Suddenly *Not So* Single Journey

Oh, the irony…

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

Okay, when last we left my cat conundrum…Gracey had been missing for a few weeks.  We’re not sure what happened, still.  There are a few possibilities.

One: He may have picked up on the fact that we had paid for him to get fixed.  That could cause any hot blooded male to head for the hills.

Two: He may have had an adverse reaction to the medicine that was supposed to help him get rid of the worms.  I really hope not.

Secretly, I picture him so happy and healthy that he’s off gallivanting around, flaunting his bad self.  Ahhh.  I can dream, right?

Three: Gracey has come to an untimely end.

That last one is the one that I really try not to dwell on too much.  The fact remains that there are lots of predators for him even in the suburbs.  We have cars and raccoons and all manner of bigger meaner wild life.  *sigh*  Still, I’m a realist.

Well, once it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be back to get fixed, we decided to get Charlie fixed.  Our ittiest bittiest kitty cat was born in a barn.  And while you can take the cat out of the wild, it’s hard to take the wild out of the cat.  She hasn’t figured out that she’s a house cat yet.  So, frequently, we have to snag her as she makes one escape after another.

Only, over the weekend, she discovered a hole in the screen porch that we hadn’t.  First, she shocked me by standing on the bench outside the screen porch, yowling to come in.  Then, she shocked me by being in our newly created courtyard area/natural area.  That’s when we did the screen check.  Sure enough, our budding David Copperfield had discovered hew own screen version of the trap door.

Well, the plot thickens.

Rachel had been saying that she thought Charlie was with kittens.  To be quite honest…she’s so young, a mere seven months old, that we didn’t think it possible.  We also figured that since Gracey had little success impregnating Sophie after months and months of trying, that there was no way he would seal the deal with Charlie.  And mostly, we simply believed it to be a case of wishful thinking on Rachel’s part.

Sometimes…I get tired of being wrong.  It seems that Charlie is indeed with kitten.  And if she’s not with kitten, she has the biggest tapeworm EVER.  I swear I can almost watch her getting fatter and rounder.  If that in itself isn’t evidence enough, the fact that Sophie now shuns her should be.  Ahh, female jealousy at its finest.  Sophie loved loved loved Gracey.

On the bright side, it looks like Gracey will have a legacy.  And Rachel has begged to keep one.  So, if her chosen kitty is a girl, she’ll name her Amelia, Mimi for short.  And if the chosen kitty is a boy…he’ll be called Simon.  If he ends up being as mouthy as his mother, I’ll be calling him Simon Says.

Such is the circle of life.

Posted in Furry Family Members | 8 Comments »

We can’t seem to keep ‘em…

Friday, March 19th, 2010

For reasons I can’t explain, we seem to have trouble keeping our male cats.  And it’s a bit troubling.  If it has happened twice…can I call it a trend?

See, when we moved in together the first time, I had two cats and a rabbit.  Harry was our fixed and de-clawed male.  Sophie was my sweet, gentle kitty-cow.  Sophie spent the first three weeks at HIS house hiding in the wet bar.  Our days were punctuated by talks of Sophie sightings.  And Harry…well, apparently two boy cats cannot exist under the same roof.

And Gracey, nice as he was, still seemed to be viewed as a threat by Harry.  Gracey was a survivor.  We thought.  He was a rescue, found under a vehicle that had traveled more than thirty miles.  He had the face only a mother could love.  And we nursed him to health.  His fur filled out.  His face filled out.  And he was a handsome kitty-cow.

It wasn’t even that the boys didn’t play together nicely.  Gracey mostly lived outside, coming in to eat and letting himself back out by climbing up the chimney and jumping from the hole just under the roof where HE hasn’t finished the chimney reconstruction.  Still, Harry was not himself.

When he started attacking people, we stuck him outside.  And days later when he seemed to have calmed down, we let him back in.  That lasted for…very nearly fifteen seconds before he turned on HIM and threatened me.  In an effort to get him back outside, HE was badly wounded…which sounds silly, but was very ugly…resulted in days of lost wages, since it’s hard to work with your hands when your hands are swollen like catcher’s mitts, and a trip to the doctor, and antibiotics and…you get the idea.  It was bad.

Harry…well, he was put outside for a timeout and has never been seen again.  After all the damage Harry did, it was hard to feel too sorry for him.  Even the kids felt badly for HIM.  (His ego was even more wounded than his hands.  Imagine a big tough guy having to admit he was felled by a cat.  Not a lion.  Not a bear.  A common housecat.  Ouch.)

When I moved out, Sophie was lonely and…I ended up taking in another stray…Charlie.  She has become the love of our lives.  She wags her tail like a dog when she’s happy.  She lounges across us froggy style.  She cries and tries to climb me like a tree when she wants to be snuggled and I have the nerve to be standing.  She has managed to make sleeping with us her new routine…much to Bishop’s chagrin.

And we figured that there’d be no problems this time.  I mean, Sophie had lived there before and Charlie could adapt to anything.  Gracey was the only man of the house.  (In our cat world…)  So, we figured it would be mostly smooth sailing once the girls adjusted to Bishop.  And it was.  For the most part.

Within days, both girls were in heat.  And being the responsible pet owners we are, we made an appointment to get Gracey fixed since the girls stayed inside.  (We just have to finish convincing Charlie…)

Well, Gracey was back to his routine of coming in to eat, and trying to hump one or both of the girls.  (Trust me, there will be no kittens.  He still hasn’t figured it out.)  Soon, we tired of the horrific sounds that would emanate from the girls when Gracey was around and we started shooing him back outside faster than normal.

Then, about a week and a half ago, he came in and prepared to eat.  And that’s when I saw it.  *gulp*  When you first spot what could potentially be a worm crawling out of your cat’s butt, it’s easy to pause and let your mind wrap around what your eyes have witnessed.  At least…that’s what I had to do.  I stared a moment before speaking.

me: Umm.  Ummm.  Gracey has worms.

HIM: Are you sure?

And I simply nodded and pointed.  HE saw what I was referring to, made a face, and then we made a plan.  Gracey was shooed out as soon as he finished eating.

The very next day, I picked up the worm tablet to be hidden in his food.  Gracey returned at the normal hour, gulped down his food without even noticing the pill, and was shooed outside again.  The risk was too great for the girls.

And Gracey has yet to be seen again.

We’ve been beating ourselves up about it.  Why can’t we keep a male cat?  Could the pill have poisoned him?  Did he run out of lives?  Who knows?

His surgery was scheduled for March 29th.  If he doesn’t return, we’re having Charlie fixed instead.  There’s a distinct possibility that she may make a run one sunny day.  And if that happens, we don’t want her returning with kittens.

Oh, Gracey, where art thou?

And if things go horribly wrong…

Quick Karma:

• take in free kittens
  

Posted in Furry Family Members, Reflections | 6 Comments »

After yesterday…a fluff piece…

Friday, December 18th, 2009

That’s right.  Guess yesterday was  a bit heavy.  The great thing is that as soon as I wrote it and hit publish, I felt soooo much better.  I had purged.  That was word vomit at its finest.  I could sit back and breathe deeply once more.  My stomach was settled.  My nerves were soothed.  My mind was clear.  Ahhh.

And then the phone calls and texts started and I felt soooo much worse.  My mother was convinced that I was potentially considering having some manner of contact with HIM so next thing you know she’s calling in the middle of the day.  Naturally, I answered because it was my mom and that she was calling was a clear indication that someone must have died.  Nope.  Just worried about me.

So for today…a fluff piece.  Something light.  And I can’t think of anything lighter and fluffier than my kitties.  Further more, since I seem destined to become the crazy cat lady, I must now write about my cats CONSTANTLY and refer to them as my babies.  Soon, I shall be dressing them up, celebrating their births, half births, and anniversaries of their coming into the fold.  But for now…I’ll just tell you how the adaptation is going.

Hmmm.  It has gone exceptionally well.  (I know, way to build up to the exciting climax, right?  Clearly I need to work on my denouement.)  Anyway…life in Casa Mia es muy bien.  After Sophie recovered from the initial shock of the interloper…who we named Charlie…she grew rather fond of her.

Next thing you know…they are eating together.  And it would be really cute…except for the fact that the frugal mom in me can’t get past the fact that they are eating together the kitten food that costs over $5 a bag for 3.5lbs instead of the Sophie big girl kitty food that I buy economy sized at Sam’s Club (using THAT card) for $11.  Yeah.  That big bag that hasn’t even been opened will probably be decaying in the pantry before I can convince Sophie to eat it again.  We play a little game similar to the one I used to play with Bishop called…eat that not this!

So far, Sophie is winning.  And I’m the big big loser.  Oh, but we don’t keep score.

Then, I caught them snuggling up together on the couch, and the bed, and the floor.  It was so stinking cute. 

For the record, their favorite snuggle spot seems to be the lounge chair.  And it might as well be, since I’m not using it anymore.  Yes, the lounge chair has lost some of its luster.  Luckily it has easily been repurposed to suit the kitties.  It was also the location of the Sophie/Babbit one night only fight club.  Shhh.  We don’t talk about it.

All I know for sure is that Sophie has done a complete 180 in regards to Charlie.  I caught her grooming her the other day.  Sorry, I wasn’t fast enough to snap a shot with the camera.  And I know how you were just dying for another picture of my kitties.  Even better if I had the kitties grooming.

Something tells me I’ll have other opportunities to catch Sophie grooming Charlie.  She seems to have a gift for getting into trouble and looking completely unrepentant about it.  For a creature that was advertised as being so shy and timid…well, I haven’t seen it.  I have to admit though, we have a gift for making people and animals feel comfortable.  Sometimes a little too comfortable.

For example, until about two hours ago, we had a spider in the laundry cupboard.  It lived in peace with me, dangling from under the water heater.  I named him El Jeffe.  It didn’t mean what I thought it meant.  Oh well.  It’s too late now.  El Jeffe went on the lamb for about a week and reappeared OUTSIDE of his territory.  I have a strict no over the border policy…so I had Keenan squish him.  El Jeffe could have a lived a long happy spider life, but he had try to get all crazy and see the world.  He made it as far as the hall.  I run a tight ship.  I took a picture of him before the mom-sanctioned execution was carried out.  Rachel insisted I have one for his obituary.  Only I’m not writing an obituary.  The picture doesn’t do him justice.  And he left a smear on my wall.  I plan to magic erase the heck out of that. 

See, I couldn’t get to it immediately on account of I was in the process of making ANOTHER batch of fudge.  This one is for Ms. Austin.  She was Rachel’s teacher last year.  And she still hasn’t recovered.  And since I feel responsible…since I did give birth to Rachel, I figured the least I could do would be to keep her medicated with chocolate until Rachel graduates…in 2012.  (You may recall the time I took away Rachel’s ability to speak…yeah, that was because of Ms. Austin’s class.)

Well, I’ll have plenty of time to get all my projects done…I hope.  The kids are leaving today for a week with their father.  And other than the cruise, I’ve never been away from them this long.  As always, I’m sure I’ll stay busy.  When I’m not cleaning spider smears or baking, I will be making egg nog from scratch…yes, there’ll be more recipes in it for you.  And I’ll be reading and writing, wrapping and shopping, working on creating a Christmas Day through New Year’s Day spectacular.  I don’t have much time to salvage this Mother of the Year thing I’ve been working on.  Of course…there’s always next year…

***Please note…no scarlet red satin Victoria’s Secret thongs were destroyed in the creation of this post.  Wish I could say the same for spiders.  RIP El Jeffe 12/17/2009  You may be gone, but you’re not forgotten.

Posted in Furry Family Members | 8 Comments »

We have a new addition…

Monday, November 30th, 2009

We have been suffering from empty basket syndrome.  Ever since the move Sophie, our kitty-cow, has been ridiculously needy.  We have a busy life.  We’re gone all day to school and work, and many evenings we run errands or run to the library or simply run away.  And so after realizing that Sophie has gone beyond social to dependent, we thought it would make sense to get her a kitten.

See, I remember how she was with Harry.  Harry was our old man kitty, a gray and white tuxedo cat.  We had him for six years before Rachel convinced me to get Sophie.  (It was a moment of weakness and intense guilt, just as J and I were splitting up.)  Sophie just wanted to be near Harry, follow him around, lay as near to him as he would allow.  He’d be all annoyed, wagging his tail in disgust, and she was delighted.  Oh, look!  A toy!  It was so stinkin’ cute.

Then a year later we moved in with Sam and Harry didn’t take the move well.  His final act before being thrust into the cold cruel world for a time out was to attack Sam.  Who knew he was the smartest, sanest one among us?  So, the next morning when I went to check on him in the back yard, I had discovered he was gone.  And though I looked around for weeks after, I never found him.

Sophie still had Sam’s cat, Gracie, a cat we had raised together.  Yeah.  He was black and white, just like Sophie.  We had two kitty-cows.  And they played together really well.  They may have even been in love.  (There was a lot of evidence of lust for sure.)  But the break up left her friendless and alone.

Apparently, she’s as resilient as I am.  She seemed to be mostly thriving.  Aside from the whole greeting us at the door, following us around, laying with/on/near us ALL THE TIME.  This was not our Sophie.  And I didn’t want to feel guilty every time I left the house.  (I do that A LOT.)

Getting her a friend seemed to be the most logical solution to Sophie’s angst.  (And we love kittens and all manner of small furry things around my place…)  So, I started my search in earnest over the break.  I figured I might have a few moments to pick a kitten, might even bring the kids with me.  It was a great plan.  And it worked.

I spoke to a lovely woman on the phone who rescued litters of kittens from the neighboring barn regularly.  She gave me the background on the current litter.  And based on the pictures online…yes, Craigslist, I decided it was worth the drive to Huntersville.  I took Kimberly with me.  She loves kittens, but David has put the kabosh on any small furry things in his house.  So, she lives vicariously through me.

It was a gorgeous day for a drive.  And I was hopeful that I might find one that would fill the gap in Sophie’s life and our hearts.  I wasn’t disappointed.  One caught my eye the moment I walked in.  She was sweet and quiet, really mellow.

Rachel is convinced that she was drugged.  It was suggested that this was a meek timid creature that had difficulty with noise.  (Yeah, I know, and I was bringing her into a home filled with incessant conversations, where we break out into song and sometimes dance frequently, where our idea of a quiet night often involves movies and joking around.  Poor, kitty.)

After we returned home with the kitten and the kids, I had Rachel help me take the top off the kennel while I found Sophie.  In my mind, I imagined Sophie pleasantly sniffing at the small furry creature and adopting something of a motherly attitude toward her new friend.  Instead, she hissed.  And I think I may have heard her mumble something about an interloper.  (It wasn’t exactly frightening.  Ask Charlie.  Yes, that’s what we named her.  I’d love to tell you it was short for something, but we just liked the name.  We had our naming ceremony in the car with Kimberly.  I know she felt honored.)

Charlie has already in flourished in our presence.  In fact, she has already revealed herself to be a kitty-pup.  What is a kitty-pup, you ask?  That would be what happens when a kitten is raised around dogs.  She says, “Meow wow.”  She wags her tail when she’s happy, while purring like a small motor boat or a much larger cat…like a lion.  Do lions purr?  She scratches behind her ear like dogs.  Charlie is very entertaining.

The funniest thing to date?  She very proudly jumped from the lounge chair to the stand in the corner, only she couldn’t stop and flew off the back and disappeared behind the stand.  I saw it coming, couldn’t prevent it, and nearly died laughing.  Still, she keeps at those wild and crazy curious kitten antics.  We can’t help but love her.  And Sophie…she’ll come around.

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