exercise & Wicket (or "eW!") - the red series

Cardinals fans

and now you know where new cell phones come from

Lecanomancy

I have finally figured out why mine (and maybe yours) are so in love with water. They're splashers, drowners, dabblers, dippers, waders, tricklers, and sodden-paws, and I've wiped, mopped, dried, toweled, sopped, absorbed, and Bountied in an effort to keep up with them (esp. Kai, my Hawaiian sea).

They're not killing their food or washing their paws, they are lecanomancers!

Love-a-Geek day

holy crapola! it's been a month already since the first time i officially weighed wicket with intent. he weighed 16.5 pounds on april 21, and four weeks later, he weighs 16.6.

this in no way concerns me! first, as jen points out, we loves him just the way he is, yes we do. second, in the transition from dry to canned food (or morning-dry, evening-canned, i haven't decided yet) his portions haven't been as tightly controlled as they would have been otherwise.

and third, my goal has been to give him 450 calories a day, as vet-lady recommended to bring him down to 14 pounds. but he apparently needs fewer than that.

so my revised plan is to finish the switch to canned (or dry in the morning, canned at night), maintain that for two weeks or so to find out what happens to meerakai 'n' wickets' weights, and then reduce portions if i need to.

geek that i am, i've been charting this stuff. here's a pic of wickers' weight (in red) and his target weight (in blue). our target weight has been based on a healthy loss of 1-2% total body weight per week. you can see that at week 4, he was so far off target that i had to recalculate our goal from that point on. does that make sense?

click to enlarge, my friends:

bella and bro 1

bellabro2

wellness

oooh, they love the wet food, yes they do.

guest tonight

i spent the morning and early afternoon cleaning the apartment to prep for niece em's visit tonight. she'll be spending the night...one guess as to which of the three won't come our from under the bed or use the litter box until two in the morning, when all is quiet and dark?

i swept, i dusted, i did dishes, i rearranged the living room furniture (again)...i got rid of the lovely red carpet, bought a year ago, which was shredded into unrecognizable tissue paper within two days. i hung onto it because they love it so, but today i just didn't have the heart to vacuum it.

to vacuum it would have meant moving the very heavy table, going over every square foot five times to pick up the cat hair embedded in the torn peaks and valleys, changing the vacuum bag at least once, maybe twice, to avoid bag-explosion, and then, then! with the carpet as clean as it can be, i'd have to place the vacuum head on its side and with pincer fingers, pull out all the long strands of red used-to-be-part-of-a-carpet from the roller brush.

so my pretties, i'm sorry, but not really. i think i'll buy you a nice scratching post, with levels and hanging bits. will that do?

changes afoot

eat your dry kibble, boys and girl! only a week or so before we begin the switch to canned...

Arrrrr!

meera gets thingies in her eyes consistently, but luckily not that often. this morning she's walking around like a pirate, poor kid.

while i'm talking to you

Wicket, why do i get the feeling you're not listening to me while I'm talking to you?

cat mottos...what are yours?

"Nothing good ever came out of a squirt bottle." (Jen's 'Bastian)

"If I can reach it, it's a toy." (J's Dunc')

squishable girl

very, very relaxed, and yet...ready to kill. cats are a wonder!

bella's spotted belly

don't think about it so much

this is day 2 of the baby scale saga. my mom lent me her baby scale so i could get more sensitive weight measurements of ze cats (ahem, wicket). but listen to this. first the scale was measuring 8 ounces with nothing on it. second, it's not digital; it's got a little swinging arrow and tickmarks. third, it's cold and it smells funny (to the cats). so needless to say they were not impressed. this morning i thought to put a towel down before luring them up with treats (which wicket shouldn't even have been given!). i don't know if this is going to work. it may be easier to stick with my digital hooman scale, even if it is less sensitive. oh- this morning i weighed each of the cats two times on each scale. kai and wicket weighed about the same on both the digital hooman and the baby scales. meera weighed MUCH more on the hooman scale. What is UP with THAT?

origin stories

'splain! 'splain!

the how and the why of Meerakai and Wicket! ok, but first, a memorial blogbit for my first three- Mittens, Rajah and Brat.

Enter Mittens-

My first foray into the weird and wonderful world of Catdom- I was small, maybe 9 or 10, and it was raining buckets outside. Something drew me to the back door, where I could juuust peer over the bottom half of the screen door. And there, so pathetic that my heart writhed in my chest, was a little black and white baby looking up at me and wanting to get in.

What this did to me! I begged my mom to let me bring Mittens into the house but she refused. Worried about infestations or cleaning cat poop? I cried myself to sleep that night, worried sick about that little guy (girl?) in the rain.

The sun woke me the next morning. Would Mittens still be there? But I never made it to the back door. A card table had been placed on its side at the top of the steps leading to the basement. and there, at the bottom of the steps, was Mittens, warm and dry.

That's where my memory ends. We must have sent Mittens on his way later that day, and that is a sad thing. But mostly what this memory evokes is gratefulness and affection for my mom, who always tries to do the right thing.

Enter Rajah-

Rajah was another too quick blip in the life of me. He entered our lives, he got ear mites, he left our lives. This memory is frustration, anger, powerlessness. I don't know what happened to Rajah, but I can still smell the ear medication we gave him for a few days, and ten years later his litter box is still in my mom's garage. Sad.

Enter Brat-

Brat arrived in time for my 16th birthday. He was pure black, my first familiar, two years old, sheltered by a priest along with his good buddy, a black long-haired girl named Broccoli.

When he was younger, Brat was in an accident (with a car?) and then in a full-body cast. Forever after he walked with a limp in his front left paw. He was declawed when he came to us.

I have never known a more sweet-natured or people-loving cat. He just wanted to be in my presence. He'd follow me from room to room, like Kai does now. if I was lying on the couch reading, he'd climb onto my chest and lick my earlobe. Maybe he was flashing back to being a baby nursing kitteh.

He would greet me at the back door when I came home from high school, and we'd touch noses in greeting. He'd cuddle under my blankets at night. I'd wake up in the morning on my back, my face turned to the wall and my chin to my chest, Brat curled into the warm space between my ear and shoulder. He had the sweetest smell.

We'd let him out in the backyard, shut the gate, and let him wander in the wild green leafiness for an hour or two. When I went to bring him back inside, I'd scan the backyard, and more likely than not, I'd see nothing. I'd make a kiss-kiss sound, and a shadow would detach itself from beneath the lilac bush. He'd come running to me. I miss him- he passed away more than a year ago.

Enter Jen:

And now we have caught up to my present bebbies. In the late fall of 2005, Jen espied a mama cat, her grown daughter Miranda, and a litter of at least three kittens near her apartment complex. First she gathered in nameless boy-kitten #1, had him spayed, and took him to the Amazing Toledo Animal Shelter where he was found a home within a few days (yay!).

Then she went back and gathered in boy-kitten #2, christened "Little Boy" and girl-kitten, christened "Little Girl". Little Girl lived under Jen's bed; Little Boy (now Seven) lived at Lizzie's and then 922cats' grandhooman's place until a permanent home could be found (with moi!).

Enter Moi:

It was a cold day when I drove to Jen's to pick them up. I brought two little plastic carriers and blankets to cover them. Seven was easy to capture and slide in. Little Girl though- no. Sweet talk, treats, friendly faces, cooing- no. Dire threats- of course not. Eventually Jen donned her heavy duty winter gloves and dragged Little Girl out, tucked her away in the carrier, and that was the beginning of us.

It took awhile for names to make themselves known. Seven was a water baby right from the start. We cycled through (with varying degrees of seriousness) Lyndon, Narcissus, Energizer Bunny, Caspian, Jojen, Sugar, Jackie, Joe, Muhammad, and then finally, finally, for no good reason except that it fit, we settled on Kai.

Later i discovered "Kai" means the sea in Hawaiian, how fitting. It also means (do you trust the internets?) the earth in Japanese. In Latin 'Kai' is rooted in the word 'gaius,' which also means earth. In Welsh and Scottish it means 'keeper of the keys.' Kai means food or to gather food in Maori, and plentiful in Chinese. It can also mean spirit or dragon, or love in Swahili. In Dutch it means king, in Creole it means house. I love the flexibility and strength of the name.

Meera's name means Meera. [Update: it's also the name of an Iranian rock band based in Tehran.] Her name came right out of George R.R. Martin's series, 'A Song of Ice and Fire.' Meera Reed is one of my favorite characters- steady, practical, a green-eyed huntress. My Meera is also a green-eyed huntress, but she's UNstable and how many indie film star wannabees do you know who are practical, and she's drifted more towards Bella the beautiful than Meera these days, but as Lizzie says, every cat has at least three names. Probably more.

Enter Jen again:

But let us go back to Jen. After finding homes for the litter of three, she went back for the grown daughter Miranda. A neighbor had been feeding these strays and managed to lure Miranda into her apartment in March 2006.

In Jen's words:

"I got her and took her to the vet to get spayed. They called me at work and told me she was FIV positive. I had no idea what to do; I pretty much freaked out. I told them to go ahead with the surgery and asked if they could keep her there until I could figure something out.

Of all people, it was the vet's attorney who reached out to me and convinced me that there was somebody somewhere who would take her, and that my cats were at almost zero risk. So I took her home. She stayed in my bedroom for a month, and I blocked every little opening around the door so she had no contact with my other two. Probably unnecesary, but I was paranoid, especially since mine weren't up on their vaccinations.

Anyway, I finally found Crash's Landing in Grand Rapids at the end of April, and they agreed to give her a home in their sanctuary, and post her on their Petfinder page indefinitely. I was really impressed with how clean and comfy the place is (it's really just a converted 2-story house). The cats I met were very sweet and friendly, and each one wears a collar and a name tag. They are all FIV-positive, and most are available for adoption. It was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. But even if Miranda lives out the rest of her life there, I'll know she's cared for and among friends."

Did Jen stop there? No! She went back for MAMA cat:

"The mama kitty was really tough to get. Even the woman who had been feeding her for over a year couldn't get close to her. But I was really concerned that she would get pregnant yet again, and I couldn't be sure if Miranda got the FIV from her or a bite wound.

Long story short, I borrowed a live trap and put smelly food in it for 5 straight days. She didn't fall for it once--STINKER! But this also meant she wasn't eating, at least not from us. So one day the neighbor propped open the building door and lured Mama in with grilled chicken breast (srsly). She closed the door behind her and I came in the other way and threw a big towel on top of her. She was not happy, to say the least.

Through all my emails and phone calls about a home for Miranda, I had made a contact who dealt with feral cats, and I figured Mama was as close as you could get. I never did touch her. Mama stayed in the carrier in my car for a few hours while I made the arrangements. I dropped her off at a vet's office near the Oakland Mall.

All I know is that she got her basic vet care and went to live in a rural area where she would have food, shelter, and a chance to get socialized, if she was so inclined. It was an act of faith on my part, but I just had to trust my instincts, and these people struck me as OK.

I found out later that Mama wasn't FIV-positive, so either Miranda got it from a wound or she wasn't actually related to the rest."

Enter twice-rescued Wicket:

Twice-rescued Wicket- does this remind anyone else of twice-baked potatoes?

Around about the time Jen gathered in Miranda but before mama cat was caught, mama cat had another litter of six boys: Tink, Angel, Spitfire, Mr. Mitten, Xena and Mini. They came to be known as the Library Kitten Sanctuary and Finishing School.

Jen (who else?) gathered them in, in May 2007, and for a few lovely days the six boys resided in an unused office in the library and were visited several times a day by their doting hoomans, who dreamed of cats in the stacks, cat mascots, cats at the reference desk, etc.

But one day evil management cited OSHA regulations or something like that and three had to go home with Lizzie, three with Jen. Fun and games and fevers and vet visits and deep attachment ensued.

Mr. Mitten, Angel and Spitfire all tested FIV-positive, like their big sis Miranda. But (and this is not uncommon, sez Jen) these were false positives ("But we all had to wait about a month to find that out!"). Five bebbies, probably six, do have cerebellar hypoplasia (watch "This is Charley"). They're wobblers. Their mama was probably malnourished during her pregnancy or suffered an infection or some other kind of trauma.

What happened to the Library 6? Well, Lizzie never let go of Angel and Spitfire (now Aretoo), bringing her count to nine hundred twenty-hzmmr. Mr. Mitten (now Trouble) found a home with Kathy. Xena (now Tigger- oops! those are boy bits!) found a home with a family from beyond. Mini (now called...?) starred in a TV commercial and was adopted within days from the Amazing Toledo Animal Shelter. Jen still entertains thoughts of tracking that adopting fam down to compare notes, exchange pictures, and find out if Mini wobbles like his brothers. And Tink (now Dunc) lives with Jen.

All good, all safe, all loved...

...UNTIL, months later, Jen got a call from Tigger's hooman, who said "my fam is moving to an apartment that doesn't accept cats, I've abandoned Tigger and his friend Midnight in the middle of the city. K thx bai."

Jen hung up and said, "@#%$*&@!" hopped in her car, drove to where these people used to live, parked, opened a can of tuna, and who does she see but Tigger and Midnight strolling down teh street. Pop! Into the car they go. much consternation and time and phone calls later, Midnight went to live with Pat (Mama to Lizzie's Petunnia's brother Joshua), and Tigger (now Wicket) came home with me.

Two or three things i know for sure:

1. People like Jen and Lizzie have hearts that humble me, and inspire me to participate;
2. Bob Barker (now Drew Carey) got it right when he sez, "Help control the pet population. have your pet spayed or neutered;" and
3. Three cats are so much more fun than two.

Wicket's the dash of cayenne in our household...

But wherefore his name, i hear TPC ask? Thx to Mike for his deep abiding interest in all things Star Wars, and his knowledge of the arcane. Wicket W. Warrick is the loyal, curious and adventurous young Ewok scout who finds and helps Princess Leia after her speeder bike accident. Their friendship led to the alliance that helped overthrow the Empire.

(Wickers, auntie Jen wants to know which empire you're seeking to overthrow now?)

And so it is.

dunc's stash

[from auntie Jen:]

"I was sitting at the computer in my apartment earlier tonight when I noticed Duncan had his entire arm under the dishwasher. I didn't know there was an "under" to my dishwasher! It turns out there is a small gap between the wall and the metal panel under the dishwasher door. Small, but big enough for nearly every cattoy known to man!

I had to use a screwdriver to remove the panel. The stash underneath included bottle caps, hair clips, paper wads, a little bottle of "wedding" bubbles, a few actual cat toys, and- oh yeah- my orange sapphire ring!! It's been missing for about a year, so needless to say I was pretty pleased to have it back. Duncan got appropriate thanks for finding it (I didn't overdo it since he's likely the one who put it under there in the first place!).

So, I'd say it's been a pretty productive vacation so far..."

four of the five things i can't live without

my kai, my wicket, my phone, my bed. bella's off-screen.

Kai de-Lovely

Kai de-Crosseyed

spoils from the D.I.A.

at the d.i.a. the other day, julie and i dropped in on a jewelry-making workshop, where i unwittingly made the toy the cats have been waiting for all their lives. nom nom NOM

jackrabbit legs, thighs like apples

cuddler plopped himself on the floor when i came home last night, right in teh middle of the kitchen. i straddled him with my feet, one foot next to his fuzzy belly and one next to his long black back.

but he didn't like this none so he hoisted one loooong foot, planted it on the inside of my ankle, and PUSHED. i didn't go anywhere but he sure did. he slid stiff as a board about two feet, on his side, looking up at me the whole time.

'neat trick' i said.

exit meera

funnies...

this morning i left the bathroom door just barely open, enough for meera to poke her paw in, then the tip of her face, and then her whole lovely curviness.

the gap she left was big enough for wickers. but bad timing- he snuffed the open door just as meera wanted to leave. and no joke, my bathroom is a tight space.

wicket is the truck that can't be stopped, so meera neatly avoided the head-on collision by rearing up on her hindlegs, giving her fat bro enough space to slink through, below her. and then- exit meera.

yip-yip kids

new target weight for WICKERS is 14 lb.

precious cargo cried from home to the vet's, and then crouched silently in his carrier during the visit. lots of dogs barking, lots of jumpy yelpy children in the waiting room. but also an incredibly nice receptionist considering some of the rudeness she had to deal with.

i'm on track: exercise, fewer calories than he's taking in, and frequent weigh-ins. slow and steady wins the race. how to figure the amount of calories in his food tho? i'm still working on that one...

fantastically whiskered wickers

to the doc's

wicket and i are off to see the vet this afternoon, a lady vet downtown at a practice established in 1844.

w has no aches, nothing that needs bandaging; i just want to make sure i know what i'm doing with this new exercise/diet thing. we'll figure out a target weight and probably switch foods (i hear that my cat food of choice is "kitty junk food"!!).

the giant plastic carrier has been sitting in the kitchen since friday evening. i've even caught wicket sitting in it a time or two. ("Fool! Fool!" meera sez.) this morning i transfered it to the table. the challenge won't be wicket's resistance. it will be getting his bulk through the narrow opening.

to be continued...

today's stats

...and no, i won't be posting our weights every day. it's just that the novelty of the new scale hasn't worn off yet...it's so shiny.

this morning, wicket weighed in at 16 pounds, 6 oz.

kai was 10 pounds 13 oz.

meera was 12 pounds, 10 oz.

13 pounds of L-O-V-E

circumscribation or death

yesterday afternoon i emptied and put way up on a shelf our free feeder. no more 24/7 drive-thru's for you, my pretties.

no one seems to be upset. [by which i mean, no one has planted a wet hairball on my pillow.]

w goes into his own bedroom to eat now. he hasn't quite caught on yet that when he's put in his own room, that's his cue to eat what's in the bowl. the other two ate a bite or two from their bowls (in teh accustomed spot by the door), then walked over to w's closed door to sniff and probably crow. after fifteen minutes i let him out again.

dinner over, i put away all the leftover food and gave everyone fresh filtered water from the brita. loves all round.

also yesterday, but earlier, the twins went into their own room while w and i played with first the peacock feather (woefully used by now, bent, no longer proud) and the strange much-loved toy: a cloth-covered rattle-ball with dangly faux rabbits' feet attached, all stuck on a thin plastic stick.

w gamboled and jumped and pounced. i tried the laser pointer, thinking "let's avoid boredom!" but he couldn't have cared less about the red spot. he stared off into middle distance as meerakai's arms shot out from under the bedroom door, desperately reeeeeaching for the light, the light, the light!

[cross reference this very interesting article about identifying your cat's prey of choice: http://vet.osu.edu/2219.htm.]

so out came the peacock feather and the strange much-loved toy again. he also has a lot of fun with one of those rubber colored bracelets (mine says "Got Guts?").

later that night, as i was trying to get to sleep, w chased meera around and around and around. oh the yelps! the hisses! the smacks!

and even late-later, when meera got sick of the play and found sanctuary atop the blue chair, w ran just for the hell of it. he skidded around corners; he ricocheted off bean bags; he lost his footing on the linoleum and crashed into doors. picked himself back up and went sliding under my bed. ("----SAFE!!----" screamed the imaginary ump. "Sheeeeeit," moaned the imaginary opposing team.)

point being, i in no way tired him out earlier. this boy has energy to BURN. he was probably thinking back on his wild loose days of danger, on how the night would stretch ahead of him in all its trashcan and feral friends and dirty sidewalk glory. he has become circumscribed. he has become fat.

well, w, i can help you with one of those things but not the other. trust me when i tell you that you wouldn't have lasted on those dirty sidewalks much longer. it was circumscribation or death, and we're so glad you let yourself be caught.

loves to aunt jennie.

worth their weight in...catnip?

So this afternoon the human drove waaaay out to find herself a scale. An electronic scale. With an accuracy of within .2 lb.

She (I) probably didn't have to drive out so far. There was probably, most likely, yeah fer sure something closer.

But (1) when I try alternate routes, I tend to get lost [whereas exploring off the metaphorical beaten track is rewards galore]. And (2) this claustrophobic mecca of buyables is very close to my older sis, she of the darling blue-eyed boy, who was dressed head to toe in a red Power Rangers costume when I arrived and invited me to sit and watch the red Power Ranger on his dvd.

[How often do I shop? Not often. Does my wardrobe reflect this? Yes. Does this cause me pain? Sometimes I feel a twinge when I don the same pair of greeny-gray cargos for the third time that week. But only for a moment and then I QUASH it. QUASH SQUASH BIQUASH. The shopping was bearable today because I knew what I wanted, and I knew in approximately which aisle I could find it ("Bath").]

So I walked in and I walked out. Later that afternoon I weighed myself and then weighed myself plus a cat. Kai first, since he was most near (transl: most trusting, inquisitive, stable). Light as a feather, my sweet boy.

Kai: 10.8 pounds (plus or minus .2 lb.) which I think translates into 10 pounds 13 oz.

[Does someone want to check my math on this one?]

Next came the chunker, w himself. A whopping 16.6 pounds, or 16 pounds 9 oz. Should I be shocked? All ye hoomans of plus-size cats, what do yours weigh?

And finally (But not without a FIGHT!) I got Bella semi-still in my arms. The read-out kept jumping around b'cus she kept jumping around, but I think she's 13 pounds even, my lucky number. I tried to lull her with back scratches and neck rubs, but didn't try hard enough.

So there we have it. Our first set of data. To be continued...

the Plan

the Goal:

Shed W-pounds. Lessen risk of diabetes, etc.

the Plan:

1. stop using the 24/7 feeder
2. feed MeeraKai small portions at specific times throughout the day
3. feed Wicket smaller portions in a separate room at meal-times
4. take away food bowls when they're done eating
5. give W extra exercise throughout the day; get him to jump and run
6. get a sensitive digital scale
7. keep a weight loss chart; measure progress in ounces not pounds
8. check with a vet for target weight and other suggestions
9. be patient and stay motivated! it's for the children!

ask and ye shall receive, or something like that

wicket was especially sociable last night. he trotted next to me as i walked from room to room. surprised me twice with a particularly loud, plaintive 'MroWl.'

And as I slept, twice in the night he jumped onto the bed to be near me. through the haze of half-asleepness i felt him sniffing my hairline and then throwing his weight to the bed, jawline just within reach of my sleepy fingers. i curled my arm around him- he was so dangerously close to the edge of the bed- and fell back asleep.

the comb, the cooooomb!

aunt jennie gave me two combs to try: one a metal comb especially for cats with two layers of teeth, and the other a man's basic black plastic comb. guess which one worked better on wicket?

last night and again this morning we had a little session. he seems to like it, up to a point, then he grabs for my hands with his teeth and his claws. i keep the treats handy and the compliments flowing.

he was about two pounds lighter by the time we finished. just in time for spring! but we still have more work to do. what with his huggable squishiness (i.e. FAT) and his cerebellar hypoplasia, he can't reach the back of his back very well.

i had just spring-cleaned (again) before pulling out the comb last night. had to vacuum again when we finished. he's so smooooooth now

for ye of the messed up video card

for those of you whose video cards have been fuxed up by basement cat, here's a play-by-play of the kai vid below:

1.

kai squeezes his eyes shut and kneads the air. bliss, natch.

2.

a disembodied hand reaches into the warm soft fur of his underbelly and now you can hear the purr. more ecstatic kneading.

3.

a brother (or maybe a sister) catches his attention. his eyes snap open and he lifts his neck to look into the kitchen. he realizes it's just his boring brother (or sister) and not a treat that has spontaneously jumped off teh counter for him to snarf.

4.

now that he's up and alert, the swingy toothable cord of the camera in his face has his full attention. he comes in close, he sniffs around, he NOMS on something just beyond the viewfinder. at first it seems totally harmless. we viewers are safe, right?

5.
the nom-nom'ing becomes more intense, more plasticky-destruction-sounding. kai turns his head this way and that to get a better fang-grip on whatever it is he finds so tasty about this totally unappetizing canon. his beautiful clear dark eye flashes in and out of sight.

6.
all of a sudden the vid ends. we're left to wonder if this tape was brought in by the intrepid videographer herself, or whether it was found months after the encounter amid a pile of licked-clean bones and delivered to the authorities by a weirded-out tourist.

no reporter was harmed in the making of this video

Turn it up! Kai noms.

Same vid on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Imj0n2dgYGc

her cues are coming from stage left

kai walks

i lean down to pet kai and he starts to walk forward. i follow a step or two, still petting, and then i stop following him, thinking he doesn't need the luvvin right now. but then he cries and stands still and looks at me, so i lean down again and pet. he walks. i follow, petting, walking, trying to stay in step with this tiny light creature.

damn i look good

so sweet this morning

scritch, scritch, scritch goes meera's paw while i'm in the bathroom. sometimes i leave the door barely ajar so she can push it open. she's the only one (so far, that i know of) who opens doors, so for a little at least she's got the room and me to herself. purring like a motorboat.

during breakfast wicket rolls in from the living room to lean against my leg. then he reaches up to put front paws on my thigh, digs his claws in, and streeeetches. scritches along his jawbone and in that funny bare spot in front of his ears.

later, about five minutes before i leave for work, i'm bustling back and forth between the kitchen and my bedroom and the bathroom, making sure i've got everything i need and keeping an eye on the clock. kai sits calmly atop the kitchen counter, mewing when i pass and looking me straight in the eye with those clear eyes. scritch, scritch on the top of his head.

guess! guess!

guess what i am!

iz smaller than a breadbox...

but bigger than a radio...

smaller than a table...

but bigger than a box of envelopes...

sun-glare hula-hoop

Wicket hula-hoops in a strange pink sun-glare

kai warms his whiskers

harvest half-moon eyes

podkai

grabs the bird in the back of his mouth and crouches, growling. he drops the bird, sniffs it, jaws it again and growls and growls, and growls. then inch by inch he drags the bird, and the string, and the plastic stick into the kitchen and under the table, where he, yes, crouches and growls, crouches and growls.

later my heart races as i scan the apartment, then place the bird on top of the fridge. did he see me?

startled from sleep

she sez, "did my manager approve this photo? i don't think so"

raising awareness

meera raises awareness for the plight of the tufted owl. she's not all fluffy indie-movie-star-wannabe

scraps

Scraps of my writing, plus there's my little scrapper

scurr'd kai

kai and my cam's "M" setting

everything as it should be

i puttered around this morning, made coffee, washed fruit, grabbed my tunes for the day ahead. each time i caught kai's eye he mewed and rolled onto his back. "such a soft belly," i told him. "you are such a charmer, what a beautiful boy." and he purred and purred.

yesterday he jumped onto the kitchen counter and paced back and forth, rubbing his cheek against the dish drainer and the cupboard corner. he loves being close to my hands and my face, and loves the added height of the counter. i scratched his chin so he turned his head sideways, lowered it, brought it closer and closer to the edge until i thought he was going to fall off.

he's the lightest of my three, the simplest, the most relaxed. reading on my bed the other day, stretched out on my belly above the covers, kai draped himself between and atop my knees. i had to move, though, after half an hour, if only to bring feeling back to my legs. i moved very slowly, very carefully, giving him every opportunity to reposition of his own volition.

but instead of switching to a different corner of the bed, he continued to lay limp as a dishrag. his lower half remained on the bed, his upper half hung in the air. he clung to my raised leg. crazy silly kai, with your nails in my jeans, you look so relaxed but that can't be comfortable. he'll only move unless he thinks i'm serious.

big-eyed bella birdwatches

And there's wickers in the background. I'm so lucky to live on the top floor with a view of trees and many, many birds. And springtime is a wonderful time to birdwatch. Picture their long tails switching back and forth, and back and forth...

caturday morning sunshine

those're wicket's ears down below. he's got large ears, which are always warm and open to being rubbed. he'd make such a good mouser it's a shame i don't have mice ("she said WHAT?").

in top pic, that's mostly meera looking up and mostly kai looking out, and a wee bit of wicket shoved off to the edge . but don't 'poor wicket, no room on the couch for poor wicket,' because just yesterday he leaped and crushed bella until she moved from her back-of-couch perch. he can be a bully when the mood strikes, but here he's taken 'be sweet, be good' to heart.

dim quiet

sorely in need of kitteh love. sorely in need of a bed and the dim quiet of my bedroom. going home now, k thx bai.

vogue

bella prepped for these pics for days. she wanted the lighting just right, her whiskers just right, she wanted her brothers out of the picture. most of all, she wanted her expressions to be evocative of just the kind of mood that the indie-film-crew would want to create...she'll be sending this off to a bunch of agencies in nyc, along with her card. keep your fingers crossed! if she makes it big, she's promised us one of those $200 cat trees, and a catwalk like the kind here: http://www.catshouse.com/

gloves where they should be

gloves where i find them

illegal activity: wickers drowns new hairtie

bella catches him on surveillance cam