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Cats are independent and very intelligent. Living with a cat is like having a moody room mate who only shows up when he wants food. However, once a cat trusts you and decides you are their human, it is a beautiful friendship. Multiple studies have shown that having a pet decreases your stress level.

Interesting question.Let me highlight the common characters of all the cricketers you’ve mentioned ie- Jacques Kallis, Ricky Ponting, Tom Moody and Brendon McCullum.They respect and expect punctuality. Ponting and Moody in particular as passionate Aussies, they love the sport too much and the amount of respect they give to the game is too much. Moody is the man behind David Warner’s comeback after ball-tampering ban, and you’ve seen what a comeback Dave has given. This success can be attributed to Moody.They are disciplinarians. McCullum looks like a fun-loving guy and he is to a very extent but he enforces discipline. He as the captain of NZ demanded discipline in the dressing room.They are ultra-passionate about the game, which means, there’s a lot of focus on ethics and values.They believe in one-on-one coaching. Each player has his own ways of learning and these coaches train each of them individually. Moody had been with SRH for a long time, and right from Williamson to Khaleel Ahmed, he used to deal with each of them in a different way. He was so passionate about his job that he hired a language translator to help him communicate with Mustafizur who spoke only Bengali.They aren’t ‘yes-men’. In their team, the coach is the boss and they don’t mind firing even the captain if he’s wrong. Especially, you don’t mess with Ponting.India’s ex-coach, Anil Kumble was of the same category. He was very strict, players had to mark attendance in team meetings, they had to be punctual to the practice, bowlers had to bat at least for 30 minutes in the nets, etc. At the end of the day, his only goal was to make India number 1 ranked team in all formats.He focused on man-management, individual player growth, long-term career plan for each player and had many more plans for the team.And he was fired!!I felt that ridiculous. The media called him ‘ring-master’ and whatnot. That’s not the way you respect a legendary player.Coming to IPL, the franchisees appoint the coach and the captain can only give an opinion on it. The franchisees want the team to win at any cost and they don’t care if the captain is unhappy with the coach.Now that isn’t the case with the Indian cricket team. BCCI is supposed to appoint the coach, but our captain is ultra-powerful. He has the final choice in picking the coach.Now, let’s see what our captain wants in a coach:A free-hand. He wants the coach to leave the players alone. The players consult the coach only if they have any problems.Discipline is not a must. Our players took their families to England tour as if that was a holiday. If Kumble were at that place, he would have asked them to return on their own cost.Ethics is not necessary. We all know what rubbish Pandya blabbered on that talk show. Imagine Kumble sitting on the other end, would Pandya even think of doing such things?A yes-man. Kumble would die before becoming a yes-man.Only one coach fits all these points.I fell down laughing when BCCI chose Ravi Shastri ahead of the applicants like Mike Hesson, Tom Moody and Phil Simmons. It was an insult to these people.So passionate their interviews were that they didn’t even bother spelling ‘Hesson’ correctly.And, people often ask why Dravid or Laxman don’t apply to become India’s coach. I believe, it is good that they didn’t apply. I don’t want to see them insulted.

I saved the life of a man who still has no idea who I am or what I did.It was about 8 years ago. I was working night security for a childrens' theme park in London, Ontario, Canada, called Storybook Gardens. It follows a fairy tale theme, with buildings that look like castles, barns, log cabins, etc, and displays that showcase well-known stories like Goldilocks, Red Riding Hood, and Mother Goose.My shift began at 10:30pm. It was late January, and it had been a very bad winter. That night, I barely even got in to work before the roads were closed to traffic due to a raging blizzard that enveloped most of southwestern Ontario in complete white-out conditions. The snow plows were even pulled off the roads!It was a bitterly cold night, and I wasn't looking forward to the foot patrols I had to make every 2 hours, but I was dressed for the weather and began my first patrol without grumbling too much.Part way through my patrol, I came to a building that had been done up to look like an old fashioned train station. I was inside the park's fence, but it was a wrought-iron fence that was easy to see through, and it looked to me like someone had dumped bags of trash right against the gate. I went over to investigate.I was shocked and dismayed to find that what I had taken for a large pile of old rags and trash was actually an unconscious man! Even with the wind howling around me, I could still smell the intense mingled reek of alcohol, urine, and frozen vomit. The man was drunk and had passed out against the park's gate some time ago. And by the time I got there, he was nearly frozen. I went outside the gate to try and wake him, but he was deeply unconscious and so cold I could not get a pulse on either of his wrists. I finally found a weak, thready pulse on the axial artery (armpit), but I knew this man was hypothermic and didn't have much time.I immediately radioed my contact at London's City Hall to inform them that I had a medical emergency on my hands and to please get an ambulance out to Storybook right away. The lady I spoke to radioed back a few minutes later and told me that due to the severe weather making such a mess of the roads, it would be up to 2 hours before an ambulance could get to me. I asked if she could get Fire Rescue out to me, or even the St. Johns crews that work events, but she said that no one could come any sooner due to the staggering number of road accidents and the terrible weather.It was at that point that I decided that this man's life was up to me to protect and I was alone for the duration. My car was snowed in, and I didn't have access to the keys to the tractor the park owned, so I realized I'd have to find some way to carry the man.I am 5'4". I was a young woman, not hugely strong, and had a problem with sciatica that limited what I could lift. I ended up dragging the man with my arms around his chest, his butt and feet trailing along the snow-covered ground, the half-mile or so to the guard shack/first aid room.When I got him into the room, I jacked up the heat and aimed the extra electric heater we had right at him, got him into the room's old chair, and proceeded to cut him out of his urine and vomit soaked frozen clothing. When I took his temperature with the oral thermometer in the first aid kit, his body temperature was so low that it wouldn't even register. I had a pair of mens' long-johns and a pair of dry socks in the car, and I dressed him in those. The sleeping bag and blanket I had in the trunk for emergencies went around him too. Then I made use of the little chemical hot-packs I always kept in the car in the winter, tucking them all around his body. I used the whole damn box, about 30 of those little chemical hand-warmers.While I was working on the unconscious man, I kept in contact with City Hall and 911, calling every few minutes to ask where the ambulance was, asking when could I expect help to arrive. I wasn't getting many assurances. I was told that they knew what was going on and would get to me as soon as possible.His hands and feet were a mess. Frostbite had blistered them badly and as he began to warm up, the frozen skin began to look like it had been badly scalded. I bandaged them as well as I could, given the limited supplies in the first aid kit.I kept checking his temperature as the time passed. Slowly, it began to rise. But the man never came out of his comatose state. Sometimes he mumbled or snored, but he wouldn't wake even to me hollering in his ear or shaking him.Finally, over two hours after I'd found him, the ambulance and the Fire Rescue crew arrived. They took him to the hospital. I found out later, when I spoke to the City Hall radio operator, that he survived, was now conscious and oriented, but that he'd lost a few fingers and toes to frostbite. Since he was unconscious for the entire time he was with me, he had no memory of his time with a scared young security guard in the guard shack/first aid room at Storybook Gardens.