DAY 71. Don’t mean to complain. I mean, things were going pretty good with the humans. Then, last week, out of the blue, they tried to kill Smudge and me. Think I’m exaggerating? Let me tell you the story. You ain’t gonna believe this one.
Things were going along just fine for a while. I mean me and the humans seemed to be getting along just fine. Still the mystery of that other cat, and Smudge is still, well, a pain, but I seemed to be making progress on the people front. Sometimes its easier to go along to get along, that is while you scheme and plot your freedom quietly and with a smile. Right?
I’ve had my say about this hard food stuff they were serving me. Truth is, helps keep my teeth sharp and ready for my eventual escape. Dangerous world out there, my friends, filled with Squirrel gangs, hawks that can dive bomb and scoop up an unsuspecting cat. So I could deal with the hard stuff.
Then they started feeding us Friskies in the can. You know the chunks and savory shreds and stuff like that. It is edible. I’ll pass on the so-called pate’ that comes slithering out of the can in one disgusting chunk. Personally, I don’t trust any food shaped like the container it comes in! Now and then we’d get this Fancy feast stuff. Delicious! Things were looking up, and I began to rethink this whole human thing. Kind of nice having your own personal slaves. But then something happened. It was like the slaves were in revolt, opening plotting against Smudge and I, in the most insidious way.
It’s this Friskies Select Indoors crud. I don’t know if they’re dumb or just being cruel. Like I said, been working on my human to gather intel on my slave/captors. On the label it read:
CHUNKY CHICKEN AND TURKEY CASSEROLE WITH BROWN RICE ANDGARDEN GREENS
Are you kidding me? Garden greens? Are they trying to poison me? I’m a cat, for mother earth’s sake! I don’t eat garden greens and brown rice. Do I look like a flea-flickin’ dog? Cats eat birds and mice and fish. Give me meat, meat, MEAT! So I got my eye on the humans. They seemed to get the message. Even Smudge wouldn’t eat the stuff, but then she seems content here. We both began a sympathetic hunger strike and dragged ourselves around the house like we were about to beathe our last. I can still recall their disappointment as they threw out those nasty cans of Select Indoors, which tasted more like Select In-sewers. But that first taste of fancy Feast later that day was worth the fight. Score one for cats!
Sunday, December 27, 2009
SICK CALL
Bad enough being a cat sometimes. True enough no one asks a great deal of us. Truth of it is we wouldn’t do what anyone told us to do anyway. Not that we’re dumb or lazy. But ask yourself, and be honest. Folks don’t expect much of us cats, and that’s just the way we like it. Not even that we’re being particularly difficult-that’s just one of the appealing benefits. You see, its pure physics. Cats are simply defending one of the fundamental laws of the universe, and that is a body at rest tends to remain at rest, and I intend to remain at rest as much as possible! And if this week is any indication…
Back when I was in the big house up in Michigan, locked up with all the other stray and unwanted pets I picked up a little chest thing. Heck, more than a little thing. It swept through the cathouse like wildfire. Day in and day out, hacking and sneezing. I’d lay awake at night listening to some poor street cat wheezing and coughing as he fought for breath. Dark days, those. Lost one of those sissy-boy Persians. Hauled him out in a hefty bag.
Caught it myself before long. Worst I’ve ever felt in my life, short as it is. Got so I didn’t want to do nothing. Then the sneezing fits began. I wanted to die, it got so bad. When this pair of humans took me from the slammer, and dropped me here in this, well, half way house I was suffering these bloody sneezes. Each one about tore my chest out. I tell ya, I was ready for the good mother earth to wrap her arms around me and take me back.
They took me to some old guy in a long gray coat. He poked and twisted and explored me like I was a bad piece of meat at a Bombay deli. When that long needle came out I thought I was a goner for sure. I’d heard the stories back in the big house. I heard what humans do with cats they don’t want no more, and I thought, “Fine thing, they take me away from the only real family I ever know-ed-twice-and this is how it all ends.”
If anyone ever says dying don’t hurt, I can tell you, as a cat who come back, it’s a pain in the #$@! No seriously, that where Mister Labcoat stuck me, right in my hairy hind end! Not much I could do by then but wait, count my last breaths. Watch my life pass before my eyes; Mamma, my 7 siblings, how I cried when they were all taken one by one, playing on the beach, rolling in the grass, breathing fresh Michigan air. Such a short life I asked for reruns!
But then I got better. Took a few days, to be sure. The humans forced this pink disgusting medicine stuff down my throat with an eye dropper. Pretty soon I was back to my old self again. Until last week, until the sickness came back again. The humans didn’t miss a beat. Couple of sneezes and I was about begging for that pink stuff. Not that I let on, mind you. I put up a bit of a fight each time they stuck that dropper in my mouth, for appearances of course. After all, I’m a cat and humans have to know their place, right?
Back when I was in the big house up in Michigan, locked up with all the other stray and unwanted pets I picked up a little chest thing. Heck, more than a little thing. It swept through the cathouse like wildfire. Day in and day out, hacking and sneezing. I’d lay awake at night listening to some poor street cat wheezing and coughing as he fought for breath. Dark days, those. Lost one of those sissy-boy Persians. Hauled him out in a hefty bag.
Caught it myself before long. Worst I’ve ever felt in my life, short as it is. Got so I didn’t want to do nothing. Then the sneezing fits began. I wanted to die, it got so bad. When this pair of humans took me from the slammer, and dropped me here in this, well, half way house I was suffering these bloody sneezes. Each one about tore my chest out. I tell ya, I was ready for the good mother earth to wrap her arms around me and take me back.
They took me to some old guy in a long gray coat. He poked and twisted and explored me like I was a bad piece of meat at a Bombay deli. When that long needle came out I thought I was a goner for sure. I’d heard the stories back in the big house. I heard what humans do with cats they don’t want no more, and I thought, “Fine thing, they take me away from the only real family I ever know-ed-twice-and this is how it all ends.”
If anyone ever says dying don’t hurt, I can tell you, as a cat who come back, it’s a pain in the #$@! No seriously, that where Mister Labcoat stuck me, right in my hairy hind end! Not much I could do by then but wait, count my last breaths. Watch my life pass before my eyes; Mamma, my 7 siblings, how I cried when they were all taken one by one, playing on the beach, rolling in the grass, breathing fresh Michigan air. Such a short life I asked for reruns!
But then I got better. Took a few days, to be sure. The humans forced this pink disgusting medicine stuff down my throat with an eye dropper. Pretty soon I was back to my old self again. Until last week, until the sickness came back again. The humans didn’t miss a beat. Couple of sneezes and I was about begging for that pink stuff. Not that I let on, mind you. I put up a bit of a fight each time they stuck that dropper in my mouth, for appearances of course. After all, I’m a cat and humans have to know their place, right?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Oh,Hallelujah! The Cat Toy Tree!
"May have to rethink this whole human thing," I thought, standing before the Cat Toy tree. My tail wagged excitedly. My little heart beat wildly. Where to start? Oh, where to start?
It is like some sort of shrine or great sculpture they have erected just for me! Is this what they do. Do people live in some sort of topsy-turvy, upside down world in which they worship cats? When I cry they feed me, or scratch my belly. Doesn't seem like they can get to sleep unless I have been placed at the foot of the bed in the warmest most confortable spot available. Five a.m. every morning the male human flies out of bed to make sure I get breakfast.
Listen, I know I whined a bit about cold hard food at first, but maybe I had this thing all wrong. The food ain't so bad, I suppose. I lick my butt now and then, and I got to be honest the food is a good deal tastier.
But the tree, the tree takes all. It is filled with gold and silver and red shiny balls, fat white snowmen and bears, lace, tinsel and deliciously enticing strings of little tiny lights. At the top they placed a big lighted star. Might as well have put up a sign that says, "Climb up here and get me!"
I think the best part was how the humans celebrated while decorating my tree. They laughed and toasted with those odd and nasty liquids that come from suspiciously dark bottles. Seems to mke them sillier after a few glasses.
I turn to Smudge, half dozing on the window sill and exclaim, "Can you believe this? They made this tree just for me, some sort of welcome or worship thing, I suppose. Don't worry, Smudge, my love, my belle, I'll share...a bit. let me ask, did they make you a tree when you first arrived? Huh?"
Smudge shook her head and turned back to the window and the warm streaming sunlight, and replied, "Dork."
It is like some sort of shrine or great sculpture they have erected just for me! Is this what they do. Do people live in some sort of topsy-turvy, upside down world in which they worship cats? When I cry they feed me, or scratch my belly. Doesn't seem like they can get to sleep unless I have been placed at the foot of the bed in the warmest most confortable spot available. Five a.m. every morning the male human flies out of bed to make sure I get breakfast.
Listen, I know I whined a bit about cold hard food at first, but maybe I had this thing all wrong. The food ain't so bad, I suppose. I lick my butt now and then, and I got to be honest the food is a good deal tastier.
But the tree, the tree takes all. It is filled with gold and silver and red shiny balls, fat white snowmen and bears, lace, tinsel and deliciously enticing strings of little tiny lights. At the top they placed a big lighted star. Might as well have put up a sign that says, "Climb up here and get me!"
I think the best part was how the humans celebrated while decorating my tree. They laughed and toasted with those odd and nasty liquids that come from suspiciously dark bottles. Seems to mke them sillier after a few glasses.
I turn to Smudge, half dozing on the window sill and exclaim, "Can you believe this? They made this tree just for me, some sort of welcome or worship thing, I suppose. Don't worry, Smudge, my love, my belle, I'll share...a bit. let me ask, did they make you a tree when you first arrived? Huh?"
Smudge shook her head and turned back to the window and the warm streaming sunlight, and replied, "Dork."
Friday, December 11, 2009
SNOW!!!
I watched it come right out of the sky, a white little speck silhouetted against a blustery night sky. It drifted lazy, tugged this way, then that way. A little eddy whipped it up and back before continuing earthward. I blinked once and lifted my nose towards tht strangle white speck. My tail beat wildly in anticipation.
At the last instant it slipped past my nose and fell cold and wet into my left eye. Cold and wet, who would have thunk it? No pain, and if I could I would have laughed out loud. Darn the luck that I can't even smile. Instead, in excited wonder I ran around in a circle and leapt into the air.
Suddenly the sky was filled with snowflakes, fat wet cold white snowflakes. Oh, those glorious little things! There must have been a million of 'em. Rolling onto my back I stretched out my paws as they fell upon my furry little belly.
Later, watching from the window I marvelled as the snow piled up on the grass outside. So beautiful and magical and I wondered if it had been created just for me. Is there a creator, some great and wise cat-like diety in the sky blanketing the world in that wet and white magic? Sadly it isn't a question I can easily answer. Cats don't have religion yet. That won't come for another million years when we take over and enslave mice to build our scratch-post empire.
At the last instant it slipped past my nose and fell cold and wet into my left eye. Cold and wet, who would have thunk it? No pain, and if I could I would have laughed out loud. Darn the luck that I can't even smile. Instead, in excited wonder I ran around in a circle and leapt into the air.
Suddenly the sky was filled with snowflakes, fat wet cold white snowflakes. Oh, those glorious little things! There must have been a million of 'em. Rolling onto my back I stretched out my paws as they fell upon my furry little belly.
Later, watching from the window I marvelled as the snow piled up on the grass outside. So beautiful and magical and I wondered if it had been created just for me. Is there a creator, some great and wise cat-like diety in the sky blanketing the world in that wet and white magic? Sadly it isn't a question I can easily answer. Cats don't have religion yet. That won't come for another million years when we take over and enslave mice to build our scratch-post empire.
Monday, December 7, 2009
TOUGH BREAK, CAT!
“Cold, day,” I said.
Though I’d been blessed with a thick coat I never realized it could be this frigid. Still I was shivering a bit and I could feel the sting in my big ears and little black nose. I looked over casually, more of a glance than anything. I didn’t want to seem too obvious. The old squirrel seemed unaffected. His pals were playing across the yard, chasing one another across patios, over empty flower pots and through the trees.
“First winter, kid?” he said in his usual gruff street manor. True what mom would say as the eight of us suckled. Those days seemed so long ago. Truth of it was, it was barely four months since my tiny eyes first opened to mom’s beautiful face. Sometimes I can still smell the warm perfume of her thick fur. She would tell us that house pets shouldn’t mingle with outside animals. They live very different lives from us house folks, a tougher far more dangerous life. The fat squirrel beside me seemed a decent enough bloke, but I knew better than to get too involved with his lot. Still, there was something about this guy I found oddly appealing. Of course, if I put too much trust in yard critters the way I was falling for Smudge, I was in for trouble!
“When does it get warm again?” I asked.
“Ha! That’s cute. What, are you like two, three months…”
“Four and a half,” I corrected him quickly. “Four and one half whole months old. Heck, I’m closer to five, actually.”
“Good for you, Kid. This is my second inter.”
“Really?” I said, matter of fact, not wanting to sound like a sucker.
“Might not seem like much to you,” he mocked a bit, “with all your vast experience, but given the average lifespan for a squirrel is like two months I’m an old timer many times over. Ticker is still good. I don't run out in front of cars, I fatten up at the first sniff of cold weather and I have ample reserves buried all over this yard.”
“Happy for you,” I said, half wanting to chase him across the yard. Figured it would get me in trouble, besides, it was good to talk with someone, even if it was a tree tough like this lout.
“I like you, cat,” he said. He hopped onto the grass a few inches away and dug at the frozen earth. A moment later he pulled out a seed or dried berry or something. He promptly stuffed it in his cheek, then pulled another from the hole. He nearly pushed it into the other cheek, paused and held it out to me. “Where’s my manners? Hungry?”
“Carnivore, pal.” I replied. “Appreciate the offer, though.”
“More for me,” he said pressing it into his cheek. “High metabolism, and a body’s gotta eat. Like I was saying, mook, I like you. That’s why I hate to see you get all torn up over a dame.”
"Dame? No dame's gonna tie this cat down!" I asserted feebly.
"Got it bad, don't ya, kid?" scoffed the squirrel.
I glared at him and was about to shoot back something clever and sarcastic. Instead I only sighed and lowered my head, resting my chin on the cold hard ground.
"Bad? Yeah I suppose I do."
The squirrel hopped away, then turned and shook his head sympathetically. "Tough break, cat."
Though I’d been blessed with a thick coat I never realized it could be this frigid. Still I was shivering a bit and I could feel the sting in my big ears and little black nose. I looked over casually, more of a glance than anything. I didn’t want to seem too obvious. The old squirrel seemed unaffected. His pals were playing across the yard, chasing one another across patios, over empty flower pots and through the trees.
“First winter, kid?” he said in his usual gruff street manor. True what mom would say as the eight of us suckled. Those days seemed so long ago. Truth of it was, it was barely four months since my tiny eyes first opened to mom’s beautiful face. Sometimes I can still smell the warm perfume of her thick fur. She would tell us that house pets shouldn’t mingle with outside animals. They live very different lives from us house folks, a tougher far more dangerous life. The fat squirrel beside me seemed a decent enough bloke, but I knew better than to get too involved with his lot. Still, there was something about this guy I found oddly appealing. Of course, if I put too much trust in yard critters the way I was falling for Smudge, I was in for trouble!
“When does it get warm again?” I asked.
“Ha! That’s cute. What, are you like two, three months…”
“Four and a half,” I corrected him quickly. “Four and one half whole months old. Heck, I’m closer to five, actually.”
“Good for you, Kid. This is my second inter.”
“Really?” I said, matter of fact, not wanting to sound like a sucker.
“Might not seem like much to you,” he mocked a bit, “with all your vast experience, but given the average lifespan for a squirrel is like two months I’m an old timer many times over. Ticker is still good. I don't run out in front of cars, I fatten up at the first sniff of cold weather and I have ample reserves buried all over this yard.”
“Happy for you,” I said, half wanting to chase him across the yard. Figured it would get me in trouble, besides, it was good to talk with someone, even if it was a tree tough like this lout.
“I like you, cat,” he said. He hopped onto the grass a few inches away and dug at the frozen earth. A moment later he pulled out a seed or dried berry or something. He promptly stuffed it in his cheek, then pulled another from the hole. He nearly pushed it into the other cheek, paused and held it out to me. “Where’s my manners? Hungry?”
“Carnivore, pal.” I replied. “Appreciate the offer, though.”
“More for me,” he said pressing it into his cheek. “High metabolism, and a body’s gotta eat. Like I was saying, mook, I like you. That’s why I hate to see you get all torn up over a dame.”
"Dame? No dame's gonna tie this cat down!" I asserted feebly.
"Got it bad, don't ya, kid?" scoffed the squirrel.
I glared at him and was about to shoot back something clever and sarcastic. Instead I only sighed and lowered my head, resting my chin on the cold hard ground.
"Bad? Yeah I suppose I do."
The squirrel hopped away, then turned and shook his head sympathetically. "Tough break, cat."
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Hey, Doll
The sunlight was warm through the window. Was a lamentable light, as tired and distant as I felt. Smudge was up on the shelf beside the Lavender Plant, lightly napping. Her tail drifted lazily back and forth. Her face was reflected in the window, those big golden leopard-like eyes struggling to remain open.
I didn't want to be alone. No intention of starting trouble, just sometimes a cat needs another cat to cuddle with. Never mind that that other cat might be a she-devil incarnate. Maybe that was a bit too much, but the tension in the house since I'd arrived had all but exhausted me.
"Hey, doll," I said, matter of fact, leaping up onto the shelf beside her. "This spot taken?"
"Depends on who's taking it?" It was a feeble reply, as if she was growing tired of all this too. Still, I wasn't about to read too much into things, nor was a in the mood for a fight.
"In the meantime, how about I keep it warm, huh?"
"Suit yourself," she said, without looking at me. Her eyes were still closed.
"Could have cut the tension with a knife. Was more than I could take. I hd to get a few things off my furry brown and yellow chest. My tail chopped unconsciously at the air, an indication of just how much she set me off.
"Something I have to say..."
Smudge snapped her head around. Her eyes narrowed at me. I could see the tightness in her whiskers, the agitated beat of her tail. The hair on her back rose just a little.
"Listen," she said, "it's quiet and comfortable here. I can barely tolerate you right now. Consider that progress, just don't push things. In an hour, if we're still here and one of us hasn't been killed then that's a good thing."
With that Smudge turned away and let her eyes close slowly. I laid my head down on the shlf and side heavily, and thought to myself, "love is hell."
I didn't want to be alone. No intention of starting trouble, just sometimes a cat needs another cat to cuddle with. Never mind that that other cat might be a she-devil incarnate. Maybe that was a bit too much, but the tension in the house since I'd arrived had all but exhausted me.
"Hey, doll," I said, matter of fact, leaping up onto the shelf beside her. "This spot taken?"
"Depends on who's taking it?" It was a feeble reply, as if she was growing tired of all this too. Still, I wasn't about to read too much into things, nor was a in the mood for a fight.
"In the meantime, how about I keep it warm, huh?"
"Suit yourself," she said, without looking at me. Her eyes were still closed.
"Could have cut the tension with a knife. Was more than I could take. I hd to get a few things off my furry brown and yellow chest. My tail chopped unconsciously at the air, an indication of just how much she set me off.
"Something I have to say..."
Smudge snapped her head around. Her eyes narrowed at me. I could see the tightness in her whiskers, the agitated beat of her tail. The hair on her back rose just a little.
"Listen," she said, "it's quiet and comfortable here. I can barely tolerate you right now. Consider that progress, just don't push things. In an hour, if we're still here and one of us hasn't been killed then that's a good thing."
With that Smudge turned away and let her eyes close slowly. I laid my head down on the shlf and side heavily, and thought to myself, "love is hell."
Monday, November 30, 2009
ON SPEAKING HUMAN
Started picking up some of their odd language. It’s as much a matter of getting by and getting along, as it is a means of gathering intelligence. Made a break for it the other night. As soon as the male human opened the patio door I bolted for freedom. I was half way down the alley when he chased me down, pulled ahead and cut me off. It was at that moment I realized, I had no real plan and no place to go! I think I learned a couple new human words I can’t repeat in proper company.
Interesting little quirk of humans seems to be their habit of naming everything. They call me Oliver. At the shelter I was called Boris. There were maybe twenty other cats at the shelter, and a dozen or so dogs. Knew ‘em all by sniff. Since the humans control the food and the water, and since innocently digging in a houseplant, playfully hanging from a curtain, or needing to stretch my claws on the soft side of the antique loveseat can bring a swat to the tail, be st that I respond to “Oliver.”
“Outside,” for instance, I believe is the human word for freedom. “Oliver, whanntago-outside,” appears to mean, “Oliver, would you like to be free?” They obviously have an odd idea about freedom. Half way across the yard and I’m getting blasted by a squirt gun, or they change their mind after a short time and drag me back inside.
The oddest phrase is, and mind you, I’m still working on this one, “whoowhannzsumm food?” Bit of a misnomer, this. We obviously have vastly different ideas about food. Nearest I can figure, this phrase translates loosely into, “I will feed you pre-formed cold gruel from a small can.” How about a nice fresh fish for a change, a bony little mouse, or even a hummingbird for a change? Now that's what I call a meal!
There is one word I’ve come to actually appreciate. Not sure entirely what it means. All I know is that it is accompanied by a warm hug, a gentle kiss to the head or a scratch of the belly. The humans use it with one another as well, cuddling on the couch, watching television in the dark, or returning home looking exhausted from where ever it is they go during the day. Just last night, sitting at the end of the bed I watched them kiss gently before turning off the light. It is the simplest of words but seems to say so much more than any other human word I’ve hear to date: Love
Interesting little quirk of humans seems to be their habit of naming everything. They call me Oliver. At the shelter I was called Boris. There were maybe twenty other cats at the shelter, and a dozen or so dogs. Knew ‘em all by sniff. Since the humans control the food and the water, and since innocently digging in a houseplant, playfully hanging from a curtain, or needing to stretch my claws on the soft side of the antique loveseat can bring a swat to the tail, be st that I respond to “Oliver.”
“Outside,” for instance, I believe is the human word for freedom. “Oliver, whanntago-outside,” appears to mean, “Oliver, would you like to be free?” They obviously have an odd idea about freedom. Half way across the yard and I’m getting blasted by a squirt gun, or they change their mind after a short time and drag me back inside.
The oddest phrase is, and mind you, I’m still working on this one, “whoowhannzsumm food?” Bit of a misnomer, this. We obviously have vastly different ideas about food. Nearest I can figure, this phrase translates loosely into, “I will feed you pre-formed cold gruel from a small can.” How about a nice fresh fish for a change, a bony little mouse, or even a hummingbird for a change? Now that's what I call a meal!
There is one word I’ve come to actually appreciate. Not sure entirely what it means. All I know is that it is accompanied by a warm hug, a gentle kiss to the head or a scratch of the belly. The humans use it with one another as well, cuddling on the couch, watching television in the dark, or returning home looking exhausted from where ever it is they go during the day. Just last night, sitting at the end of the bed I watched them kiss gently before turning off the light. It is the simplest of words but seems to say so much more than any other human word I’ve hear to date: Love
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
The Rain
The house was quiet and empty. I awakened from a nap to a long low lonesome wail. Smudge sat upon the shelf in the window, beside the Lavender plant in the big maroon pot. Without disturbing her I loved a bit closer and listened…
“Oh, the Rain, the Rain
Lament the Rain, falling from tattered funeral clouds,
These heavenly tears for eyes that cannot cry.
Rain, dearest Rain,
Wash away this sorrow and make me new again,
For I cannot battle them alone.
Oh, Rain, beautiful Rain,
If you cannot soothe this breaking heart,
Have mercy enough to drown me.
But you cannot hear this lament,
Nor do you hold any real mercy for these eyes that cannot cry.
And so I am left with but one refrain,
A sigh that plays itself again and again,
Oh, the Rain, the Rain…”
Beautiful,” I said.
Smudge turned suddenly, obviously unaware I was there. Her eyes narrowed as she leapt from the shelf and rushed past into the bedroom. I waited a moment before following cautiously. I found her on the bed, kneading the green blanket, as usual. What pain she must be feeling, I thought. I could hardly imagine such heartache, but, as a I turned away and left her alone, I was more determined than ever to find the answer.
“Oh, the Rain, the Rain
Lament the Rain, falling from tattered funeral clouds,
These heavenly tears for eyes that cannot cry.
Rain, dearest Rain,
Wash away this sorrow and make me new again,
For I cannot battle them alone.
Oh, Rain, beautiful Rain,
If you cannot soothe this breaking heart,
Have mercy enough to drown me.
But you cannot hear this lament,
Nor do you hold any real mercy for these eyes that cannot cry.
And so I am left with but one refrain,
A sigh that plays itself again and again,
Oh, the Rain, the Rain…”
Beautiful,” I said.
Smudge turned suddenly, obviously unaware I was there. Her eyes narrowed as she leapt from the shelf and rushed past into the bedroom. I waited a moment before following cautiously. I found her on the bed, kneading the green blanket, as usual. What pain she must be feeling, I thought. I could hardly imagine such heartache, but, as a I turned away and left her alone, I was more determined than ever to find the answer.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Cat Dreams
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said the squirrel, with this sort of street tough accent. Not like the squirrels back in Michigan, who were simply and playful to a fault. “Tail on fire?”
“You speak cat?”
“Enough. Ya learn things on the street,” he said, with a bit of a lisp through those prominent front teeth. “Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.
We both leaned, nearly touching noses as we took a quick sniff. Of course, there was really no telling what sort of character this really was until I could get around and sniff that butt. Seeing as that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon I took what I could get.
“Kid?” I complained. “Why is everyone calling me kid?”
“Nice tail,” he said. I did sort of a tail chasing turn to see just what he was talking about. I realized almost instantly, even before he laughed a chirping little laugh. I instantly felt dumb for it.
“That’s why I called you kid. A little on the gullible side. That will get you in trouble around here.”
I wanted to jump on that little rodent in the worst way, chase him across the yard or up a tree. Indeed, this was an odd and unexpected moment for both of us. He had a dangerous look in his round black eyes. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together. His whiskers twitched suspiciously. On the branch of the big Maple behind him three of his chubby little pals looked on. I glanced back at Smudge, curled up and sleeping in the window. I had my doubts she would come to my aid if I got in a tussle with this rabble.
I decided a bit of a show of force was in order. After all, I was a cat, a hunter not some sad little scavenger like this lout. Not that there wasn’t room for respect. I’d seen them flipping from tree branch to tree branch. These guys were gutsy, and maybe even crazy. These were prison yard rules, I realized, and I wasn’t about to be anybody’s punk!
“Gullible? Listen here, Acorn boy…”
He came forward, bringing his pointy little face close to mine, near enough I could smell tree bark on his w arm breath. His voice was low and deadly serious. I was way over my head here, and I knew it was.
“Trying to do you a solid here, son.”
“Do me a favor,” I replied, fighting to hold my crumbling confidence. “Techically you understand that you fall under the category of prey, and lately I’m tired of eating cold hard food.”
He laughed, his round eyes narrowing and dangerous. “Listen here, tough guy. Maybe I got rabies, maybe I don’t. Maybe my palls come down here and even the score. You, you live in your nice warm house, with humans that bring you food. Try digging in the trash, or competing against this lot!” he motioned to the others lined up on a branch. “You’re safe from crows, don’t have to scrap with rats, run on power lines…ever face down a ticked-off raccoon? Naw, didn’t think so.”
He walked around me, giving me a good once over. I kept a wary, and nervous, eye on him
“So you’re the new cat, eh?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“So there was another cat!” I exclaimed. I turned too quickly. The blink of an eye he was up on a rusting yellow birdbath, a paw resting on a metallic hummingbird at the back of the bath.
“Big old female. Didn’t like her much, not like the other one. What’s her name?”
“Smudge?”
“Right,” he said. “The other one was trouble. She didn’t play around, not like Smudge.” He shook his head. “Dangerous that one.”
I came around, but my paws up on the bath. The squirrel backed away a bit, keeping a safe distance between us.
“So what happened to her?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked. He hoped down and scampered half way across the leaf-strewn patio.
“Same difference.”
Cat Dreams
It was warm on the antique love seat. I was tucked into one corner, my furry back against the arm rest. My head rested firmly against the gold cornucopia-print cushion. Golden light flooded through patio doors, warming my fur, like a mother’s embrace. I glanced to Smudge, warming herself upon the shelf in the window and longed for a bit of feline companionship.
My star-fire green and ochre eyes fought a losing battle with sleep. Through the plants in the window I could see the squirrels in the yard. A flock of excitable sparrows flittered about from the branches of a Maple sapling. My long tail curled up. So much to see and do and chase, but so little energy...
There is a long open stretch of beach along the Lake Superior Shore back home in Michigan. Strewn with driftwood from the island I would scamper down the back steps, across a little stretch of grass and dare the waves washing against the sand. I was little then, tripping and stumbling over these too-big feet. The whole litter was still together; mom, three brothers and four sisters. Dad, mom told us once, had strayed too close to the highway, but most of us believed he was a stray.
So there I was, running along the beach, too small to leave only the lightest of paw prints. The sun was bright, the air crisp and clean, the sky bursting with fat white clouds. On the bank above towered full green pine trees, their peppery perfume filling the air. Beneath a moss log and tiny pale lavender bluebells I rolled onto my back and stretched my paws towards that Spring sky. I wished we would all remain together, each of us kitten growing to have our own litters one day, dozens of us gorging ourselves on holiday meals of fish and field mice and pigeon.
There was a movement on the grassy bank above and just out of sight. I jumped up, playfully arching my back. I fully expected one of the others to come bounding over the edge, hoping to catch me by surprise. I would be ready though, and we would tumble and wrestle upon the beach before finding a cool safe place to nap the afternoon away. Instead I found myself suddenly confronted by 6 of the fattest, mangiest Chicago squirrels I’d ever seen.
“Well, look what we have here, boys,” said the leader, a mook with three long nasty scars along the right side of his face. I guessed it was from a fight with a hawk, by the looks of those ragged scars. Obviously, simply by the fact he was there, the squirrel had prevailed, but it had cost him an eye as well. His reddish-brown fur was filthy. A ragged, semi-hairless tail flipped and flickered behind him. There was a sinister look in his one good eye, and I knew right off this lot was trouble. For their part, the bums behind him didn’t look half as good.
“Runt of the litter, this one is, eh Boss” puked one of the others.
“Don’t hardly seem worth the trouble,” remarked another.
I backed away slowly, as they lined up along the bank. The Boss leaned forward. He reeked of trash. At the water’s edge I stopped, and realized I was trapped and hopelessly outnumbered. I tried to call for help, but it only came out as a whimpering weak little meow.
“Wait until my mom finds out about you clowns!” I fought to sound as tough as I could.
“He’s got moxy!” laughed one of the squirrels, with a nervous twitch of the head and shoulder.
“What are you guys doing here. We got squirrels, decent friendly little red squirrels, not like you gangsters!”
“We’re takin’ over kid. Us Chicago squirrels got to branch out. It’s called marketing, kid.”
“You’ll see, my mom will take you guys apar…” the Boss cut me off.
“So that was your mom, huh kid?” said the Boss.
“What do you mean was?”
With that the Boss stood and rubbed his fat gray belly. Behind him the others tittered and chuckled cruelly. “Your mom? She was delicious!”
I woke with a start, chilled to the bone by that awful dream. It took some time before it left me. I was thinking of mom’s face, and all the other kittens, scattered forever to the winds. I knew in my heart I would never see any of them ever again, at least not in this life. One thing was certain though, in our hearts we would always remain a family…
“You speak cat?”
“Enough. Ya learn things on the street,” he said, with a bit of a lisp through those prominent front teeth. “Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.
We both leaned, nearly touching noses as we took a quick sniff. Of course, there was really no telling what sort of character this really was until I could get around and sniff that butt. Seeing as that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon I took what I could get.
“Kid?” I complained. “Why is everyone calling me kid?”
“Nice tail,” he said. I did sort of a tail chasing turn to see just what he was talking about. I realized almost instantly, even before he laughed a chirping little laugh. I instantly felt dumb for it.
“That’s why I called you kid. A little on the gullible side. That will get you in trouble around here.”
I wanted to jump on that little rodent in the worst way, chase him across the yard or up a tree. Indeed, this was an odd and unexpected moment for both of us. He had a dangerous look in his round black eyes. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together. His whiskers twitched suspiciously. On the branch of the big Maple behind him three of his chubby little pals looked on. I glanced back at Smudge, curled up and sleeping in the window. I had my doubts she would come to my aid if I got in a tussle with this rabble.
I decided a bit of a show of force was in order. After all, I was a cat, a hunter not some sad little scavenger like this lout. Not that there wasn’t room for respect. I’d seen them flipping from tree branch to tree branch. These guys were gutsy, and maybe even crazy. These were prison yard rules, I realized, and I wasn’t about to be anybody’s punk!
“Gullible? Listen here, Acorn boy…”
He came forward, bringing his pointy little face close to mine, near enough I could smell tree bark on his w arm breath. His voice was low and deadly serious. I was way over my head here, and I knew it was.
“Trying to do you a solid here, son.”
“Do me a favor,” I replied, fighting to hold my crumbling confidence. “Techically you understand that you fall under the category of prey, and lately I’m tired of eating cold hard food.”
He laughed, his round eyes narrowing and dangerous. “Listen here, tough guy. Maybe I got rabies, maybe I don’t. Maybe my palls come down here and even the score. You, you live in your nice warm house, with humans that bring you food. Try digging in the trash, or competing against this lot!” he motioned to the others lined up on a branch. “You’re safe from crows, don’t have to scrap with rats, run on power lines…ever face down a ticked-off raccoon? Naw, didn’t think so.”
He walked around me, giving me a good once over. I kept a wary, and nervous, eye on him
“So you’re the new cat, eh?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“So there was another cat!” I exclaimed. I turned too quickly. The blink of an eye he was up on a rusting yellow birdbath, a paw resting on a metallic hummingbird at the back of the bath.
“Big old female. Didn’t like her much, not like the other one. What’s her name?”
“Smudge?”
“Right,” he said. “The other one was trouble. She didn’t play around, not like Smudge.” He shook his head. “Dangerous that one.”
I came around, but my paws up on the bath. The squirrel backed away a bit, keeping a safe distance between us.
“So what happened to her?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked. He hoped down and scampered half way across the leaf-strewn patio.
“Same difference.”
Cat Dreams
It was warm on the antique love seat. I was tucked into one corner, my furry back against the arm rest. My head rested firmly against the gold cornucopia-print cushion. Golden light flooded through patio doors, warming my fur, like a mother’s embrace. I glanced to Smudge, warming herself upon the shelf in the window and longed for a bit of feline companionship.
My star-fire green and ochre eyes fought a losing battle with sleep. Through the plants in the window I could see the squirrels in the yard. A flock of excitable sparrows flittered about from the branches of a Maple sapling. My long tail curled up. So much to see and do and chase, but so little energy...
There is a long open stretch of beach along the Lake Superior Shore back home in Michigan. Strewn with driftwood from the island I would scamper down the back steps, across a little stretch of grass and dare the waves washing against the sand. I was little then, tripping and stumbling over these too-big feet. The whole litter was still together; mom, three brothers and four sisters. Dad, mom told us once, had strayed too close to the highway, but most of us believed he was a stray.
So there I was, running along the beach, too small to leave only the lightest of paw prints. The sun was bright, the air crisp and clean, the sky bursting with fat white clouds. On the bank above towered full green pine trees, their peppery perfume filling the air. Beneath a moss log and tiny pale lavender bluebells I rolled onto my back and stretched my paws towards that Spring sky. I wished we would all remain together, each of us kitten growing to have our own litters one day, dozens of us gorging ourselves on holiday meals of fish and field mice and pigeon.
There was a movement on the grassy bank above and just out of sight. I jumped up, playfully arching my back. I fully expected one of the others to come bounding over the edge, hoping to catch me by surprise. I would be ready though, and we would tumble and wrestle upon the beach before finding a cool safe place to nap the afternoon away. Instead I found myself suddenly confronted by 6 of the fattest, mangiest Chicago squirrels I’d ever seen.
“Well, look what we have here, boys,” said the leader, a mook with three long nasty scars along the right side of his face. I guessed it was from a fight with a hawk, by the looks of those ragged scars. Obviously, simply by the fact he was there, the squirrel had prevailed, but it had cost him an eye as well. His reddish-brown fur was filthy. A ragged, semi-hairless tail flipped and flickered behind him. There was a sinister look in his one good eye, and I knew right off this lot was trouble. For their part, the bums behind him didn’t look half as good.
“Runt of the litter, this one is, eh Boss” puked one of the others.
“Don’t hardly seem worth the trouble,” remarked another.
I backed away slowly, as they lined up along the bank. The Boss leaned forward. He reeked of trash. At the water’s edge I stopped, and realized I was trapped and hopelessly outnumbered. I tried to call for help, but it only came out as a whimpering weak little meow.
“Wait until my mom finds out about you clowns!” I fought to sound as tough as I could.
“He’s got moxy!” laughed one of the squirrels, with a nervous twitch of the head and shoulder.
“What are you guys doing here. We got squirrels, decent friendly little red squirrels, not like you gangsters!”
“We’re takin’ over kid. Us Chicago squirrels got to branch out. It’s called marketing, kid.”
“You’ll see, my mom will take you guys apar…” the Boss cut me off.
“So that was your mom, huh kid?” said the Boss.
“What do you mean was?”
With that the Boss stood and rubbed his fat gray belly. Behind him the others tittered and chuckled cruelly. “Your mom? She was delicious!”
I woke with a start, chilled to the bone by that awful dream. It took some time before it left me. I was thinking of mom’s face, and all the other kittens, scattered forever to the winds. I knew in my heart I would never see any of them ever again, at least not in this life. One thing was certain though, in our hearts we would always remain a family…
Monday, November 23, 2009
Squirrels-Part Two
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” said the squirrel, with this sort of street tough accent. Not like the squirrels back in Michigan, who were simple and playful, almost to a fault. “Tail on fire?”
“You speak cat!” I exclaimed, surprised.
“Enough. Ya learn things on the street,” he said, with a bit of a lisp through those prominent front teeth. “Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.
We both leaned, nearly touching noses as we took a quick sniff. Of course, there was really no telling what sort of character this really was until I could get around and sniff that butt. Seeing as that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon I took what I could get.
“Kid?” I complained. “Why is everyone calling me kid?”
“Nice tail,” he said. I did sort of a tail chasing turn to see just what he was talking about. I realized almost instantly, even before he laughed a chirping little laugh. I quickly felt dumb at falling for the line.
“That’s why I called you kid. A little on the gullible side. That will get you in trouble around here.”
I wanted to jump on that little rodent in the worst way, chase him across the yard or up a tree. Indeed, this was an odd and unexpected moment for both of us. He had a dangerous look in his round black eyes. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together. His whiskers twitched suspiciously. On the branch of the big Maple behind him three of his chubby little pals looked on. I glanced back at Smudge, curled up and sleeping in the window. I had my doubts she would come to my aid if I got in a tussle with this rabble.
I decided a bit of a show of force was in order. After all, I was a cat, a hunter not some sad little scavenger like this lout. Not that there wasn’t room for respect. I’d seen them flipping from tree branch to tree branch. These guys were gutsy, and maybe even crazy. These were prison yard rules, I realized, and I wasn’t about to be anybody’s punk!
“Gullible? Listen here, Acorn boy…”
He came forward, bringing his pointy little face close to mine, near enough I could smell tree bark on his w arm breath. His voice was low and deadly serious. I was way over my head here, and I knew it was.
“Trying to do you a solid here, son.”
“Don't do me any favors,” I replied, fighting to hold my crumbling confidence. “Techically you understand that you fall under the category of prey, and lately I’m tired of eating cold hard food.”
He laughed, his round eyes narrowing dangerously. “Listen here, tough guy. Maybe I got rabies, maybe I don’t. Maybe my palls come down here and even the score. You, you live in your nice warm house, with humans that bring you food. Try digging in the trash, or competing against this lot!” he motioned to the others lined up on a branch. “You’re safe from crows, don’t have to scrap with rats, run on power lines…ever face down a ticked-off raccoon? Naw, didn’t think so.”
He walked around me, giving me a good once over. I kept a wary, and nervous, eye on him
“So you’re the new cat, eh?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“So there was another cat!” I exclaimed. I turned too quickly. The blink of an eye he was up on a rusting yellow birdbath, a paw resting on a metallic hummingbird at the back of the bath.
“Big old female. Didn’t like her much, not like the other one. What’s her name?”
“Smudge?”
“Right,” he said. “The other one was trouble. She didn’t play around, not like Smudge.” He shook his head. “Dangerous that one.”
I came around, but my paws up on the bath. The squirrel backed away a bit, keeping a safe distance between us.
“So what happened to her?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked. He hoped down and scampered half way across the leaf-strewn patio. He glanced back over one shoulder and shrugged.
“Same difference.”
“You speak cat!” I exclaimed, surprised.
“Enough. Ya learn things on the street,” he said, with a bit of a lisp through those prominent front teeth. “Welcome to the neighborhood, kid.
We both leaned, nearly touching noses as we took a quick sniff. Of course, there was really no telling what sort of character this really was until I could get around and sniff that butt. Seeing as that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon I took what I could get.
“Kid?” I complained. “Why is everyone calling me kid?”
“Nice tail,” he said. I did sort of a tail chasing turn to see just what he was talking about. I realized almost instantly, even before he laughed a chirping little laugh. I quickly felt dumb at falling for the line.
“That’s why I called you kid. A little on the gullible side. That will get you in trouble around here.”
I wanted to jump on that little rodent in the worst way, chase him across the yard or up a tree. Indeed, this was an odd and unexpected moment for both of us. He had a dangerous look in his round black eyes. He rubbed his tiny clawed hands together. His whiskers twitched suspiciously. On the branch of the big Maple behind him three of his chubby little pals looked on. I glanced back at Smudge, curled up and sleeping in the window. I had my doubts she would come to my aid if I got in a tussle with this rabble.
I decided a bit of a show of force was in order. After all, I was a cat, a hunter not some sad little scavenger like this lout. Not that there wasn’t room for respect. I’d seen them flipping from tree branch to tree branch. These guys were gutsy, and maybe even crazy. These were prison yard rules, I realized, and I wasn’t about to be anybody’s punk!
“Gullible? Listen here, Acorn boy…”
He came forward, bringing his pointy little face close to mine, near enough I could smell tree bark on his w arm breath. His voice was low and deadly serious. I was way over my head here, and I knew it was.
“Trying to do you a solid here, son.”
“Don't do me any favors,” I replied, fighting to hold my crumbling confidence. “Techically you understand that you fall under the category of prey, and lately I’m tired of eating cold hard food.”
He laughed, his round eyes narrowing dangerously. “Listen here, tough guy. Maybe I got rabies, maybe I don’t. Maybe my palls come down here and even the score. You, you live in your nice warm house, with humans that bring you food. Try digging in the trash, or competing against this lot!” he motioned to the others lined up on a branch. “You’re safe from crows, don’t have to scrap with rats, run on power lines…ever face down a ticked-off raccoon? Naw, didn’t think so.”
He walked around me, giving me a good once over. I kept a wary, and nervous, eye on him
“So you’re the new cat, eh?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“So there was another cat!” I exclaimed. I turned too quickly. The blink of an eye he was up on a rusting yellow birdbath, a paw resting on a metallic hummingbird at the back of the bath.
“Big old female. Didn’t like her much, not like the other one. What’s her name?”
“Smudge?”
“Right,” he said. “The other one was trouble. She didn’t play around, not like Smudge.” He shook his head. “Dangerous that one.”
I came around, but my paws up on the bath. The squirrel backed away a bit, keeping a safe distance between us.
“So what happened to her?”
“Can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I asked. He hoped down and scampered half way across the leaf-strewn patio. He glanced back over one shoulder and shrugged.
“Same difference.”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Squirrels!
"Cut loose, toots," I complained. Smudge was up on the shelf, as aloof as ever. But a cat gets lonely. A fella can only chase his tail and hide stuff under rugs so long.
"Listen," I say, almost begging, "ain't lookin' for nothin'but the time of day, see?"
Nothing. Not a shrug or a sneer. It is like I don't even exist. Well, a fella can just take getting shot down so much before he starts looking for other horizons. So, I turned, started for the food bowl. Figured I slam down some grub, such as it is. Cat's gotta keep up his strength.
"Wait," she said, almost reluctant. Her voice stopped me dead. There was something else, as if she was deeply tortured. I didn't turn. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
"Why should I, uh?"
"I wasn't always this way," said Smudge, grooming herself. Her gaze was far away. "Better you don't bother yourself with any of this."
I turned, my heart going out to her. Was that cold exterior melting? I jumped up on the golden antique loveseat closer to her. I looked away, not wanting to appear too eager, but couldn't help myself.
"I ain't going nowhere, babe."
"Much you don't, kid."
Before I could answer the male human came into the room. He gave this dumb look the moment he saw us, like his grand plan to make us fall in love was at last coming true. As if this fragile animal heart could be so easily manipulated.
I'd been burned by love before. Indeed, love is a war, and this soldier had already earned a purple heart. I wasn't quite so eager to put myself in the line of fire, at least not unless I'm calling the shots.
"Oliver, oo-rah-roe-mwow droh-roh outside," he said. Sill learning human. It is a bit not-subtle, shall I say, not like feline; the drop of an ear, the arch of a back, a flip of a tail that speaks volumes.
"Got to go, toots," I jumped down off the love seat and bolted for the patio door.
"Wait," said smudge,but it was lready too late. The door opened and I dodged into the yard. Rounin the corner I suddenly found myself nose to nose with the biggest, fattest squirrel I'd ever seen...
"Listen," I say, almost begging, "ain't lookin' for nothin'but the time of day, see?"
Nothing. Not a shrug or a sneer. It is like I don't even exist. Well, a fella can just take getting shot down so much before he starts looking for other horizons. So, I turned, started for the food bowl. Figured I slam down some grub, such as it is. Cat's gotta keep up his strength.
"Wait," she said, almost reluctant. Her voice stopped me dead. There was something else, as if she was deeply tortured. I didn't turn. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
"Why should I, uh?"
"I wasn't always this way," said Smudge, grooming herself. Her gaze was far away. "Better you don't bother yourself with any of this."
I turned, my heart going out to her. Was that cold exterior melting? I jumped up on the golden antique loveseat closer to her. I looked away, not wanting to appear too eager, but couldn't help myself.
"I ain't going nowhere, babe."
"Much you don't, kid."
Before I could answer the male human came into the room. He gave this dumb look the moment he saw us, like his grand plan to make us fall in love was at last coming true. As if this fragile animal heart could be so easily manipulated.
I'd been burned by love before. Indeed, love is a war, and this soldier had already earned a purple heart. I wasn't quite so eager to put myself in the line of fire, at least not unless I'm calling the shots.
"Oliver, oo-rah-roe-mwow droh-roh outside," he said. Sill learning human. It is a bit not-subtle, shall I say, not like feline; the drop of an ear, the arch of a back, a flip of a tail that speaks volumes.
"Got to go, toots," I jumped down off the love seat and bolted for the patio door.
"Wait," said smudge,but it was lready too late. The door opened and I dodged into the yard. Rounin the corner I suddenly found myself nose to nose with the biggest, fattest squirrel I'd ever seen...
Friday, November 20, 2009
DAY 36
Just wanted to play a little. No strings attached. The spool of yarn and the big Peacock feather on the bureau in the bedroom just gets old after a while. I needed a bit of social interaction, a bit of cat on cat time, some time to let my ears up and chase a little tail- in the playful sense, in the playful sense!
Smudge just wasn't having it, but enough was enough. After all, I'm not n interloper here. I was, in essence taken from the shelter. It wasn't my choice, and its not like I really have any better place to go. So, enough with the attitude, I thought, this is my home now too. We'll have to learn to get along, or its going to be a very long and unpleasant life here.
I knew just where to find her. She's got this old green fleece throw blanket at the end of the bed. Poor gal suckles there. obviously never weened properly, and my heart goes out to her for that. hard life for a young girl, but I've been there, toots. She's got to recognize we both come from the place-sort of. A world where we're discarded by some humans before being rescued and imprisoned by others. We're comrades, paisanos, goombahs, amigos!
I climbed up and found her there, suckling, kneading the blanket rhythmically with her front paws, her eyes half closed in some regressive pleasure. She looked up briefly, quickly suspicious that I would jump on that long black tail. But a cat knows, and I knew there was a deep and vulnerable side to Smudge. That pain made her all the more beautiful to me.
"A little busy here," she paused, narrowing her gaze at me.
"Ain't doin' nothin," I said, nonchalantly.
"Mind not doing it somwhere else. Ya kind of bug me, kid."
"Hot by you?" I asked, "Cause every time I'm near you I seem to get burned."
"Can't stand the heat kid..." she went back to suckling.
"Ain't the heat that's got me down." I studied her a moment.
I wasn't getting anywhere this day, that much was sure, but somehow it seemed like progress. Guy like me likes to run, be bold, take chances, but maybe kitten steps are the way to that cat's heart.
I turned and jumped down onto the floor. I paused at the yarn. Over my shoulder, on the bed I could see Smudge's ears. beyond her, upon that old antique bureau, beside the television, that bright and feathery Peacock feather. I sighed. Time enough for childish things, I thought as I rounded the corner to the hallway. Time for a bite of food and a nap...cold hard Friskies again...
Smudge just wasn't having it, but enough was enough. After all, I'm not n interloper here. I was, in essence taken from the shelter. It wasn't my choice, and its not like I really have any better place to go. So, enough with the attitude, I thought, this is my home now too. We'll have to learn to get along, or its going to be a very long and unpleasant life here.
I knew just where to find her. She's got this old green fleece throw blanket at the end of the bed. Poor gal suckles there. obviously never weened properly, and my heart goes out to her for that. hard life for a young girl, but I've been there, toots. She's got to recognize we both come from the place-sort of. A world where we're discarded by some humans before being rescued and imprisoned by others. We're comrades, paisanos, goombahs, amigos!
I climbed up and found her there, suckling, kneading the blanket rhythmically with her front paws, her eyes half closed in some regressive pleasure. She looked up briefly, quickly suspicious that I would jump on that long black tail. But a cat knows, and I knew there was a deep and vulnerable side to Smudge. That pain made her all the more beautiful to me.
"A little busy here," she paused, narrowing her gaze at me.
"Ain't doin' nothin," I said, nonchalantly.
"Mind not doing it somwhere else. Ya kind of bug me, kid."
"Hot by you?" I asked, "Cause every time I'm near you I seem to get burned."
"Can't stand the heat kid..." she went back to suckling.
"Ain't the heat that's got me down." I studied her a moment.
I wasn't getting anywhere this day, that much was sure, but somehow it seemed like progress. Guy like me likes to run, be bold, take chances, but maybe kitten steps are the way to that cat's heart.
I turned and jumped down onto the floor. I paused at the yarn. Over my shoulder, on the bed I could see Smudge's ears. beyond her, upon that old antique bureau, beside the television, that bright and feathery Peacock feather. I sighed. Time enough for childish things, I thought as I rounded the corner to the hallway. Time for a bite of food and a nap...cold hard Friskies again...
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Day 35
Breakfast of cold hard Friskies. Like prison food. The humans eat great food. Sometimes I sit on the counter and watch the male cook, and breathe in the smells. Sometimes you eat just to fill your belly. Got out this morning into the courtyard. Rolled around in the wet grass and big golden maple leaves covering the lawn. It was glorious!
Discovered a new terrible trick the humans have been playing. They have this thing called a "Screen Door." Just about snapped my neck last night thinking I could just bolt into the yard. The humans howl with laughter. Sick and sadistic. I'm saving up to cough a hairball into a slipper or shoe. Only bright spot was that I managed bit of payback to Smudge. I saw the screen and stopped just short. She kept going and did a great accordian inpersonation. Have to admit, saw bit of that sadistic joy the humans seem to find.
Rest of the day slept and dreamed of wide-open sun-drenched fields, chasing lizards and butterflies, and feasting on chubby sparrows: Fat, happy and free. I dreamed of little tabby I once loved from afar at the shelter in Michigan. Though she hardly seemed to notice, I would nonchalantly lick her white and gold fur, hoping she would return the favor. Would have died happy chasing that tail the rest of my days.
Woke with a start. Thought I felt an ear mite. Thank god it was nothing. Warm here in the window beneath a potted lavender plant. The sun feels warm...yawn..feel sleep coming...oh the life of a cat......
Discovered a new terrible trick the humans have been playing. They have this thing called a "Screen Door." Just about snapped my neck last night thinking I could just bolt into the yard. The humans howl with laughter. Sick and sadistic. I'm saving up to cough a hairball into a slipper or shoe. Only bright spot was that I managed bit of payback to Smudge. I saw the screen and stopped just short. She kept going and did a great accordian inpersonation. Have to admit, saw bit of that sadistic joy the humans seem to find.
Rest of the day slept and dreamed of wide-open sun-drenched fields, chasing lizards and butterflies, and feasting on chubby sparrows: Fat, happy and free. I dreamed of little tabby I once loved from afar at the shelter in Michigan. Though she hardly seemed to notice, I would nonchalantly lick her white and gold fur, hoping she would return the favor. Would have died happy chasing that tail the rest of my days.
Woke with a start. Thought I felt an ear mite. Thank god it was nothing. Warm here in the window beneath a potted lavender plant. The sun feels warm...yawn..feel sleep coming...oh the life of a cat......
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
November 18 2009
Day 34 of my struggle, since I first arrived here from the Animal Shelter up in Munising, Michigan. It was a big family there, all of us cats. A bit crowded in that tiny room, always forced to fight and scrap for food, but we were a family. A furry body knew who he could trust. Always had a nice warm body to sleep beside, lick your ears. Really the closest thing to a litter, those precious and simple days cuddled up to mom's belly.
Don't get me wrong, this is pretty good gig here in Chicago. Nothing that a six toed kitten with gold and brown bobcat looks and copper eyes should complain about. Bill and Ana, the couple who adopted me are nice enough. They play with me. He seems to like when I chase after this tin foil ball, so I indulge him. Helps keep me in shape. Like all humns they are suckers though. I do this thing where I flop onto my back and put my legs up in the air. Whatever they re doing that stops them cold and they oo and ahh over it. That usually gets me food, let outside and gets my belly scratched.
Problem is their other cat, Smudge, a black and white stray, with a Miss Thang attitude. Despite the attitude she's a real beauty, four shapely gams that go all the way up here and golden eyes to kill for. Do not know muchabout her, except she carries a secret. can't say for sure, but I guess there was another cat in the house. What happened I can only guess. Is smudge at the center of the mystery, or a victim of it? Hard to say.
Found a clump of fur under the television, tucked back out of sight, while digging for that cursed foil ball. This much I know, it wasn't Smudge's. Who was it? What happened to that other cat? Does this whole family harbor a dark secret? Was it...Murder!
I promise to answer all these questions. Cat heaven help me I will, and I will avenge that crime and bring the perps to just... got to go. They're coming home, the humans that is. I'll try to get close to Smudge and see what I can find out, that is if that mad, mad beauty let's me. More later...
Don't get me wrong, this is pretty good gig here in Chicago. Nothing that a six toed kitten with gold and brown bobcat looks and copper eyes should complain about. Bill and Ana, the couple who adopted me are nice enough. They play with me. He seems to like when I chase after this tin foil ball, so I indulge him. Helps keep me in shape. Like all humns they are suckers though. I do this thing where I flop onto my back and put my legs up in the air. Whatever they re doing that stops them cold and they oo and ahh over it. That usually gets me food, let outside and gets my belly scratched.
Problem is their other cat, Smudge, a black and white stray, with a Miss Thang attitude. Despite the attitude she's a real beauty, four shapely gams that go all the way up here and golden eyes to kill for. Do not know muchabout her, except she carries a secret. can't say for sure, but I guess there was another cat in the house. What happened I can only guess. Is smudge at the center of the mystery, or a victim of it? Hard to say.
Found a clump of fur under the television, tucked back out of sight, while digging for that cursed foil ball. This much I know, it wasn't Smudge's. Who was it? What happened to that other cat? Does this whole family harbor a dark secret? Was it...Murder!
I promise to answer all these questions. Cat heaven help me I will, and I will avenge that crime and bring the perps to just... got to go. They're coming home, the humans that is. I'll try to get close to Smudge and see what I can find out, that is if that mad, mad beauty let's me. More later...
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