A Cat Lands on its Feet

Ricky Ralph started a new job, this New Year, as a driver and operator of a crane and pole hole drilling truck for a construction company. His previous job, with a company that cleared vegetation from power lines, finished up when after eight years, the company lost the contract. He was laid off, not unusual in that industry, where contracts move from company to company and the new contractor then hires all the laid off staff.

But Rick was ready for a change. He talked to people and looked about and through a contact he found the new job which offered full training to get the necessary ticket and excellent pay and conditions, far better than those of his previous job. Rick's new job should, he said in an email, should see him through to retirement.

Since the Feb 7 fires he's been flat out, and working overtime on weekends. One of the electrical companies his company contracts to has 87 transformers to replace on poles in fire devastateded areas, each costing $35,000.

Rick is a Cat barracker in the AFL. There's definitely something of the cat in him. When I first met him at school (over forty years ago) he was the nimble, quick footed tennis champion, toying with opponents of his age group like a cat does a mouse, playing them around the court till their final submission in exhaustion. I can see him in my mind's eye now, tucking into a counter lunch like the cat that got the cream.

A cat has nine lives. I wonder about the veracity and origin of that saying, as I count back through the years. He's used up quite a few. At least four I'd say, maybe five. But at 57 he's got a few to go, so he should see a ripe age.

I look forward our annual counter lunch soon. I'm paying. He knocked me off in the last year's footy tipping, as he has the last three. I'll bet he licks his plate and grins like a ...