Did someone say cat?

It’s timely that my neighboring columnist, Robert Galvin, who works across the Great Divide, has recently replenished his supply of feline family members. A home just ain’t a home without at least two. I’m glad he broached the topic because my friend Denise and I are at this moment refining our bidding techniques and analyzing our bank balances in preparation for the ninth big and fluffy “Keep the Cats Dancin” annual auction to raise much needed funds for the Committed Alliance to Strays, or C.A.T.S.

C.A.T.S. is a shelter, located at 104 N. Ross Lane in Medford, that caters to placing homeless cats and kittens in Jackson County into loving families. Since 1990, a dedicated group of individuals including countless volunteers and foster kitty parents have worked hard to help cats and kittens in need.

The auction is held at the elegant Dancin Winery the second Monday in September every year. I’ve lost count of how many of these soirées Denise and I have attended, but it has become something we anticipate. I mean, how hard is it to look out on an incredible view of our valley, drink award-winning wine, dine on wood-fired pizza, stuffed mushrooms and maybe a semifreddo for dessert, all the while racing to beat out fellow bidders on merchandise we could live without.

Somehow, the items that capture our hearts take on a semi-monumental need. Competition revs up as we hover over the table holding the cherished item as closing time draws near. It’s quite the game — trying to outbid while smiling sweetly at competitors — perhaps distracting them with scintillating conversation. Knowing the money is going to help hundreds of adorable fur babies makes it worthwhile.

I try to don some aspect of kitty cat paraphernalia to become a part of the festivities. One year it was a shredded sweater with mischievous black kitty faces. Another time, I wore some fetching garishly-colored leggings with wild cats romping throughout.

This year I’m considering going all out by wearing my gold leopard mask. Yes, I have one. I may chicken out and settle for the more subtle red T-shirt with MEOW spelled out in cat faces.

There’s no cost to attend, but the good folks of C.A.T.S request that you give them a call at 541-779-2916 if you’d care to join us.

In closing, I’d like to address the potentially evil subterfuge of Artificial Intelligence. I’m only half joking here.

We’re even asked to capitalize it as a proper noun like it’s a person, for Hal’s sake. It makes a Writer quake within their God-given gift of word-smithing. Though AI, its nickname, has been around longer than any of us realized, silently plotting its inevitable takeover, at least it’s uncloaked for the imposter it is. It has no soul, though I’m convinced it has a master — sort of like a zombie bot. Greed manipulates behind the curtain.

I want to assure readers that my intelligence is the pure dinkum. I mean, all you have to do is read my stuff to know I had no help from higher intelligence. Um, I mean, well . . . Eddie the King just made a snide remark through his whiskers — an aside to Cricket.

My concern is real in that for years we’ve been losing the ability to apply critical thinking — to examine the facts (presuming we can believe them), especially true during an election year. According to the website Coursera, AI is defined briefly as “… a suite of machine learning-powered technologies, such as ChatGPT or computer vision, that enable machines to perform tasks that previously only humans can (shouldn’t this be could?) do like generating written content, steering a car, or analyzing data.”

Goodbye, fellow scribes, until we meet in our secret conclave.

As with most technical expansion, I’m sure there are valuable applications. Perhaps AI will force us to use a small percentage of that amazing organ called the brain we’ve been given and not turn us into dependent sloths. Speaking of which, the boys need feeding.