Love is a Warm Cat

Our cat, Gracie, loves me. She loves me with her whole heart. If my WordPress account allowed, I’d post a picture of her, and you’d be able to see the love light shining in her eyes. Or the mischief. It’s hard to tell.

She’s beautiful—A muted calico with a white strip from the top of her head to the tip of her cute little nose. Sometimes I catch her admiring herself in the mirror.

And she’s so smart. She can open the cabinet in which her treats are stored, and without fail, brings us a bag of treats every night after the lights are out. It’s the equivalent of a toddler’s “just one more drink, Mommy” or “read me one more story.”

If I go to bed before Studly Doright does, Gracie will pester him until he joins me. But if I stay up a little later, she curls up in my lap until I indicate that I’m ready for bed. Like I say, she loves me.

I’m sitting here watching her attack her scratching post, shredding the fibers with a vengeance. The post has seen better days, but it’s her favorite toy. Even so, I’ve begun to think of it as a piece of modern sculpture. Maybe we could sell it for a small fortune and Gracie could create a new one. Maybe she could reimburse us for all those treats. Maybe I need to get some sleep tonight. I’m rambling.

Peace, people.

Clearly, I Have Unresolved Issues

A dream:

I stood in a field

Surrounded by children.

One asked,

Will you mentor me?

I hemmed and hawed

Scratched my head,

Then, yes.

But know I don’t take this lightly.

We drove to a school

Children in plaid skirts and narrow ties

Crowded near.

This is my mentor,

The child said.

She took my hand and we walked

Through archways,

Across sports fields.

We sat at narrow desks.

I thought to ask her name.

Didn’t you know already?

It’s your name, too.

A cat wound our way

Demanded a petting.

The girl smiled.

I’ve named her after us.

The Hunter Becomes the Prey

Cat Gracie discovered a luckless lizard in the house yesterday and quickly let the poor critter know who was boss.

Listen here, lizard…
This house ain’t big enough for the both of us.

My attempts at rescuing the little guy were futile. I’d pick him up and Gracie would snatch the other end. I’d let go to prevent a tug of war, not wanting or needing to witness the decapitation of a reptile in my den.

But the lizard had a game plan:

I’ll show you, cat. Take that!
The lizard was firmly attached to a slender white whisker.

Gracie scraped the lizard off her face and backed away with a look of disbelief, allowing me to scoop the lizard up and take it outside where it played dead for quite some time. Well, to be honest, it might not have been playing, but it’s no longer in the spot where I left it. Whether it left of its own volition and under its own power is a mystery. I’m going to choose to believe it went on to live a productive life.

Peace, people!

That Look

My cat is so put out with me. This look is her, “Get up off your lazy arse and play with me” look.

Soon, kitty. Soon. When moving doesn’t elicit a coughing jag that makes cartoon stars appear to circle my head, I’ll play again.

“Sure,” she says. “I’m just gonna wait right here.”

Peace, people.

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like…

I’m not ready to say the C word, (That’s Christmas, you filthy animals) but I couldn’t help but notice that the Yule time holiday is taking over before Thanksgiving 2021 is even in the books.

Esposito’s in Tallahassee goes all out on holiday displays, and I had no choice but to take a few photos.

Look what I found dozing among the tree skirts and stockings. Neither creature was stirring as shoppers invaded their space.

I’ll have to make another visit as I begin to get in the mood for that holiday.

Peace, people!

The Cat Wants What the Cat Wants

Routine is everything to our cat, Gracie.

She wakes Studly Doright up at five every morning and makes him carry her to the kitchen for a treat.

After he leaves for work, she snuggles with me and insists I get up at six. While I shower, Gracie watches me from her ringside seat on the side of bathtub. She presides over my morning routine, ensuring that I take my vitamins, and calcium, and allergy meds, and well, you get the idea.

The day proceeds with Gracie allotting time for feeding, naps, and play when she’s not actively supervising my work. In the evening she lets us know it’s time to stretch out on one of the chairs on the screened-in porch by pawing at the patio door.

Bedtime routine with Gracie is reminiscent of my days of tucking in a toddler. She gets a bowl of her favorite wet food, a bit of playtime, then we snuggle into our bed. But Gracie isn’t ready to sleep.

She’ll jump off the bed in dramatic fashion and rush down the hallway to the kitchen. Soon she’ll come back toting a bag of treats in her mouth. If she can’t get to the cat treats, she’ll bring a bag of people food—nuts, trail mix—whatever comes closest to resembling her treats, so the gist of her message is clear—one last snack, please.

Once she gets what she wants Gracie disappears into one of the guest bedrooms for the night only reappearing in our room when it’s time to wake Studly up for work. And the routine begins again,

I wish Gracie had been around during the years I taught. I could’ve used a good scheduler.

Peace, people.

Worms. Why’d it Have to be Worms?

Warning: Gross stuff involved

Early this morning, Gracie, our 2-year-old rescue kitty, climbed into bed with me and snuggled down. I was just barely awake and stroked what I thought was her head. Surprise—it was her bum.

“Ew, Gracie. Don’t stick your butt in my face.”

Then I realized that something had stuck to my hand.

“Gracie!”

Fearing it was poo, I jumped out of bed, careful not to touch anything with that hand, and ran to the bathroom sink. And of course I had to look before washing. No poo, but what I saw looked like grains of rice. There were several on my palm. Hm. Not good. Not good at all.

I fetched a plastic baggie from the kitchen and deposited the little sticky things inside. After thoroughly washing my hands, I went to Google. And there it was. A worm that resembled a grain of rice. Gross. I’ll spare you the pictures.

I called the vet’s office as soon as they opened and took Gracie in for treatment. It was time for her annual visit anyway, so they got us right in and took care of her.

Surprisingly she was a model patient and they didn’t have to sedate my girl. I could have used some sedation after finding worms on my hand, but they didn’t offer that. It really should be part of their service, right?

As soon as it’s appropriate to do so, I’m having a glass of wine. That’ll have to suffice.

Peace, people.

Me? Gross? No way!
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