Almost literally pouring cats and dogs at least in underground piping!

It’s been a busy week for one of my favorite shelters, Colony Cats and Dogs.

Monday, they helped to initiate the rescue of a dog trapped underground in a sewer pipe. They speculate that the dog was chasing critters into the pipe and got lost then trapped.

Tuesday led to more underground drama…with another happy ending which is a good thing or I think I would be a mess.

At about 11:30, I saw that the shelter had posted a video of their surveillance footage on their Facebook page. (Follow the link for videos) Around 4 am that morning, someone had left three very spry and curious kittens at the shelter’s door without containment. The kittens jump up to interact with the big cats behind the glass then, according to the volunteers, one stayed behind and the other two set off to the right of what is essentially a strip mall and giant parking lot full of businesses.

For once, for whatever reason, I decided to respond to the call for volunteers who could come search for the two wanderers who had  a 7 hour head start. I checked in with a volunteer who was cleaning the still closed shelter. She was a little hesitant as I’m not an official volunteer, but I’m familiar enough with the shelter and have adopted from there plus I was a warm body willing to aimlessly walk around in the rain looking for something the size of a softball.

She showed me the one kitten they had, a hissy little ball of fluff in the back of a giant carrier, and sent me on my way. I decided to walk around even though she suggested driving and said others had been driving around the area stopping at dumpsters, hoping food smells would attract the kittens.

I more or less decided to take a lap around the shopping center, checking out landscaping as I went. This plaza has an open courtyard midway with large hostas and dense shrubs which seemed like a good place to check out. I worked my way along the plant bed, and had  success when I bumped into some rain-soaked hostas. Two little bodies shot out from under the hostas, through a clear patch and under a shrub.


Brain went into panic mode. What to do? I pulled up Facebook and called the shelter where, of course, no one answered the phone. I tried a mother cat calling kittens video, but I only got sad little squeaks in return. It was an awkward spot and I was afraid that my flailing attempts to grab them would send one or both of the kittens shooting out into a busy parking lot next to an even busier road.

So I ran. I don’t run. I joke that I only run if bears or killers with chainsaws or bears with chainsaws are chasing me, but that I would eventually give up. Fortunately, the volunteer I had talked to and another woman saw me coming and frantically waving. Yes, I had found the kittens!

I followed them through the back alleyways behind all the shops as a quicker way back to the courtyard where we formed a human perimeter around the shrubs. I could see the little gray and white kitten crouched at the base of a shrub across from me. The volunteer scrambled down, grabbed it, and handed the squalling, soaked kitten to me.  I, of course, was ready to go full Lenny, tuck that kitten into my bosom and love it, until they directed me to put it in the carrier. The carrier, that was probably the more responsible route.

Mysteriously the black kitten was no longer there. In a matter of minutes, it had pulled a vanishing act. I was even second guessing what I had seen as people started to question me about finding BOTH the kittens there. But I remembered noticing its mittens as it scurried behind its sibling, an intrepid tuxie. When you’re permanently dressed like James Bond, you tend to also act like him.

Of all the kittens, it had to be least noticeable black one. Of all the weather  conditions, it had to be raining wavering back and forth from mild to pouring. As more volunteers arrived, we spent the next two hours repeatedly combing through the same bushes, crawling through mulch and grass, sure that the kitten was hidden in plain sight. (The dead mummified duck in the second set of bushes surprised me every time.)Crawling under larger bushes, dumpsters, and a concrete thing that I don’t know what it was for but there was A LOT of shit, including a cat bed, down in it. A volunteer with a heat sensor showed up and ran it over the dense bushes. We did expanding laps around the shopping center, and reconvened to theorize on kitten logic. Plates of smelly food were put out, live traps were discussed, but no one was really sure how to proceed. The rain made all of the open downspouts in the area an obvious and  horrifying possibility as to where the kitten could have gone to in such a short time.

I trudged back around to the shelter with the group feeling like a quitter, but completely unsure of what to do next. I was soaked from shoes to underwear and on the verge of  publicly crying if I stood there talking to people much longer. No matter how miserable I felt, that lost, wet, hungry, scared little furball wherever it was hiding was worse.

Home again, I took an extremely hot shower, put on dry clothes and tried to occupy myself while checking the Facebook thread every few minutes. Should I go back? What could I do? I resolved to go back in an hour if nothing had changed. Basically, my mind would be able to only contain one kitten and nothing else for the rest of the day. Then one of the searchers I had talked to, posted that they had heard some meowing in the courtyard area. Yes, I would go back! Except that they were now sure it was coming from a drain pipe. I was among the frantic back seat drivers, commenting and questioning what could be done!

For the second time in two days, a local fire station stepped in with Colony Cats to save a furry life. I watched video from a conveniently dry and unheroic spot in my house as the rescue was made. I am certain I recognized the boots of one of the early searchers who crawled around on the ground with me, and who, I’m pretty sure, said she was supposed to go to work that day. I know she was as soaked as I was when I last saw her; I don’t think she made it in to work.

I’m so grateful to have been able to help a bit and incredibly grateful that this worked out and that Piper, Pearl and Puck who have their own Facebook page now are safe and already have people clamoring to adopt them. Could time and resources have been saved if I had made a grab for two kittens on my own? I can’t know. Could the person who dropped them off have done so more responsibly? Ab-so-frickin-lutely!

Cole and Marmalade posted a story about the kitten rescue and the dog rescue the day before! They’re kind of a big deal in dorky cat obsessing worlds 🙂 If you’ve made it all the way through my picture-less ramblings, reward yourself with their article which has all the adorable rescued kitten pictures and associated videos your heart can handle.


Stuff like this makes me hug my warm, dry, VERY well-fed “kittens” extra hard.

Raindrops on…

Raindrops on roses


and whiskers on kittens,


things in my garden with which I am smitten.


Allium flower

long yellow caterpillars wrapped around dill,


These are some things for which I can’t get my fill! (I’m a big fan of playing with raindrops on plants. This was my first raindrops and caterpillar encounter!)

p.s. My Gma and I used to dance in her living room to the vinyl of The Sound of Music soundtrack.


Kitten Season

Tis the season for litters of kittens. (Which technically doesn’t end until early fall.)

April showers of kittens bring May clowders?

To help cope with the influx of tiny furballs, my local shelters hold open houses and kitten showers. Just like for human babies only better because…kittens!

I wasn’t able to stop by the shower scheduled for Saturday, so Bird and I spent Saturday evening cutting up fleece kitty blankets which was one of the shower wish list items. All that fabulous hat project fleece will now be snuggling kitty tooshies.IMG_E5697

Again like your basic human baby shower, the shelters put out wish lists and often create them on places like Amazon for easy donations. Common items might be things like:

  • KMR milk replacer formula
  • Unscented non-clumping clay litter
  • Kitten dry and wet food
  • Fleece blankets (Got it!)
  • Toys
  • And, of course, fur-ever homes

So if you haven’t caught my drift yet, I’m suggesting that YOUR local shelter might also have a wish list. Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge.

Of course, putting together a donation is just an excuse for me to go pet strange heads. I topped off the blankies with some kitten food and headed over.


For as well rounded as this beauty was, he or she had the shortest squat tail.



So many flavors.

This was the tiniest kitty I could find. Either the kitten shower/adoption event was really successful or the clouds are getting ready to burst.


This app gets me!

We had a snow day this week. I had visions of maybe catching up on grading. Olivia Wigglebothum had visions of me entertaining her.


I had just texted MomBert that I was going to go get a kitten so Olivia would chew on it instead of me, when I checked my profanity laden weather app.


I do need a fucking kitten! This app totally gets me.



Kitten Therapy 

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.

Solar Kitten

Super-heated sunbeams have solar powered my boy. I found him up and enthusiastically trying to kill an already dead spider plant leaf. When I picked it up, he took a swipe at it with his giant panther paws. (He also tries this technique when I’m holding the food scoop.) The sunlight brought out his inner kitten.


This one is my favorite. I love the double-pawed, almost cross-eyed enthusiasm. He needs his nails trimmed. I texted the photo to MomBert and she responded with “Is that Miles????” When I asked who else would it be, she said, “Looks like a kitten.”

(There’s always that strong-ish possibility that I will adopt a mini-me for Miles. I think he would be a great kitten mommy. However MomBert was probably gearing up to yell at me via text message if it was a kitten…other than Miles who is totally “The Baby.”)


He’s packed in enough enthusiasm for the day and is back to a more realistic level of exuberance, “helping” me at the computer.


If your Sunday needs additional cat pictures, check out the Cat Welfare calendar contest currently in action. This is Miles and Bella Luna’s former shelter. They do the yearly calendar as a fundraiser.

Belated Pumpkins

This is one of those post ideas that got away from me and is no longer really timely, but who’s keeping track!

I took my pumpkin carving skills on the road this year to MomBert’s house. I showed up with four bargain basement pumpkins since it was Halloween weekend, and eight cupcakes from my favorite cupcakery. We proceeded to murder both!


PolkaDot Cupcakery is amazing. I feel like I personally keep them in business. That’s probably not a good thing.

However, MomBert insisted on bathing the pumpkins first. For a clean artistic palette, of course. I watched her do this with one of her two pumpkins, a particularly  stem-heavy one, as she rambled on about just exactly how she should incorporate the large stem into her design. I waited until she had a good grip on the stem and I had my camera ready, then simply suggested, “penis?”


Pumpkin dick jokes never get old.

We camped out out on a tarp to carve as her kittens careened around the room because “OMG, huge orange things from outside!” and “Clearly this plastic thing is for tunneling!”


Watching cheesy Halloween movies and taking cupcake bite breaks, we successfully worked our way through two pumpkins each.


Mine are the squirrel and owl scene; hers are the traditional jack-o-lantern and the dude with a penis for a nose.

The bucket of pumpkin guts were strewn about overnight by the raccoon population, but was easily scooped up and dumped near the woods for others to snack on. We wondered if her deer herd would sample some pumpkin bits.

I am jealous of her wild life. She has a deer who licks the bird feeder and then stares in the window in a stalker-esque, peeping Tom sort of way.


“Hey, hey, whatcha doin’ there? Are those kittens?”

Another visitor maintains just a tad more dignity when he stops by in the evenings to sample the Fire bush.


So handsome!

Once returned home, my pumpkins barely made it through the Monday of Halloween and cat photo-shoots, before growing their own ecosystems of mold. Wishing to avoid a repeat of last year’s pumpkin ass-juice episode, I put them in the backyard where they deflated overnight. By the next night, someone with claws and teeth had shredded and tasted the leftovers.


I’m glad I could contribute to my tiny wildlife population, but they pale in the “cool factor” to some of MomBert’s visitors. This photo she took of a box turtle nomming on pumpkin bits is the real reason that this post needed written, timely or not.


A perfect Fall palette.

Catzilla! Part 2: Child of Catzilla!

Raised by radioactive raccoons in the deep woods of Southern Ohio, Child of Catzilla (They’re not really related. In fact, they’ve never met.) grew to massive proportions and terrorized local villagers!



No one was safe! Roads were destroyed!


Privacy was disrespected.

I see you in there. Rowr!”


Also showing as matinee features:


Cat-Squatch Attacks

Return  of the Cat Clones