In particular, I miss the way they hear the first creak as I start up the stairs, and go bounding past me to arrive at the top first. As they zip by, I think: "...there's one!...and there's two!..."
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Zipping up
In particular, I miss the way they hear the first creak as I start up the stairs, and go bounding past me to arrive at the top first. As they zip by, I think: "...there's one!...and there's two!..."
From Albuquerque...
From hundreds of miles away, I hear that one of the two has been sick, and that Meera has come out of hiding and wants to be pet...
I miss their company.
I miss their company.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
2 glorious hours...
...in which to slowly wake up, sipping my tea and reading my book...
...were not to be.
Spills in the foster room, a water dish that desperately needed cleaning, unpotted dirt all over the living room floor. Turns out tin foil around the base of a plant isn't as effective as a kitten mistress could hope. At least, not with these two.
Kittens say, wake up earlier, fool!
...were not to be.
Spills in the foster room, a water dish that desperately needed cleaning, unpotted dirt all over the living room floor. Turns out tin foil around the base of a plant isn't as effective as a kitten mistress could hope. At least, not with these two.
Kittens say, wake up earlier, fool!
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Use #345,607 for a kitty webcam
Mornings, I find holes in the ultra-thick, ultra-ugly brown living room curtains. Tiny pinprick holes, the size of, hmmmm, kitten claws...
But I never see them attack the curtains. Innocent until proven guilty, they say.
But I never see them attack the curtains. Innocent until proven guilty, they say.
Infrequent guest
Our Buddy-like buddy hasn't been back in awhile, and we think maybe four cats is too much for him to handle. Two he could talk to, three was a bit much, but four? Well, now that's just going too far.
KP
Breakfast time. Defense time. Scan the counters, scan the floor, great distraction needed, gotta protect the food. String? Old. Dead leaf? Wouldn't last a minute. Aha! Bottlecap! Will this work?
I toss it.
Meerakai go bounding off, two tails and eight legs, 36 whiskers and who-knows-how-many stripes, I'm left alone in the kitchen.
Success is sweet; breakfast is mine, all MINE!
I toss it.
Meerakai go bounding off, two tails and eight legs, 36 whiskers and who-knows-how-many stripes, I'm left alone in the kitchen.
Success is sweet; breakfast is mine, all MINE!
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Distraction! Distraction! Distraction!
This morning at breakfast I had an especially hard time defending my food. I like to think that I don't ingest that many cat hairs, but who am I kidding, really? Still, I'm vigilant about protecting the six-inch circumference around my food.
I fix my breakfast on the counter, where no kitten has yet been caught. When all the elements are ready...plate, glass of water, mug o' tea, silverware...I juggle them all at once over to the kitchen table.
If, for whatever reason, I have to leave the kitchen, I pick everything up off the table and set it on the counter, then bring it all back once I return. Even if I just get up from the table to grab a forgotten napkin, I'll keep one eye upon my food. You wouldn't believe how fast kittens operate. Or maybe you would.
But just because I'm there, present, in front of my food, does not mean it's safe from kitten paw and kitten tooth. There's a certain arrangement of my plate and cups that I find especially helpful. Plate right on the edge of the table, directly in front of me. Water and tea both to the left of the plate, also on the edge of the table. Elbows out, left hand holding ever-present book, circling food and precious liquid and creating physical barrier. Right hand holding utensil or bagel or whatever... This right side is the weakest side. Ample opportunity for watchful kitten to sneak in and poke around.
This morning I had grapes. I think Meera can smell grapes from all the way across the house. Maybe this is partly my fault. I've been known to toss them through the air, all for the joy of watching kittens leap.
My table sits right in front of the window. Perfect, thinks Meera. I'll jump up on the 'forbidden' table. The lady will look up from her book with a stern expression, but I'll head right for the window and (this is crucial) sit down. She'll go back to her book. I'll listen for a page or two to turn, maybe she'll put down her bagel to take a sip of water...and that's when I'll make my move. I'll give a cute little mreow as I turn away from the window. I'll look her in the eye, as if what's out there can't really satisfy me; what I really want is some loving from her. How can she resist this? I'll sit real close to her right arm...I'll just sit...sit...sit. Ooooh, are those really grapes she's got on her plate?? So round, so plump, so tantalizingly bitable! Let me just reach out one paw and tap one. Just a quick feel, just to see if it squishes. Drat! She said the 'n' word!! Did she mean it? (Let me analyze the tone of her voice, how long she drew the word out, whether she looked at me or not...). Nope! She didn't mean it! So now let me just reach out and...
And so it goes. I had to sweep my Meerabelle off the table three times. Only now does it occur to me what I should have done...Distraction! Distraction! Distraction!
I fix my breakfast on the counter, where no kitten has yet been caught. When all the elements are ready...plate, glass of water, mug o' tea, silverware...I juggle them all at once over to the kitchen table.
If, for whatever reason, I have to leave the kitchen, I pick everything up off the table and set it on the counter, then bring it all back once I return. Even if I just get up from the table to grab a forgotten napkin, I'll keep one eye upon my food. You wouldn't believe how fast kittens operate. Or maybe you would.
But just because I'm there, present, in front of my food, does not mean it's safe from kitten paw and kitten tooth. There's a certain arrangement of my plate and cups that I find especially helpful. Plate right on the edge of the table, directly in front of me. Water and tea both to the left of the plate, also on the edge of the table. Elbows out, left hand holding ever-present book, circling food and precious liquid and creating physical barrier. Right hand holding utensil or bagel or whatever... This right side is the weakest side. Ample opportunity for watchful kitten to sneak in and poke around.
This morning I had grapes. I think Meera can smell grapes from all the way across the house. Maybe this is partly my fault. I've been known to toss them through the air, all for the joy of watching kittens leap.
My table sits right in front of the window. Perfect, thinks Meera. I'll jump up on the 'forbidden' table. The lady will look up from her book with a stern expression, but I'll head right for the window and (this is crucial) sit down. She'll go back to her book. I'll listen for a page or two to turn, maybe she'll put down her bagel to take a sip of water...and that's when I'll make my move. I'll give a cute little mreow as I turn away from the window. I'll look her in the eye, as if what's out there can't really satisfy me; what I really want is some loving from her. How can she resist this? I'll sit real close to her right arm...I'll just sit...sit...sit. Ooooh, are those really grapes she's got on her plate?? So round, so plump, so tantalizingly bitable! Let me just reach out one paw and tap one. Just a quick feel, just to see if it squishes. Drat! She said the 'n' word!! Did she mean it? (Let me analyze the tone of her voice, how long she drew the word out, whether she looked at me or not...). Nope! She didn't mean it! So now let me just reach out and...
And so it goes. I had to sweep my Meerabelle off the table three times. Only now does it occur to me what I should have done...Distraction! Distraction! Distraction!
C3.5, or: The cat who thought he was a dog
When Kai is feeling especially loving, or just in need of some good pet, he looks up at me and gives a half-cry. A little ripply 'mreo.' So I look down at him; we make eye contact. Then he ducks his head and rolls onto his back. His back legs stiffen and stretch way out, he cranes his neck as far back as it'll go, and just begs me to rub his belly.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Sorting out the visitors
I've got one hand to rub Thing #2's head, and one hand to rub Thing #1's. But is #1 satisfied? Nooooo....
He wants ALL the attention ALL to himself. He actually pitches fits to keep #2 from getting her share. He rolls onto his back and grabs for #2's neck. He hisses, he spits, he yowls. Do cats go through a Terrible Two phase??
Thank god I don't have to take him shopping or to get his hair cut...
So my concession to his needs: I sit in a chair with Thing #2 in my lap, and let one hand dangle over the edge for Thing #1, who, apparently, never looks up...
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
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