Ambivalence

Today's picture is less than lovely. Yep, it's a dead rat in a jar. Put it there myself after Sachi brought it in last night. Alive, of course. The three of us chased it until it was cornered, then I caught it in a towel. I hate the way they squeal when they're scared. I worry about the cats or myself getting bitten.

I'm really ambivalent about the rat catching. On one hand, I'm glad they're killing any rats that have ventured into the vicinity. On the other, I hate that they bring their prey, still alive and kicking, into the house.

When we first moved into this house, the neighborhood was infested with rats. The second thing my crazy next door neighbor said to me (after asking if we would cut down all the trees in our yard) was that she hated the rats. She saw them scampering across her back yard (an easy thing as the only thing growing there is short-cut grass) and was afraid they'd bite her little boys.

Back then, one of the two cats who owned us was Handsome. He had supported himself before he convinced me that he owned me, so he was a deadly hunter. Fortunately he caught prey regularly enough that he soon understood this basic equation:

bring prey into house = human steals prey

He very quickly stopped bringing his catches in.

For the first summer we lived here, he laid a dead rat or three on the back door step every day. Next summer crazy neighbor lady commented that, gee, she hadn't seen any rats this year. I told her to thank Handsome.

We haven't, or should I say hadn't, had a problem with the vermin since.

A couple of years ago I discovered that a friend a few blocks away had an infestation. I was at her house and asked about the baby gate she had up in her open back door -- she has no baby. She told me it was to let the air in and keep the rats out. I decided it was kinder not to tell her that a baby gate is no barrier to a rat; they can squeeze through an opening the size of a quarter. I figure rats are too smart to come into a room already occupied by a number of humans and a basset hound.

I think the rats have marched up the hill to my neighborhood. I wish Handsome was still around to deal with them. (Heck, I wish he was still around period, he was a fine and excellent Little Dude.) He would leave them on the back porch instead of turning them loose in the basement. But I guess I'm glad the girls are killing them.

Rats!

P.S. Here's a beautiful picture to make up for the ugly one up top:

Handsome Bob StrayCat, Bon Vivant, Tommy About Town (full name and titles)
Wasn't he grand and glorious?

In the Closet

Both of my cats have a lust for the linen closet. Mostly, I'm sure, because it's forbidden. Sometimes they sit on the hamper, hopefully waiting for me to lose my mind and open the door. Innocence shines from their furry little faces, but I know better. I know their nefarious plans.

Today I wanted to take out one towel. How long does that take? Five seconds? I thought Kitsu was in the basement. I didn't shut the bathroom door before I opened the linen cupboard.

You'd think after having been owned by cats for the past 30 years that I would know they could teleport...

Kitsu shot by me like orange lightning. Startled the beejeebers out of me. I decided to photo-document her evilness, so I went and got the camera. Sachi was nowhere to be seen, so I opened the cupboard door to snap a shot of the miscreant.

And a taupe bolt of lightning shot past me just as I clicked the shutter.
You'd think I'd have learned by now.

After the Adventures

Had friends over for dinner Friday night. It was not one of those nights where everything goes smoothly. M hasn't yet gotten the hang of finding my house - the street signs around here are confusing - so it took a couple of phone calls and me standing in the driveway to guide her in.

My adventure had come about a half hour earlier.

When I was coming through the back door with the groceries, the cats were lurking behind the door. Their two-pronged charge took me by surprise and they both escaped. No biggie, I thought, set the cat door on "in only", and started cooking.

There really are times when I should pay a little more attention to what I'm doing.

I didn't check that I was getting all my dry ingredients for the cornbread right until it was time to add the liquids and I asked myself, "Is it two or three cups of cornmeal?"

Turned out it should have been one cup, but since I'd already put in two and mixed in the salt, baking powder, etc., it seemed to only way to save it would be to simply make a double batch. Except that I didn't have enough fresh milk.

No matter, I had a partially used can of evaporated milk on the top shelf of the refrigerator.

As I was taking the can from the fridge, an orange streak of lighting came flashing through the kitchen, screaming bird in mouth. She bolted between my legs and the fridge. I dropped the can of milk - upside down, of course - splattering viscous, sticky, evaporated milk everywhere.

I turned to chase Kitsu, and Sachi came running up the stairs with another bird in her mouth.

By the time I took Kitsu's bird away from her, Sachi (who is a little demon) had shredded hers all over the antique guest room floor. Kitsu's was still alive, though looking pretty shell shocked. I let Kitsu's bird go, locked the cat door, cleaned up the major bits o' birdie, washed up and returned to cooking, ignoring the feathers still drifting about. I was running late enough, I wasn't going to let a few feathers hold me back.

Turned out I needn't have worried about being behind schedule. Kate and KC, the Friday Afternoon Hiking Club, had decided to try a short cut and had a big adventure of their own. They arrived two hours late, wet, bedraggled and looking exhausted. You can read Kate's thoroughly expurgated version of it here. She left out all the really good (embarrassing) parts.

We all laughed until our sides ached and had a fine time. Good dinner too. KC brought the coleslaw and I provided the BBQ pork, pinto beans, cornbread, red wine and banana pudding.

GoodDog (who participated in some of the embarrassing parts of the Snowshoe Hike Short Cut Adventure) hid in Kate's car under two blankets and pretended that nothing had happened.

I'll bet he licked his aching paws a lot.

Birdiegate

Kitsu did it again -- brought in prey. I don't know what kind of a baby this is. He has a lovely, liquid song when not frightened. He seemed to be undamaged, so the cats are locked in for the day and I put him in a shady place hoping his parents would be able to do something to help him.

Again With the Bad Cats

The girls were at it again today. They caught a spotted towhee and brought it in to play with. I heard the excitement and took it away from them. I've always had a way with birds, they calm right down when I hold them. There hadn't been towhees at the feeder during the winter, and there have been quite a few of them in the last couple of weeks. I think they must be migrating through.

Maybe that's why the cats are being more successful in their hunting -- Kate has been complaining about the same phenomenon -- the passers-through don't know about the evil felines and aren't as cautious as the local birds.

I locked the girls in the house the rest of the day as a reward. I hope their little cat brains figure out this cause and effect.

Bad Cats

Sometimes I don't like my cats very much.

It can be hard to wrap my head around their duality. Right now Sachi is laying over my forearms as I type, purring, snuggling, doing the happy cat march on my boobs. Occasionally she will reach up with a loving paw and pat my face. (Of course, right now she's started licking her butt -- how utterly charming.)

Then I walk into a room and find something like this.

Sachi, Kitsu, both of them are bloody little predators. They kill with joy. Even though their tummies are full of the expensive canned cat food, even though they have crunchies in their dish 7/24, they delight in slaughter.

I never used to understand when my Mom told me when I was a kid, "I love you, but sometimes I don't like you at all."

Now I do.

They Did It Again

Dang cats are in a bird hunting frenzy. One of them caught a scrub jay Saturday and brought it in. The Engineer and I tried to corner Sachi, who had the bird in her mouth, but she dropped it and it flew up to the highest part of the living room ceiling. The Engineer got out the latex gloves, butterfly net and step ladder again, but managed to fall off the step ladder and land on his bad knee. I caught the jay (barehanded, oh, the cooties!) and let it go outside.

Today I got home from the car repair and they had a house finch. I took that one away from them too. Then hurried to clean up the evidence and vacuum before I went out again to vote.This is getting really old, and I know the birds like it a whole lot less than I do.

I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane

Made the reservations for my three legged flight this evening. I'm leaving October 18 for DC to visit my good friend GuiGrl. It's about time, I haven't visited her since she married MarvelousMike seven years ago. She's been out this way three times, but that ain't near enough visiting and it's surely my turn now. Maybe I'll get a chance to say "Hey!" to Cicada while in the nation's capitol, you can never tell.

I leave DC for NC on the 23rd to visit my parents and assorted friends. Rented a car and bought myself a bluetooth headset for my cell phone (I am Borg, I have been assimilated) since I will be driving half way across the state to visit everyone. The dang car rental was only about $60 less than the plane ticket. Ouch! I'll fly home again on November 1st.

The Engineer is not going to like being abandoned for two whole weeks. Usually when I travel on my own, he manages to schedule himself to be out of the country while I'm gone. We'll see what he can come up with this year. Which means I'd better call the kitty sitter and put her on standby. Even if he doesn't go out of town, I may have her come in every few days to clean the litter box. The Engineer does not do litter boxes. He doesn't do any feline bodily byproducts.

I woke up yesterday morning and immediately knew that one of the girls had sinned on the new wool carpeting because of the can of carpet cleaner waiting for me at the site of the indiscretion. It was a hairball. Of course it was right next to the plastic the Engineer has laid to protect the new wool carpet.

Cats have an order of preference when it comes to upchucking:

1. Persian rugs
2. Wool carpeting
3. Shag carpeting
4. All other carpeting/rugs
5. Clothing or Bedding
6. Anything difficult to clean or that stains
7. and dead last -- Hard surfaced flooring: tile, linoleum, vinyl, hardwood, etc.

It is forbidden by
The Cat Code of Conduct
to toss one's crunchies into the litter box or outside in the shrubbery. That simply would not make a proper impression.

Just think, for two whole weeks I won't have to clean up any messes, scoop any poops, cook any meals for the Engineer, wash dishes or clothes or run errands...

Hmmm... Maybe I should make my trip a little longer.

The Mighty Hunters

Walked out the back door Sunday and saw that the girls had something cornered. It was a huge lady praying mantis. I reached down and picked her up by the thorax. She was moving slowly, but she tried to grab me with her serrated forelegs. I popped her into the bug box to make sure she had a chance to recover (and in hope of some photo ops -- I'm not totally altruistic where bugs are concerned.) This morning, as I was eating my oatmeal and Kitsu was nibbling on her canned cat food, I heard the cat door creak open, then kitty scrambling and some unknown creature squawking.

Kitsu and I rushed down the stairs to see what Sachi had caught. Don't tell the Engineer, but Sachi had her prey in his office. Kitsu leaped into the fray and the prey ran out from behind the sofa.

It was a squirrel! Big game!

"Oh crap, those things bite like heck," I muttered as I went to get a towel.

I'm going to have to keep a close eye on both the cats for the next couple of weeks, because squirrel bites have a nasty tendency to abscess.

The best bet to catch a rodent is to wait until the cats get it cornered then drop a towel over it. I am an old pro at this. I even caught a 'possum using this methodology once, but that's another story for another time.

Sachi ran around one end of the sofa and Kitsu went over the top. The squirrel bolted out the other side and ran into the rec room with all three of us hot on its tail.

I thought I had it in the corner, but tripped over Kitsu and it scuttled into the heap of furniture in the middle of the room. I said some very unladylike things. Both of the cats dove into the heap. All the critters scrambled under the piled furniture as I danced around the periphery with my towel.

Then a stroke of luck, the squirrel ran into a rolled up exercise mat and a cat staked out each end. I moved enough stuff to get at the mat and climbed into the field of combat.

Squashing Sachi's end of the rolled mat, I got a good grip on it then tipped it up with Kitsu's end tight to the floor. I slowly and firmly squashed the bottom end flat, then stood up with my squirrel burrito gripped tightly at both ends. The cats, thinking their prey had escaped, dived under the furniture in search of squirrel blood as I carried the trapped tree rat in its mat up the stairs.

The squirrel was so scared that it didn't start cussing until it was well up a tree and safe from my evil clutches. It was about a half an hour before the cats gave up the basement search.

Bad Cats - Again

I have lived with cats most of my adult life and have developed good cat ears. The Engineer, on the other hand, is close to cat deaf. This can be a very good thing as I can intercept them in activities that would get him all excited. The cats and I operate under that classic old philosophy of "What you don't know can't hurt me."

I hear their meows and know which cat is speaking, I hear the faint clink of a collar tag on porcelain and know that one of them is eating. The creak of the cat door lets me know one is coming or going. They purr from simple happiness and they purr to try to bribe their human to do something (they know her weak spots.) There is the horrible howling they make when BadStrangerCat comes into the yard, the "pay attention to me" squeak and the subtle little scuffle when they're trying to get into something forbidden.

Today I heard that subtle little scuffle. And I heard prey sounds. Oh, do I know prey sounds. I've learned those sounds the hard way. So I ran down to the basement and liberated the robin.

Fortunately Kitsu seems to have a very soft mouth. There was no blood on my hand and it few away brightly and with beauty.
It must be that fledgling time of year again.

A True Limerick

Sachi grabbed up a cute baby quail
Which started to peep and to wail
Cat thoughts full of gore
Sach dove for the door
But the male hauled her out by the tail.
















P.S. The chick got away.

Bed Time For Kitties

The cats are required to come in every night at dark because I don't want them to become KittyKrunchies for coyotes.

"Yeah, right," you might think, imagining I can require cats to do anything shows how solidly in the real world I live. That descriptive saying, "Like herding cats," didn't come from nowhere.

True, cats are not amenable to instruction, demands or even polite requests. If I go out the back door at dusk and call them to come in, they will come galloping up to me. Sachi used to trot right through the door when she first started going out, but Kitsu took her under paw and taught her The Way of the Cat. Now they run up to me, spin around, kink their tails and gallop off sideways, laughing over their shoulders.

I, however, am a mean and tricky human. I don't refill the food dish after mid afternoon. When it gets close to dusk, I get out the crunchies and rattle the bag loudly. I pour the little nuggets from a distance into their glass dish. It makes a lovely tinkling noise.

The girls know what I'm up to, so they still don't come when I call, but the sound of food lingers in their cat brains. Eventually Kitsu will try to sneak into the house through the cat door to have a little nosh. When I hear the clinking of a cat tag against the glass dish, I casually wander into the kitchen. If it's Kitsu, I slip out the human door, lock the cat door, and catch Sachi. The chase game isn't as fun for her if Kitsu's not participating. If it's Sachi, I just wait. I know Kitsu will creep in before too long.

Of course being locked in means that, unless they've had a particularly strenuous day, they have to help me out with everything I do.

Occasionally, like tonight, one or the other, or both, will bound around looking for excitement in all of the wrong places. Tonight Kitsu jumped on the switch for my computer's surge protector. And there went everything I'd been working on down the tube.

So, Kitsu, this one's for you.
What could be better revenge on a female than making her butt look big? And publishing it for the world to see.