Showing posts with label kitties. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kitties. Show all posts

Friday, June 14, 2013

Rats, Bats and Beans



Remember what it felt like to lie in bed, listening to birds singing, feeling the sun warming your body as you stretched and yawned and slowly wakened to a day free of obligation?  Do you miss those days?  I miss them.  But Abby’s new blog has reminded me of them.   I’m using it as therapy.  When I’m feeling wound tight I stare at a NavyBean, take a slow deep breath and remember them.

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Saturday, November 19, 2011

Spock Isn't The Only Melder

I’ll bet you didn’t know Dean and I can communicate without uttering a word.  We can.  That’s what happens after you’ve been married longer than you’ve been alive ... or maybe it just feels that way.  Anyway, one of the things that happens when you've been married as long as we have is that you know what the other one is thinking without them saying a word.  That’s why when Dean says “Ah!” I know he’s spilled a hunk of meat or some other chunky type of easily removed food on his shirt.  (I'm not sure how to write the Ah! other than to say you should be pronouncing the A the same as in cat but also down in your throat; say it out loud now … Ah!  Got it?) When Dean says “AAAAhhhhhh!”  I know he’s spilled some tomato sauce or salsa, or something that will require soaking, on his shirt.  When he says “AAhhh! … come here Shadow,” I know he’s spilled something on the kitchen floor while he’s cooking.  When he says “AAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!” I know what he’s spilled is even too much for Shadow to handle and I’ll be wiping down cupboards and mopping the kitchen floor.

So today, while I was cleaning the house, vacuuming up the cat fur, dog fur, flakes of dry skin (which increase exponentially when winter strikes) and other miscellaneous chunks of dirt, and I yelled, “AhhhhhOhhhhhhhhh!!!!” really loud (pronounced just like it’s written) our nonverbal communicative skills told him exactly what I was saying.   “Suck up your earring?”  Well, nonverbal communicative skills and the fact that earlier I had said to him “I really hope I find my earring today.”    

I’d been searching for my earring since we’d gotten home from Edinburgh.  It was one of my favorite pairs of earrings and I’d worn them every day we were there.  When I got home, after 11 hours of flying and a four hour drive home, as I walked through the kitchen on my way to the bedroom, I took off the earrings and laid them on the kitchen counter.  Why?  Who knows.  I blame jetlag.  I could have easily worn them 15 seconds longer and taken them off in the bedroom and put them away but I didn’t.  

The next morning, when I got up, only one earring remained on the counter.  Apparently the kitties thought I’d brought them a shiny new toy.  They probably felt they deserved it because they didn't have as many toys as they used to.  I'd been noticing some of their toys had gone missing but I figured they’d just gotten thrown into the bins of toys we keep for the grandkids.  If I’d been a little less lazy and looked for those toys earlier, there might have been other things on the counter more tempting  to them than my earring.  Come on, don’t wrinkle your nose.  You know your cats are also walking around on the kitchen counter, sleeping on the kitchen table, and licking the butter.  Maybe your cats are sneaky and don’t do it when you’re around, but you know that  cat fur in the butter had to get there somehow.  

I looked everywhere I could think of for that earring ― under the rugs, under the bed, under the couch.  I even pulled out the refrigerator.  I half expected to see it fall out of the sheets when I did the laundry last weekend because we regularly wake up with kitty toys under the blanket ― but no earring.  

So,  I decided while I was cleaning the house today I would also inspect and vacuum all the hot air registers in the floor just in case while they were playing floor hockey with my earring, it slipped down the grate.  I stuck my nose down 11 holes in the floor searching for a silver earring and then listened carefully for a rattle in case I sucked it up with over a year’s worth of dead spiders, fur balls and grit.  No earring.  I knew it had to be somewhere because it had not appeared in the kitty litter ― not yet anyway.  

As I was cleaning our bedroom floor I decided to move the dresser away from the wall, just in case my earring was hiding there.  I didn't find my earring, but I did find the mother-load of kitty toys.  

Turns out searching the toy bins for kitty toys wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, and if it wasn’t for my missing earring we wouldn’t have clean hot air registers which I’m sure will keep us much healthier this winter because we won’t be breathing in all the small particles of fur and skin that would have been blowing out of the vents, so we’ll be able to do more skiing, which will make us even more healthy and fit, which will give me more energy, so I might feel like cleaning the vents more often, and cleaning under the dresser more often, and hey … do you think the kitties hid my earring on purpose so I’d do a better job of cleaning and find their toys?

Anyway, I pulled out the toys and swept the pile of dirt over into another growing pile of dust and dirt so I could vacuum it up.   Somehow during all this sweeping I unknowingly swept up my earring.  I think it must have been so covered in fur balls that I didn’t see it until just before I moved the nozzle of the vacuum in front of it and swwwoooooped it up.  The good thing is it was just a little too heavy to make it all the way to the bag but was lying in that place where the bag attaches to the vacuum so I didn’t have to sit outside on a snow-covered deck sorting through all the dead spiders and dead skin and fur and really, really gross stuff I’d been vacuuming up.






And now the kitties think it’s Christmas, I have my earring back and everything is peaceful.  At least until the kitties learn to open drawers with their tiny little teeth ...






or I hear “AAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!” from the kitchen and I have to dig out the mop again.

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Saturday, September 10, 2011

There Are Many Ways To Keep Your Swords Safe

The girls seemed tired of their toys so we went in search of something cheap but fun to play with.  I think we hit the jackpot.  $3.38 and we didn't even have to fly to Ecuador to get them. 



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Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The Cat's Meow

I still haven’t had a chance to cull through all the photos we took in Ecuador so I’m not yet prepared to tell you about screaming and crying baby monkeys or husbands excitedly babbling on about the geologic wonders, or noses and devils, or very large roasting hogs, or dizzying heights or, well, lots and lots of things.   And this is why (besides the fact that I’ve been busy conducting the Pilsner beer study).  I am exhausted, worn out, pooped, the walking dead, because counter to popular belief, vacations are life threatening.  

Sure, the media tells us vacations are a necessary ingredient for our general well being and emotional happiness.   We’ll be less tense and depressed; we’ll live longer; it’ll help our careers.  They want you to believe that people-watching with an umbrella drink Pilsner in your hand, or a spectacular view of a volcano just as the clouds part, or the chance to take a zippy trip across tree canopies (don’t you wish you’d commented now so you knew) will leave you relaxed and energized – ready to take on the world.


Who?  Me?
That’s all well and good, but do they tell you about the risks?  No.  They do not.  However, if you look closely, you’ll find, in very small print, the vacation contraindications and side effects – “participation in any vacation may cause unwanted or dangerous reactions upon return in people with cats.” Did you get that?  “upon return ... with cats.”  

Unsuspecting travelers ecstatically turn off their computers and wave goodbye to sullen co-workers, unaware of the post-vacation bodily harm awaiting their return – kitty vengeance.   It starts with the kitty snub.   Kitty tails are raised high,  furry butts are pointed in your direction and kitty noses point to the sky. Very lightly  “marking” a sound-asleep man at 3:00 a.m. has been known to occur – once – however it may have been a sign of possession.  Forget it, Sophie.  This man's mine.  And if the vacation was extensive, the retribution will most likely culminate in sporadic occasions of deafening meowing at all hours of the day but most especially at night.  In the middle of the night.  When you’re trying to sleep.  For days.  

I'll teach YOU not to leave me alone again for two weeks!


Excuse me.  I've been busy meowing and haven't had time to bathe.
This nightly meowing-induced-sleep-disruption results in an increasing state of zombie-ism which in turn poses daily risks to life and limb.  Think about it, you could be trying to catch up on that missing sleep when the next thing you know you’ve leaned back too far in the deck chair and tumbled down those nice new stairs you had built last year.  Thankfully, that new platform partway down saves you from a direct shot into the dirt and gravel but in your sleep-deprived state you trip on the step as you head back up to the deck chair and land “just right” on your knee – which shatters.  Your iPhone goes flying out of reach but fortunately the pain keeps you awake, as you lie broken and crooked on the stairs, so you can call out intermittently (almost as loudly as your cat’s pitiless meows) for help until somebody hears and calls for an ambulance.  Your knee is toasted and next thing you know you’re in surgery for knee replacement.  So once again you are away from the kitties for an extended length of time, and once again upon your return, the vengeful kitty cycle begins. 
  
And that is why I am tired and I have not been able to share photos of our trip to Ecuador.

Seriously, Maisie.  If you don't leave them alone we'll never get the house to ourselves again.


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Saturday, February 26, 2011

Déjà Vu in Reverse

I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but I haven’t had much to say about She Who Must Be Named. That’s because she wasn’t here to be named. A few days after Miss Nameless and Sophie joined our household we went to the vet for immunizations and general health check. The three of us waited in the exam room for the vet to come back with the results of their blood tests and when I was told Miss Nameless tested positive for feline leukemia I thought I was also being tested but instead of testing my blood they were testing my sense of humor. Hahaha ... don’t give up your day job. Turns out they weren’t joking. They told me the virus is incurable.  Sometimes mother cats pass the virus to their kittens in the womb and the kitten can rid themselves of it but I wasn't getting the impression that the vet thought Miss Nameless would be fine.  On top of that, it was going to involve an eight week wait and a retest to find out if Miss Nameless would actually fight the virus off and to be sure Sophie (who tested negative) wasn't still going to test positive.  During that eight week wait both kittens would have to be separated so Miss Nameless could not pass it on to Sophie.  

I didn’t think I could keep the two of them separated for the next eight weeks, but more than that, I just wasn’t up to becoming attached to a kitten who might be sick and watching her suffer so soon after I’d had to put Lily to sleep. So I walked in to the vet's office with two kitties and I walked out with one. I left Miss Nameless and her foster mom and dad came and took her back home.

Flash forward to yesterday, eight weeks later. Sophie and Miss Nameless are at the vet being tested for the virus again.  Miss Nameless' appointment was 20 minutes before Sophie's so her results were in first.  Negative.  (woo hoo!)  She had worked it out of her system. While we all waited for Sophie's results we shared kitty stories and reacquainted the sisters. Sophie’s blood test was finally completed and she was still negative. (more woo hoo!). So Miss Nameless' foster parents said a tearful goodbye to her and this time I walked out of the vet with two kitties.

Sophie, the sweet, cuddly, affection kitty we have come to love has not been putting her best foot forward as she's become reacquainted with her sister, Maybe Maisie  (formerly Miss Nameless/She Who Must Be Named).  
How could you not love those little mitten paws?


 
Maybe Maisie
 
Who is in my chair?!

    









There has been some hissing, some growling and some stalking.


 







Little Maisie is still timid and nervous and probably wondering where the heck her foster mom is and why that mean little kitty doesn’t like her. Sophie and I have had some serious discussions about her behavior, but so far she just looks at me, pretends to pay attention and then totally ignores everything I’ve said.






As time goes on and Maisie and Sophie adjust to each other I hope to have more (and better) photos and some kitty stories but for now we’re all just happy she’s back (and healthy!), and giving her space.  We're patient.  We'll wait as long as it takes for her to decide she's darn good and ready to crawl out from under the couch.  When she does finally make longer appearances I’ll sit her down and tell her how to deal with bullies. 
Who?  Me?  A bully?







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Thursday, December 23, 2010

Christmas Came Early

About five weeks ago I was nearly buried alive in tissue, ingesting so much tea I swayed like a water balloon when I walked, and making honking noises that would put a goose to shame. Lily, my cat, fell ill at the same time. I went to the doctor and got antibiotics for a sinus infection.  I took Lily to the vet where she spent the night.  For whatever reason, her kidneys were failing.  The vet put her on IVs, and did what she could.  I recovered – but Lily did not. The next day, at 5:20 p.m., I was back at the vet saying goodbye before she was put to sleep. She was only six years old.

For the past five weeks, when I walk in the front door after work, she’s not sitting there waiting to greet me. I’m sure she missed me terribly and her happiness on my return each night had nothing to do with the fact that she knew I would turn on the bathroom faucet for her so she could have a nice cool drink.



There has been no warm furry body curled up next to me after her night time head butting signal to raise the covers.


No butterball crawls into my lap, on top of the project I’m trying quilt, and refuses to move.

No ball of fur nearly trips and kills me in the evening racing to beat me to the bottom of the stairs where she knows her nightly Greenie treat is waiting for her.

I miss her. I miss her so much it took not one …



but two little girls ...


to fill the void she left in my heart.

They had an adventure and were well taken care of by Lisa before they found their way home to me.



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