Least like violets

Ode to Meera! My little skunk cabbage, my pungent gym shoe, my sweet compost pile sweltering in thick July sun. Whence cometh such stench? In which olfactory factory was this odor brewed, and how did your tiny perfect body ever mother that offensive effluvium?

Never mind all that. Some things are better left unknown. More to the point: how did you know that we're having overnight guests, and that I had just cleaned the litter box?

Electrical wet grumblings

This place looks so empty as I return this evening. I'm muscle-sore and throat-sore and just plain weary. The thought of bed can be an unparalleled joy.

More boxes made the trip north today, more books & more clothes. This time I spent a good fifteen minutes, alone, on the porch in the light rain and sunshine, after everyone else had driven off down the street. I looked at the grass and the new buds on my little tree, and I understood green. I soaked up the feel of my cool concrete porch, legs outstretched, arms easeled out behind me. Afterwards I took a close look at the pebbled pale skin of my palms, feeling like a kid fascinated again with minutiae, with textures.

I know this mood, and I know it to be rare. So I write about it. It had to do with the sunshine & the lateness of the day. It had to do with being alone & independent & the streetpeace & the remnants of the love of my family lingering in all my corners: in the mail scattered across my living room floor (Ethan), in the fresh roll of paper towels on the kitchen counter (Karen), in the neat stacks of homeless books in the back room (Lauri).

There is much to be done before it feels completely like home. I'm thinking rugs on the hardwood, and strategically placed lamps & photos. I'll need to clean the bathroom before I feel like the place is mine; I'll need to share a few meals with my cousin, my housemate. But soon, soon, I'll close the door of this condo, home for a year and a half, and begin a new phase. Everything will be different.

These cds will have to go north tomorrow. These dishes. These knicknacks, those that make the cut. And hey, my little munchkins, most important of all, you're coming too! They lounge in this near-empty echoey space and poke their heads through the lacy curtains to peer outside. Lightening illuminates the tree outside every few seconds; they seem unconcerned.

Pah! Tame beasts! I've heard tell of kitties gone mad during electrical wet grumblings, gone bushy-tailed and wild-eyed. Scare me a little, push me to the edge, make me think I should keep my feet on the couch, out of claw and out of teeth. We have so little time.

Dreams of summer; dreams of socks

I have turned the heat off in my apartment, and I'm determined to keep it that way. There's too much sunshine and promise of warmth outside to justify keeping windows shut and breathing dry recycled air.

BUT. This does not mean that my toes understand "promise of heat." They are freezing; they are recalcitrant icicles. The rest of me is warm, why not those ten?

Luckily I keep two obliging kittens handy, and these kittens are laptop lovers. I push open my laptop's lid and press the 'on' button...the gentle whir of the processor brings MeeraKai running. Meera will linger at the opposite end of the cushions; Kai will hover behind my head on the back of the couch. The next moment they're both crowding close. Then we'll suffer together through ten minutes of "nooooo, sweetie, don't put your paw on the keyboard," and "noooo, purrball, don't scrape your claws along the screen."

This is especially hard for Meera, my technophile. She sees everything. She sees the shifting logo in the browser's upper-right corner...she sees words as they're typed on screen...she sees pictures as they download (sooo slooowly...damn dial-up!)...she sees this tiny blinking cursor!! And she wants it all. She keeps her tiny front paws delicately balanced on the edge of the keyboard, and tries to contain herself, really she does, but even so, I find myself removing her paw from one spot or another. Sometimes we'll wind up in an uncomfortable compromise. Her back paws will balance on the cushion next to me. Her front elbows will be cradled in my hand, about level with the screen. She can't paw at anything that way, so she settles in and just watches. I type one-handed.

But eventually they get tired of me pushing them off and pushing them away, and they cozy in close, carefully turning their heads away so as not to be tempted. So here is...well, from this angle I can't tell which is which. I think this is Meera on my right, warming my thighs. And I think this is Kai on my left, draped across my toes.

My newly warm, snuggled, toasty toes...

Feline vs. Fruit, round one

Kai is still learning how to retract his claws.

I'll find him sprawled on the floor by the giant windows, so relaxed and content, one claw caught in the lacy curtains and hanging awkwardly six inches off the floor. (What? he asks, with attitude. I sleep best like this. You look ridiculous, I say, and that can't be good for your circulation. Put your arm down. No, he says.)

This morning I put a bowl on the floor, a bowl that held one tiny baby grape. (I don't eat tiny baby grapes. I put them in the same category as the very tail ends of pickles, broccoli in my Chinese take-out, and the dark spots on a banana; all end up in the garbage disposal.)

I wanted to let Kai drink the water that pooled in the bottom of the bowl; I thought I was being extra nice. But now I know: even H2O pales in comparison to tiny baby grape. He looked perkily at it. He sniffed it for awhile. He experimented with different paw techniques: the spread-toe swat, the curled-paw swat, the slow roll, the quick jab. The ignore, then pounce maneuver.

And then the tiny baby grape got snagged on a claw and wouldn't come off. Kai lifted his paw out of the bowl and gave it a sharp shake. It clung tenaciously. He lifted his paw higher and higher, til finally he was sitting back on his hind paws, shaking that front foot.

Perplexion! In a last-ditch effort before succumbing to his fabulous, permanent, new toe bauble, Kai limped around the living room. Mid-stride he gave it another go. This time the tiny baby grape went flying into a corner of the dining area. It hasn't been seen since, and I notice Kai didn't go chasing after it...

(Was he surprised by the grape's stubborn grip? Cowed, perhaps?)

Spontaneous ablution

The four of us are sitting/lying on the couch, in various stages of wakefulness. I'm the most alert, having just downed a deelish mug of homemade cafe mocha.

Brat's probably least conscious. He's out cold, not even dreaming, lying on his right side, and cradling his own head with his right paw. It curls around his cheek in the sweetest way.

MeeraKai are both on the back of the couch behind my head. Purring, but eyes shut. All of a sudden, all three open their eyes and start washing themselves.

You guys trying to put me to shame? Is that what this is? Two days is not that long to go without showering...geez...

Most definitely NOT Meera, but without my own digital camera, it'll have to do. This is very much like what she looks like when she's watching my screensaver. Thanks to Christine Lind at http://www.flickr.com/photos/christinelind/.

A cat possessed

Meera scared the h-e-double-toothpick out of me today. She's fascinated by my laptop's screensaver, which is a moving phrase of my own design. It gets bigger; it gets smaller; it flips itself, swings itself, rolls itself up and over the hill. She plants her tiny feet next to the laptop, and then twists her head around in all sorts of unnatural directions trying to follow the words. She looks like a cat gone beserk, with those great, yellow, intense owl eyes, and a head flipped upside down, body still upright. Be ye bone, o spinal column, or be ye gelatin? I had to walk over and close the laptop; wanted to sleep well tonight, after all.

It's a thin line...

I'm curled on the couch. Kai is curled on my feet. Meera is curled on his feet. And she starts to wash his ear. So I get completely distracted...I mean, I've been waiting for this, really, since I brought them home. And they are just so cute. She finishes with his ear, and starts on his chin, his throat, the spot next to his eye. He lifts his chin to give her better access, and looks me full in the face with contented, slitted eyes. Then he puts his arm around her neck and bites her ear, hard. She shakes him off and finishes the job. He turns the volume up on the purrbox.