Incoherent Scribblings

My kitties were totally bummed that they didn’t get tagged for the cat-meme that has been making the rounds. I told them that if they wanted to play they didn’t have to wait for a tag, they should just answer… So they did!

Mouse in Sink
Originally uploaded by blondelibrarian.

Hello, Mouse here. I have hijacked this blog before and since at 13 ½ years old I am the oldest cat in the house, I will naturally go first.

1. I would have to say that my favorite thing to do is to drink water directly from the bathroom sink. I have been known to sit in the sink for hours until someone finally turns on the faucet so that I can get a drink.
2. I like to consider myself the “Queen Bitch” of our household and pretend that I merely tolerate the others that live here. However, when I am sure no one is watching, sometimes I play with Harley.
3. I like to help my humans with whatever they are doing whenever possible. I especially like to weave myself through Renée’s legs when she is cooking in the hopes that she will give me a treat of human food.
4. When I am displeased about something I like to smack. I smack people (ask the vet), but my favorite thing to smack is Scooter.
5. With my long hair it is a necessity that I am brushed regularly and I like to be brushed… But only when I am in the mood!
6. For some reason Renée is mean and won’t let me go outside. Therefore when the windows are open I love to sit in them and press my nose against the screen and breathe in all of those interesting smells.

Peas in a Pod (l)Scooter (r)Harley
Originally uploaded by blondelibrarian.

Now that Mouse is finished, I guess I can go. I am Scooter, am 9 ½ years old, and this is what I like to do:

1. I am a pretty big kitty (about 15 pounds) and according to Renée, the reason I am so big is because I like to eat. I prefer to eat without chewing my food and sometimes I eat so much and so fast that I throw it back up… That’s OK though, if Renée doesn’t clean it up right away, I will eat it again later.
2. I like to pretend that I am a big tough cat and sometimes try to bully Mouse… And for some reason, that is usually when I get smacked!
3. I like to sit on the edge of the bathtub when Renée is taking a bath or shower. I am not sure why she likes to get wet everyday, but if I observe her long enough maybe someday I will figure it out.
4. I am quite fond of pretending that I am a bookend. Renée has a bookshelf with a shelf that only has few books on it and whenever I can I sit there and prop them up for her.
5. Sometimes when I am feeling frisky I run and around and try to look cute. I must be doing something right because it makes Renée laugh… I only wish I knew what “galloping” meant.
6. Along with eating, I also like to sleep. In fact, that is what I spend most of my time doing!

And finally, we come to the five-year old baby of my family: Harley. Not only is she the baby of the family she is quite shy, so I really had to coax her answers out of her.

1. I guess the thing that I like to do most is hide. For example, one of the things that frightens me most is the doorbell. Whenever I hear it I hide behind the stereo speakers and hiss at anyone (including Renée) that comes near me for the next hour.
2. When I am not hiding, I like to be near Renée. She says that she thinks I have something called “attachment disorder” because I follow her everywhere and when I can’t find her I cry pitifully.
3. I really like to help Renée when she does crafts. I don’t find cross stitching very interesting anymore, so I usually just sit beside her when she does it, but knitting… now that is a different story all together! There is just something about that yarn that I can’t resist!
4. Before A. decided that we cats weren’t allowed in the bedroom anymore, I used to like sleeping right next to Renée’s pillow at night. Sometimes she would use me as a pillow and I would get uncomfortable, but I didn’t really mind all that much.
5. I also like to eat and find our cat food delicious. In fact, I find it so good that when I am offered people food I just turn my nose up at it and walk away.
6. If I can’t be near Renée, I like to be near Scooter: He is my big brother and protector and he plays with me. To show him how much I love him, I like to wash his face and even though I don’t mean to, sometimes I even pull out his whiskers.

There you have it. You now know more about what my cats than you probably ever wanted to, but this is my blog so I don’t care! And if you are owned by one or more cats and would like to answer this meme, feel free to do so.

I suppose that if you haven’t actually read one of the amazing animal stories where the dog thwarts the burglar or the cat wakes up the family just in time to save the baby from a raging fire you have heard about them.

While I usually take note of the amazing dog stories, when it comes to incredible cat stories I just eat them up. I love the stories of the cats who miraculously survive riding for 500 miles on the engine block of a car and the tales of the cats who wander for hundreds of miles and many years only to return “home” after the family moves away.

It has often been said that animals possess some sort of instinctual knowledge concerning danger and I never doubted it, but what never ceases to amaze me are the accounts of cats who somehow warn their family of threatening situations such as natural disasters or fires.

Now natural disasters are not necessarily common in my household, but domestic disasters on the other hand are… especially in the kitchen. Tonight being a case in point.

It started out simply enough when I decided to make stroganoff and steamed broccoli for dinner. Usually when I cook I am pretty good at finishing everything at roughly the same time, but since I have only made this recipe one other time my timing wasn’t as precise as usual and as a result, the broccoli and the noodles for the stroganoff were both done at exactly the same moment.

Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem, but both needed strained before they got mushy. (I hate mushy food!) I managed to get them strained before they turned to mush, but in my haste I replaced the pans on the stove after I emptied them.

I sat down to eat, and as usual, A. and I were eating our meal in the company of the cats: Mouse was begging for food and soon after we sat down, Scooter wandered into the kitchen. However, instead of sitting beside the table, Scooter sat in front of the stove and within seconds began meowing loudly. When I turned my head to see what he was crying about, the light on the stove caught my attention. Not only had I left the stove on, two of the burners were still on high and an empty pot was sitting on one of them!

I got up and removed the pot, grateful to see that except for an abnormally red patch on the burner where the pot had been no damage had been done. However, I quickly realized that a domestic disaster had narrowly been averted thanks to my own personal smoke detector (aka Scooter).

It all started on Thursday evening about 9:30 p.m. I went into the bedroom and proceeded to hang up a small pile of clothes that was on the bed. It consisted of my bathrobe, A.’s raincoat, and the jeans that I had been wearing earlier in the day. I folded the jeans and put them in the closet.

I then picked up the raincoat and as I put it on the hanger I noticed that the sleeve was wet. This was interesting because it hadn’t rained at all that day. Suspicious, I brought the sleeve a little closer to my nose and discovered the distinctive scent of cat urine. Reluctantly I turned around and, as I feared, I was greeted by a large wet spot on the comforter.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that not only was my robe also damp, the jeans that I had just put into the closet (on top of all my other clean jeans) had not escaped a dousing either. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. and I had no choice but to do a load of laundry. I grumbled a lot because starting a load of laundry at 10:00 p.m. that will take two and half hours to wash is a pain when you want to go to bed around 11:00, but I could deal with that…

However, it gets better, because after all, this Germany and things are never as easy as they seem!

Continue reading →

It is nearly 11 pm and Scooter lies on his perch beside my computer table. If you glance over at him, he appears to be too weak to move. I, however, am not swayed by his appearance. He is a healthy 15 pound kitty who is performing his nightly ritual: Here we call it the “hunger coma.”

My cats are fed in the evenings between 10 and 11 pm. They are fed at this time so that they do not find that they are suddenly starving at 3:00 am and then proceed to wake me up to tell me all about it.

They are so used to this schedule that every night about 9:30, whether their bowls are empty or not, they start the Hunger Coma Ritual:

First they sit right beside or in front of me (all three in a row) and stare at me with big eyes. By now I am pretty good at ignoring this, but it doesn’t prevent them from doing it anyway.

After they have stared at me for about a half an hour, they pretend that they aren’t interested in what I might offer anymore and ignore me… until I get up. I might just be walking across the room to replace a book on a shelf, but as soon as I move they jump up and run in the direction of the food bowl. They seem to say, “Here, in case you have forgotten, let me remind you where the food bowl is.” We play this game for another half an hour. Whenever I move ever so slightly, they run to the food bowl and when they realize I am not coming to feed them, they return to sit in front of me again.

Finally, it is as if all of their stamina has been drained away by this cat and mouse game. They lie on the nearest piece of furniture or stretch out on the carpet and assume a position that might remind one of a dead rabbit or a beached whale. Though they may remind one of a completely incapacitated creature, their eyes remained fixed upon me, pleading with me to feed them before they surely starve to death.

At this point they have officially entered into hunger-coma-mode. Luckily for them though, by this time it is usually time for me to get ready for bed and so I take their bowls into the kitchen and (finally!) fill them up.

And these poor starving creatures that only minutes before didn’t even appear to have the strength to move suddenly materialize before my eyes like magic.

Finally! My computer is home and I have finished re-installing everything! Now, back to the business of my so-called life…

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Even though I have no children, I have as many toys strewn around my house as someone who does: CAT toys that is! Boxes, furry mice, tennis balls, little spongy balls, mice filled with catnip, etc. But even though I have this plethora of cat toys, there always seems to be a favorite, and for a long time it has been the Blue Mouse.

The Blue Mouse is merely a tear-dropped shaped piece of plastic covered with soft, almost natural feeling fur, though it is the most hideous turquoise blue color you can imagine. We have had many mice like this one: a white one, a brown one, a hot pink one, and finally the blue one.

For some reason this type of mouse has always been a favorite Scooter and Harley’s, explaining, I imagine, why we have had so many of them. The Blue Mouse has been quite a tough cookie though. We have had it for almost three years and though it regularly got pounced upon and carried around like the prize kill that I am sure Scooter and Harley thought it was and no longer had eyes or ears, it had remained in one piece until the other day.

On Tuesday of this week, I came into the bedroom after I got out of the shower and on the middle of the bed, nearly camouflaged by the varying shades of blue on my comforter, was the Blue Mouse. Next to it, Scooter was curled up; snoozing after what I can only imagine was a very “intense” play session. After scolding him about the fact that the Blue Mouse was on the bed, I picked it up, ready to toss it on the floor. Unfortunately, the Blue Mouse had seen better days; for when I picked it up, its tail stayed behind on the bed and I noticed that the blue fur was worn and falling off its poor little plastic body.

After a short memorial service where the cats and I paid our respects to the Blue Mouse, it was deposited in the trash can and when I reached into my bag of “replacement” cat toys, producing the Purple Mouse, forgotten.