The cat in question,
Snuggling, purring on my lap,
She finds her warm place
Never questions life,
Not a care in her safe world
Relaxed, yet still poised
The cat in question
A lady of advanced age
My boon companion
Category: Pets
Two Wrongs; One Write
I generally have a blog post in the queue and ready to publish at 7:05 a.m. This morning, Wednesday, October 4, 2017, I had nothing. Oh, there were a few words typed into a draft: “milk, cat litter,” but only because I’d accidentally written my shopping list on a blank page in WordPress.
For a moment I wondered what I could do with those words. A poem combining the two concepts of homogenized liquids and cat hygiene, perhaps? Hmmm. Not today, but the topic has possibilities.
As I pondered what to write I heard one of my cats in the throes of dislodging a hairball, so I rolled out of bed to clean up the mess. With a box of baby wipes in one hand and a paper towel in the other I went in search of cat puke. Scout was sitting like a lady in the dining room admiring her artwork which she’d deposited on the carpeting literally two inches from the tiled hallway.
“Dammit, Scout, couldn’t you have turned your head to the right just a fraction and avoided the rug?” I asked, knowing that was a rhetorical question. She never pukes on the tile.
As I bent over to attend to the mushy hair ball mess my nose began to run. I swiped one of the baby wipes under my nose and continued cleaning. Not to be outdone, my nose continued leaking like a faulty faucet. I swiped at it again, only then noticing that my nose wasn’t dripping snot, but blood. So now I was dealing with two icky bodily emissions. Two wrongs, if you will, giving me something to write.
As I finish typing this the time is 6:55 a.m. Looks like I’ll make my self-imposed deadline after all.
Hurricane Cat
We adopted our precious cat, Scout, after Hurricane Charley in 2004. We lived in Melbourne, Florida, at the time, and Scout along with her brother had been found wandering alone once the storm passed through our area. I wrote a story about her adoption, and it never fails to make me cry. That’s like laughing at one’s own joke, I suppose.
https://nananoyz5formewordpress.wordpress.com/2014/08/22/the-rescue-of-scout/
Scout is now around fourteen years old. She’s still playful and likes to play fetch. She sleeps more than she once did, but she’s still a sweet cat who loves to snuggle. Some day we’ll have to say goodbye to our Scout, but we hope we’ll be graced with her presence for many more years.
I found her snoozing on a fresh from the dryer towel one afternoon. That’s my girl.
Peace, people.
Bandit, My Great-Grandhedgehog
Our oldest granddaughter has a sweet little hedgehog named Bandit. Until yesterday I'd only been able to see Bandit via FaceTime, but finally we got to meet face to face.
She's such a sweet little bit of fluffiness! Unfortunately she had to stay behind while the grandkids and I travel to Florida. I promised Bandit we'd stay in touch via the internet. She was fine with that.
Peace, people!
New Friends
One of my friends took her puppy, Grady, out on the boat this afternoon. Grady quickly made a new friend. How adorable are these pictures?
Love is…
Love is…
When you’re hungry, but you know if you get up to fix something you’ll wake up your sleeping husband and the cat, so you just sit and slowly starve to death.
They’re both snoring, by the way.
The Work of Being a Cat
I cannot imagine how difficult it must be, the work of being a cat. Between naps in the sun, one
Must stalk every individual dust mote that filters through a ray of light on its way from window to rug.
Then there’s the bathing of fur, pink tongue seeking out any hint of dirt or foreign substance with
A rough lick and a promise to bathe again should something upset the delicate balance between
Tidy and soiled, anxious and calm. Pleasured purring while kneading must be exhausting work
And is often closely followed by head butting and a thrice circled snuggle into mom’s cozy lap.
Scratching at posts, and pouncing on catnip-stuffed felt mice often induce wide yawns and paws
Covering eyes. A quick burst of energy when the word, treat, is uttered, even whispered, results in
A mad dash to the food bowl where petting is tolerated, but just barely. “Mom, petting just wears me out.”
Cats and Tongues
Cat got your tongue? he asked.
That’s the stupidest question ever, I replied
Cats have no need for human tongues and such, but they might have my yarn.
Cats love yarn.
Snapshot #68
I call this one, “Tree With Cat.”
Hurricane Prep, Cats, and Faeries
After much procrastination (not to brag, but that’s one of my specialities) I decided to drive into Tallahassee to stock up on supplies. I knew we’d need bottled water, but beyond that I didn’t have a clue. I’m not a terrific grocery shopper under normal conditions, but with a possible hurricane headed our way I needed to focus.
I only had to shop for Studly Doright and me, so there was no need to go overboard. I figured a loaf of bread, a fresh jar of peanut butter, mixed nuts, Cheez Whiz, tuna fish and chicken salad snacks, crackers, power bars and fruit snacks would tide us through a couple of days without power. Of course I couldn’t leave the store without buying Studly’s favorite Vienna sausages. Shudder!
My problem now is convincing myself not to eat any of our supplies until there’s an actual need. I can leave the little sausages alone, but those Apple Straws look interesting. They were an impulse buy to substitute for my favorite Little Debbie oatmeal cream cakes that had already sold out. Damnit! Everybody wanted that chewy, creamy goodness. Here’s hoping a dearth of Little Debbie oatmeal cream cakes isn’t a matter of life and death.
After putting away the groceries I noticed a note propped up against the cookie jar on the kitchen table. Hmm. Maybe Studly stopped by Doright Manor during his lunch time. But when I looked closely I realized that wasn’t Studly’s handwriting:
The cats seldom leave notes for us, and when they do they mostly pertain to the quality of their treats or the state of their cat litter. Scout once wrote me a thank you note for cleaning the carpet of her upchucked hairballs, but that was an exception. This apparently was another exception. Not far from this bit of writing was the indicated note:
First off, I could see the cats need a lesson in changing the “y” to “i” when creating past tenses and plurals, but I was overcome by their thoughtfulness.
I delivered the note to the faeries, now it remains to be seen if they trust us enough to accept our invitation. Of course if they do I’ll need to figure out how to feed them. Maybe Studly will share his Vienna sausages.
Update on the storm: As I typed this post, Tropical Depression 9 was reclassified as Tropical Storm Hermine. I just heard on the Weather Channel that the Tallahassee area could experience the worst storm in decades. Oh joy. Maybe I need to go in search of those Little Debbie cakes.
Peacr, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 