Thursday, November 30, 2006
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
It's true: once you begin collecting, the collectees begin finding you
Sunday morning I had three cats. Sunday evening I was up to five, moving right past the Eccentric phase and straight into Cat-Lady phase. But these two are Temporary, I tell you! Temporary!
They were living in squalid conditions, unacceptable conditions, and so they were removed to my house. The alternative was the pound or the street. I have been in negotiations with their caretaker; the vet will be contacted, local friendly no-kill shelters will be contacted...within a week, we hope, we'll be able to say...
"...And then there were 3..."
They were living in squalid conditions, unacceptable conditions, and so they were removed to my house. The alternative was the pound or the street. I have been in negotiations with their caretaker; the vet will be contacted, local friendly no-kill shelters will be contacted...within a week, we hope, we'll be able to say...
"...And then there were 3..."
Thursday, August 03, 2006
learning him
this evening as i typed, kai walked over and curled up in my lap. i wanted to give him a little special attention, so i stopped typing and rubbed the top of his head, lightly, using the tips of my fingers. but he ducked his head, so i stopped and tried something else. i reached beneath his chin and stroked the soft fur there...brat loves this. he'll extend his neck and push against my fingers, encouraging me to stroke harder. but kai had no reaction; instead he turned his face to the side, tucked his chin in.
in mild exasperation, i asked him aloud, "how do you like to be pet? i feel like i'm still learning you."
like driving a strange car for the first time, like learning a new lover, like moving to a new neighborhood,
you have to give yourself time to make mistakes. relish the strangeness of it. know that a week from now, or a month, or a year from now, there will be no questioning yourself. you'll know what to do and where to go. roughnesses will be rubbed smooth.
this learning, this exploration, is as much a source of joy as the sure knowledge that comes later.
i found kai's spot just now. it's that bare spot in front of his ears, with the full palm of my hand. he half-closes his eyelids; i see the white film from the corner of his eyes rise, and he holds very very still.
in mild exasperation, i asked him aloud, "how do you like to be pet? i feel like i'm still learning you."
like driving a strange car for the first time, like learning a new lover, like moving to a new neighborhood,
you have to give yourself time to make mistakes. relish the strangeness of it. know that a week from now, or a month, or a year from now, there will be no questioning yourself. you'll know what to do and where to go. roughnesses will be rubbed smooth.
this learning, this exploration, is as much a source of joy as the sure knowledge that comes later.
i found kai's spot just now. it's that bare spot in front of his ears, with the full palm of my hand. he half-closes his eyelids; i see the white film from the corner of his eyes rise, and he holds very very still.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
C3.4: the Trinity
Come home after a long day at the job(s). Immediately throw all bags on the floor, kick off shoes, remove sunglasses and dump keys on counter.
Take two steps away from the back door. Crouch. Listen for cats running down stairs, up stairs, off the couch, or off the (forbidden) table. Use forearms, hands, and elbows as you simultaneously pet a mass hello to your three babies...no one goes unloved at homecoming time.
Do they miss me, or are they just hungry? The cat-lady's eternal question. But push this aside...it's irrelevant, really...the cats and the human are each filling a need, and enjoying each other's company in the meantime. What more can you ask?
Take two steps away from the back door. Crouch. Listen for cats running down stairs, up stairs, off the couch, or off the (forbidden) table. Use forearms, hands, and elbows as you simultaneously pet a mass hello to your three babies...no one goes unloved at homecoming time.
Do they miss me, or are they just hungry? The cat-lady's eternal question. But push this aside...it's irrelevant, really...the cats and the human are each filling a need, and enjoying each other's company in the meantime. What more can you ask?
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Afternoon snack
Meera tracked an ant today, from high up on a window of all places, all the way down to the living room floor...and across to the kitchen, back to the tile of the entranceway. She'd sniff it and sniff it, and bat at it. She'd watch until it almost made it under the chair, then roll him back out.
I watched for a very long time (who needs tv when there are CATS?), and reminded myself that this dance is part of the natural order...and that the ant was probably a bachelor ant who was getting too old to avoid rooms with cats...and that maybe he had already lost a leg or two before Meera found him...he was tired of hobbling around, no longer able to carry 30 times his own weight. Yes, he was ready to enter that ant-hill in the sky...
He's gone now.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
C3 (Entry 3): the Handshake
Grip one tiny paw as if you were going to shake her hand, thumb resting on top of the paw, other fingers below. Use your thumb to gently stroke the paw, feeling the tiny bones within. Enjoy the moment; she won't still sit for this.
Cat Caress Codex (Entry 2): the Knead
With your cat standing sideways to you, visualize her back as a loaf of bread, and place your hands accordingly. Now knead.
If you stare long enough...
...you'll see the handle of a pair of scissors in the lines of his beautiful face. Start at the nose, loop up and around those eyes... Kind of a mundane image, but I'm having fun Highlights Magazine for Children flashbacks...
Flirting with danger...
...and making me verrry nervous! He walks the razor's edge above a steep flight of stairs...
Cat Caress Codex (Entry 1): the EarTug
Begin by cupping your hand around the back of the cat's head, thumb in front of one ear, four fingers behind. Gently rub, applying slight pressure & massaging the base of the ear. End by gripping the ear tightly, but pleasantly, and letting it slide through your fingers til you've reached the tip. Release.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Waiting his turn
she stands on the (forbidden (yeah right!)) table, tail arched, back arched, neck arched, as i lightly scratch the flat spot on top of her head.
this is the only move that makes her stand still. during every other kind of caress (is there a dictionary of cat caresses?) she twists herself in tireless circles.
as i scratch, she lifts her left paw and curls it, then lifts her right paw and curls, then her left again, and her right. kai strolls into the room, and she opens her eyes long enough to take his measure. kai watches for a moment, then flops in the middle of the kitchen floor.
this is the only move that makes her stand still. during every other kind of caress (is there a dictionary of cat caresses?) she twists herself in tireless circles.
as i scratch, she lifts her left paw and curls it, then lifts her right paw and curls, then her left again, and her right. kai strolls into the room, and she opens her eyes long enough to take his measure. kai watches for a moment, then flops in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Friday, June 30, 2006
My black shadow
I was home for hours this morning, and the kittens & cat made the most of it. Brat followed me around the house. Not only followed me, but anticipated my movements. In the kitchen, I moved from the freezer to the counter, and he walked all three feet with me. I moved from the counter to the table, and practically stepped on him. I moved from the table to the stove, and did step on him, but barely. I felt the soft fuzziness of a tail beneath my bare feet, and managed to lurch away before my full weight crunched down. Brat still cried out as if I'd actually stepped on him. Shameless bid for a head scratch?
Friday, June 23, 2006
Bug du jour
I yell, "BUG!" and it's first come, first serve...
This morning's offering was a leggy little morsel, about 1.5 inches long, nasty as hell. I opened the bathroom door on tiptoes and with shivery spine. Kai came racing in and knew just what to do. I found bits of leg scattered on the floor once the carnage was complete. Gross.
This morning's offering was a leggy little morsel, about 1.5 inches long, nasty as hell. I opened the bathroom door on tiptoes and with shivery spine. Kai came racing in and knew just what to do. I found bits of leg scattered on the floor once the carnage was complete. Gross.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Inclusion policy
MeeraKai no longer keep it in the family. Or rather, they've expanded their definition of 'family.'
Brat has become one of their targets of random, unpredictable violence. Should I be alarmed, or should I convince the Old Man that it's a sign of acceptance, of comfortable familiarity? Silly lady, no convincing necessary...
This morning in the kitchen, Meera (5 pounds, wet) aimed a left hook at Brat (15 pounds, on an empty stomach). Keep in mind: Meera has finely honed the Art of Invisibility when it comes time to trim nails. And Brat...well, his former owner (we're trying not to pass judgement here) had him declawed. So you see the odds were not at all even. Add to this the fact that Meera moves like the wind (Brat can pass wind...does this count?). She's younger. And she's got that "You shouldn't hit a girl," thing going for her.
So I ran for my sweet old boy, prepared to soothe his ruffled fur, bolster his shattered ego, and wash and bandage any fresh wounds...
But wouldn't you know it? By the time I got there, Brat had swung his paw so hard at Meera's head that his other front paw actually lifted off the ground! While simultaneously hissing! And then he took a step in her direction! I think it was the step that did it. Meera fled, and Brat turned, victorious, full of the old glory, and creaked back to his dusty old chair.
Brat has become one of their targets of random, unpredictable violence. Should I be alarmed, or should I convince the Old Man that it's a sign of acceptance, of comfortable familiarity? Silly lady, no convincing necessary...
This morning in the kitchen, Meera (5 pounds, wet) aimed a left hook at Brat (15 pounds, on an empty stomach). Keep in mind: Meera has finely honed the Art of Invisibility when it comes time to trim nails. And Brat...well, his former owner (we're trying not to pass judgement here) had him declawed. So you see the odds were not at all even. Add to this the fact that Meera moves like the wind (Brat can pass wind...does this count?). She's younger. And she's got that "You shouldn't hit a girl," thing going for her.
So I ran for my sweet old boy, prepared to soothe his ruffled fur, bolster his shattered ego, and wash and bandage any fresh wounds...
But wouldn't you know it? By the time I got there, Brat had swung his paw so hard at Meera's head that his other front paw actually lifted off the ground! While simultaneously hissing! And then he took a step in her direction! I think it was the step that did it. Meera fled, and Brat turned, victorious, full of the old glory, and creaked back to his dusty old chair.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Friday, June 16, 2006
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Alternative to suction cups
Stainless steel tension rods!
No more accidentally driving over defenseless bird feeders! (Lizzzzziiiiiee.....)
Must consult with the munchkins to see if this would be a worthwhile purchase. (I hear Meera telepathicking: "Yes! Yes!")
More than you ever wanted to know: http://www.bestnest.com/bestnest/lc/lc_window_bird_feeder_faq.asp
Cats on film (in bits 'n' bytes?)
The spankin' new Canon is sitting on Someone's dining room table in Dearborn, even as I write, so painfully out of reach... My kingdom for Go-go Gadget arms.
Cuteness ceases to exist til I can get my finger on that shutter button. Kai's silly belly flops on the kitchen floor. His finger nips, fishbreath and all. Brat's sweet nose rub, the way he reaches out with his face to touch mine. Meera's absolute genius on the basketball court...
I refuse to look til tomorrow morning, and then...oh hoho, then!!
Cuteness ceases to exist til I can get my finger on that shutter button. Kai's silly belly flops on the kitchen floor. His finger nips, fishbreath and all. Brat's sweet nose rub, the way he reaches out with his face to touch mine. Meera's absolute genius on the basketball court...
I refuse to look til tomorrow morning, and then...oh hoho, then!!
Monday, June 12, 2006
This morning's recipe
One horrendous bee's nest of tri-cattal hissing, two loud dull thumps, and a pinch of tiny nails against glass. Cats! fighting for living room window space, from which precious real estate they crane their necks up to spy on little birdies hanging over the gutter. Or, as in Meera's case, throw their bodies against the glass in a birdblood lustful frenzy of want...
Friday, June 09, 2006
Grumpsy
Found out the camera is just now shipping out of PA. Estimated arrival date: June 12. Don't the powers that be realize that I'm missing achingly cute poses?? Art that will forever remain trapped in my head...
Thursday, June 08, 2006
It's the little things in life
This new litter is going to revolutionize our lives. I can feel it. And look at the cute little clumps!...
Monday, June 05, 2006
An invasion of his personal space
It happens again and again, just at feeding time.
Brat plants himself in the middle of the kitchen floor, solid, patient, & all-knowing. "The food comes out of that cupboard, she's the one who gets it for me, and when she starts downstairs to fill my bowl, that's when I'll move from this spot."
The kittens...so young! so naive! so wasteful of good energy!...race up and down the stairs, mewing piteously, curling around my legs, stretching way high up against the cupboards to see whether I've taken out the correct number of FF cans...
...and then, inevitably, Kai loses his head in the excitement of dinner time, and instead of curling against my legs, he curls himself right under Brat's nose. It shocks Brat every time, as if it had never happened before. He kind of half-snorts, and jerks his head back. If Kai is smart enough to keep moving and leave the room, Brat quickly recovers and resumes his dignified waiting. If Kai continues to use Brat as his personal rubbing post, Brat lets loose a half-strangled hiss, part threat and part hairball. It's pathetic to hear, and it must shame Brat to have it escape his lips because he always leaves the room right after. A few minutes later, he joins us in the basement, and quietly begins eating (inches away from Kai's face...no problem now).
Brat plants himself in the middle of the kitchen floor, solid, patient, & all-knowing. "The food comes out of that cupboard, she's the one who gets it for me, and when she starts downstairs to fill my bowl, that's when I'll move from this spot."
The kittens...so young! so naive! so wasteful of good energy!...race up and down the stairs, mewing piteously, curling around my legs, stretching way high up against the cupboards to see whether I've taken out the correct number of FF cans...
...and then, inevitably, Kai loses his head in the excitement of dinner time, and instead of curling against my legs, he curls himself right under Brat's nose. It shocks Brat every time, as if it had never happened before. He kind of half-snorts, and jerks his head back. If Kai is smart enough to keep moving and leave the room, Brat quickly recovers and resumes his dignified waiting. If Kai continues to use Brat as his personal rubbing post, Brat lets loose a half-strangled hiss, part threat and part hairball. It's pathetic to hear, and it must shame Brat to have it escape his lips because he always leaves the room right after. A few minutes later, he joins us in the basement, and quietly begins eating (inches away from Kai's face...no problem now).
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Repairs
Big loud man clomps through house early-early. Ceramic sink hulks sideways, oddly, on bathroom floor. Water drips everywhere!Bathroom door left open for four hours this morning (oh joy!)...tiny mud prints on stairs, in kitchen, on windowsills, in bed, shout "Us catz wuz here!" and the lady is not pleased.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Milk it, Meera, ye queen of flights down flights
"If you don't stop fussing over me," she warns, writhing in ecstasy, "I'm going to run away and hide in my favorite corner of the basement."I'm kneading her back, checking for soreness. "If you run away," I whisper into her ear, "I will run after you, for I would miss you like fire."
"If you run after me," she whispers back, "I will join the circus and become their Fantastical Fire-Eating Feline."
"If you join the circus, I will become a tight-rope walker, with Kai in front of me and Brat behind. We'll grip with our toes and cross the rope to gather you up and take you home."
I run my hands down her legs. No bumps. I rest my hands in my lap for a moment and smile at the sparse warm skin in front of her ears--where my favorite cat smell resides. I lean in. But she's not one for patience, tiny toothed Meerabel. The teeth unsheath.
"You haven't checked my tail yet! Nor my neck!" (This, as she twists into all sorts of unnatural positions, creating unbroken curves within curves within curves (did she just say "nor"??))
"Launch yourself once down the stairs," my stern voice says, "and you win yourself extra special loving attention. Launch yourself a second time, and you're permanently barred from the upstairs. Capice?"
"Capice." Meow.
Badly shaken, but unharmed
Little Girl seems ok, judging by the leaps she's making, the food she's eating, and the strength with which she rolls her head along the entire length of my arm.
To be continued...
To be continued...
Heartache
I write to recover...
This morning there was a terrible crash outside the bathroom door. It started from a great height, and rolled its heartrending way downward, downward, down the stairs and past the bathroom door, amidst a horrible rustling sound. It seemed to last forever! And then silence.
I rushed out to find a grocery bag on the floor, and no sign of cats anywhere. I think I know what happened: when last I left MeeraKai they were wrestling at the top of the stairs, grocery bag a few feet away. One of them must have gotten tangled up and slipped...
In the kitchen, the Elder. Ok. In the living room, no one. Book room, no one, basement, no one! Panic rising, I ran up the stairs to find Kai sitting forlornly in the middle of the floor. (Ok, two down, where's Meera??)
She had tucked herself into the farthest corner underneath my bed, and scootched away when I reached for her. Even the loving, come-hither voice had no effect, and she is a sucker for the knead. But her eyes were clear and alert, and she stared at the toy I dangled...she moved her head quickly when her brother made a sudden jump to the bed...she seemed to have no trouble walking (in her attempt to move further away from my hand).
In the end I had to leave, but will check on her soon. I fear--I don't know what to fear.
This morning there was a terrible crash outside the bathroom door. It started from a great height, and rolled its heartrending way downward, downward, down the stairs and past the bathroom door, amidst a horrible rustling sound. It seemed to last forever! And then silence.
I rushed out to find a grocery bag on the floor, and no sign of cats anywhere. I think I know what happened: when last I left MeeraKai they were wrestling at the top of the stairs, grocery bag a few feet away. One of them must have gotten tangled up and slipped...
In the kitchen, the Elder. Ok. In the living room, no one. Book room, no one, basement, no one! Panic rising, I ran up the stairs to find Kai sitting forlornly in the middle of the floor. (Ok, two down, where's Meera??)
She had tucked herself into the farthest corner underneath my bed, and scootched away when I reached for her. Even the loving, come-hither voice had no effect, and she is a sucker for the knead. But her eyes were clear and alert, and she stared at the toy I dangled...she moved her head quickly when her brother made a sudden jump to the bed...she seemed to have no trouble walking (in her attempt to move further away from my hand).
In the end I had to leave, but will check on her soon. I fear--I don't know what to fear.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Surrounded!
We are so enamored of the 922 cats, kittens, and kittens out there in biblio.blog.land that we haven't been making time to shout of our own exploits. Sometimes we despair of ever rising to dailypost-hood...
This early afternoon we took a nap on the sofa. The newly slipcovered, dark blue denim sofa, soooo comfortable. I was alone when I lay down; I woke to find Kai on the back of the sofa, Brat on the cushion by my feet, and Meera curled into my chest.
This early afternoon we took a nap on the sofa. The newly slipcovered, dark blue denim sofa, soooo comfortable. I was alone when I lay down; I woke to find Kai on the back of the sofa, Brat on the cushion by my feet, and Meera curled into my chest.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Today I needed a good snuggle, and...
when I need a good snuggle I call for Kai. He comes running around the corner, tail up and purrbox at the ready. I can hear him vibrating before I've even picked him up. We're good for twenty seconds (thirty, tops); then he looks askance at the fingers rubbing his ears, and he cranes his neck to get good nip-angle. He shifts his weight and braces his hind legs against my chest, and that's when I know to put him down...
Now, Meera on the other hand, doesn't know what it means to be biddable. She comes when she's ready, and that's usually when I'm climbing into bed. I'll keep my eyes open for another few minutes while I give her a deep-muscle backrub. Tiny as she is, she loves to have her whole body kneaded like bread, with vigor, with both hands. She's a loaf of pumpernickel, with streaks of rye.
When I'm done, and when she's done, and when I'm scootching farther under the covers, she drops the purr like yesterday's FancyFeast, and becomes a snarly junglecat. I've learned to lie completely still until she's flounced off the bed. Then and only then do I feel safe enough to rearrange my legs, and bring my arms out from under the covers. I'm at her mercy, this baby no longer than my shin, no heavier than a book.
Now, Meera on the other hand, doesn't know what it means to be biddable. She comes when she's ready, and that's usually when I'm climbing into bed. I'll keep my eyes open for another few minutes while I give her a deep-muscle backrub. Tiny as she is, she loves to have her whole body kneaded like bread, with vigor, with both hands. She's a loaf of pumpernickel, with streaks of rye.
When I'm done, and when she's done, and when I'm scootching farther under the covers, she drops the purr like yesterday's FancyFeast, and becomes a snarly junglecat. I've learned to lie completely still until she's flounced off the bed. Then and only then do I feel safe enough to rearrange my legs, and bring my arms out from under the covers. I'm at her mercy, this baby no longer than my shin, no heavier than a book.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
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?
Saturday, April 22, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
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...
Monday, April 17, 2006
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?)
Friday, April 14, 2006
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...
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...
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Sunday, April 09, 2006
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.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
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.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
FYI
Well hey sweetpea! How are you? You're more than welcome to sit with me, and I'm so glad you came by. But may I direct your attention to the lord of the house, sitting here on my feet and keeping them warm. I know you didn't see him when you first jumped up, so I thought you should know... Stay if you like, and I hope you do, but please no nasty words.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Flooded!
It happened again. I left a lusciously full glass of water on the paper-cluttered dining table, and now must suffer the consequences...
At peace x 4
Thin afternoon light, the dishwater kind, filters through these thin lace curtains. There is a thickness of silence, the sleep-inducing kind, hanging heavy over our heads. Only now and again we hear the distant shooshing of a truck out on Fort; it's a comfortable reminder--oh, the luxury!--that today we have no need of the car. We may sleep; we may eat; we may or may not go back to sleep.
If it were summertime, I'd be sitting barefoot on someone's front porch. I'd have a glass of lemonade in one hand, and I'd be shuffling through radio stations with the other. I'd scooch my rocking chair across the wooden boards in endless pursuit of the sun-patch, and the only thing I'd see for miles around would be trees, and sun-baked fields, and maybe a friend's car, far off yet down the road, but quickly approaching. It's that kind of day.
Squinching her eyes shut, and twirling her ears to those trucks beyond the great glass window, Meera curls into a corner of the giant green armchair. (But she'd prefer an outdoor rocker, too, if she could get her paws on one.) With her owl eyes open, they're all I see. With them shut, I notice the milk patch of her mouth, the black outline of her tiny pink nose. It looks like someone used maybe a gel ink, rolling-ball, .07 fine-point Pilot G-2 pen, to draw that line.
Brat lies somnolescent on the couch beside me. At ten-minute intervals he lifts his chin and turns to look at me: a clear and gentle request for a brief chin-stroke. My boy, my thick black carpet of a cat; there could be whole worlds hidden within this mass of fur; I should really brush him out this afternoon.
And Kai, Kai of the turbulent thoughts and upset routines. Little guy is capable of grace; he's deigned to come within two feet of Brat. Though he began at the far end of the couch, balanced on its back, slowly he inched his way forward til he lay elongated stretched & relaxed just behind my head. His back paws to my left, his front paws to my right, his tiny pink nose mere inches from my ear; we are four; we are content.
If it were summertime, I'd be sitting barefoot on someone's front porch. I'd have a glass of lemonade in one hand, and I'd be shuffling through radio stations with the other. I'd scooch my rocking chair across the wooden boards in endless pursuit of the sun-patch, and the only thing I'd see for miles around would be trees, and sun-baked fields, and maybe a friend's car, far off yet down the road, but quickly approaching. It's that kind of day.
Squinching her eyes shut, and twirling her ears to those trucks beyond the great glass window, Meera curls into a corner of the giant green armchair. (But she'd prefer an outdoor rocker, too, if she could get her paws on one.) With her owl eyes open, they're all I see. With them shut, I notice the milk patch of her mouth, the black outline of her tiny pink nose. It looks like someone used maybe a gel ink, rolling-ball, .07 fine-point Pilot G-2 pen, to draw that line.
Brat lies somnolescent on the couch beside me. At ten-minute intervals he lifts his chin and turns to look at me: a clear and gentle request for a brief chin-stroke. My boy, my thick black carpet of a cat; there could be whole worlds hidden within this mass of fur; I should really brush him out this afternoon.
And Kai, Kai of the turbulent thoughts and upset routines. Little guy is capable of grace; he's deigned to come within two feet of Brat. Though he began at the far end of the couch, balanced on its back, slowly he inched his way forward til he lay elongated stretched & relaxed just behind my head. His back paws to my left, his front paws to my right, his tiny pink nose mere inches from my ear; we are four; we are content.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Tell me, have you seen her?
Kai doesn't know what to do with himself. He attacks my feet, the carpet, the fuzzy mouse thing, but his heart's not in it. He runs around the apartment, mewing forlornly and checking out all their favorite places; she's nowhere to be found. I tell him, again and again, "She'll be back tomorrow little Kai little guy. She'll be back." I may have to let him in my bedroom tonight.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Illusions of power
I was running late. That's how I knew the task ahead of me would require superhuman ability, like arms that can stretch to five feet in length, or the magic word that slows all kitty activity to a fourth of its normal rate. If I'd been on time, Meera would have obligingly trotted back to her room with barely a suggestion from me.
As it was, I sat on the floor and sloooowly reached around the base of the dining room table. Meera fled behind the couch. I used an umbrella to sweep her out; she returned to the table. I spent two minutes playing with her toy, while she cleaned her left paw and eyed me. I turned on the loving voice, and gave Kai the petting of a lifetime, hoping to make Meera jealous enough to walk over to my lap. Dreams, pathetic dreams. I made another grab. Meera ran behind the couch. I used the umbrella. She ran to the table. Oh Lord, I thought. May Larry, Curly & Moe be watching this from above. May someone please be getting a kick out of this.
Thoroughly disgusted and now unacceptably late, I went to brush my teeth. Kai trotted in front of me down the hall, looking up and over his shoulder to anticipate my next step. He sat down beside my feet as I scrubbed and politely ignored my foamy mutters. I'm not ashamed to admit it: I tried to use him as my go-between.
"Kai. Go tell your sister she needs to get into that back bedroom before I leave." He looked toward the door, then up at me. I spat, and rinsed.
"Kai. Go on. Go tell your sister she has thirty seconds to hightail it back there." He left, and was back again before I'd finished flossing.
"Did you tell her? Is she coming?"
We walked to the bedroom, and I pulled some socks out of the drawer. Maybe there was a way out of this. "Kai. Fine. Go tell your sister just this once, she can stay behind the couch." He went running down the hall.
I shut Brat in my bedroom and left the kitties free to roam. With an "I'm so sorry, my sweet," to my long-suffering black fuzzy friend, I closed the bedroom door on him, grabbed my keys, and headed out to my car, mentally composing this, my revenge.
As it was, I sat on the floor and sloooowly reached around the base of the dining room table. Meera fled behind the couch. I used an umbrella to sweep her out; she returned to the table. I spent two minutes playing with her toy, while she cleaned her left paw and eyed me. I turned on the loving voice, and gave Kai the petting of a lifetime, hoping to make Meera jealous enough to walk over to my lap. Dreams, pathetic dreams. I made another grab. Meera ran behind the couch. I used the umbrella. She ran to the table. Oh Lord, I thought. May Larry, Curly & Moe be watching this from above. May someone please be getting a kick out of this.
Thoroughly disgusted and now unacceptably late, I went to brush my teeth. Kai trotted in front of me down the hall, looking up and over his shoulder to anticipate my next step. He sat down beside my feet as I scrubbed and politely ignored my foamy mutters. I'm not ashamed to admit it: I tried to use him as my go-between.
"Kai. Go tell your sister she needs to get into that back bedroom before I leave." He looked toward the door, then up at me. I spat, and rinsed.
"Kai. Go on. Go tell your sister she has thirty seconds to hightail it back there." He left, and was back again before I'd finished flossing.
"Did you tell her? Is she coming?"
We walked to the bedroom, and I pulled some socks out of the drawer. Maybe there was a way out of this. "Kai. Fine. Go tell your sister just this once, she can stay behind the couch." He went running down the hall.
I shut Brat in my bedroom and left the kitties free to roam. With an "I'm so sorry, my sweet," to my long-suffering black fuzzy friend, I closed the bedroom door on him, grabbed my keys, and headed out to my car, mentally composing this, my revenge.
Monday, March 13, 2006
If Bluebeard had a cat
Usually the munchkins are interested in one thing, and one thing only, come seven o'clock in the evening. But last night as I came in, cautiously as I do, with a dish of food in each hand, crouched over, using hands and one foot as barricade between them and the Greater Beyond, Kai took advantage of the basic powerlessness of my situation: if he were to run, what could I do, really, with one more kitten to keep an eye on, and hands full of dinner? Ask him to come back nicely?
I put the food down, shut the door on placid munching Meera, and set out to find the troublesome renegade. Of course he'd shot, head low and tail streaming, for the only room he's not allowed in, my bedroom (it's not kitten-proof yet). And of course he went directly under the bed, the only spot I don't vaccuum regularly. And of course Brat had to shuffle in at precisely that moment.
Brat smelled intruder. He froze...('Waaaait a minute,' I could hear the slow wheels turning. 'Isn't this room my safe haven? My sweet den of comfort? My port in the storm? Mine and mine alone?') But Old Man chooses his battles wisely. He turned, shuffled back to the living room, and presto! Cat-conflict avoided.
Return to the adventurer. Knowing what I know, I gave him ten more seconds max to get impatient and come sniffing back out. I meeean, this room is chock-full of exciting space. And there's a huge hidey hole of a closet! (If it had been Meera, I'd still be waiting, cooing, with dusty knees, an open can of tuna, and three of her favorite toys.) So I started to count. Out loud. 1...2...3... On 7, there was movement under the lace bed skirt, and Kai came trotting out, trailing dust bunnies and cobwebs and shaking string off his paws.
Simple as that, I scooped him up, gave him a chin rub, and popped him back in with his sister.
Scamp.
I put the food down, shut the door on placid munching Meera, and set out to find the troublesome renegade. Of course he'd shot, head low and tail streaming, for the only room he's not allowed in, my bedroom (it's not kitten-proof yet). And of course he went directly under the bed, the only spot I don't vaccuum regularly. And of course Brat had to shuffle in at precisely that moment.
Brat smelled intruder. He froze...('Waaaait a minute,' I could hear the slow wheels turning. 'Isn't this room my safe haven? My sweet den of comfort? My port in the storm? Mine and mine alone?') But Old Man chooses his battles wisely. He turned, shuffled back to the living room, and presto! Cat-conflict avoided.
Return to the adventurer. Knowing what I know, I gave him ten more seconds max to get impatient and come sniffing back out. I meeean, this room is chock-full of exciting space. And there's a huge hidey hole of a closet! (If it had been Meera, I'd still be waiting, cooing, with dusty knees, an open can of tuna, and three of her favorite toys.) So I started to count. Out loud. 1...2...3... On 7, there was movement under the lace bed skirt, and Kai came trotting out, trailing dust bunnies and cobwebs and shaking string off his paws.
Simple as that, I scooped him up, gave him a chin rub, and popped him back in with his sister.
Scamp.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Innocent bystander
Meera asks: "You choose Eleanor Roosevelt over me?"
I say: "Hey. I'm the mistress of multi-tasking. I can turn pages and pet the kitty at the same time."
Meera sniffs. "Some things deserve one's full attention." She high-steps it toward the door; smacks her brother's face on the way out.
I say: "Hey. I'm the mistress of multi-tasking. I can turn pages and pet the kitty at the same time."
Meera sniffs. "Some things deserve one's full attention." She high-steps it toward the door; smacks her brother's face on the way out.
Monday, March 06, 2006
Next stop: Mount Everest
So I'm sitting curled in the armchair, in their room. Quietly reading. Calmly sipping a Woodchuck. When suddenly I hear a horrible ripping sound, and out of the corner of my left eye, over the back of the chair, I see a paw come grasping & clawing from below. Sharp nails sink into lovelily textured corduroy chair. The second paw appears. The nails from the first paw detract, the paw is thrown farther upward, and now a tiny face appears. Reverse-rappeller Meera. Hauling herself up inch by inch.
Normal kitties would take the normal route, from floor to arm to back of chair (but this is no ordinary kitten).
I tried to hold it in, but couldn't--my laughter erupted, and it was loud, and ringing. A startled scuffling, an explosion of tail fur, a speedy exodus to the Land-Under-the-Bed.
Get used to the sound, my pretties.
Normal kitties would take the normal route, from floor to arm to back of chair (but this is no ordinary kitten).
I tried to hold it in, but couldn't--my laughter erupted, and it was loud, and ringing. A startled scuffling, an explosion of tail fur, a speedy exodus to the Land-Under-the-Bed.
Get used to the sound, my pretties.
Morning recess
They roam the apartment; they have found my fake tree. No, munchkins, those xmas lights are not toe holds.
Brat chooses to stay curled up in his open carrier on the couch, but keeps one eye open as they sniff closer to his perch. Meera's tiny face appears from behind the bookcase, and the living room furniture swells to gargantuan proportion.
Just now they're stalking each other. Kai gets a running start, leaps high at Meera with front paws stiffened and extended. Both of them make a questing, ripply noise as they play. Kai hears it come from behind the big bookcase, and crouches low. His head stills, his pupils widen, his rear waggles--the tension is just too much!...and then he walks away to sniff at a spot on the floor.
Brat has emerged to sit on my lap. He watches for a moment as the rambunctious young'uns leap over bags, crash land into chair legs, and scuff against the slidey slippy floor. Then he turns around and shambles back to the quiet, warm, safe, small carrier. He hasn't been eating much lately, not even fish & shrimp FF; is it the stress of the newbies?
This morning in the back bedroom: puddles of wet, an overturned pitcher, soggy rolls of beloved old posters, and a box made damp through-and-through. Giant water-baby prints everywhere. Now who in her right mind would leave a pitcherful of wet in a roomful of kittens?
Brat chooses to stay curled up in his open carrier on the couch, but keeps one eye open as they sniff closer to his perch. Meera's tiny face appears from behind the bookcase, and the living room furniture swells to gargantuan proportion.
Just now they're stalking each other. Kai gets a running start, leaps high at Meera with front paws stiffened and extended. Both of them make a questing, ripply noise as they play. Kai hears it come from behind the big bookcase, and crouches low. His head stills, his pupils widen, his rear waggles--the tension is just too much!...and then he walks away to sniff at a spot on the floor.
Brat has emerged to sit on my lap. He watches for a moment as the rambunctious young'uns leap over bags, crash land into chair legs, and scuff against the slidey slippy floor. Then he turns around and shambles back to the quiet, warm, safe, small carrier. He hasn't been eating much lately, not even fish & shrimp FF; is it the stress of the newbies?
This morning in the back bedroom: puddles of wet, an overturned pitcher, soggy rolls of beloved old posters, and a box made damp through-and-through. Giant water-baby prints everywhere. Now who in her right mind would leave a pitcherful of wet in a roomful of kittens?
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Mortal enemies, or just good friends?
Sometimes Meera and Kai go for each others' throats. Is this normal kitten-play, or is this cause for separation? It will start innocently enough, a swat here, a swipe there. Then it escalates until their arms are around each others' necks, teeth sunk into throat fur. Meera mews piteously when she's the attackee; it's a horrible sound. I don't know if I should be worried!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Guess WHAT??
I unwittingly picked a water name for my water baby after all! It turns out that “Kai” is Hawaiian for “the sea.”
How poetic; how perfect…
She's got game
Meera attacks the balled-up scrap of brown paper bag. She darts right, she darts left. She smacks it into left-field. Before it lands, she's in left-field. She scoops it up in her paw, bites it hard, tosses it high in the air. In a dazzling display of skill and agility she uses her right paw to slide the ball under her left arm, shifts her weight, and uses the left paw to slide the ball under the right arm. She's a WNBA champion dribbling down the court, a feline Mia Hamm toeing the ball across the field, a young skater punk with three years' experience shoe-scuffing a hacky-sack.
The gastronomical life of B
Brat was scarily listless all day on Tuesday. He stayed hunched up in the dark bathroom, and didn't respond to my voice. I moved him to my bed and lay with him for awhile. He didn't even squinch his eyes or start purring when I scratched his ears, and he's a sucker for that. He just tolerated my petting. In the evening I came back from running errands, and he hadn't moved from the bed. I was very worried. He's getting old, but I can't face the thought of him leaving yet, my sweet gentle friend.
Luckily, yesterday and today he perked up. He's back to following me around, and crawling into my lap, and meeting me at the front door, and eating & drinking. Relief!
But. He has completely stopped eating the tuna flavor of Fancy Feast. It used to be his favorite; now it sits in its bowl til it congeals. I think the trouble began when I used one of the kittens' cans of fish & shrimp FF to feed Brat one night. Now that he's tasted fois gras, why should he go back to meatloaf?
Luckily I have a whole tray of fish & shrimp in my car...tonight I'll set to work tempting his palate.
Luckily, yesterday and today he perked up. He's back to following me around, and crawling into my lap, and meeting me at the front door, and eating & drinking. Relief!
But. He has completely stopped eating the tuna flavor of Fancy Feast. It used to be his favorite; now it sits in its bowl til it congeals. I think the trouble began when I used one of the kittens' cans of fish & shrimp FF to feed Brat one night. Now that he's tasted fois gras, why should he go back to meatloaf?
Luckily I have a whole tray of fish & shrimp in my car...tonight I'll set to work tempting his palate.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Bloodlust
Every morning Meera & Kai crowd the door as I come in to say hi before breakfast. They circle my legs until I find a spot on the floor to sit--among the crumpled pieces of paper bag, the bits of string, the catnip toys, the footstool, and whatever else they've pulled onto the floor. I've been keeping a sheet draped over the armchair, but the other day it had been pulled completely off, and lay crumpled on the bed, three feet away.
As I settle in, mewing Meera is first to circle close. She doesn't like it when I reach for her head; she ducks and takes a step away. But if I start by stroking her back, and then scratch up her neck to that lovely flat spot between her ears, she'll tilt her head to the side and squinch her eyes shut. She has such a beautiful face when she does that, so incredibly tiny, black eyeliner and cheek stripes so precise. If I pause for a moment in the stroking, she'll crawl into my lap and rub her cheeks against my hands; she'll walk down one leg and up the other, and rub some more.
Something new: she (and Kai) will spend a long moment looking me in the face when I'm down on the floor. It's a thrill, that contact; one animal acknowledging another. They see me! Brat will look me in the eye for a long while, and lazily blink at me if I lazily blink at him. His face seems broader and sturdier since I brought the kittens home, his personality much steadier and calmer. I know it's just by comparison. He was always this sweet.
In the mornings, Kai won't crawl in my lap for attention the way Meera will. He'll watch her getting her head rubbed. He'll circle around behind me. Then he'll stand just behind my elbow and wait. When I notice him there, I'll stroke his back softly til he starts to purr. He'll step forward, keeping his back to me, and hold perfectly still as I rub him down. He watches the door or the corner of the room, as if at any moment he'll walk off and leave the loving to Meera. But he doesn't walk off. He soaks it up. He's a statue when I pet him; Meera is a pushy beggar.
Yesterday I stopped by the store on my way home from work, and picked up one of those fishing rod cat toys, with the long-feathered badminton-birdie at the end of the string. I couldn't wait to show it to the kitties. I unwrapped it in my living room and whirled it around a few times. It made a great whizzing sound, and the birdie really fluttered like a bird as it shuttled back and forth through the air.
I carried it into the back bedroom, all naive and sweet and unsuspecting. As soon as Kai saw it, he got this crazed look in his eye, leapt from the bed and snatched the birdie in his mouth. It shocked me how fast he moved. I hadn't even shut the door behind me, and Meera hadn't even stood from her nap before Kai was backing under the bed with feathers poking out from his face.
I tugged on the string so I could show him, "Look! It flies like a bird!" Kai felt the tension, tensed his little body, and began rumbling. I gently tugged some more, and the rumble changed to a growl. Meera wanted to see what was going on, so she jumped off the bed and slowly approached him. He growled louder and tried to back further under the bed.
This is no game, I thought to myself. A growling cat? I didn't even get to make the toy fly! I wanted to leave immediately, but with the toy. That meant putting my my hand near Kai's mouth. Seriously, I feared for my safety. From a 2 pound pile of fur.
Nothing to do but wait him out. I pulled harder on the string. After a long moment, Kai unclenched his teeth to get a better grip, and the bird flew out of his mouth, high into the air. Biiiiig mistake. As I struggled to get the bird out of the air and hidden in my hand, Kai started to leap up my legs to get at it. And the boy's got claws! To tell you the truth, I was scared. What happened to my innocent little explorer? My affectionate little water baby?
I backed toward the door, praying no blood would be shed. Kai frantically scrabbled around my feet, birdlust in his eyes, and then leapt to the counter by the door. So he was eye-level with me, within paw's reach; I did the only thing I could think of. I tucked the bird into my shirt and turned my back, thinking: I don't *really* mind if he shreds my back to pieces, but I 'll try to save my face and stomach. Psycho Cat looked wildly all around the room; he leapt from bed to counter to desk to armchair, searching the airspace below the ceiling and checking my hands again and again, mewing mournfully the whole time.
I got the heck out of there. Back in the living room, I put the toy high up on a bookcase, and made a mental note to buy another soon. Next time I'll go into their room; I'll throw one fishing rod/birdie across the room for Kai to eviscerate, and keep the other close for Meera to play with, in a relatively safe zone. We'll see how that works out.
As I settle in, mewing Meera is first to circle close. She doesn't like it when I reach for her head; she ducks and takes a step away. But if I start by stroking her back, and then scratch up her neck to that lovely flat spot between her ears, she'll tilt her head to the side and squinch her eyes shut. She has such a beautiful face when she does that, so incredibly tiny, black eyeliner and cheek stripes so precise. If I pause for a moment in the stroking, she'll crawl into my lap and rub her cheeks against my hands; she'll walk down one leg and up the other, and rub some more.
Something new: she (and Kai) will spend a long moment looking me in the face when I'm down on the floor. It's a thrill, that contact; one animal acknowledging another. They see me! Brat will look me in the eye for a long while, and lazily blink at me if I lazily blink at him. His face seems broader and sturdier since I brought the kittens home, his personality much steadier and calmer. I know it's just by comparison. He was always this sweet.
In the mornings, Kai won't crawl in my lap for attention the way Meera will. He'll watch her getting her head rubbed. He'll circle around behind me. Then he'll stand just behind my elbow and wait. When I notice him there, I'll stroke his back softly til he starts to purr. He'll step forward, keeping his back to me, and hold perfectly still as I rub him down. He watches the door or the corner of the room, as if at any moment he'll walk off and leave the loving to Meera. But he doesn't walk off. He soaks it up. He's a statue when I pet him; Meera is a pushy beggar.
Yesterday I stopped by the store on my way home from work, and picked up one of those fishing rod cat toys, with the long-feathered badminton-birdie at the end of the string. I couldn't wait to show it to the kitties. I unwrapped it in my living room and whirled it around a few times. It made a great whizzing sound, and the birdie really fluttered like a bird as it shuttled back and forth through the air.
I carried it into the back bedroom, all naive and sweet and unsuspecting. As soon as Kai saw it, he got this crazed look in his eye, leapt from the bed and snatched the birdie in his mouth. It shocked me how fast he moved. I hadn't even shut the door behind me, and Meera hadn't even stood from her nap before Kai was backing under the bed with feathers poking out from his face.
I tugged on the string so I could show him, "Look! It flies like a bird!" Kai felt the tension, tensed his little body, and began rumbling. I gently tugged some more, and the rumble changed to a growl. Meera wanted to see what was going on, so she jumped off the bed and slowly approached him. He growled louder and tried to back further under the bed.
This is no game, I thought to myself. A growling cat? I didn't even get to make the toy fly! I wanted to leave immediately, but with the toy. That meant putting my my hand near Kai's mouth. Seriously, I feared for my safety. From a 2 pound pile of fur.
Nothing to do but wait him out. I pulled harder on the string. After a long moment, Kai unclenched his teeth to get a better grip, and the bird flew out of his mouth, high into the air. Biiiiig mistake. As I struggled to get the bird out of the air and hidden in my hand, Kai started to leap up my legs to get at it. And the boy's got claws! To tell you the truth, I was scared. What happened to my innocent little explorer? My affectionate little water baby?
I backed toward the door, praying no blood would be shed. Kai frantically scrabbled around my feet, birdlust in his eyes, and then leapt to the counter by the door. So he was eye-level with me, within paw's reach; I did the only thing I could think of. I tucked the bird into my shirt and turned my back, thinking: I don't *really* mind if he shreds my back to pieces, but I 'll try to save my face and stomach. Psycho Cat looked wildly all around the room; he leapt from bed to counter to desk to armchair, searching the airspace below the ceiling and checking my hands again and again, mewing mournfully the whole time.
I got the heck out of there. Back in the living room, I put the toy high up on a bookcase, and made a mental note to buy another soon. Next time I'll go into their room; I'll throw one fishing rod/birdie across the room for Kai to eviscerate, and keep the other close for Meera to play with, in a relatively safe zone. We'll see how that works out.
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