Cat Bearding

Now, this is a nascent Internet meme I can get behind:

So I thought I'd give it a try:

Vivani says, "No!"

Gina says, "Put me down!"

Oh, well.

Who needs a dog...?

...When you have Camping Cat? 

 

That's Otto the Camping Cat, and yes he loves to sleep in the tent. Who wouldn't? He has his own little custom-made sleeping bag and camp chair.

Rhymes with hirsuit

There is no stopping the Times-Standard:

And lest you think I am picking on them, I don't usually point it out when I see misspellings within the body of articles, or AP stories cut off mid-sentence to make it fit the space...No, just the awesome headlines are enough.

In other news, the vet has decreed my cat is obese.

Who's Observing Whom?

Did you read the article on the wire services last week, the one where researchers were surprised at not only how smart elephants are, but that they cooperate and show consideration of each other? "Gee, we thought only primates did that," was the line of thought.

Also last week, I took my packet of Method wipes and marched around the house removing smudgy handprints, coffee drips, and scuffs from the walls and doors. As I scrubbed I realized that the scuffs were not scuffs; they were areas of strategic importance Orange Gina marked with her chin. The corner by the food bowls, the bathroom, and the doorway to Greg's office. It got me to thinking.

I have two cats, Orange Gina and Vivani Catpants. We plucked Vivani off the streets of Oaxaca as a very young kitten; we adopted Gina from the animal shelter.

Vivani never marks the house. She doesn't care if other cats share it. Since we traveled a lot when she was young, our place of residence means nothing. For her, it's all about Greg and I. We are hers and she is ours. She's extremely communicative and out-going with us, but almost completely ignores or avoids other people.

People-loving Gina, after her stint in the Big House, is both food-insecure and fiercely jealous of the house. She marks it with her chin and claws. (And a big shout-out to both cats for never marking the house with urine. Thank you!) She has shredded the corner of Greg's second-hand dresser, and would also do the same to my closet if she could. She doesn't touch the furniture in the living room; that's apparently a public area, as is the front door. But the post by the back door is heavily shredded as well; back door is Family Only. She doesn't care if other cats are in the yard or sidewalk, but they may not be in the house. Which is why she was so mean to poor Huespedes.

Vivani doesn't care if other cats are in the house or front porch, but they may not be in the back yard—that is Family territory, and off-limits to others. Which is why the vet told me last week during her check-up, "I'd like to get a blood sample to use as a baseline since this is the first time we've seen her where she wasn't injured." In four years? Are you kidding me? But no, she was right. That little chola has had more abcesses than a hockey player has missing teeth.

To bring it back to where I started off, with the elephants, close observation of the natural world used to be a big part of science. I don't think it comes as a shock to anyone who is familiar with elephants that they are smart and social. And it doesn't come as a shock to me that Gina and Vivani have such different personalities...though it does shock me that people, scientists, continue to believe and act like humans are the only beings around with thoughts, feelings, desires. Souls.

I like observing my girls. And I like that it's a two-way street.

Suncat

Vivani is a ham for the camera, but Gina...It's very difficult to get a good shot of Orange Gina Felina. When she sees the camera pointed her way, she turns, moves away, closes off. Unless she's drunk on sunshine, that is.

Recharging solar batteries, cat-style.

Mystery Date!

A couple of weeks ago Vivani Catpants came home looking a little scruffy. Sure, that long winter coat of hers accretes its share of flora—broken blackberry canes, redwood twigs, a very memorable incident with a rhodedendron flower—but she's very good at keeping it up. So I was surprised to see it dirty. I helped her comb it out, and noticed that she smelled slightly doggy. I don't know; maybe she got into someone else's bedding or stuff. She does get around the neighborhood.

But then she came home last week, and instead of sauntering to the kitchen for a bite or easing into one of her napping spots, she stood in the living room and loudly announced, "I am home! See? I'm back. Notice anything? Huh? Huh?"

So I took a look. Her fur was dirty and matted. But, it wasn't raining. And it was only dirty and matted under her chin, on her crazy-long, white poufy ruff. I knelt down and felt for wounds. None. Was it grease or oil from a car? No. Was it wet? Oh, yes! And that smell...I scooped her up. "Hey, Greg. The cat got into something. Do you see anything?"

"No..." Sniff, sniff. "She smell like dog."

So, when your dog-avoidant cat comes home, loudly announces it, and has a soppy-wet neck, no wounds, and stinks of dog, you have to wonder, What is going on here?

What IS going on here? I have no idea.

The Day's Possibilities

...at least, from the perspective of Vivani Catpants.

After a super-rainy December, January and (so far) February have been dry, warm, and mostly sunny. The joke around town is to greet your neighbor or passersby on the street and comment on the lovely summer weather. And for the past few days we've even had the summertime fog. (Our winters are usually fog-free—it's when we finally get our dose of sunrises and sunsets.)

So yes, the lawns are green and lush, my neighbor's dogwood is flowering—they're flowering all over town, along with the plum and apple trees, the cherries, the myrtlewoods, and the roses; they all think it's Spring—and beyond the leafless tulip tree and walnut is a dark green wall of redwoods and hedge. Yesterday a score or more of robins gorged on the holly berries in the tree behind the house, and the waxwings I'm sure will not be far behind. The chickadees and goldfinches continue to dare the cats, and the sparrows that live outside the bakery doors at the co-op grocery are impossibly fat.

Maybe today the fog will clear. Maybe not; it didn't yesterday. But it sure is nice to live here.

Another Other White Meat

Sometimes, after a particularly rich meal, the only thing to do is crawl into a quiet space and sleep it off.

Who knew that young goldfinch would be so filling?

Signs and Wonders

 courtest of icanhascheezburger.com

Just this morning I found some wonder on the kitchen floor.

An Orange for Christmas

Now that's a good holiday.

Orange Gina rests up after some intense play. A new box, two kinds of catnip mice, wrapping paper and ribbons—definitely a good cat Christmas.

Crowded

Would you please move over!

Defiance

Yesterday afternoon, while I was in the kitchen, Vivani asked me for some kibble. But, I pointed out, you have food. Both bowls were full.

I don't like that flavor. I want the fish. I recently found that Evo, their brand of kibble, comes in turkey/chicken and stinky fish. After, what? two years? they were pretty excited about this new flavor, too. She gave me half a pout.

"You've got food already."

Fine. She strolled out the open back door.

An hour or two later, she's back at the food dishes. Favor, she looks up at me, please better food? Only she's licking her chops.

"You went and ate at the neighbor's, didn't you?" More chop-licking. So?

"You've got food already." She strolled back outdoors.

And when it started to get dark (the fog is so thick lately we don't get any sunsets), no Vivani. Went out to put the poultry to bed. Still no Vivani. Hours later, I finally turned off the lights and went to bed, thinking, Okay, she'll wait until I'm in bed then jump onto the bedroom window sill and ask to be let in, a stunt she pulls on my husband all the time. Nope. No cat.

But oh, this morning she was at the back door, all soggy and apologetic and ready for some dasayuno. Orange Gina had hoovered up the kibble from last night's rejected meal, so I put a bowl of fresh Evo down...and a can of their favorite food.

But I let her dry her own damn fur.

Shell Game

Living in a college town, as I do, means accepting certain rhythms in town life. Right now, Arcata's in the midst of its blissfully quiet summer vacation: few students, little traffic, quiet weekend nights. That's the upside. The downside, especially for those folks living out in the Bottoms, is a surge in abandoned pets.

(When we lived in Berkeley, the end of May meant Shopping Day as thousands of UCBerkeley students with more money than sense unloaded furniture, clothing, and whatnot onto city sidewalks in a Bay Area phenomenon known as put-out.)

(In an interesting side note, I could not find a link explaining the Bay Area habit of put-out, which is you put stuff you don't want out on the sidewalk in front of your dwelling, and people take what they want. You then discard whatever's left after a suitably short period of time—or get a littering ticket. There are put-out rules, too, such as: it has to be on the sidewalk. If it's on the lawn or stoop, it is NOT put-out. You are not supposed to put out garbage; nobody wants that. But a bag of recycling is valid put-out. Etc.)

But back to Arcata and dumped pets.

So about three weeks ago, this scraggly long-haired black cat showed up in our neighborhood. He doesn't belong to anybody we know of. At first he was looking really ratty, but someone is brushing him now (or maybe he just shed the extra fur...he's not wearing a collar). I see him in the mornings and evenings, mostly hanging out with the Hauser's cats next door, Big Red and Extra Red.

In his pitiful period, when he first showed up, I'd see him giving our door The Eye, so I started setting out a bowl of kibble for him in the mornings.

At first, he'd come by, eat the whole bowl, then disappear. But then he started showing up with Extra Red. Then Extra Red would stop by himself and ask for a bowl, and Extra Red has those Puss 'n' Boots liquid eyes down pat. Then sometimes it would be Ratty Black Cat and Extra Red together. Or Extra Fluffy from around the corner, and I know someone's feeding her 'cause she's rotund. Even Big Red will make an appearance at the food bowl. Then whoever showed up for the meal wanders off to the next food bowl...

Ratty Black Cat and Extra Red on their way to the Hauser's breakfast buffet.

So now I'm asking myself, am I being played? What's going on here? I've even seen Vivani Catpants sitting nose-to-nose with Extra Red...no aggression, just companionable silence! Sure, they break it off when they see me watching them, but I'm on to it. Could it be...holy moly, could I have gotten a peek at the secret, underground network of cats working a neighborhood? Have I stumbled onto the Cat Club?!

30 minutes of fun

It was a straw-and-feathers toy with a bit of catnip hidden inside...

...it took Vivani Catpants about half an hour to pull this strange bird's feathers out, then crunch its bones into bits. Good craic—not sure it was worth five dollars, though.

Accretion

Shhhh...

...I'm blending.

(I would not have thought so, but Vivani's torbie fur lets her blend into surroundings I would not think possible. Our ugly renter's carpet? Sure. Brown grass, green grass (!), shrubs, the loud, orange comfy chair...it's an all-purpose coat. A technicolor coat of marvels.)

Someone is feeling better

Three-day Weekend

I had a three-day weekend. Actually, I have them fairly regularly on my schedule at work...then I come in and see that I'm scheduled to work two days out of the three. So I've gotten smart and started making appointments in the Bay Area whenever they come up.

The day before we left: Greg working on Pendragon under the watchful editorial gaze of Orange Gina. Little do the Gatitas Holas know that soon their servants will disappear. Who will open the door?

Greg and Charm* on the streets of Berkeley. Bodywork out of the way, the next agenda item is food, and lots of it. The big problem with Humboldt isn't that there are no minorities or foreign-born Americans, it's that there aren't enough of any one ethnicity for them to cook for each other. They just cook for all the good ol' boys and girls coming in from the sticks. Ugh. First up: Ethopian food at Cafe Colucci! (We tried again to go to Kirala, but they were closed. Someday.)

*Charm is the 74 Volkswagen Bug we bought during my last three-day weekend. Thanks, Craigslist!

Despite the epic feed of the previous evening, here we are, wolfing down breakfast at Bette's Oceanfront Diner. Light on the Oceanfront, heavy on the goodness. I do not like hash—early exposure to canned hash, courtesy of Greg, saw to that—but the hash at Bette's is dynamite. Still, I got the pancakes. And lots of coffee.

We did a lot of this. Probably because we've done so little of it lately. I always underestimate the luxury of just eating and sleeping. And not a cat-hair in sight!

One night in Berkeley, one night in San Francisco. What did we do in The City? Dude! We slept and ate. We hit El Castillo for carnitas tacos (I could not have forced down an entire burrito at that point, sad to say) and Lers Ros Thai where we had pad thai (we were tired) and spicy Thai-style sausage. We tried to get into Mama's for breakfast the next day, because I was down for some french toast, but the line was down the block! Just like Vik's in Berkeley, where we fled in dismay: not only does Vik's now have TWO parking lots, they have a brand spanking-new (and nice) building. Wow. It used to be a warehouse with an attached market, where you had to eat on the curb because the two tables were always occupied. (How did I find out about Vik's? I polled all the engineers taking the Capitol Corridor down to Silicon Valley—Vik's was the No. 1 recommended, hands down. And damn but those engineers were right.)

I didn't want to drive all over creation looking for breakfast, so we headed to dim sum earlier than we'd anticipated: two places within a block of each other, right by Green Apple Books in the Richmond: Good Luck Dim Sum and Wing Lee Bakery. Good Luck had the shorter line (and tables) so we went there. Small selection, but apparently MSG-free! We ate breakfast and got two boxes of dim sum to go: har gow, su mai, char su bau (baked and steamed), chicken feet, those little chive-and-shrimp dumplings. Most of it got eaten in Charm on the ride home, though it also made an excellent lunch and (not too long ago) dinner.

Heading over the Golden Gate bridge north toward home, the Wishfrog swinging by the windshield, leading the way. Goodbye, Bay Area restaurants! So many choices, so little time.

The cats were very happy to see us.

"Hello! I makes all your underwear orange! No need to thank me—I do it for love. Purr!"

Reunited

We got a call yesterday from Kirsten saying she was on her way, so I made sure to get some photos of Huesp this morning:

He spent some time in the Thinking cup...

...relaxed on the Comfort Ball and got scritches after second breakfast...

...chilled in the garden. He got quite comfortable hanging out in the back yard with everybody. Real quality cat time.

...Huesp/Romeo can't believe it, but it's Kirsten! Poor guy was pretty overwhelmed.

And while Kirsten, Greg, and I chatted in the kitchen over crepes Provencal...

...No way! You mean to tell me, during Huesp's final fifteen minutes in the house, Gina calms down enough to share the bed with him?! Typical.

I got a little more of Romeo/Huespedes' backstory, what little Kirsten knew. She adopted him from the Animal Rescue Foundation in Walnut Creek (where he was known as Andy), after volunteers transported him from the Calaveras County Animal Shelter up in the California foothills. How he ended up at the county shelter we'll never know, but he was lucky enough to be taken to ARF, a no-kill shelter where Kirsten used to volunteer. (And where my friend Breanna adopted her cat, Daphne.)

We're really sad he's gone, but we're really happy this story had such a good ending. And Kirsten was very, very happy to get her best bud back.

All the best to you, Kirsten and Romeo!

Love,

Suzanne and Greg

I'm waiting

...for you to open this gate for me.

Of course I could go around. That's what I do when you're not in the yard.

But you ARE in the yard, and I wish for you to open this gate for me. Now.

Then I will ignore you from the garden.

Until I want you to again open the gate for me.