Meet the Gang!

My online friends know of a small group of stray cats that regularly congregate at my house for free catnip and noshables.  This group has been christened “The Breakfast Club”, since they appear most mornings.  I have managed to take some pictures of a few of the members which I will share with you:

There is a shot of Mia staring at Smudge, one of the neighborhood tomcats.  She very bravely ran back into the house shortly after this photo was snapped.

There is a shot of Sweetpea enjoying some catnip.  She loves to roll around on the ground and show her belly. Because of this, she has endeared herself to nearly all of the humans on my street.

The black cat is Bob. I call him that because his tail is about half as long as it should be.  Bob likes to anounce himself as he strolls through the neighbor with a raspy “mehrowr”.

There is a nice shot of Smudge’s face as  he and Bob glare at each other.

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I hope you have enjoyed meeting some of the “gang”.

♥

Female felines are ninjas

First of all; Sweetpea is back, hoorah!

Next, I will explain to you why I have come upon this hypothesis.

Like a lot of cats, Sweetpea likes to climb trees; she’s quite good at it too. She’s not so good at climbing down, however. Since she first started hanging around the house, I have rescued her countless times from teh roof. 

Let me briefly describe the layout of the house and yard. When it was built about 90 years ago, it was modest even for the working class neigborhood where it is situated. Simply put, that means that the main structure is two stories with single story kitchen addition tacked onto the back and another single story, bathroom addition tacked onto the back of that; thus creating a step stool effect from the bathroom roof up to the second floor back bedroom window. This is further enhance for kitty climbing by a rogue rose of sharon tree that sprouted mere feet away from the bathroom addition and which branches drape over the the shingles on that roof level.

Sweetpea’s modus operandi is to chase a squirrel up that particular tree and strand herself on the bathroom roof. From there, it is only a matter of stepping up to the kitchen roof. From there, she can negotiate the fairly steep roof grade and park herself at the edge of the back porch roof. It is from this lofty perch that she sang her siren song to be rescued.That is, until she discovered that my bedroom window looks over that very kitchen and back porch roof.

Since the arrival of the hot, steamy weather, I have opened the windows and pulled down the storm window screens to get the air moving upstairs. (My humble home is not equiped with central air, and I am not physically strong enough to install a window unit by myself.) I am sure you know what happens next. This morning, at 5:30 a.m., Sweetpea arrives at my window screen and serenades me with dulcet tones reminiscent of Fran Drescher’s character in “The Nanny”.

I have decided to leave the screen open for the time being.  Since I leave the back screen door open for kitty egress while I am at home, a few more flying insects inside my home won’t make a difference to me.  Any potential thief with the initiative to shimmy up my rose of sharon tree and climb into my bedroom window would problably find it easier to just smash a first floor window and be done with it.

Sweetpea is so happy with the open window/screen situation, she rubbed up against me this morning. She also deigned to let me scratch her belly some too.  She must be very pleased with the new, very ninja-esque cat entrance.

My husband’s cat, Steele is a ninja as well. Around his back porch, my architect husband has constructed an avant-guard type of lattice work. Without getting into detail, I will just say that one piece has detached itself and therefore created a 5″ gap in the lattice. This is just enough room for Steele to get herself through. So now, even though the lattice door is hanging wide open, Steele prefers to climb into the geranium planter to reach the 5″ gap in the lattice to effect her entrance onto the porch. (I’ve always felt that ninjas must have a sense of the dramatic.)

Faced with these two examples, am forced to conclude that all lady felines are ninjas in furry little catsuits.

Sweetpea is AWOL

One of the risks that an indoor/outdoor cat owner takes is the risk that her precious kitty will scamper out the door one day and never come back. 

Sweetpea came to me as a stray; I assume that she had spent the start of her life outside, unaware of the comforts of living in a house with humans.  She enjoyed being outside and she kept company with a fluffy orange and white tomcat that I has seen previously roaming the neigborhood. They both enjoyed the food that I left out for them. While the male was very shy and avoided direct contact with me, Sweetpea was a bold little girl. After gobbling copious amounts of canned cat food, she would venture into my kitchen. I’m not sure if she was trying to thank me for the largess, looking for more eats, or just plain curious. We forged a  frendship, I supplied the food, catnip, toys and the occasional skritch or two and she provided me with her lovely self.

This was last summer; it was hot and muggy and I really didn’t blame her for not wanting to spend the night in my house. I had one lonely little air conditioner strategically positioned in the window at the top of the stairs, pouring tepid air into the dining room. It was better than nothing, but barely. 

In late August, as the days an nights grew cooler, Sweetpea consented to spend some nights inside with me, and I was overjoyed that she wanted me to take care of her. Even if she elected to stay outside all night, she always came home for breakfast. I made an appointment with a local shelter to get her spayed at cost. Of course, the morning of the spay appointment, she was nowhere to be found!  To make a long story a little less long, she ended up giving birth to five kittens (one of those kittens was Wolfie) in my bedroom closet.

She was a sweetie! She woke me up every morning with a meow; she waited until the alarm rang though, what a good girl! She waited impatiently for me to don my robe and raced down the stairs to greet the orange and white tom who waited outside for her.  She knew my car and greeted me when I got home from work by running up to me and rolling on her back for a skritch.  She loved her feather on a stick toy, she could play for hours! She got so excited that her eyes would dilate and she would pant like a dog. She purred like mad when she pounced on that poor abused feather! She especially liked to play the feather toy game outside, weather permitting. She enjoyed sharing my yogurt; she always licked the foil top, and never said no to little yogurt dabbed on a plate for her.

She disappeared for a day or so after Memorial Day. When she did show up for breakfast, she seemed like a different cat!  She was growly and hissy with Wolfie and her friend the white and orange tom.  She krept up the stairs without eating and hid in the bedroom closet. She stayed inside, ate and used the litter box.  She was not bleeding, nor was she in any obvious pain.  She jumped up on the bed and slept with me at night. I just knew she was feeling better when I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her giving Wolfie a tongue bath.  My heart sang when I saw that!

Later that day, while I was taking a Sunday afternoon nap, Sweetpea went downstairs and out the door. I haven’t seen her since. My husband thinks she is hiding somewhere until she feels less cranky. My mother suggests that she ate something she shouldn’t have. I don’t know what to think. 

If I had to do it all over again, I think I would still let her be an indoor/outdoor cat. In spite of the sadness of losing my special companion, I know that she enjoyed being outside, it was her milleu, and she would have been unhappy if she wasn’t allowed out at all.

Wolfie and Steele hone their skills

This Memorial Day was indeed a memorable one for my extended kitty family.  As I puttered around the yard in the morning, tossing day-old bread towards the bird feeder, I  noticed that Wolfie’s attention was captured by something dark and kind of shiny.  He was hooking it with his paw and batting around; I thought it might be frog, so I went over to check. It was not a frog, it was an expired baby bird. It was shiny because Wolfie had aparently rolled it in the dewy grass so much that the feathers were soggy and plastered to its body.  Since the damage was already done, I left Wolfie with his prize and continued about my business.  My husband and I were having a cookout at his place, and I needed to pack up the salads and brownies that I had made, so I was a little pre-occupied, and I did not pay that much attention to the cats.  I had everything packed and was ready to load the car when I almost stepped on Wolfie’s new toy. He had proudly carried into the kitchen and was performing a re-enaction of his hunt for my benefit, like any good kitty would do.  Of course I was horrifed, my god, there was a DEAD THING in my kitchen! I froze, hoping that the corpse would leave the kitchen the way he came in.  I was to be dissappointed; Wolfie exited the house without his prize. My impatience to load up and get on the road lent me the courage to tear off six or seven paper towels and gingerly scoop up the still soggy, pathetic remains and dispose of them in the space between the neigbor’s fence and mine.  In deference to the life that was given so that my cat could be entertained for a short time, I covered the wee body with a pile of freshly picked dandelion leaves and said a small prayer.  Then I raced to the cookout.

My husband has a cat too. She was abandoned by the people who lived in a house that burned in the neiborhood where our office is.  After what must have been a horrible night for her of sirens and fire and smoke, she followed me into the office the next morning. She ate and drank and slept most of the day, but she managed to charm my husband so that he adopted her, much to the delight of his three sons still living at home. She is a solid gray colored kitty with velvety fur; my husband named her Steele.

In the course of two hours we found Steele batting around an expired finch, tossing an equally lifeless chipmunk in the air and engaging in a battle to the death with a wily vole. The vole lost.  My husband could hardly contain his pride for Steele.  “She’s a real killing machine” he remarked with a smile. There was much taking of video and pictures among my husband and his crew of fellow Steele worshipers (myself included; she really is a sweetie). Steele seemed to be posing for the cameras with her kill like a deer hunter with a six-pointer. After the the vole was dispatched, played with and thoroughly photographed, the action seemed to die down, I subsequently went back to  my house to feed my own kitty krew. 

I had thought that I was done with little dead bodies for the day, but Wolfie had another trick up his furry little sleeve.  He greeted me with his usual fervor, had a snack and went back outside. I followed him to give him some more skritches and noticed that he was rolling around on the patio with much animation. It was getting dark out, but there was still enough light to recognize the limp body of yet another unfortunate bird……

I ran into the house and shut the door firmly.

Wolfie and the Palmetto Bug

Today I will tell the story of Wolfie and the palmetto bug. 

This morning, after feeding my kitty krew (including two stray toms), I went about the business of getting myself ready for work. I was puttering in the kitchen, taking a vitamin and drinking juice when I heard some scuffling noises coming from the bathroom. Sweetpea, originally a neighborhood stray that adopted me, has been having potty issues with the bathtub, so I raced in there to provide behavior correction if necessary. 

What I found was not Sweetpea leaving number 2 in the tub, but both of my cats chasing a HUGE palmetto bug around the inside of the tub!  Insects horrify me; I tolerate spiders only because they eat insects. (When I say tolerate, I mean that I don’t immediately smash them with a shoe, I consider the karmic consequences for a moment before the smashing…)

I watch with morbid fascination as Wolfie and Sweetpea take turns batting the disgusting (and ultimately doomed) creature across my pristine white bathtub. I fight my first instinct to dispatch the odious insect, as my kitties are having a great deal of fun playing with the thing; Sweetpea gets her nose almost on top of its shiny back and jumps back in a girlish “ewww” manouver. Wolfie pats it with his big fluffy paws to make it scuttle across the porcelain.  He scoops the bug up with a curled paw an watches as it drops to the bottom of the tub with light, high pitched ”thunk”.

I pace back and forth, what to do, what to do? How did this horrifying creature get into my house? Is there an army of them, just waiting outside with their little roach-y bags packed and ready to set up houskeeping here? As I continue to fret, Wolfie runs past me into the dining room, carrying his many legged prize proudly in his mouth. Oh no, not on the carpet! Visions of dismembered legs imbedded in the wall to wall of the dining room spurred me to action.

I grabbed a handful of tissues to protect myself from the ick that is insect.  It was more diffucult than I thought it would be; Wolfie was focused entirely on the palmetto bug (which seemed a little less lively than before, but the feelers were still twitching, ugh!) I managed to get my tissue wrapped fingers under Wolfie’s nose and scooped up the object of all of this feline fascination.  With the insect firmly shrouded in tissue, ai flattened the entire wad with my sneaker several times!

Wolfie, not comprehending that I took away his perfect new plaything, now occupied himself with searching every nook and cranny of the dining room; he did not witness my violent killing of the beastie, which is good, because really, at seven months old, he is still just a baby.

Needless to say, I immediately added “roach baits” to my shopping list and thoroughly scoured the bathtub with disinfectant before leaving for work.

Hello world!

I like to hear kitty stories and I like to tell stories about my kitties.