All alone in the moonlight

Here's what I love about my friend Nicole. When I confessed to her, somewhat quietly and definitely with a heapin' helpin' of personal shame, that I actually wanted to go see the movie CATS, without missing a beat she said, "I DO TOO!" So right then and there we made a date to get liquored up (the only way to enjoy it) and go.

Sadly, by the time we were ready to make a night of it, CATS was out of the theaters (tried for an "out of the bag" joke here, I just couldn't make it work).

Anyway, this post was going to be all about how awful the movie is, the horrible reviews, the millions it cost Universal, why I wanted to see it and how on her worst day Nicole is a far better writer than I am (although I wasn't going to dwell on that).

But on the way to looking for an image to go with this post, I ran into a bunch of CATS parody posters.

If you know anything about me—and I believe you may know more than you want to by now—you know I'm a dog person. I'm constantly overdoing it with posts on the interwebs about my Hide-A-Sock terrier Lucy, and my second German Shepherd Ace.

By the way, you can read all about my first German Shepherd Max in a tearjerking yet heartwarming story I wrote for a book called Gone Dogs, which every dog lover should have sitting on their coffee table, and every dog lover's friend should be buying them. What's that? Oh sure, you can buy it here.

I may have digressed a bit.

So anyway while I was looking for the CATS movie poster for this post, I ran across several parody cat posters. Apparently there's an entire cat underground that spends their days on Photoshop making these posters. Any one of which I'm guessing is better than the CATS movie.

So for your pleasure, here are a few I found that I'm pretty sure are more entertaining than the movie.

And Nicole, one word: Cable.

About last night

When it comes to the Academy Awards, I'm like Charlie Brown with the football. Every year I think they'll get it right, and the show will move at a fast clip and be at least half as entertaining as movies they're honoring.

Needless to say, it never turns out that way.

The good news is last night's Oscars clocked in at only three and a half hours—a good fifty-three minutes shorter than the longest show ever, hosted by Whoopi Goldberg back in aught-two.

The bad news is it felt like it went on forever.

In no particular order, and even though absolutely no one asked for it, here are a few things I liked and didn't like about the show.

Liked Brad Pitt winning and his speech. Funny, humble, genuine. Plus he took a shot at the GOP, so always a plus in my book. And I loved the line about riding Leo's coattails.

Loved that Renee Zellweger won. From the minute I saw Judy, I knew the award was hers. She rambled on a bit too long in her acceptance speech, but the Texas twang she tried not-so-hard to hide was pretty charming.

Loved Steve Martin and Chris Rock. After the Kevin Hart debacle last year the producers started doing the show without a host of record, but Martin and Rock were very host like. And very funny. They'd be perfect non-hosts for next year.

Loved that Parasite swept the big categories. It's a great film and well deserved, even if it did beat out JoJo Rabbit—my personal favorite.

Speaking of JoJo Rabbit, loved that director Taika Waititi went home with an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay. I hope that helped make up for his movie being nominated for Best Picture without him getting a Best Director nomination.

Without a doubt, for me the standout moment of the night was director Bong Joon Ho—in the middle of his acceptance speech for Best Director—paying tribute to Martin Scorsese. And then Scorcese getting a standing ovation. It was heartfelt, spontaneous and genuine. It brought me to tears, and almost did the same for Scorcese.

Hated Eminem performing Lose Yourself. Sure it won Best Original Song—seventeen years ago. It had no relevance at all to the proceedings, and seemed to cause more confusion than entertainment.

Still undecided about James Corden and Rebel Wilson in their Cats costumes to present the Best Visual Effects award. I like that they were trashing the movie in a funny way, but I thought it went on a bit too long.

Liked Joaquin Phoenix winning Best Actor. Didn't like that it was for Joker, which I thought was a terrible movie. Yes he was good, but he has so many great performances he could've won it for before this.

Didn't like the way it ended or how Jane Fonda wrapped it up. At least I think it was Jane Fonda. It looked more like Katherine Helmond in Brazil. Anyhow, it seemed awfully abrupt and not well thought out.

On the bright side, after three and a half hours there was no risk of leaving anyone wanting more.

Big dog

If you follow my posts with any regularity – and if you do, a library card would be much more rewarding - you know I’ve written many times about my German Shepherd Max, the World’s Greatest dog.

Max is 90 lbs. He’s a big dog, but I don’t see him that way. It’s because I see him every day, and when I’m rolling around on the floor playing with him, and he’s acting like a puppy (albeit a puppy who could rip my face off with those teeth) I forget he’s a big dog.

But there are occasional reminders.

Like when the pizza delivery guy comes to the door, looks down and sees me holding him by the collar, then jumps back four feet off our front steps. Or when people see me walking him, and they cross the street to give him a wide berth and go around him.

I have to say even though Max is a big dog, he’s the perfect size for me. He’s eleven years old – beautiful, healthy, playful, protective and enjoys a good pizza (delivery person) every now and again. I wouldn't want to bring a dog bigger than he is into the family. Max has been the Alpha dog his whole life, and he's not about to surrender the title now.

I’ve always liked big dogs. Sturdy, hearty, sweet, protective companions I can send with my kids to the liquor store at midnight. ”Daddy needs a beer. Take the dog.”

I’ve never understood the appeal of small dogs. And even if I did, I’ll never understand the reason for embarrassing them and making them feel even smaller by using them as accessories and carrying them in a purse, or a baby Bjorn.

For those of you counting, there were four "them"s in that last sentence.

We have a word for small dogs in my house. They're called “appetizers.”

If it were up to me, and we had the room (and a shovel for cleaning up the back yard), I’d go even bigger. I’d love an Irish Wolfhound. The problem for me isn’t their size, but the fact they only live about six years. They’re heartbreak dogs because they’re in your life and then, just as they've completely staked their claim on your heart, they’re gone.

Another breed I wouldn't mind owning is a Leonburger. Big and lion-like, these gentle giants are sweet tempered and great with everything: kids, other dogs and even cats. Not so nice to strangers though, which works just fine for me.

The problem with the Leonburger - besides the endless burger jokes all the time - "Would you like onions on that?" - is they’re drool puppies. So I'd need someone full-time with a mop, bucket and a lot of patience to follow him around the house and clean up the puddles.

I say I'd need someone because I'm not going to do it.

Now if you'll excuse me, the pizza I ordered is here. Max and I have to answer the door.