On a non-cat subject (it happens now and then, even in the Cosy Apartment), I must say ‘good-bye’ to a long-time acquaintance.
My vacuum-cleaner has been serving me well for decades. I inherited it, and believe it to be about forty years old. It is a Kenmore, which I think was the house-brand of the late, lamented Simpson Sears (latterly, just Sears) chain; though more expensive than its rival, Eaton’s, Simpson Sears was a Canadian institution, and is missed; I will miss my Kenmore vacuum-cleaner, as well.
It was called a Whispertone. This name was misleading in its old age; it generated a great deal of noise as it struggled to fulfill its duties. The horrendously loud ‘power-head’ had to be repaired a few years ago, and gave more service, until, at last, it died. The main body of the machine continued to work well until just recently. The suction power is nearly gone now.
I have purchased a new vacuum-cleaner, a Miele. I think it is from Germany so, if that country’s reputation for quality is even a fraction of what it was, my new machine should last for a while. It may not keep going for another forty years, but I hope it lasts the rest of my life. That way, if I am cremated, they can have it standing by, in case someone drops the urn.
The vacuum-cleaner shop to which I resorted could have installed a used motor in my Kenmore (which are no longer produced) if they had one in stock, but that probably would not have lasted as long as a new machine, and likely would have cost half as much. The Miele was very expensive - at least relative to my resources - and it was on sale at a reduced price at that. While it was refreshing to pay large amounts of money to someone who isn’t a veterinary, it is rather like being hit on the left side of the face instead of the right: a change of direction but involving the same degree of pain. Besides, with Renn going to the hospital for his dental next week, my right side will resume its punishment soon enough.
The Kenmore’s retirement will mean that only two other appliances from the 1980s remain in service with me: my deep-freeze and my micro-wave oven. It’s not just the passing of former celebrities or the ending of traditions that mark one’s increasing age: the demise of ordinary, dependable tools and household implements lets one know that youth has long ago fled. And when I start referring to the Miele as a ‘whipper-snapper’, it will have been confirmed.