Tag Archive 'cats'

Aug 03 2012

Goodbye, Little Old Lady Cat

Published by under Pets

Yesterday morning, our little clockwork kitty tik-tokked to a stop. Her mainspring had failed, and despite our willingness to attempt a fix, the repairman said there was nothing to be done. All we could do was pet her as she wound down and let her know that she had been one of the very best parts of our lives.

Destiny, August 1 2012

 

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Apr 19 2011

Another cat post.

Published by under Pets

I try not to disturb Destiny the Brain Damaged Cat while she is napping. The reason for that is that she doesn’t deal with interruptions very well. If I innocently pat her sleeping form while I pass by, she is likely to violently awaken, and start screaming at me. I don’t think she’s screaming in rage. She always sounds more confused: “Where am I? What’s happening? Who are you? Oh, it’s you. Is it food time? Is something wrong? Where’s Fate? Is she going to eat me? Should I follow you? Where are you going? I’ll get up. What are we doing here? Are we going to play? What are you doing? That looks like food.” And it goes on. And on. AND ON. I think I’ve mentioned before that Destiny is kind of a vocal cat, and also that her voice tends to get on my nerves. I’m not trying to be mean about it, I’m just saying. I’ve tried to capture the ridiculousness of how much she talks on camera, but she seems to sense when I’m recording her and tends to shut up. If she were a smarter cat, I’d think she was weaving some complicated plot to make me insane, but I know the truth: she’s actually just stupid and noisy.

Sometimes, though, I can’t help but disturb her, and those times are usually when I lose track of her. Most of the time, if I don’t know where a cat is, I check three spots and I will find the cat(s) in one of those places. Those places are: couch, chair, love seat. When one of them is not immediately visible and is not in one of those three places, I commence The Search, where I rummage through the house looking for the missing feline. Most people would just shrug and wait for the cat to reappear, but these cats escaped one time about ten years ago, and now I worry constantly that they’ve gotten out of the house, even though they’ve pretty much never shown an inclination to go outdoors since that one incident. Plus, they have an irritating habit of sneaking into the downstairs closet when someone is in there getting a coat or rebooting the router, and sometimes they get shut in there. So, I start searching. And if it’s Fate who’s missing, no problem. I find her somewhere, she kind of blinks at me, and we both go on with our lives. But if I have to track down Destiny, then most of the time I am in for at least a half hour of this cat YOWLING at me.

For instance, I just lost Destiny. I located her napping in the towel cabinet, on the towels that we use for sopping up spills and for the pool in the summer. I opened the towel cupboard. She yowled at me. I shut the towel cupboard. She yowled at me. She opened the towel cupboard and stepped out, still yowling. She followed me out of the bathroom, yowling. I told her, “I didn’t want anything! I was just checking!” And, you guessed it, she yowled at me.

Right now, she’s doing laps around the coffee table, and every time she passes by me, she yowls. If I pet her, it pretty much just resets the cycle. I’m not sure what she wants, or if she even wants anything. The Man’s theory is that her brain kind of wipes while she’s doing laps around the coffee table, so when she rounds the corner, she’s like “Oh! There you are!” and then she keeps going until she comes around again: “Oh! There you are!”

She certainly does annoy me when she’s doing things like this, especially if it’s first thing in the morning, but sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that my little brain damaged cat won’t always be around to annoy me, and then I pick her up and give her a cuddle, and she drools on my shoulder.

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Jan 24 2011

Vignettes.

Published by under Friends,Pets,Snippets,The Fam,The Man

(UPDATED! Originally, this post was one conversation [the hole-punch one] but then I thought of another one and then I decided to just keep adding on as I thought of them. So, this post might be different depending on when you first read it.)

No. 1

The Man is using my one-hole punch to punch holes in the corners of index cards, so that he may put them on a ring. He is Way Too Organized. I’m reading blogs.

The Man: (jiggling the hole-punch) I think I broke this.

Me: What?

The Man: (demonstrating that the hole-punch does not squeeze properly anymore) It’s broken.

Me: You broke my hole-punch!

The Man: Well, I didn’t mean to!

Me: You know what’s funny about this? I use that hole punch to punch holes out of FABRIC, and it works just fine. You use it for its intended purpose, and you break it.

The Man: I use things too aggressively.

My husband, the Aggressive Hole Puncher.

(On a side note, how many other former cheerleaders learned to spell “aggressive” from that one cheer? You know: “Be. Aggressive. B-E aggressive. B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E.” I was only a Middle School Cheerleader, but I think it was worth it just to learn how to spell that one word.)

No.2

A bunch of us are sitting around my father-in-law’s house. I’m sitting on the couch with one of my sisters-in-law, and two of her kids are hanging around, too. My two-year-old niece comes in the room and I notice she is wearing fleece pajama pants.

Me: Aw, look at her little Ugly Pants!

Bert (four-year-old nephew): Those are NOT ugly pants!

Me: Oh, well, that’s just what your uncle and I call our pajama pants, whether they are ugly or not. All pajama pants are Ugly Pants.

Bert: Those pants are NOT ugly!

Me: I know that -

Bert: YOUR pants are ugly.

Me: OK, then.

Bert: (going back to his Lincoln Logs and muttering) Ugly…

For the record, I was wearing jeans.

No. 3

We’re talking about the “Dangerous Cold Warning” that my mother-in-law’s area apparently received from the National Weather Service.

The Man: What makes it “dangerous” cold?

Me: I don’t know. I guess it’s really, really cold.

The Man: But, it’s winter.

Me: I know.

The Man: LOOK OUT. IT’S COLD. ALSO, JANUARY.

No. 4

The Man and I stopped in to Julio’s on our way to Grandma’s this past Sunday. I was dropping off a lip balm and a Babies R Us coupon book. Julio has a Chihuahua/demon mix dog that has a really loud yapper, and her brand new baby had just fallen asleep, so she picked up the dog and held it while we talked to minimize the yapping. It’s probably worth noting that Julio has mentioned several times that she’s having a hard time establishing a routine with the baby, and her nerves might be a little frayed.

Me: OK, let me know if you like the lip balm. You’re not allergic to anything are you?

Julio: Like…what?

Me: I don’t know. There are no chemicals or anything in it. It’s all natural stuff. Like beeswax or shea butter or anything.

Julio: Tell you what, if I look like Angelina Jolie in a couple days, we’ll know for sure.

Me: Sounds good. Oh, and that coupon book also has some sale things in the back that I couldn’t really get all the details for, because for some reason they have to seal it up like the damn SAT exam…

Julio: I know! What do they think is going to happen if – (she stops talking and looks at her dog, who she is holding over her shoulder, while patting it on the back). I’M BURPING MY DOG.

Me: Is it working?

Julio: Oh my God, I’m going insane.  The other day I was sitting in a chair, not holding anything, and I realized I was trying to rock the baby to sleep. So, I was just rocking myself back and forth.

Me: Wow.

Julio: Next time I’m grocery shopping I’ll probably try to burp a frozen turkey.

No. 5

The ongoing struggles of living with a brain-damaged cat…Please be aware that the following scene takes place every. single. day. Also, that the whole thing creates in me a slowly growing feeling of suspense that really stresses me out.

I’m sitting on one end of the couch. Fate (the normal cat) is on the other end. Between us is a WIDE OPEN EXPANSE of sofa. Destiny (the brain-damaged cat) likes to nap with Fate during the day because they keep each other warm.

Destiny approaches the couch. She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

Repeat anywhere between 5 and 15 times, depending on how tolerant I’m feeling that day.

As she rounds the coffee table, I bend down and pick her up and put her on the couch.

She freezes, acting like I’ve just placed her into a lake of lava.

She jumps down and does a lap around the coffee table.

She puts her front paws up on the cushions and looks at the empty space.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

She drops back to the floor and does a lap around the coffee table.

Me: ARRRRRRRRGH!

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Jun 29 2009

FOOD FOOD CANNED FOOD GIMME

Published by under Uncategorized

Since Destiny has to be on a special diet, it’s just easier to feed both cats the special food.  And that means they rarely get canned food.  I usually only give them canned food when they have medication that needs to be given, and can be added to food.  And, since they don’t get canned food all that often, once a trend is established (i.e. canned food two days in a row), if I even step near the kitchen, both cats follow me.  If I happen to touch the plastic bowls that are used exlusively for their canned food, they go ballistic.  I had forgotten to take the bowls off the floor last night, and this morning, I accidentally kicked one of them.  Both cats SHOT into the kitchen, mewing frantically, climbing over each other to get the canned food that, sadly, did not materialize.  Their medicine cycle is over – no more canned food.  It will take probably a week for them to stop expecting it.  In the meantime, they’ll hover casually around the kitchen, just in case.

They do, however, have a new treat added to their diet.  They now get a dose of malt-flavored, anti-hairball goo once or twice a week.  This is like candy to cats.   Hopefully, it will ease the strain of not getting canned food.

P.S. – The medicine was for hairballs, nothing major.  They had been puking every. single. day. for about a week.  I know cats puke a lot, but not like this.  I took them to the vet to discover that both of them had actually gained weight since the last appointment (a week prior), and there was nothing obviously wrong.  No parasites, no poisoning.  The verdict was hairballs.  We’ve been giving them the meds and the goo and the throwing up is way down.  I guess it was hairballs, despite the lack of hair in the puke.  Weird.

2 responses so far

Feb 04 2009

Physically impossible.

Published by under Media,Pets

While we were in Nashville, I took several pictures that I then collaged together to make one big picture for The Man to hang on his office wall at work. I sent this big picture out to a lab to be printed, and it arrived today. It looks great – I’ll be sending more work their way – and they shipped it flat, in a nice, thin, cardboard box.

My cats, especially Fate, LOOOOOVE cardboard boxes. Fate wants to become one with every cardboard box that enters the house. She wants to get into them and make them her fort. Most of the time, she manages to find a way, but this time, it was Not Going To Happen, no matter HOW much she wanted it to.

Sorry for the snickering, but come ON.  I couldn’t help myself.

3 responses so far

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