I Love My Pet

Left to my own proclivity, my neighbors would know me as the modern-day St. Francis, although it would be Frances instead of Francis. That's putting a nice spin on being the crazy lady who takes in all the stray cats.

There's a site on Facebook which a friend of a friend of a friend suggested - Pets on Death Row. It lists the shelter where the animal is, gives the phone number, and tells the time tomorrow morning that the pictured animal will be euthanized. Why on earth did I sign up for such a depressing site?

There are enough homeless pets, especially now when the economy makes feeding and caring for pets a luxury some people can't afford. If you're a pet owner, please spay and neuter your pets. If you're not a pet owner, there are some adorable animals out there just waiting for a home.

[Title taken from this.]

Work It, Boys and Girls, Work It

We have our own personal catwalk in our bedroom.  Just for two.  His and hers.  Seven feet off the ground.  And it gets used on a daily basis.

It didn't start out as a catwalk.  The designer would probably be insulted to know of its current use. 

The catwalk is actually the canopy of our bed.  Now I know I'll get lots of mail about this, but I was always taught that if a bed had four tall posts but no frame between the tops of the posts that it was a tester bed.  If it had a frame at the top of the posts (with or without linens hanging from the frame) then it was a canopy bed.  Our canopy bed has no linens hanging from the frame.

That frame is the catwalk.  And it's used by cats.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 figured out how to jump onto the frame from the headboard.  Not only do they walk on it, they perch on it to watch while we putter around the bedroom.  They also stalk each other on it. 

Thing 1 has a habit of following Thing 2 closely and swatting at her back legs to trip her and knock her off.  He doesn't share well.  There are countless scratch marks where Thing 2 has tried to hold on for dear life, her ears back in fear, and her eyes wide, as she's tried to push herself back onto the catwalk.

The worst part of having the catwalk right over our heads is when one or both are sitting on the rail when it's time for the humans to go to bed.  First the lights go off, but sleep doesn't follow quickly.  We're waiting to the muffled thud of a cat jumping onto the mattress from the frame. 

It's that fear that one of them will land on our heads.

It Was a Dark and Blonde-ish Night

This one time, at band camp . . .  Wait.  Let's start again.

Last night after dropping off one daughter at a babysitting job and returning to find the other daughter and her friends prepping for the football game, it was supposed to be a relaxing night in.

The agenda was full of ideas:  a quick catch-up with certain friends who were online, a really long decadent bubble bath, a cup of hot apple cider and a new book, a lap for Thing 1 and Thing 2 to take turns warming.  Ah, bliss.

But Murphy's Law kicked in.  Flip on the computer.  Log into the various mail accounts.  Suddenly all the fire alarms in the house go "beep" once then the house goes dark.  Immediately, the generator next door clicks on and starts humming away.  You should see the size of that generator.  It's big enough to power the entire block.  But no!  If this was grade school, their report card would say, "Doesn't play well with other." 

A quick visual check outside confirms that the whole block is without power.  Lovely.  Somebody has to report the outage.  In the past, it's been that the neighbors assume someone else reported the outage.  But what's the power company's phone number?

That's okay.  My web browser is open.  I'll just look it up online. 

Ever have one of those blonde days even if you've got more red in your hair than blonde? 

It took me a few "Why won't the page load?" before realizing that the modem, which is plugged into an electric outlet, doesn't work if the power is out. 

Good thing the rest of last night's agenda could be accomplished sans electricity.  Bubble bath by candlelight.  Cider heated on the gas stove.  Reading by candlelight.  Thing 1 and Thing 2 on either side of me like anchors trapping the warmth under my blanket.

Ah, bliss, after all.

Whoever Heard of a House Without Things?

It was the photo on the animal shelter website that won me over.  He was perfectly black.  Black cats hold a special place in my heart since The One Who Came Before was also perfectly black.

He had a sister and the pair couldn't be separated.  She was black and white like a Holstein cow.  No matter.  He was black.

But that was false advertising.  It wasn't until the adoption was finalized and Thing 1 and his sister Thing 2 were part of our family that we found out he wasn't perfectly black.

Thing 1, all male cat that he is, sports a white bikini.  One white patch between his front legs and one white patch between his back legs.  When he's sprawled out in the floor for a good long stretch, there it is.  His bikini.

Thing 2 doesn't mind that Thing 1 wears a female version.  She prefers to run around the house like a little nudist.  Somehow, someway, Thing 2 must have opposable thumbs because she manages to get her pink collar off about once a week.  The search for the collar ensues while she prances around nude for however long it takes us to find where she hid it.

That's a quick synopsis of our Things.  Whenever they do something amusing (or exasperating) they'll make an appearance in the blog.  But for the most part, their antics are mostly conventional:  lying down on the newspaper you're trying to read, walking across the computer keyboard before you've saved your document, sleeping between your legs at night so that you can't roll over.  And either showing off his bikini or wandering around the house naked.

It's All in the Way It's Used

LIBRARY - DAY

Finola, the eldest child, is seated at the computer. Maeve, her youngest sister, stands behind her. Thing One, the male cat, lies curled in a circle on the couch.

Both girls look up when they see Mrs. Gaelic, their mother, walk into the room.

MAEVE

Guess what we did today?

MRS. GAELIC

What?

MAEVE

We trimmed Thing One's nails because he scratched Finola when she tried to pick him up.

MRS. GAELIC

Did you hold him in a towel?

FINOLA

No. Maeve just held him down while I cut his nails.

MRS. GAELIC

Y'all should do Thing Two's nails since she scratches my furniture.

FINOLA

We would if we could corner her.

Mrs. Gaelic picks up a lap blanket from the couch and walks into the family room.

MRS. GAELIC

Finola, you stay by the door. Maeve, you help me get her.

Maeve and Mrs. Gaelic close in on Thing Two, the female cat, behind the couch. Mrs. Gaelic tries to wrap Thing Two in the blanket as Maeve and Finola gather around Mrs. Gaelic. Thing Two squirms her bottom out of the blanket and immediately lets go a wet kitty fart that send some wet kitty poo flying onto Mrs. Gaelic's hand.

FINOLA

I guess that's where they got the term "She had the sh*t scared out of her" from.

Mrs. Gaelic laughs even though her teenage daughter just used a four-letter word. But in context.

Mulligan Goo

I'm taking a do-over on today. Complete with crawling back into bed with the covers over my head. Let's recap the day so far:

• It's raining.
• While on the phone, I walked out to get in the car not remembering that I was on the land line not my cell phone. I promised my husband I'd call him back on the cell phone when I was in the car.
• At ballet on the first plié, my tights ripped in the crotch seam.
• On the second plié, my knee popped and I ended up wearing a knee brace during the rest of class.
• After class in checking my email on the Blackberry, my lech of an archery coach wants me to deliver his Girl Scout cookies tomorrow morning.
• I finally remembered to call my husband back while running errands.
• On the way home, I drove right past the pharmacy and forgot to drop off my daughter's prescription.
• As I was changing from my ballet outfit back to my civvies, the cat pushed the door open right when I was buck naked and the three guys working on the gardening next door got a cheap thrill.

Methinks I should stop while I'm behind.

Hunt of the Litter

Devotees of Flylady know how to clean thoroughly. She breaks your house into five Zones that you focus on deep cleaning for one week a month. Okay, not every month has that fifth week; so Zone 5 isn’t hit very often. Each day of the week for each Zone is a different part of the room(s) so that everything doesn’t have to be finished in one day.

When the Zone for the main bathroom rolled around recently, it got a major once-over. One day was scrubbing the toilet and around the base. One day was scrubbing the sink. Another day was washing out the trash cans. The day for washing out the trash cans is a good day to wash out the kitty litter pan and wipe down the wall near the pan.

It just happened to be a really nice day; so after scrubbing the pan, I left it outside in the sun to dry. And proceeded to run my errands.

Hmm, must have been gone too long because the cats greeted me at the door with a scolding meow. Quickly retrieving the litter pan and putting a liner in, I discovered that no one had put kitty litter on the grocery list and we were out. By the time we got back from the store with litter there was already a yellow puddle in the liner.

Such good cats! Waiting for their litter pan to be returned. But not caring if there was litter or not. At least my floors don’t smell like cat pee.

Caught on Kitty-Cam

Stupid bird.

She nested on the outside transom above our front door. You can see her plainly through the fanlight as you come downstairs. To get a really good look at her, you need to stand on tippy-toe on the bottom stair. It's a good nest, dry, out of the weather, not in a tree where it could be bothered by squirrels or other forms of local fauna. But she's stupid to build it there.

Every time anyone opens the door she flies away, dive bombing you on her way to the front fence where she sits and scolds you and tries to divert your attention from her nest. Like you're not going to notice a nest above the front door. Everyone notices the nest. The kids next door, the mailman who hates the bird but loves our big dog, everyone. Even our cats. Who are indoor cats. Never-go-outside cats. Ever.

They can see her through the fanlight from the stairs. One cat is intent on getting the bird for himself. He just has to figure out how. He has taken to jumping up on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs and standing up on his haunches to see the bird. He'll meow constantly wanting to get to the bird.

Yesterday I was in the living room doing housework when the cat was coming down the stairs. He stopped halfway to look at the bird. I know what must have been running through his head.

"If I jump up on the handrail, I can be even higher."

Stupid cat.

He jumps up on the rail and immediately his legs land on either side of the rail, straddling it with his chest and belly, his chin landing on the rail itself. With only fur touching the polished wood, his little body slides down towards the curved newel. BAM! His chin rams into the curve of the wood. Unfazed, he hops up on his hind legs and stretches his long, lean body to eye the bird and starts mrowing again. Mrow, mrow, mrow.

In fact he just reprised the entire scene for my benefit this morning. Unfortunately, I'm the only one who's seen this spectacle. If only I had a kitty-cam so I could post it on America's Stupid Pet Tricks.

Puss and Ludes

There is a small tear in one of the discs in my lower back. The spinal fluid chemically irritates the nerve which causes awful lower back pain that radiates down my leg to my toes, to the point of making my toes feel like there are pins and needles in my shoes, my socks, or even on the bare floor. My doctor finally found a combination of meds that dull the pain enough for me to make it through the day without too much agony. But those same pills are enough to also knock me out if I end up doing something non-active like, say, eating lunch.

To help with the joints, the doctor also recommends taking fish oil every day. After adding in the calcium tablets and the other vitamins, to keep track of all the pills I had to buy a multiple-slot pill caddy. My kids joke that it looks like a senior citizen's pill caddy.

Last night at supper, I discovered that one of the cats had knocked off the pill caddy during the day. After putting everything back in, three pills were missing. Two fish oil capsules and one Schedule C pain pill. The cat was probably going for the fish oil. But that explains why he slept all day yesterday and all night without getting up once.

It Came From Under the Table

Last night as I was checking emails and cruising the net for shopping ideas, I was stretching my legs from the morning's exercise session on the stationary bike. Having propped one foot on another chair under the table, my foot began to rhythmically flex and point to a tune in my head. The room was completely dark save for the light from the computer screen. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, it happened.

Sharp claws digging through my socks. Ouch! That darned cat!

But its claws were stuck in my sock. Flex. Still there. Point. More so. Finally I jerked my leg back, dragging the cat onto the chair, which scared the cat. The cat howled. The claws dug deeper. I howled.

I traded the R for an M. Damn cat!

The cat literally ran in a circle under the table using the tablecloth as its runway, its claws holding onto the fabric. Then up my leg. Claws still out. When it hit my lap, I knocked it onto the floor.

After regaining my composure, there were other emails to read. By that time the cat had returned to my lap to apologize by curling up and purring away. Can someone tell me why I put up with the kneading claws of a purring cat on my lap but not the playful claws turned weapons on my foot?