Kona-head

Salt Lake City

For the past couple of weeks I have been in Salt Lake City. I know what everyone automatically starts to think when they hear the Mormon Mecca named, but this post is not about the Mormons. Truth-be-told, they seem have done a pretty good job with the city. For a city of its size, Salt Lake seems to lack all the problems other urban areas tend to be infamous for.

The traffic isn't too bad. True, you have to accept that the "Temple" is the center of your world here with the infrastructure being laid out in a numerical grid starting at Joseph Smith's enamoured Temple Square. It does take a bit of getting used to everyone giving directions based on S. Temple or N. Temple, but in the end, the grid works.

The park closest to my sisters house where I have spent a lot of my free time.

The crime rate is low when compared with other cities of it's size. Of course, there may be some laws that the rest of the nation enforces a bit more than the state of Utah does, but within the city, things feel safe. Utah definitely balances things out by enforcing other laws that the rest of the states, as least according to Utah, are a little lax on. Perhaps, the house on the corner that I stroll by on my way home at midnight is occupied by a man and his four wives, in Utah that is irrelevant, or at least conveniently overlooked. What really matters is the alcohol content of the beer on the grocery store shelves. It is easy to poke fun at the Mormon rule over the entire state of Utah, but really it doesn't seem to be a bad place.

The Jesus statue surrounded by painting of the universe on the second story of the N. visitor center at Temple Square.

I should note that I did make a trip to check out Temple Square, and I did not feel entirely comfortable while there. I spent most of my time counting down the seconds until I had to move before a missionary would approach me to spread the word. It was the same kind of game you play when you see somebody on the street that you don't want to see, so you duck into corners and make sure to keep moving, while still keeping an eye on their location. I found it necessary to keep my head down and keep moving to avoid an attempt at conversion. This meant that I wasn't able to read every exhibits description in the museum, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. In the end, I made it out only entertaining a few "hellos" and "good afternoons, " a definite success.

Mormon missionaries on the prowl. Insert Jaws theme song here....




Outside my sister's place. As you can see the snow decided to follow me here so I feel comfortable.

I've been staying at my sister's house, and at least for the last couple of days, I have been taking care of her cat Kona while she is out of town. Sometime last week Kona either got in a fight and lost horribly, or fell off of something from a great height and upon landing, was impaled by some sort of sharp or dull object. She may have also been pecked by a turkey in the aviary next door. Kona had to have surgery a few days ago and has been recovering ever since. My job has been to make sure her wounds are clean and not infected. This involves herding Kona into a corner a couple of times a day and then holding her down by the scruff of her neck and cleaning out her wounds with a warm wash cloth. It is basically what I imagine wrestling a wild tiger would be like.

Before, surgery Kona didn't really care for me. I would say she treated me somewhat the same way I treated the missionaries at Temple Square. She was always sure to keep an eye on me, but generally avoided all contact with me. Perhaps, needless to say, being left alone with a cat that seemed to hate me, and tasked with cleaning out open wounds on her rump was something I wasn't completely looking forward to.

Kona's wounds. The white things are drains for the gnarly puss that leaks out of the wounds.

Koner-head

In between cleanings, I have made sure to scratch "Koner-heads" head. (This is what I call her now, for obvious reasons) Even though she hisses, growls, and claws at me when I clean her wounds, I hold one advantage over her. I can itch the spots under her surgical "cone of shame" that she can't reach, and for that she seems to be ever grateful. Our relationship has changed a great deal since I first arrived. She now approaches me and rubs up against me purring, and not so subtly hinting that I scratch her head. It is like we have always been best of friends. Because, I promised my sister that I would take the best possible care of her wounded feline while she is away, I always abide and scratch Koner-heads face and neck. I'll be honest, it is kind of nice when she starts to purr. I feel like we are really starting to connect with each other, but I can't help but wonder what is going to happen to the Koner-head and I once she is no longer required to wear the plastic "cone of shame" around her neck. She will no longer need me to scratch the places that she once could not reach. Will she resort to treating me like a Mormon missionary again, or have we bonded over the last couple of days and really become friends? Has her disability allowed me to, at least temporarily, convert her from a "human hater" to a "person pal?"