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ADAMs Tomcat

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Highway to hell – You are what you eat!

My mind just wandered off and I thought about back then! Back then… we were young, attractive, arrogant, wild and incredibly horny. We hung around all night, lived on air and love and enjoyed life to the fullest. If someone had raved to me about healthy cooking back then, I would have laughed in their face.

Well, it was a while back then and the wild, impetuous tomcat full of testosterone has become a spoiled mansion resident who indulges in the luxurious lifestyle, keeps fit by dancing in front of the television and takes care of his affluent belly with fine dining. Hmm, I would have had to do something long ago if I didn’t want to end up like my can opener, who keeps complaining that he no longer fits into his made-to-measure shirts, even though he is extremely disciplined (and eats like it too). By the way, eating is supposed to be the sex of old age!

According to scientific findings, eating healthy is not so far-fetched if you want to become an elderly tomcat at some point. Vitamins, antioxidants and co. are true fountains of youth.

Suddenly I hear my reasonable inner voice: “You are what you eat! Get up you lazy cat and do something for your health and wellbeing. You’re on the highway to hell!”

Yes, yes! I leisurely turn over on my luxury garden lounger so my paws can cool off in the covered pool. I dreamily look into the dense treetop, the bright blue sky above me and my thoughts drift with the clouds. Cooking has always been my passion, of course only sophisticated cuisine with lots of protein. Well-seasoned dry aged beef, fish and Norway lobster have always been some of my favourite staple foods. Vegetables and salads are usually just an unavoidable decoration or in the form of a prairie oyster (tomato juice with a raw egg!), as a hangover breakfast after a night of drinking.

Again I turn, groaning on my bed, into a more comfortable position. Ahhhhh, how wonderful it would be to be young and bubbly again – the pleasant thought washes over me so intensely that I jump up, grope my way to the fridge with integrated glasshouse and gorge at an insane rate until it’s empty. In the high-tech kitchen of our upper-class villa, it has recently been spring all year round, which makes your mouth water. The growth of salads and herbs is aesthetically staged and the result is fully preserved nutrients and aromas that were not thought possible. That reminds me of the commercial with the grey Burmese beauty when her can opener places a parsley leaf on the aluminium can food – if my owner were to dawdle around smiling like that while serving, I would have to put him up for adoption.

After my binge eating, I sit in the blue light of the open refrigerator door with my belly sticking out and nibble on my bad conscience, while a stream of air that smells intensely of liver pâté and onions makes its way between my teeth and leads to freedom. So that was it, the absolute nadir. I will change my life completely.

I’m still a passionate cook, but with vegetables as the main protagonist and organic meat or fish that’s not overbred as a side dish. I season with fresh “vertical farming” herbs, develop sophisticated and fine-tasting convenience dishes for overweight conspecifics. My vegetarian and vegan line is just as fantastic as my online shop and recipe blog. My cooking videos and my appearance on social networks are cult classics. I’m fantastic looking, more than fit and of course my own promotional testimonial. My cookbooks for slim tomcats are selling like hot cakes. Signed with a paw, of course. Readers: take a look inside, my life is perfect.

Then I open my eyes and can still see the dense treetop above me and the sky, which is now shimmering and a bit pale. Well, you’ve read a lot about how healthy vegetables really are with all that pesticide exposure, but at least I’m still arrogant to perfection. At the next full moon, I’ll go out like I did back then and get that “young and crisp feeling” back in a simple way!

… but now I have to order the delivery service and have the fridge filled. Ok, there will also be a little decoration, because after all I strive for conscious living and individual freedom …

Copyright Illustration: Manuela Dona

Adam’s Bucket List

Duchardt
A breath of fresh air in Vienna’s top gastronomy. The 2 toque-awarded Restaurant Walter Bauer, in Vienna’s 1st district, has now been taken over by Marcus Duchardt, a toque-awarded chef with German/French roots. His credo is: “The best from local forests to the open sea. Culinary art at the highest level, interpreted in a contemporary way.”

www.duchardt.at

Skin’s
The taste, to which they consistently aspire, has been refined with two stars. Kevin Romes and Pascal Hobler stand for reduced cuisine, an intricate craft and re-interpreted tradition.

www.skins-restaurant.ch

Lucide
Michèle Meier knows how to interpret the best products in a groundbreaking way and to prepare them with love. Inspiring, fresh and at the same time authentic cuisine awaits the gourmet.

www.lucide-luzern.ch

Magdalena
Young, talented and self-assured. The products originate for the most part from the surrounding area, a number of them even from Rickenbach. Dominik Hartmann and his team surprise and charm their guests with their fine tasting presentation from the region.

www.restaurant-magdalena.ch

Fotos: © Peter Schuhböck, donagrafik.com, Skin’s, Lucide, Magdalena

Mission Life Purpose

The Tomcat is involved in Foul Play

“I can’t take any more!” with these theatrical words, taken completely out of context and as such incomprehensible, Adam, my human tin opener, entered our sweet home, threw his laptop bag into the first available corner and disappeared into the depths of your garden.

Dust particles were dancing in the slanting incoming light, the air appeared somehow electrified.

I left him alone for a few minutes, before I tracked him down in the hammock at our huge copper beech. This tree had already frequently borne witness to chapters and turnings in both of our lives. Numerous marks, hearts, names of lost loves and dates of life phases were carved into the bark.

I sat down silently at his feet and waited. Finally he began to speak with his eyes closed and in a quiet voice. “This work does not fulfil me! The constant stress, all the commotion because of minor details, permanently subjected to the criticism of colleagues and superiors – all day I have the feeling that I’m lagging behind.

On top of that I have saddled myself with the double burden of elite training at one of the most renowned institutes in Switzerland. That really stretches me to my limit! I wanted so much to progress but my talents are not appreciated at all, they are not even needed. I quit my job today. I would like to enjoy my life, to travel, run a marathon, paint or write a book. I could take singing lessons, I was a very impressive tenor – why not!”

I stared at him with a shocked expression, my ears were lying dangerously close to my head and my tail was whipping the grass nervously! His moaning and groaning had sent my tolerance and acceptance levels to the moon.

He wants to lead a fulfilled life, I thought distraught. But why?

The idea of Adam hanging around the house all day, bawling loudly and disturbing my usual routine is insufferable. I couldn’t stand this human near me, constantly advocating pointless theses, for more than 2 days.

“You were happy until now! Just think about it a little, where you draw the line and which things you do not want to do without!” I said understandingly.

In my opinion I thought that eating, sleeping and occasionally going jogging must be enough for such a simple cluster of amoeba cells.

In the end I raised my game and convinced him that he had to look for another job. Everyone needs a goal and fulfilment is not served on a silver platter – you have to work hard for it! He could also combine a number of things. Hanging around at home simply is not an option, as he has a home to maintain after all and bears the responsibility for a pampered tomcat whose living standards are really not up for negotiation.

I left him in the hammock with this broadside, strolled confidently and with my head held high into the house and got busy looking at job advertisements and writing ingenious applications, while he scratched around on the tree trunk with his knife.

How did it turn out? Thanks to my application he easily found a new job. Now, to satisfy his longing to travel, he drives one hour to his new office in the country every day singing loudly. After work he goes jogging out there in the countryside and is training for a marathon that he will never run. When he comes home completely exhausted I send him off to shower and accept the evening meal from the luxury delivery service.

We lead a happy, fulfilled life – well, I do anyway!

 

Copyright Illustration: Manuela Dona

The universe remains silent!

 A tomcat‘s perspective

As always, when things are not at all balanced in my life, I sit at the window of our posh luxury property and gaze questioningly into the starry night. What is wrong with the world? What’s happening here? But apart from getting breathtakingly intoxicated by the stars, the firmament has no answers to questions posed by a tomcat searching for meaning.

Who is spoiling everything for me and bringing a bitter note to my otherwise privileged life to date? Where has the beautiful, carefree life gone? Where? Humanity is divided into good and evil, black and white, loud and silent, those willing to work and those looking, speeders and brakers, vaccination supporters and vaccination opponents. There is no longer an inbetween factor; there are no shades, no nuances. Can we even recognise the grey tones at all in our society? For two years a pandemic has got the better of us, the economy has been destroyed and is only recovering slowly. Viruses and masks, with annoying rules in the meantime and human tragedies, are still determining our daily lives. Political disenchantment is running rampant. One scandal follows the other. Trust in our elected representatives is virtually at zero, if the surveys do not tell the right story they are doctored, warped or embellished with false assessments. Virgin forests are burning, the oceans are suffocating on plastic waste, the polar caps are melting and more than onehundred species are becoming irretrievably extinct each day, because profit and greed for power are widespread.

What has happened to humanity? What triggered it? Which chromosome is missing? The world will perish, if humanity no longer trusts that it is also worth living for tomorrow. How can we pull ourselves out of this situation and what is really keeping the world going and what will get the pulse beating again? I gaze at the skies for answers but the universe is silent. Silence. Pure silence. I suddenly notice a gentle rustling in the garden. I see a magic shadow on the wall, which quickly disappears from my eye cones. Quiet, careful advancing in the moist autumn leaves. I am beginning to think that I have imagined it, when a subtle but incredibly beguiling fragrance penetrates up to my nose and grows to an olfactory hurricane that is clearly and at the same time difficult to identify. My whiskers are vibrating, my ears are set for reception, and my tail is continuously whipping to and fro. What is happening here? I am wide awake and at the same time almost in a bewitching unconsciousness. Is it the answer from the universe or a sign from the cosmos? Then the moon slowly creeps over the edge of the roof and a beam of light falls into the night garden. Then I see her. She is sitting like a Madonna upright on the stone wall, elegant, angelic and not at all hidden, in the light of the moon. Unbearably slowly she turns her head and looks directly at me with a soft glance. I am mesmerized by her gaze. She gets up and slowly turns to the darkness of the garden. «No don’t go », screams every fibre in my body, but my voice remains silent. She turns around once more, looks at me challengingly and in a split second the spectre is over. The shockinduced paralysis dissolves like a spell. I push my head through the cat flap of the terrace door, follow up with a bold but elegant dive to immerse myself in the darkness and follow the scent trail that shows me the way to the only thing that makes the world go round. Love of course. Maybe the world will perish – someday – but not tonight! Meowwwwww!

*) In my stories I obviously address all genders (m/d/f).

 

Illustrationen Copyrights: Adam´s Tomcat, Manuela Dona

Zero Waste

Sustainability in a feeding bowl

Have you ever stopped to think how sustainable it is to own a cat? No? Neither have I. I simply could not care less! Because it does not bear thinking about granting a cat access to our dignified male abode.

At the moment keeping a pet is mutating into a national sport. Does nobody for one second think of the consequences? Now mother, father and children are stuck at home with their home office and homeschooling, then on top of it they bring a hairy cat creature into their intimate universe that eats constantly and scratches everything.

Yes, and who gets the animal after separation? Wars have been waged because of a pet, because as soon as love dissolves, everyone pounces on what’s left to get their own back on their partner. Emotional booty like a cat fits the bill perfectly in the eyes of even a halfway intelligent warlord. As I said no one thinks of the consequences. Pets are only hoarded on a whim. Mankind is obviously suffering not only from the Corona pandemic, but also from an extremely contagious form of an amnesia mutation.

But I am digressing. Even if the positive ecological balance of a cat will never affect me, I recently led a heated discussion with Adam, my can opener, on cat food alucups. I hate those things. I would not expose my well-trained body to the disgusting stuff, I prefer to stick to my fresh salmon and well-matured dry-aged beef, but I took a sniff at one of those cans once and apart from the deplorable stink, an alucup simply cannot be sustainable. Zero Waste is allegedly the trend of the season and it is clear to even the most stupid that alucups, tin cans, cat litter, mink shampoo and fur mice are far from being Zero Waste. I don’t want to even think about the monster cat toilet – Yuck!!!

And scratching trees? My claws itch when I think of the constructions wrapped in sisal cord or the monstrosities covered in fleecy carpet that are set up in the living room devouring multiple square metres, while the cap takes a nap in the bed, the washing basket or in the Amazon box and sharpens her nails on the living room chair or the silk wallpaper. No, the world has to wake up and protect itself from these senseless money and resource eating monsters and the
industry behind them!

That was my thinking 2 hours ago, and then Adam came back to our upper-class villa, which is kept in tip-top condition, with a little kitty in his arms. The delicate little paws of the 12 week old, sugar-sweet ball of wool had barely touched the ground when she swirled up a tsunami in our sedate male domicile and brilliantly brought down my founded opinion on the sustainability of cats. Only a tomcat with a heart of stone could have resisted those naïve eyes. I am now clearing some space in the cupboards for an Armada of snacks, kitten milk and toys. Which reminds me, I’ll have to ring the carpenter about the scratching tree I ordered.

But no one should ever forget – sustainability concerns us all!

Illustrationen Copyrights: Adam´s Tomcat, Manuela Dona

Goodbye my friend!

Days of valediction

Tears are flowing down my cheeks, while a heartbreaking sob, encompassing all pain in this world and slowly crippling my chest, creeps up and I finally agonizingly expel it out into the world. My heat, broken a thousand times over, beats persistently in my chest, although I was 1000% sure that it had turned to stone.

Even weeks after your natural burial I ask myself how life should go on. Lenny, how could this happen? Where are you now?

The most wonderful memories of our time together race through my head…testosterone-loaded turf wars, long nights, car races and thrilling adventures with women. Our friendship was so special, full of mutual and unconditional trust. We relished life; no one even came close to us. How often did we show my can opener, Adam, what a real tomcat is capable of? We laughed in the wind, inhaling a deep breath of lavender and Dreamies.
Life was so wonderfully uncomplicated with you.   And now? My days have been passing as if in slow motion. Adam honestly made a lot of effort to distract me but how can the thought that you are now the brightest star in heaven help when tears are fogging my view and I am missing you so much?  Now and then I sat at the computer and looked for comfort in bereavement websites, but the very noise of the computer booting up upset me. I finally sat down in a trance at the table and used the pen to express in writing the pain of your loss. When I had finished writing our story, I tied a black satin bow around it, lay down on the sofa and fell into a deep, all encompassing sleep.

When I woke again, days must have passed, because I first had to try to find my orientation, had insufferable bad breath and my stomach was rumbling strongly. So I plundered the fridge, just like in the old days, had a luxurious bubble bath and cleaned my pearly whites. Hard to believe, but I felt better. Now I wanted to finish the affair and to burn my grief in a ritual-like act involving a gigantic fire. This was the only way to finally be able to concentrate on focusing on the future again. I would send our story, which had now been committed to paper, to a publisher, who would rip the bestseller out of my hands.

The reason for things turning out differently can be put down to the fact that my story did not exactly shed the best light on my can opener. At some point when I was asleep he must have found the text and in a rage threw it across the terrace, above my head into the gigantic bonfire in the garden. I was stunned! Again I let a heart-wrenching scream, but this time it was anger and I cold-bloodedly took it out on my can opener. When he came out of hospital a few days later, I had already dictated everything onto a dictaphone and he was able to begin typing my book into the computer using his eagle eyed search system.

Death is the horizon in our lives, but the horizon is only the end of our perspective. I had finally turned the corner; I was almost back to my old self and was looking forward again! Old friend, you will remain unforgotten in my heart and I will dedicate the bestseller to you, I promise!

 

Illustration Copyrights: Manuela Dona