By the time this posts, I may be a new mommy.

But as The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy says: DON’T PANIC!

No, I’m not pregnant.

When I moved from New York to Georgia, my chihuahua, Oliver, stayed behind with my mother. He was supposed to come live with me once I got settled, but in the end, he was happy with Mom and she was happy with him and so he stayed. And I’ve missed having a dog ever since.

For several reasons, I haven’t gotten one:

• I go out of town a lot and boarding is expensive.
• I’m only supposed to have two pets, per my lease, and I ended up accidentally adopting a couple stray kittens along the way, then brought one of my mother’s cats home with me this summer after a visit to Buffalo, which made three.
• I didn’t want the added responsibility.

Oliver Q. Chihuahua, Esq. (AKA Antonio Chocolate Chocolate, Chihuahua, Little Dog)

Well, last Thursday, The Universe took the decision out of my hands. Maybe. I don’t know for sure yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion.

The mailboxes are at the bottom of the hill that is the parking lot in my townhouse complex. Nearby are two Dumpsters. When I get home from work every afternoon, I drive down to the mailboxes, get the mail and then back up to my house. Last Thursday, a small dog with a collar ran in front of my car and I almost hit her. She ran across the lot and behind the townhouses. I got out of my car to look for her, but didn’t see her anywhere.

After I got the mail, I went home and stepped out back to see if I could see her. I heard barking coming from my right and walked around to find her on the porch of a neighbor’s house who wasn’t home. She was growling and barking and baring her teeth, tail between her legs: a tiny miniature pinscher.

There was no way I could get near her without injury, so I decided to get some twine and make a slip knot to go around her neck so I could take her inside where it was safe. The neighbor’s next-door neighbor was coming home at that moment, so I asked if she was the dog of the people whose porch she was on. The neighbor said no, they don’t have a dog.

Not good.

I got the twine and successfully lassoed the little dog. Almost immediately, she stopped barking and growling and asked me to pick her up. Immediately, I noticed a great deal of ticks on her tiny body, some of which had been there quite a while.

A cropped min-pin

Into the house, get the ticks off (I had to leave a couple until someone came home to help me hold her still), call the animal shelter and a couple other places the shelter suggested and nothing. No reports of a missing dog of her description. Now, she is a min-pin, but her ears and tail are not cropped and she’s been fixed. She was thin, but not so starving that her bones stuck out, so she’d eaten recently. She has a collar, but no tags and no tattoo indicating a microchip. Someone cared for and loved this dog. No one has reported her missing in any of the obvious places. Chris said he’d seen her running around the area for a few days.

Friday, I checked the newspaper and www.craigslist.com and placed my own ads. There were no ads for a missing dog of her description in those places, either.

Lily

She’s a very sweet dog, although the cats may disagree. They don’t seem to enjoy being chased. Harry is double the dog’s size (literally — I weighed them). I think the dog got a noseful of cat claw Friday morning, though, so the chasing may cease sooner than later. Possibly by the time this posts.

We’re calling her Lily.

Right now, it’s a waiting game. Someone may call. But my gut tells me no one will. And that brings me to my point: We don’t choose our pets; they choose us.

I’ve been thinking about wanting a dog more and more lately, and suddenly, this tiny creature scared and in need literally crosses my path. She’s small enough to travel easily almost anywhere I might go. She was in my house for only seconds and already behaving as if she’d lived there her entire life.

I would never have gone out and adopted a dog in the near future. So one adopted me (maybe!).

MONDAY UPDATE: Still no calls or e-mails and she has no microchip.

When I picked up N at school a couple of weeks ago, the first thing he said was, “I told my teacher we have a cat named Ella.” We in fact, do not have a cat named Ella. His voice was matter of fact but at the same time a little remorseful. He curiously awaited my response. I tried to probe a little to figure out why he had said this and the best I could come up with was he just wished he had a cat. That’s fair. So, I gave him the speech about truthful words, who the father of lies is, the character of his heavenly father etc.  Of course, I also threw in how much I dislike cats so that he didn’t develop a false hope of ever getting one. I felt sure that was the end of Ella.

This week, I went to his very cute and creative school Thanksgiving party. I’m so sorry I didn’t have my camera to take pictures of these kids in their Indian feathered hats with balloons on their chairs and bright place mats all sitting in a row eating their Thanksgiving dinner of maccaroni, chicken nuggets, fruit salad and cookies. It wasn’t until N put his plate in the trash that I was able to fully appreciate his place mat. Listed was each member of our family, the things for which he was most thankful. And yes, there on the laminated place mat was our cat named Ella.

Police and the RSPCA are investigating claims that two pets died after eating food which was laced with vehicle anti-freeze…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: food. The blog is also related to: food.

First of all I want to mention that today in a month’s time, Logan will be four years old!  Not quite a baby any more and yet he will always be my baby!  

The Rum Tum Tugger

I love Cats the Musical.  Since I was introduced to the musical at the age of 11, it has been my favourite musical of all times.  I purchased the dvd in the UK for an arm and a leg.  I purchased it in South Africa again (when my UK friend never returned it to me).  I own the Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, the actual poems written by TC Elliot – the basis of the musical.  I have the songbook of the musical even though I cannot read music nor play kind of instrument.  I would have watched the musical in London, if I could, if it was still showing on West-End.  Instead I saw Elaine Page ( Made famous by the song “Memory“) live.   

Somehow, in some way, I have passed the love for Cats the Musical on to my son!  

Without force.  Without watching it every day for a month, the magic of the musical enchanted Logan.  We watched the musical a couple of times over the past couple of years - and let’s be honest with the memory of a fish and the attention span of a monkey there is no way he watched more than a half an hour at a time!   

On Sunday morning while I was lying in bed, regaining conscious from a good night’s rest I heard the music in the background.  As I walked into the lounge my little boy was following the cats’ every move, ten seconds late as best he can.  Yet having a ball!  

Later during the day, he mentioned that Rum Tum Tugger is his favourite cat!  The Rum Tum Tugger was my favourite cat while growing up.  The Rum Tum Tugger is a charming cat, a little bit rebellious and by far similar to the kind of teenager Logan will be!  

From the film - John Partridge

 Here is a detailed character sketch of the cat.  How very relevant!

 RUM TUM TUGGER AKA The Tugger
is a sexy prankster and a master when it comes to getting attention. He’s clowny fun cat, more of a teenager than an adult. But that is probably the reason so many love him! He loves to make fun of his older half-brother Munkustrap. And to tell you the truth, Munkustrap IS a bit jealous at Tugger’s wild life… This cat will do a lot of things but gets away with it thanks to darling Daddy Old Deuteronomy.

 Found here!
Photo Credit:  Picture 1 and Picture 2

So you’ve heard a lot more than you wanted to about my obession with Cats, are you a fan of musicals?  Have your kids followed in your footsteps?  What is your all time favourite musical?

I’m leaving my friends with this pic of a friendly grey kitten that we met in Amiens.A real “party cat”, who just wanted to play and frolic with us ! Travel indeed makes you cross paths with some fascinating creatures…

I’m still choosing and editing my pictures,to show you some of what we saw last Friday. I’m getting there,I promise !!

Special Thank yous are in order :

Des remerciements très chaleureux à Céline, pour son hospitalité et ses excellents commentaires sur sa bonne ville d’Amiens. Nous avons vraiment apprécié le temps passé avec toi.Bisous xx

Go and see Céline’s blog HERE if you don’t yet know her ;it’s en Français/ in French, but she shares many pictures, esp of her travels.

See everyone very soon for more !

Okay...here are two of the three. Ollie will hang with the group...but it's not easy to catch him on camera.

The animal farm is such a joy! I’ve been able to take so many photos over the last few weeks…and the challenge is to share them all. I am getting very close to having a photo of all three….but for now it’s still that Lucy and Stan show.

Stay tuned for more photos…the dog park (Pt Isabel) and Metro Dog. Lucy has so much dog social interaction. She meets so many dogs…and thus I meet so many more people!

Happy Thanksgiving to all! I am more than grateful for Stan, Ollie, and Lucy…and of, course, my people family and friends.

Apropos of what we’ll be discussing for much of next week, this episode of PBS’ Nature series discusses the relationship between humans and our classic domesticated pets – cats and dogs. Through expert interviews, a visit to a Humane Society shelter, and owner-bios reminiscent of the famous couple scenes from When Harry Met Sally, the show seeks to explain – or at least explore – the bonds between pets and their humans.

It’s easy to get indignant about humans domestication of certain animals – we’re asserting our dominance! we’re pretending we rule the globe! we’re stripping them of their natural wild natures! – it’s also important to remember that we evolved alongside our domesticated animals, both pet and pastoral, and through this coevolution we all have become different creatures. Marc Bekoff, a former Guggenheim fellow and Professor Emeritus of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at UC Boulder who is interviewed extensively in the episode, explains that these bonds of coevolution are strengthened by the presence of mirror neurons in both humans and common pets – that is, dogs and cats. Mirror neurons are what enable us to feel the emotions of another creature, be they of our species or another. As Bekoff puts it, they are “the neural basis for empathy…[required] for the formulation and maintenance of social bonds.” In other words, that prize human emotion – the one that leads to self-awareness, to social structure, to emotional relationships – is, in fact, not human at all.

Now, I’m not saying we shouldn’t point out the often elitist – or at least excessively moral – human paradigm that we, as a species, tend to impose on the rest of the planet’s animals. And it’s important to note that these animals are not human – they are close to us, but they are not, and never will be the same as us. As one of the dog owners interviewed in the opening sequence says, “they’re another tribe…and what I really love about dogs and cats is that they’re not like us.”

So watch the documentary. Though be warned, it might bring you to tears –I know it did me – the kind of hot, messy, gut-wrenching tears that we seem to save for the inevitable goodbyes to our pets.

It’s getting to be that time… I know it seems early, but before you know it the holidays will be here!

The HOLIDAYS…time for fun, celebration, too much to eat, and lots of togetherness. So you must be thinking…what about our pets? If you’re going away for the holidays, out of town for just a day or an extended stay or maybe just need to get out for a day of shopping…I can help with your furry friends. OK, they will miss you, but they get to stay in the comfort of their own home…no rushed visits to the vet or to an extended stay pet hotel! I’ll come to your home and give them all the love they can stand, and do all those daily chores that need doing. You come home and pick-up right where you left off! Just give me a “jingle” as soon as you get your schedule set and away you go…

Looking forward to it,

Jeanne & Co

Rub My Belly!

5.01: What the hell’s got into bullocks lately? First Dimbleby floored by a beast from his own herd, and now Tom Cruise inconvenienced in Cadiz, with seven bulls charging through the set of his latest film – apparently on their way to the beach.

(In fact, neither Tom Cruise nor co-star Cameron Diaz was even faintly inconvenienced by the holiday-making bovines: neither was even in the same city; neither even was in the same country. But two women were “slightly injured,” which will doubtless give rise to a Name-and-Shame campaign in the local red tops, featuring mugshots of bullocks skulking desultorily about public monuments).

And while we’re on animal news, how did I miss this story over the weekend? Breeders have been accused of creating “bizarre mutant cats.” Apparently, in this weird Chernobyl of cat stylists, some of “the animals’ tears do not drain away properly and cause breathing difficulties.”

Is there anything more gratuitously evil than suffocating your cat with its own tears? It’s the sort of thing I imagine Walt Disney getting up to in between torturing Communists and luring children into his gingerbread dungeon.

7.02: “Huge Ocean found on Mars,” The Mirror tells us. “A network of rivers once flowed from the planet’s southern highlands into a massive sea.” This is exciting and makes my 5am noodlings at the keyboard seem tiny and insignificant. But what strikes me is how different newspapers are now from 1957, when Sputnik was launched and the Daily Express ran Keats’ sonnet ‘On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer’ on its cover (really; its cover):

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He star’d at the Pacific — and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise —
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

I used to know someone who told me that reading that poem on the front of the paper made him decide in 1957 to go and study English literature. Sadly, in spite of winning a scholarship to the college of FR Leavis, circumstance intervened. A girl became pregnant, and he didn’t resume his studies for another four decades. Which was when I met him. I wrote a poem about him once; maybe I’ll drag it out and dust if off sometime. I might write one about the sea on Mars, but the Mirror’s lead today, “A Space Oddysea,” is somehow less motivating.

I’m hosting a give-away with some incredibly cool prizes, and I thought Steppie had a great idea to promote using Facebook and video.
Unfortunately, someone with a lack of video-editing skills, and a propensity to ramble… blame it on genetics (thanks Mom!)… probably should be barred from posting on YouTube.
My children and cats also worked against me, taking every opportunity to distract me, and causing a ten minute video to take an entire afternoon. Well, I wasn’t able to actually condense it down to ten minutes, which is YouTube’s maximum time limit… so instead, I split it into two halves.

First Half:

Second Half:

If rambling videos don’t suit your style, the contest summary is here:

The Give-away contest starts now, and ends at noon, Sunday the 29th of November.
There will be three winners, chosen by a name drawing.

• Each winner receives one of three prizes:
• …a geisha cat painting on fine-art paper,
• …a custom fantasy portrait,
• …and the winner’s choice of a open-edition print from one of my shops.

To enter the contest:
You need to become a fan of my Facebook fan page.
And secondly, please let me know you wish to be entered in the drawing.
You can comment on my Facebook Wall, or here on my blog. You can Twitter me, E-mail me, or Convo Me.

To gain additional entries into the contest (this was Steppie’s idea also):
You can promote my Fanpage and contest – on Facebook, Twitter, your blog, Etsy forum, refer your friends to become fans.
Send me the link where you mentioned me, use @taraflyphotos or #taraflyphotos in your tweets, or have your friends mention your
name when joining.
When you spread the word about the contest, I’ll add another entry for you.

I will be videotaping the drawing on Sunday; the video will be uploaded to YouTube and posted here, and the contest winners will be notified. I’ll require shipping addresses to send the prizes.

Important Note: I hold the rights to my artwork, and do not authorize anyone to reproduce and/or distribute my pieces for commercial purposes. The winner of the custom portrait may, however, make personal copies for family and friends.

Good luck to everyone!!!!!

Krum Kitty – January 1st, 1999 to November 23rd, 2009. We had to put our little Krum to sleep today. We’ll miss you buddy! Sadly, Kate & Jack have had to say good bye to 3 cats and their dog in the last 2 1/2 years (and some goldfish). It is an important part of life, I realize, but it has been very difficult on all of us.
the following is from a photo caption of Krum:
“Krum yawns, completely unaffected by his colorful journey. The sole survivor of a long-since-born frigid New Years’ day litter, let me tell you sometime about Krum’s fall to gamma-cat status, sad banishment, bloody attack on the un-cat man, terrific rescue by the un-dog man, re-abandonment, triumphant return, temporary ascension to alpha-cat royalty, and finally… giving up the seat once more.”

Good Bye our friend - See accompanying post

I think people have cats as pets because they think cats are more independent, more self-sufficient and are much less troublesome than dogs. That’s what I had thought too. Not so much anymore…

In October of 2008, during a very unnecessary (and absolutely heartbreaking) trip to the Humane Society, I found Coco (well, at the time her name was Kay-Kay). She was adorable; sticking her little paw through her cage, looking up at me with those “please take me home” eyes. I couldn’t resist. (Yes, I am a 23 year old cat owner. It’s ok; you can insert the crazy old cat lady joke here).  Much to my roommates’ dismay, I brought her home (my mom insisted that if I didn’t, she would).

And then she peed on my bed.  Lovely.

A few days later and she was litter box trained, thank God, and things were running smoothly.  My roommates loved her, she was so cute and cuddly and we loved playing with her.

And then she fell down a hole.  That’s right.  A hole.  Well, a heating vent duct actually.  As my apartment had been recently renovated, there were no covers over our heating vents, there were just wide-open holes.  Of course, we had covered them, but in her “I’m a fun little kitten” inquisitiveness, she pushed aside our temporary cover while chasing a ball of foil and whoops, like Alice, down the hole she went.  Hysterics and a call to the fire department ensued.  Eventually (with no help from the fire department might I add) my roommates, my friend who was visiting and I were able to extract her from the maze of heating ductwork spiderwebbing the basement ceiling.  $200, a 4am trip to the emergency room at the MSPCA-Angell Animal Hospital, a hellish bathtub de-sooting later and we were back to “normal.”

And then, a month later, she had to wear this as a result of licking herself too much after she was spayed:

And then I had to buy her these:

The LeBistro water dish (the blue water cooler-looking thing) was bought when I started spending more time away from the apartment and when she started overturning her more traditional water dish, getting water everywhere (one night, she flipped over her water dish three times in a row).  This one makes sure she gets enough water, but she’s still managed to spill it, hence the duct tape.  The LeBistro automatic feeder (the HUGE, cream colored contraption) came when she, due to daylight savings time, started waking me up at 5am to feed her.  I could have just filled her bowl up at night so that she would have food in the morning, but, unlike most cats that have some common sense and self control when it comes to eating, she will finish an entire bowl of food (no matter how much or how little) before leaving the room (no wonder she’s 12lbs).

She’s a little pain in the butt sometimes, but we love her.  And now that we have a laser pointer, she’s quite the entertainer too.

So as it turns out cats (or at least Coco) aren’t as independent or self-sufficient or as trouble-free as I had thought.  Here I was getting a cat thinking that yeah, she’d be a little work, but she’s definitely been a challenge.  It’s funny how things work out that way, the way you never think they would.  I guess life never really turns out the way you think it will, and if crazy little Coco isn’t an example of that, then I don’t know what is…

I had the best weekend. And I didn’t spend all of it in bed or in front of the television! (Surprise!)

I sold $115 in clutter today and Sunday. The best part about getting rid of clutter, to me, is that I’m able to make money while doing it. It’s a double whammy! I no longer have to clean the things or store them or see them, and I get paid to do all that!

I’m going to do a more detailed post on my clutter selling and what de-cluttering has meant for our lives so far later.

This weekend, of course, meant the opening of New Moon: Twilight Saga. I went with my mom on Saturday. I actually mixed the show time up so we had an hour and a half before the movie started.

We walked around our downtown area and visited a bunch of shops that I’ve previously wanted to visit but never found the time for. I found some great stuff. But I didn’t buy anything. One shop was a home decor shop that had some photos by a local photographer that were just breathtaking. But they’re $135 each. I really want to hang them above our bed. They’re black and whites of our downtown area.

I also found some shops with handmade things imported from third world countries. It’s just so cool to find stores that aren’t chains with typical goods. I like the idea of buying things for our home and having a story to tell behind each object.

New Moon was fantastic, a huge improvement from Twilight. I can understand why people who haven’t read the books (or who tried to read the books but didn’t like them) wouldn’t like the movie. But, to me, it was the perfect embodiment of the book on the big screen.

Yesterday, D and I spent the day with his family. They have their Thanksgiving dinner on the Sunday before Thanksgiving so everyone can come. I feel so at home with his family. More at home than I do with my father’s side of my own family. His grandmother is over 80 years old, but she still works full time and runs around like a 30 year old. She is truly amazing.

We also went to the mall so I could show him an example of what I wanted for Christmas. He decided to go wallet shopping alone so I offered to give him an example of the style I liked. Okay, I admit it. I was just terrified I was going to look in the stocking on Christmas morning and see a puke-green pleather wallet.

But once we got to the mall, we found the perfect wallet. It’s Aigner with all of the compartments I desperately need for a wallet (for cash, change, check book and lots of cards). And! It was only $40! Plus, it was on clearance! I was in heaven. So he bought it while I was there.

I’ve already got his Christmas gifts all planned out. I’ve bought the concert tickets. Then I’m going to buy this goofy copy of Star Trek on DVD that comes with a space ship and some personalized M&Ms with his picture on them. Ha ha ha! I’m so excited.

We also bought Christmas decorations this weekend. Instead of having a Christmas tree, since we can’t have a real one and I’m adamantly opposed to fake trees, we’re going to hang garland on our windows and hang Christmas tree decorations from them.

We decided to buy a cat condo for the kitties to play and sleep on since we have more space now that I’ve gotten rid of the DVD shelves. Yesterday, we switched around some of our furniture to make room for the condo in the corner by the window. I hope the cats enjoy it.

I finished my paper today. It’s not due until Wednesday so I’m really shocked that I finished it so early. It’s definitely not like me. I’m usually up until the wee hours of the morning the day the paper is due, furiously typing.

I’m so ready for Thanksgiving dinner with my family this Thursday. I love the holidays. And all the leftovers I get to take home as a result!

Total spent this weekend:

Friday: No spend day!

Saturday: No spend day!

Sunday: Wal-Mart, $18.47 (Christmas decorations)

Amazon, $60 (my half of a cat condo, for the cat’s Christmas present)

Total spent: $78.47

I think I am just getting back into the swing of things.  Being sick takes a lot out of you, dangit!  Not only did I not get my workouts in but the house is a disaster.  I hate when the house gets all cluttered.  Sometimes it seems so much harder to get it all cleaned up than when you can just maintain it on a daily basis.  Jason is off tomorrow.  I’m thinking of a honey-do list as I write this.

I had leftover cabbage salad Friday night.  I also made stuffed acorn squash.  Nothing to exciting. What was exciting was the blueberry bounty buns that I made Sunday morning.  I snagged the recipe from Vive le Vegan!  I am so in love with these little things.  They are kinda like a cross between a muffin and a scone.  You must try for yourself!

So, back into the swing of things was my typical Monday.  Sometimes that alarm time comes all to soon. I am still trying not to drink to much coffee.  I was having a hard time staying hydrated while I was sick.  The lack of my Monday morning coffee may be to blame for the sha-bang headache I had all afternoon.  Grrr… I wanted to do something for a little workout, even though my headache hadn’t gone away yet.  It had been over a week since my travels and then being sick.  I settled for yoga on demand.  I love fit tv.  Sometimes it is just what I needed.  Plus, it always has several Jillian Michaels workouts.

Dinner was also quick.  Tuna salad wrap with mustard(s), celery, pickles, fire roasted peppers, avocado and spinach.

It was just enough and not too much.

Following dinner, I had a Dove Promise… Not the one my Gracy stole from the bowl of leftover Halloween candy though.  I first discovered this little habit when we got home from our trip.  No worries, I thought.  Possibly just a little acting out from the being left alone for four days.  Tonight, I came home to find three different pieces throughout the house! Kitties!

Gracy

Looks can be deceiving…

As has been told in previous tales, my girlfriend and I have two female cats. Cat #1 has been around since 2005, and Cat #2 came on the scene a year or so later. They lived in small apartments together and even survived several moves to new homes without killing each other. They weren’t the types of felines that you see on the sickeningly adorable calendars that cuddle together as they sleep. It was more of a sleep with one eye open relationship that they shared. Four months ago they were split apart when my girlfriend moved to her own apartment in order to be closer to her job, taking Cat #2 with her. Cat #1 stayed with me, and suddenly they were each happier than they’d been in years. We often wondered and discussed what would happen if they ever had to live under the same roof again.

Yesterday, they were reunited.
Today, the world is still reeling from this catastrophe.

Just eight hours ago my girlfriend got on a plane to go to Germany for her job and I had volunteered to take care of Cat #2 in my home while she was away. Moments after this reunification took place I knew that it was in my best interest to keep a diary for the next week in order to detail the carnage.

DAY ONE – Sunday

Today, Cat #2 was brought over in the typical pet taxi fashion. I had just experienced a forty-five minute car ride with her continuously hollering off beat to the music that was playing so I was ready for some peace and quiet. I didn’t make it more than two feet in the door of my apartment when the creatures made eye contact with one another. Cat #1 began to hiss and showed fangs that up until now, I had thought only existed in vampire movies. The cat carrier began to shake violently as though a wounded rhinoceros was being held captive within. When the carrier was opened, Cat #2 bolted from her plastic prison while Cat #1 was immediately locked away in the bedroom for the season. I headed out the apartment door to get the remaining luggage from the car and Cat #2 bolted out behind me, and decided to head for the hills. She ran towards the parking lot, but due to excess body fat and a full fur coat, paired with the pressures of a rather unintelligent animal experiencing sheer panic and terror, she didn’t make it far before realizing that she had no idea where she was going in the first place. Thank goodness cats don’t have GPS devices or she may have made it all the way to Reno before I caught up with her.

The rest of the day was spent watching the two cats throw icy glares back and forth while listening to a series of guttural growling, hissing, and spitting. It was a lot like watching teenage girls interact during my high school years. Cat #1 didn’t sleep in the bed that night as usual. She stayed stationed on the computer desk, fully alert and ready to protect her home from the intruder. I assume that she was expecting some sort of sneak attack that never came. To make up for this, she took out her aggression on my Venetian window blinds. May they rest in peace.

DAY TWO – Monday

I awoke this morning to the dulcet tones of two felines attempting to rip the hides off of each other. My girlfriend slept soundly through this racket while I risked life and limb to separate the animals. I crept quietly into the bathroom to get ready for the trip to the airport and Cat #1 entered behind me, completing her usual morning routine of getting in my way. Without warning, Cat #2 also wandered in to join the party. Suddenly realizing that they were mere inches from one another, both cats jumped in shock and attempted to turn themselves inside out. Cat #2 fled the room while Cat #1 fled into a wall. Eventually we headed to the airport and the whole trip I silently prayed that I would not return to the apartment to find a cat corpse. I didn’t think I had it in me to host a cat funeral before the day was over.

During my lunch break I went home only to find cat vomit all over the floor with the five o’clock news playing in the background. I had left the television on in an attempt to distract them from trying to murder each other, hoping that the mundane daytime television would put them to sleep like it always does with me. While cleaning up the mess, I wondered what had caused the illness. Part of me figured that Cat #1 was so stressed out by the invader that she couldn’t keep her food down while another part of me suspected that maybe the Tyra Banks show had come on the television while I was away.

Upon returning home from work, it was another night of scowling and hissing on their part while I attempted to decompress for the day. I tried brushing Cat #1 to bring her stress levels down a bit, but the more I caressed her, the angrier she appeared to get. I quickly gave up on that mission and headed into another room. On my way out, the brush clattered to floor behind me. I wondered if maybe Cat #1 had thrown it at me as payback for inconveniencing her usual routine of sleeping and shedding all over my clothes. Even if she had tossed it, I probably just would have been impressed since she doesn’t have thumbs.

DAY THREE – Tuesday

Imagine my delight when I woke this morning to the sound of my alarm clocking instead of the howls of feral felines. I felt refreshed and hoped that whatever had cat drama had existed the night prior had been put solved in a civil manner that involved a lot of licking. I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom for a shower. Like usual, I pulled open the cupboard below the sink to grab a towel and was greeted with a flurry of claws and spittle as Cat #1 lunged towards my face. At some point during the night, she had created herself a bunker within the cabinet in order to hide from the intruder cat. Having clearly activated the defense system that she had put into place, I reflexively slammed the door closed and heard the thump of her body smacking into the wooden barrier that now stood between us.

Shower complete, I headed into the kitchen for some coffee. Cat #2 sat nonchalantly on the couch. She glanced over at me and gave a look as if to say “when is that Cat in the cabinet just going to get over it?” I silently commiserated with her while heading out the door to work.

Upon my return home tonight I found the floor covered in a fluffy gray substance that looked an awful lot like cat hair, but I’m not one to jump to conclusions. Cat #1 is mostly gray in color and the sheer amount of fluff that now covered the living room floor led me to consider the possibility that she had recently exploded in that general area. After a quick walk around and finding the cats hiding out on polar opposite sides of the apartment I returned to the living area to ponder today’s mess.

I sat down on the couch to think a moment and soon realized that what I was staring at weren’t actually the remains of an animal or the scene of a recent brawl, but rather the remains of the throw pillow that would normally be situated beside me. I began to wonder the costs I would incur from having to eventually replace the majority of my household items. Seeing the mangled mass of fabric and stuffing also made me fear for what they might do to me in my sleep.

DAY FOUR – Wednesday

This morning was a peaceful one. Due to the peacefulness I experience upon waking, I suspected that the civil unrest might have ended. I only thought this way because it was the first time that I had been awake for more than thirty seconds without a feline making an attempt on my life. Cat #2 was noisily bathing herself on the kitchen floor while Cat #1 was once again hidden away in her cabinet bunker, possibly building a small nuclear arsenal.

When I arrived home from work, I found that Cat #1 had relocated and was now sitting atop the refrigerator glaring across the desolate plane that is my apartment. Her eyes met mine and shared a look that told me she was now staging a sit-in until the interloper was forced to leave. I attempted to give her a return look that would explain that sitting very still in one place is pretty much her normal day-to-day activity and thus I couldn’t take her threat seriously. She never moved, so I’m not sure if the message got across, but then again, how would ever I know?

DAY FIVE – Thursday

The events of this morning led me to believe that perhaps the cats had finally settled their differences and had bonded together to fight the common enemy holding them captive: me. At some point during their late night scheming session, it was decided that some sort of chemical warfare was the best way to combat me.

Both cats have made a hobby out of heavily shedding their fur. They shed when they’re hungry, they shed when they’re bored, and they shed whenever they are within radius of whatever I am eating or drinking. I hadn’t been awake for five minutes when I realized that both the entire bed and myself were covered in a pelt of cat hair. This fluffy yet durable substance acted like a primitive net, making it difficult for me to get out of the bed.

After escaping their trap before they could do horrible, four-toed deeds to me, I noticed that the cat dander in the air was downright palpable. With every breath, I inhaled more of their bio-weapon and soon I was down on my hands and knees gasping for air. I was able to crawl over to the air purifier in the corner and switched it on, cranking it up to the highest setting. I then did what any other allergy sufferer would do and tore off the filter apparatus on the back and attempted to stick my head inside of it in hopes that it would suck the tiny spore attackers from my body. In the minutes following the vacuuming of my lungs I went to work pulling individual cat hairs from my nose and mouth region. What I removed from my nasal cavity alone created a furry ball of hair roughly the size of another housecat.

I moved towards the porch door in an attempt to flee to fresher air not noticing the minefield of feline excrement that paved the way. After one squishy step I realized that they had bested me yet again and it was becoming apparent that they had the upper hand in this war. I fled toward the shower to cleanse myself of the defeat and began to barricade the bathroom door behind me with random toiletries. It appeared that I was no longer the master of the house.

DAY SIX – Friday

As quick as they were to lash out at one another, they were even quicker to bond together when one of them had the epiphany that if they both meowed simultaneously then their food bowls would fill up twice as fast. This synchronized hollering also worked to get them fresh water, treats, a clean litter box, and table scraps. When I disappointed them they were quick to squeal and scratch and bite. The only way to soothe the savages was to brush them, however they were not happy with the fact that I only owned one grooming tool. This got me a set of claw marks on my forearm. As the racket went on, following me around the apartment I wore myself out attempting to please them. It was becoming increasingly obvious that these cats now owned my soul.

DAY SEVEN – Saturday

After a sleepless night full of meowing and thunderous purring I decided that the best way to deal with the cats was simply to not be at home. I looked for any reason to be away from my apartment. After inviting myself to my best friends’ nieces birthday for some cake and games (I’d never met that side of the family before) and becoming a third wheel on another friends first date to catch a movie (he probably won’t be seeing her again), I began to tire and soon returned to my apartment to find my entertainment center slightly askew, the ceiling high bookcase knocked over, and the contents of both cats stomachs greeting me. I realized that my girlfriend’s flight was about to come in, so as quickly as I’d arrived, I took off for the airport hoping that one cat might figure out how to turn on the gas stove and another might figure out how to light a match, and the problem might just kind of take care of itself.

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I am a dog person — no doubt about it. Oh, I’ve had cats before… two to be exact. A beautiful black and white cat — Miss Kitty — that walked through my front door one day when I was in high school and never left. The other cat was her daughter. Miss Kitty ran away during a little get-together I was having and returned three days later, pregnant. So, for a while I had two cats. But, after I had been away at college for a couple of years, my mom was tired of sneezing — she was highly allergic to cats. Miss Kitty and her kitty spawn went to live on a farm — never to be heard from again. But, this story is about the dogs.

Growing up, our family dog was a beautiful Collie named Honey. Honey was extremely smart, to us anyway. She would come when we called her. She would sit when we told her. She would play with us when we wanted — and she would leave us alone when we wanted. My parents got her when I was just under a year old. We grew up together. Honey was an outside dog. Some of my favorite memories about Honey are from when it was cold outside — when it got too cold, my mom would let her come inside. We would spread a towel in front of the fireplace and Honey would go straight to that towel. Never even attempting to move off of it until we told her. On many of those cold nights, we would sneak the towel to our rooms and place it on the floor next to our beds so Honey would sleep there, with us.

Honey got hit by a car — and survived. She got hit by a motorcycle — and survived. She stopped chasing cars and motorcycles. But, it was too late. Her reckless ways led to arthritis and eventually, I awoke one morning to discover that her back legs were paralyzed. The vet said there was nothing to be done — she was fifteen and that was very old for a dog. I said my good-byes and Dad took her to her final journey to the vet.

Now, when you have a dog as good as Honey, it really puts all other dogs at a disadvantage. I vowed then to never have a dog unless it could be proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the new dog was as great as Honey.

My husband and I had rented a cabin on the lake to celebrate our one year wedding anniversary — I was twenty-four. Honey had passed away nine years earlier and still no dog had entered my life (pause for jokes about my husband being a dog and entering my life). We were eating lunch at the marina before heading out to fish and enjoy the boat on such a glorious summer day. Staring through the door into the restaurant was the cutest dog we had ever seen — she looked just like a Golden Retriever. But, she was tiny, only seventeen pounds. We commented to each other about how lucky someone was to have that dog, waiting for them to finish their meal. But, patron after patron left the marina, and the little dog stayed… staring through the door. When we were leaving, we asked the waitress if that dog belonged to anyone. She laughed and told us that it had been hanging out around the lake for a couple of weeks.

As soon as we heard that, we knew — this would be our dog. But still, we were on vacation and we had plans to enjoy the week at the lake. We left the marina, got in the car, drove around the lake back to our cabin — I watched in the side view mirror as the little dog trotted along behind us… the whole way. We got back to the cabin and ran inside, quickly closing the door. When we finally opened the door to exit, there was the dog — sitting there, staring at the door. From that moment on, she was ours. We spent the rest of our vacation taking her to the vet, bathing her (we counted 37 ticks on her little body), and running to the store to buy a collar and dog food. That was our lake vacation, taking care of our new little puppy.

We named her Lucy after Lucille Ball (her coat was strawberry blond). This was the dog who could help me get over the loss of Honey. The vet estimated her age at about two years when we found her. She was brilliant. Everyone loved Lucy. Every night we tucked her into bed with us. Everyday when we returned from work, there she was…waiting for us. She could spell — we had to spell words that would get her excited — g-o, o-u-t, w-a-l-k. But, she still knew what we were talking about. Every time we brought one of our children home after their birth, she was waiting for us at the door . She knew with each new human addition, that her role as a dog became more prevalent.

When Lucy was around eight years old, we felt bad about continuing to have real children, so we decided to get her a dog of her own. My son was just a few months old when we got Scout — who herself was only a few weeks old. A lady at work had a Husky who inadvertently had relations with the neighbors Yellow Lab — we took one of the dogs off her hands. Scout was adorable as a puppy — and just what Lucy needed to fill the void of our growing absence from her life. Scout immediately bonded with us and our kids. And, although Scout weighed about eighty pounds more than Lucy, Lucy was always in charge. Scout would wait for the “OK” from Lucy before she ate or drank. If she ran off, Lucy would bark a couple of times and back Scout would bound. Lucy had a baby of her own.

When Lucy died, we were all deeply affected. Her death came just months after my father had passed away. We cried for days… still cry now at the memories we didn’t get to experience. We buried her in our back yard. The kids all placed an item in her grave to ease her journey. I said a prayer. And Scout stood there, bewildered — the loss could be seen in her eyes, straight to her soul. For weeks, we couldn’t get Scout to eat. She paced the house at night, scared to settle down. She wouldn’t walk outside unless we walked beside her. Lucy had taken care of her all those years. Lucy was the one who woke us up in the middle of the night when Scout suffered a stroke. Lucy was the one who came and got us when Scout hurt her leg and couldn’t walk. The loss for Scout was beyond measure.

So, once again, we decided that Scout needed a dog of her own. To hopefully get her out of her depression. Just a few months after Lucy had passed, we went to the shelter — just to look. If you’ve ever been to a shelter with your children, you know that just looking is not an option. There he was, the most adorable ball of fur we had ever seen. He was shaking with fear, so timid. We spent about thirty minutes with him before I filled out the paper work to make him our own. The workers told me he was a cross between a Blue-Heeler and an Australian Shepard and would be about forty-five pounds — we had struck gold. Boo would be his name (yes, there’s a To Kill A Mockingbird theme in our house). Boo passed the forty-five pound mark when he was about four months old. Turns out the shelter worker was a little off on his breed combination theory — the vet says Great Pyrenees is more likely in his blood. Our adorable ball of fur now weighs about 120 pounds.

But, he did his job. He brought Scout out of her depression. He gave her a reason to be the adult. Scout lets Boo know when he is allowed to eat and when he should come in. Boo exercises his free will a little more than Scout ever did. And, he definitely is having trouble learning the leave us alone when we want trick. We’re still hoping the smart gene kicks in on him, soon — he’s a little over a year old now — we’re tired of waiting.

Scout is getting older, she is twelve now and not in very good condition. The stroke left her with some lingering problems. The torn ACL in her knee requires that she use the wheelchair ramp in the back of our house to get in and out. But she smiles… still, and she loves Boo — so we try to follow her prompts and love him too. We will miss Scout when she’s gone… we try to prepare ourselves for that time — we weren’t prepared for Lucy’s death.

But for now, we love our dogs. They keep us safe. They keep us entertained. They help us understand unconditional love — lessons they don’t even realize they’re teaching us. I am a dog person — no doubt about it.

Oil on linen, 6″ x 6″. In fond memory of that year when Mom and I were so crazy that we dressed the cat up in baby clothes.

Also vaguely related to thoughts of Lewis Carroll’s Alice.

Winnie is a 10-year-old Maine coon mix.

Winnie is one of the many gorgeous senior felines in our Cutest Senior Cat Contest on Facebook. She is a beautiful 10-year-old Maine Coon mix cat who needs a home.

This gentle fluff ball is is afraid of other cats but once she gets to know you, Winnie is affection personified. She has a foster home, thanks to a volunteer from Anjellicle Cats.

But Winnie needs a place to call her own. If you would like to help her, go to OldCatsRule on Facebook for more information.

We’ve been touched by the response to the Cutest Senior Cat Contest — and it’s thanks to the community. The contest runs until December 16 and the winner will be announced December 28.

I had never actually cornered an animal until a week or so ago. A tiny bunny ventured into our backyard and our little kids closed in on it wondering if it actually yielded Peeps or Jelly Beans as commonly misconceived by our young audiences. As they corralled the cowering lil’ bunny I had the image of Monty Python’s Holy Grail “that’s no ordinary bunny” scene and laughed at the possibility. For a moment my boys gently pet the wild animal and experienced “the wild” as can only be experienced in city limits with the exception of traveling petting zoos and smelly pet stores. From that point in the week I have dealt with a few wild animal issues that led to the inclination to write about it in this venue since I can easily draw the relevance to this site.
“Bees your weapons are useless against them” – Tommy Boy

Honey bees in an apartment wall can be a very bad thing. I must have the greatest tenant ever, he was cordial and understanding about the weird happenstance and put up with the little noisy producers of sweetness but quite scary in groups protected class of insects. As they became trapped inside the apartment they died off in hundreds in the window that would not provide them a path to freedom. The moral of the story here, if you limit their access in and out, the thousands who are trapped in stay trapped so be careful which direction you send them. Oh, and make sure you call a bee-keeper not an exterminator for honey bees.
The smallest of animals always create the most damage.

On more than one occasion small dogs and even cats have ruined all the flooring in a few of the rentals I lord over. It is hard to imagine how something so small can cause thousands of dollars worth of damage. I have the receipts to prove it. I am yet to meet a pet owner that openly admits that their pet is not house-broken and urinates like a pirate anywhere and everywhere. We often convince ourselves that domesticating something intended to be free and wild can yield positive results indoors. Moral: check up on tenant’s pets as frequently as possible. The longer you wait the more expensive the repairs become. Tenant’s, when you find yourself thinking “it’s just a [enter pet type]….it will live” that is when you should give the pet away to a caring family immediately. Please.
Raccoons don’t belong in your air ducts.

If you have open holes in your home/property cover them with paper first. If a couple of days go by without the paper being dislodged or torn away, you can surmise that there are no animals in your dwelling and you can safely cover the opening. Guess what happens when you trap an animal inside with nowhere to go? We found a raccoon with its’ arm stretched out of a wall vent like a prisoner reaching for keys. You can imagine that a trapped animal will go crazy after being stuck in walls less than 6″ wide. Lesson learned: call a animal removal specialist first, they should give you helpful hints and suggestions before they make it there and charge you. Even if they have to remove the animal it is not to expensive and well worth paying for compared to the alternatives. A good visual inspection of the property monthly will help prevent all sorts of pestilence from your walls and air conditioning.
Big dogs bark very loudly.

The best security system is not always a big dog as many people seem to think. Big dogs in backyards make perfect sense, big dogs in 1 bedroom apartments simply do not. I will let you know in on a little secret, leave the TV on instead. Most people looking to steal rob and pillage will keep on walking if they think someone is home. Sure big dogs will do the trick, but the moral of this entire entry is don’t keep animals in spaces they don’t belong. Pets will literally go crazy if they are kept in environments not suitable for their kind. Crazy big dog equals a very dangerous situation.

How much fun are puzzles?

Lori truly enjoyed how Oreo played with that puzzle! Sometimes fun happens when least expected.

Not much to say, except that this post makes me feel a little like a crazy cat lady. Good thing they’re not just my cats. They were super cute this weekend, especially on Sunday when they spent most of the day sleeping.

The doctor will see you now

How cute is this?

What do you want?

Tuckered out

"Why wont you just let me have the cord on that camera?"

Snoozing

Fifth nap of the day?

Again, too cute.

"We're sleeping here"

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Since I posted my usual Monday Smiles post five hours ago, my son has denied that he turned up the thermostat.  He’s an honest man, so I believe him, which leaves several possibilities: (1) Older Eyes’ older eyes misread the thermostat – which wouldn’t explain why it was hot in the house;  (2) Older Eyes misread the thermostat and was having a hot flash;  (3) Older Eyes turned it up himself while he was watching the Lakers last night but suffered an Extreme Senior Moment, forgetting he did it;  (4) the cat did it.    Since (1) through (3) would make me feel too much older,  I vote for (4).

We don’t have children… so take a look at our cute cat!