standing with a naked Italian) - I probably spelt both names wrong but you know who you are! Thanks for visiting this blog - don't know why you do - the last time I updated it a couple of months back- I was exceptionally pissed with someone and wanted to make a point - my way.

But all the same - thanks for the faithful visits... GRUNT :-)

Dogs & Cats - a difference of perspectives

EXCERPTS FROM A DOG'S DIARY

Day number 180
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

Day number 181
8:00 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
9:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
9:40 am - OH BOY! A WALK! MY FAVORITE!
10:30 am - OH BOY! A CAR RIDE! MY FAVORITE!
11:30 am - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
12:00 noon - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
1:00 pm OH BOY! THE YARD! MY FAVORITE!
4:00 pm - OH BOY! THE KIDS! MY FAVORITE!
5:00 PM - OH BOY! DOG FOOD! MY FAVORITE!
5:30 PM - OH BOY! MOM! MY FAVORITE!

EXCERPTS FROM A CAT'S DIARY

DAY 752 - My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture...Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.

DAY 761 - Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded, must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors,I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair...must try this On their bed.

DAY 765 - Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was... Not working according to plan.

DAY 768 - I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time however it included a burning foamy chemical called "shampoo." What sick minds could invent such a liquid. My only consolation is the piece of thumb still LODGED between my teeth.

DAY 771 - There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary throughout the event, however, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call "beer." More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.

DAY 774 - I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird on the other hand has got to be an informant, and he speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my activities. Due to his current placement in the metal room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time...

- Author Unknown Source

---

I loved this the first time I read it - forwarded via email from another passionate pet person.

Whoever it was that penned those lines above - he certainly understands and appreciates the uniqueness of dogs and cats. Someone once said you can own a dog but you can only take care of a cat. How true this is.

If you own a dog - you are his entire world. Who else but your dog will do the dance of joy just cos you have finally emerged from the toilet and he hasn't seen your face in the last five minutes. Who else but your dog would be by your feet drooling just waiting for a little scrap to be tossed his way.
Who else but your dog can you count on to life your spirits after another crazy day in the office or when the wife throws her daily fit.

Cats on the other hand are literally a different beast altogether.

You may be able to tame a cat to a degree that living together with some semblance of harmony is possible but you can never truly change the nature of a cat. They are much smarter than dogs. They will manipulate you into getting their way. A dog will be willing to wait for its dinner. Keep a cat hungry and you do so at your peril.

A dog while craving attention, will wait for you. Ignore a cat when it's got something to say or when he feels it time you did this or that for him, and the cat will take matters into his own hands.

My cat hates it when I'm at the computer. He can never figure out what is so fascinating with this box. The sound of the keys and fingers flying across the board triggers a chase response. The moment I step away from the computer, my little fuzzball feels a need to add her two cents worth to the blog post. You'll never catch a dog doing this.

It takes a lot out of you to look after a pet - be it a dog, cat, fish, rabbit or whatever. But the rewards are well worth the effort. It is sad indeed that in a country which promotes itself as being a great place to stay, we think so little of animals. They are for many people, no more than a commodity. Brought on impulse, we play with them only when we are in the mood and sadly it is all too easy for some to throw them away after the novelty has worn thin.

This is your pet's prayer ... Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do. Speak to me often, for your voice is the world's sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth.

Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper. Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst.

Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather, hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest - and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.

-Beth Norman Harris

Do you believe in Ghosts?

I've been asked this many times ... okay actually it was just once by a colleague who I arm-twisted to read this blog – something I'm sure she has since regretted ... right Sylvia?

Short answer to the question ... sure! What's not to believe!

Basically I'm old enough to realise that there are lots of things we don't understand and perhaps never will. (like how according to a certain person who said sometime back, my G2000 shirts and spiffy hairstyle which I've had since I was six, ain't no longer in vogue) but I digress ...

Back to the legions of the netherworld, we've all seen and experienced things we can't explain – a fleeting image from the corner of the eye, that indefinable sense of dread (like the boss is walking by), deja vu, feeling a connectedness to a place you have never visited before, having the hairs at the back of the neck stand for no apparent reason, feeling a presence comforting or otherwise ...

It happens ... okay maybe not very often ... but still when it does, it gives you cause to pause and think if only for a few seconds, that there may be something else out there. Then of course, our rational mind takes control and we scoff at the thought.

Ghosts, spirits, the afterlife – they could exist whether in this realm or another. In every religion and culture, humankind is linked to those who live in another dimension, souls who once walked the earth, who have touched our lives and since departed.

I guess all of us would want to believe that we will one day, in some place not too far away, rejoin family and friends who have gone before us. And if you believe that, then it is not too hard to imagine that for whatever, some of these “souls” (or their energy) choose to remain in this world – presumably their business yet unfinished.

I personally think it is comforting to believe that there is more to life than well ...just this. Would I ever want to come back in spirit form? Sure! At least a brief visit would be great – you can't be sitting on clouds playing the harp (badly) all day. Hell I've already got a long list of people to spook, to slap the back of their heads, to push down a flight of stairs ... yeah that kinda thingy.

So if one day many, many years from now you glimpse out of the corner of your eye someone looking like an extra from That 70's Show , wearing a G2000 shirt from the late 90s, supporting a hairstyle reminiscent of Ronald Reagan, then you’ll know … I’m back!

In Praise of the Ugly Duckling

Compared to the majestic architecture of the National Museum, the grandeur Singapore Art Museum and the understated opulence of the Asian Civilisations Museum, the tiny Singapore Philatelic Museum must surely be the runt of the litter.

Collecting stamps in Singapore is for all intent and purposes, a fading pursuit surviving only within the hallowed ranks of purist collectors. Housed in what was once a bookstore, I returned this old building on Coleman Street a few months ago after an absence of many years simply because I was passing by and had some time to kill.

I never professed to have any interest in stamps. To me it was nothing more than a bit of printed paper you stuck on the corner of an envelope without a second glance. I had intended my return visit to be a quick one – just poke my head in, see what has become of one of my old stomping grounds and be out the door in 10 minutes.

Then I met Jocelyn – a nice lady who works there. She offered to take me on a tour. Okay – I could be out of there in 15 minutes, I figured. The galleries were small but the tour, with all the details thrown in, seemed like it would never end. Still I was struck by two things.

One, the place didn’t look anything like your typical stuffy museum. Quite unlike the dark corridors of the National Museum where I always fear I’m going to trip over a dead body (see In Search of ...), here there was a comfy sofa, nice soft music and a warm, inviting atmosphere.

The other thing I like about the Philatelic Museum was the passion of its staff. They genuinely believe that every stamp has a story to tell if only we took the time to listen. Thanks Jocelyn, you didn’t exactly make a convert out of me but the next time I’m licking a stamp, I’ll at least pause for a second or two to appreciate the picture – promise!