I thought they were my pillows. I bought them. Bitch, please.
Turns out I was just holding them for somebody. Guess I’m sleeping on the couch.
Crazy cheap and kind of scratchy pillowcases and duvet cover by IKEA. Bought specifically for my cats to shed all over this winter. The duvet won’t fit in the washing machine, but the cover will. I’m lucky it’s getting a high approval rating.
People keep sharing articles with me about Hisakata Hiroyuki’s photography project with street cats. He captures what every cat owner knows: cats are amazingly bendy and can dance through the air. The photos are colorful and dynamic. I particularly like the one where a cat appears to be dancing in a twinkling field of flowers.
Every once in awhile, I try to recreate popular cat related experiments and photo shoots. I can assure you that my cats do not care about cucumbers. They spent most of the time licking them. We’ve tried Maru’s slide through a box: meh success. Years ago, Bella and I spent some time playing around with black and white photos after I attended a photo exhibit by Tony Mendoza of Ernie the Cat.
Practically as cool as Ernie the Cat.
So when Olivia Wigglebothum was begging for play time in a convenient sun spot, I gave kung fu kitty photos a chance. It became immediately clear that Hiroyuki has a better set up and/or far more coordination than I do. I’m right handed so the camera was steadiest in that hand, but my left hand’s ability to flip the string in an alluring way was suspect. However, 50 photos later there was some undeniable karate kitten cuteness.
Airborne, but blurry.
Caught it, but seems confused. I love her planted hind feet.
Had it! Cat tongue!Anticipation. Whiskers at the ready.
“Why are you camped out in the middle of the living room, in my direct path to the kitchen?”
Solar powered Miles has found the one scrap of sunbeam to break through this morning.
Happy Veteran’s Day. My favorite veteran was Gpa. Unfortunately, he passed away at the end of August this year after a long stay in a nursing home. I had some ideas about how to write about him, but nothing seemed quite right. He was 94 and had a full life well beyond his service and POW time in WWII.
The Kitten Room at the shelter is not much bigger than my bathroom; but like the Tardis, the Kitten Room’s power is way bigger on the inside.
In the Kitten Room I am a benevolent tree, an Ent if you will, being climbed by a horde of tiny, squirming creatures, all vying for cuddles. One rooted leg is assailed by a miniature black panther who gives up around my knee. The other leg supports a tiger who may have hit the weight limit for climbing jeans, as his needle-sharp claws dig deep into my hip. Meanwhile a tinier, wiggly tiger is running laps around my neck and periodically sticking his nose in my ear to demonstrate purr potential.
While the slightly larger tiger makes sleepy eyes at me from the crook of my arm, tinier tiger keeps zooming. He stops once in each lap to settle on the convenient shelf my chest makes and nose boop the calmer tiger. Then back to zooming.
Whenever I manage to sit down or bend over, a black and white, cow-spotted kitten gives me “soft pets,”patting at my face with insistent paws. This tears me up a bit as it immediately reminds me of Bella Luna’s possessive paw to my cheek when we first met at her shelter. Cow kitten then hangs out on the elevated foot of my crossed leg.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m covered in strange cat hair and strange smells. I will have to leave my shoes and clothes in the garage when I get home. Windowless, attached garages are essential for extended shelter cat petting. My cats will know I’ve been cheating on them with younger, more enthusiastic versions of themselves.
Since I didn’t fall madly in love and bring home a fifth,- this is the miracle of the day
– they’ll forgive me.
Sookie: “Stop it. I don’t want to be in your stupid picture.”
Me: “Then stop skulking around behind me. Lurker!”
Adding ridiculous photo filter of entirely fictional cat who actually likes me.
Sookie: “Now I really don’t want in your damned photo.”
Whoever creates the photo filter app that recognizes pet faces so I can put cartoon cat ears on my cats, will be a hero. Even as I type this, one is probably out there.
Olivia Wigglebothum is my in-house document shredder. All I have to do is leave something on the corner of the counter for a few days and …POOF! Confetti! The v-e-t thinks it feels good on her teeth.
With this in mind, a recent Amazon box became my gift to her.
I ordered a new cat carrier which arrived in a box five times its size. The box is taking up most of the living room floor. Several toddlers could nap in it.
The kicker is that the carrier wasn’t even assembled; I got that tedious as Hell job. However the pieces were wrapped in yards of brown butcher paper like it had been prepared for mummification.
I dropped the Wigglebothum in and told her to go town. Shred it, baby! She obliged.
Big eyes of excitement!
Thursday night the biggest “cat” left the milkweed and attached himself to the flap on the inside of the zipper of the enclosure.
Given his size and the amount of days that had passed, I guessed that this was a sign of the next stage. However I really hoped that he wouldn’t get too attached to the zipper. Most reviews of this enclosure said that their caterpillars attached their chrysalis to the top of the cube.
Not my guy though! At 6a.m. Friday, he was hanging in what one article called the “pre-pupal j form.” Still on that damn zipper.
When I got home around 4:30 he was still there, but even more squished in on himself. Barely an hour later when I checked back, there was a bright green chrysalis! It looks like a carved piece of jade with ridges and lines that create a blend of caterpillar and future butterfly.
In 9-14 days, if things go well, I should have a butterfly! I hope the other two hurry up as Ohio’s weather is being influenced by Harvey. It was 60 degrees today! That doesn’t seem like butterfly weather.
In other news, Miles still asserts that he is the baby.