Archive for the 'Cats' Category

Apr 12 2010

Gloomy

Published by under Cats,Henry,Weather

audreycouchCozy Audrey

It rained all day yesterday. In San Francisco, the Giants game had to be postponed for four hours, something which is practically unheard of there. Here the power flickered but stayed on, and the needle on the thermometer hovered dispiritedly at 40 before giving up completely and creeping down into the 30s again around 3:00 in the afternoon. Four weeks into spring, I can’t say that I’m overly impressed with its performance so far.

Audrey drove me nuts yesterday by demanding to go out in the torrential rain, then noticing the torrential rain, and then demanding to be let back in again. She did this five or six times in half an hour, clearly thinking that the rain had gone away each time. Megan says that her dog Jesse used to go out the front door in bad weather, then come back in and go out the back door, just in case the weather was better back there.

So you can see that my job as doorman remains secure. I think the cats think that the cat flap is for nighttime use only, just like the slightly open balcony door used to be. I have yet to see them use it in the daytime, and they will come downstairs and ask to be let out. I wonder if they used the cat flap while I was in the city, or just waited for the substitute doormen to come by. The idea of their changing their habits or being that patient are equally unlikely to me.

Maybe it’s the cold and rain, but the girls have been spending more time with me in the evenings than they used to. Audrey’s been sitting next to me on the couch, as you can see above, for the past three. I wonder if it’s because Henry is no longer here to claim that spot, or because she can tell I’m sad. I have yet to go a day without crying, sometimes at inopportune moments (fleeing to the ladies’ room in the Four Seasons springs to mind, where I startled and slightly alarmed the hapless cleaning lady), and I miss that tiny little cat more than I ever imagined.

Rose’s daughter Catrin brought me a red candle in a glass votive holder to honor Henry Etta. I’ve been burning it every night in Henry’s memory, and when I blow it out, I say goodnight to her. I say it again when I go to bed, looking down on where her bed used to be from the stairs, just as I used to every night. Some habits are hard to break.

I feel like there’s some lesson to be learned from having Henry so briefly in my life, but I have no idea what it is. All I know is I love her and miss her. My little love.

5 responses so far

Apr 08 2010

Returned

Well, I’m back in Hooterville.

I couldn’t afford to stay in the city today, or even pick up a pizza on my way to the Golden Gate Bridge, which made me a crabby little crabcake, I can tell you. Especially after discovering that gas is $3.17 there instead of the $3.03 it is up here. Still better than the $3.35 I noticed as I passed the Navarro Store. Yikes.

It was a postcard perfect day as I drove crankily across the bridge. Sailing ships and merchant ships were tootling around on the blue water, the city sparkled in its pastel glory, and Alcatraz looked like an incongruous resort. The city didn’t seem to be at all sorry to see me leave, though I felt the usual pang crossing into Marin, putting San Francisco behind me.

I had the Oakland A’s game on the radio to keep me company. Amazingly, I got reception all the way to Yorkville, when it finally faded at the top of the 8th inning, with Oakland ahead 4-0 (for those who are interested, they won 6-2 to sweep Seattle). By then, I could receive the Coast, which saw me all the way to the local store, where I stopped off to check the mail and get a bottle of wine.

It was so windy at the store that I could barely get the car door open, but bright and sunny.

All was well at my Henry-less hippie hovel. I wish June and Audrey were as excited to see me as I am to see them (Henry Etta was always happy to see me, and ran to the door to be petted). I always miss them when I go away, no matter how short the trip. And this was too short.

2 responses so far

Apr 06 2010

Final Farewell

Published by under Cats,Henry

henrytree
The memorial tree

On Friday morning, I turned off the outside lights and stopped to pet Henry on my way to the kitchen. She was lying on her side, paws relaxed, and fast asleep. The room temperature on the heater read 60, which pleased me, thinking that Henry Etta had been warm all night. Lately I’ve left the heat up higher at night for her comfort.

As soon as I touched her, I knew something was wrong. She was cold and stiff. I felt her nose for breath, put my ear to her side to listen for that brave little heart, but all was silent.

I called Megan and wailed the news into the phone. “I’ll be right over,” she said, and she was. By the time she got there, I was kneeling by Henry Etta’s bed, petting her scruffy fur and sobbing “My little love, my little love” over and over again. June and Audrey were uninterested in the drama, wandering in and out of the house and following their own agendas. I kept asking Meg to check if Henry was really gone, even though it was obvious that my courageous little cat had breathed her last.

It looked like she died in her sleep. That last night, I had her up on the couch with me again, petting her and telling her I loved her. I put her in her bed myself before I went up to bed that night. She looked very peaceful.

We wrapped her in a soft, thick blue towel and drove to the property. Jonathan was on his way to work, but he started digging the grave for us. Like many seemingly simple tasks, there is a technique to this. Pick axe first, then shovel. It was pouring, and the heavy soil clayey and sandy. It took a while to dig deep enough to make sure that no animals would disturb her. By the time we finished, we were wet and filthy.

I took Henry from the car and walked her slowly to the tree, talking to her all the way, telling her about her new neighbors, Jed and Bear, dogs who loved cats, and Luna, a cat almost as small as Henry Etta herself. She’s in good company there. I kissed her goodbye and thanked her for her gift of love, for coming into my life. Megan laid her gently in her resting place, and allowed me to start replacing the soil before joining in to help. She apologized for tamping down the soil, but I preferred to think of it as tucking her in and keeping her safe.

I placed driftwood on her grave before we left, and yesterday I added some yellow daisies from my garden:

henrygrave

We’ll plant something permanent there soon.

On the short drive home, I told Meg that I think there’s something therapeutic about digging the grave, getting dirty, wrapping up your loved one, and laying him or her to their final rest with your own hands, instead of distancing yourself from death the way society generally does. And I’m glad I can visit her.

Oddly, she died on the very day she was to go to the vet. Megan called Dr. Karen, and she said that although she could have given Henry Etta antibiotics for the eye infection, whatever she died of was beyond antibiotics or anything else Dr. Karen could have done. She was, after all, a very old cat, and had fought so long and so bravely. Dr. Karen sent me a kiss and a hug, and called later to check up on me.

I’m glad Henry Etta was spared that last trip to the vet, and that she died peacefully in her sleep, safe and warm, knowing that she was so loved. The hard part is going on without her.

My little love.

8 responses so far

Mar 31 2010

Starring San Francisco

Published by under Cats,Henry,Movies,Weather

henrycouch
Spot the kitty!

It’s almost noon, and my battered thermometer claims it’s barely 40 degrees outside. Some of the hailfall is still clinging to icy existence beside the house, and the house is filled with that eerie white snow light.

Megan stopped by yesterday on her way to work and brought my orchid inside so it will survive the cold snap. It’s now taking up valuable real estate beside the stairs, where I brush past it every time I sidle through the 18 inches of space between the refrigerator and the stairs.

The cold, dark weather this week has inspired me to watch a few films noirs from my favorite decade. Last night’s double feature featured my own true love, the City by the Bay. Henry Etta came up on the couch with me, where she relaxed with her head on a pillow, covered by one of my sweaters (see above) as the rain and hail stormed outside.

First up was “Impact” (1949). Though lacking in my favorite credit (“Gowns By”), it made up for it with “Furs By” and “Jewels By” and an apartment in the illustrious Brocklebank Building, where Kim Novak’s character lived in “Vertigo” and the late, great Herb Caen lived in real life. You can rent a little place there for $9,700 a month if you’d like to join that celebrated company.

Brian Donlevy plays a millionaire industrialist going out of town on a business trip. His lovely wife, played by the seductive Helen Walker, convinces him to bring along a “cousin” of hers, who is, in fact, her lover. The lover attempts to bump off Donlevy, but only succeeds in bumping off himself and a gorgeous cream colored roadster in a spectacular crash.

Dazed and confused, Donlevy ends up in a small Idaho town, where he finds a job and a room with the world’s most attractive and least likely garage owner, played by Ella Raines. But when he discovers that his wife has been arrested for his own “murder”, he returns to San Francisco to set the record straight.

Oddly, Helen Walker, whose character engineered a murderous car crash, endured a career-ending car crash in real life. She picked up some GIs who were hitchhiking, and crashed the car. One soldier died and the other two were severely injured, as was Helen, who was tried for murder. She was acquitted, but her career never recovered, and she died of cancer at the age of 47. Her life was more tragic than any movie she ever starred in.

The second feature was the somewhat misleadingly titled “Woman on the Run” (1950), starring the glamorous Ann Sheridan and a cast of unknowns (at least to me). Ann’s husband is out late one night walking their dog when he accidentally witnesses a murder. When the cops arrive and want to put him in protective custody, he thinks they suspect him and “takes a powder”. The police question his wife, and learn that their marriage is on the rocks. The wife learns that her husband has a secret heart condition, and tries to find him before the cops or the real killer do.

The movie ends with a breathtaking and frightening night time roller coaster ride, predating Hitchcock’s carousel horror in “Strangers on a Train” by a year. It was filmed at Playland at the Beach, an amusement park which perched on the dunes of Ocean Beach for nearly a century before being dismantled and replaced by, God help us, soulless condominium boxes. It was great to see it in all its tacky glory, with the terrifying sounds of Laffing Sal (who can still be seen and heard at the Musée Mécanique, now at Pier 45) providing the perfect backdrop to such a scary scene.

And it was wonderful to see that beautiful city in all its glory. Some things haven’t changed at all in 60 years, and others have changed completely. But one thing never changes: the beauty of San Francisco.

3 responses so far

Mar 30 2010

Hail to Thee

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry,Weather

hail1
Hail in the garden, 7 am

It was wild and stormy last night. It rained so hard that it woke me up a few times. I lay there listening to the storm rage, wondering why James never cut down the trees which are just a few feet from the house. If one of them gets knocked over by the wind…

Amazingly, the power stayed on and the cats stayed in.

This morning, I was awakened by hail crashing heavily against the roof and skylight. Risking life and limb (well, limb, anyway), I dashed out to take photos for you, dear readers, before the rain melted the evidence. Here you can see the hail on my porch steps and beside the roof/wall:

hail2

When Rob dropped by with some mail, I was glad to hear that Megan had escaped the hailstorm on her morning commute. I was also entertained by the three census forms he brought. They all have the same street address, but are differentiated by additional descriptions:

12345 Blank Road
A Frame Cabin (me)

12345 Blank Road
Two Story Cabin (Megan & Rob)

12345 Blank Road
Unknown Unit-A (Jonathan’s former residence, now unoccupied)

I’d love to know how they described Mark’s place and the front house. Apparently the front house has new occupants. I have never met them, but I have waved at them while driving by and noticed that they have done a great job cleaning up the long-neglected garden.

And in other news, I have an appointment with Dr. Karen on Friday afternoon, so my medical advocate (aka my sister Megan) can join me. When I called and gave the receptionist my name, she asked brightly “Is this for Henry Etta?” Celebucat!
Update: Turns out that this morning’s storm was just a preview for the real storm, at 3:00 this afternoon:

hail4

The air smelled strongly of pine resin – I guess from the hail battering the trees.

hail5

The light in the house immediately took on that strange, white light that it does when it snows.

hail6

The temperature dropped to 40 in just a few minutes.

Hard to believe it was 80 degrees here a week ago!

5 responses so far

Mar 29 2010

Cat Chat

Published by under Cats,Henry,Weather

rainyday
View from the porch today

The forecast this week is for cold and rain, and I have learned the chilly way that temperatures in Hooterville are approximately ten degrees lower than they are in the balmy Bay Area. Henry Etta and I have stayed close to the heater today, she retreating to the depths of her faux sheepskin bed and me in two sweaters.

Her eyes seem less gloppy today, though she is leaving little land mines all over the house, necessitating footwear and cautious foot placement at all times. She mostly stays in bed, except if I crinkle a plastic bag in the kitchen. This happens more often than you’d think, especially since I wash and re-use my Ziploc bags until they no longer zip or loc. She runs into the kitchen and meows loudly for food. She sounds like I slammed the car door on her tail. Oddly, since moving inside, she has become louder and more demanding of food, even though it is available at all times.

On the other hand, the bulimia seems to have stopped.

Megan is stopping in at the vet’s office on her way to work today to get a kitty valium for Henry Etta and to make an appointment. The idea is to give The H some Vitamin V to settle her down enough that Dr. Karen can examine her and take blood without having to sedate her again. We need to make sure that the metacam isn’t affecting her kidneys and liver. And I’d like to get an idea what her lethargy and other symptoms are all about. Hopefully we can get in sometime this rainy week.

I’ll keep you posted.

June and Audrey are getting used to the new cat door upstairs. I had to shove them through it a couple of times before they grasped the concept (even though they’ve had one between the main house and the studio for several months now). It’s great not having to leave the door ajar all night, especially now that the cold and rain are making yet another farewell appearance.

I had a vain hope that they might use the cat flap exclusively, making me obsolete as a doorman, even while knowing it was on the unrealistic side. But I’m slated to go to San Francisco next week, and while I know Megan and Rob will take good care of them while I’m gone, it will be nice to know that the cats can come in and out at will while I’m away. Maybe it will even train them to use the cat flap instead of the doorman. A girl can dream.

4 responses so far

Mar 27 2010

Dew Drop Inn

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Family

catdoor2
New cat door!

Rob turned up while I was still sipping my coffee and regaining consciousness. If you ever visit, just walk right in. Don’t bother to knock. The door doesn’t have a lock, anyway, so come on in. Everyone else does.

Of course, if I’ve gone to town (aka the Three Hour Tour), it could be a long wait. Good thing for you there are books, movies, and magazines galore. And cats to let in and out, even though they now have their very own cat door in the door leading to the balcony.

That’s why Rob stopped by, to install the cat door. While I woke up slowly, he installed the door upstairs. It’s very relaxing to watch other people work, I find.

Afterwards, I asked him to put up tiebacks for the curtains in the living room, and he:

  • Pointed out that they were made in China, something of which he does not approve for many reasons;
  • Pointed out that they have a serious design flaw when it comes to installing them – it’s nearly impossible to get the screwdriver at the appropriate, weird angle (though he did manage it in the end);
  • Made fun of the entire tiebacks concept. After all, he is a boy.

They look great, by the way.

When the chores were finished, we watched the news together for a while, and then he went on his way. I made a mental note to buy him some beer to say thanks and was glad yet again to have Rob in my life, even unexpectedly and first thing in the morning.

4 responses so far

Mar 25 2010

Henry Etta Update

Published by under Cats,Henry

Like girl, like cat: Henry Etta also fell off the sleeping loft, and also landed on her side. I was surprised that she didn’t shatter into a million pieces, since she’s practically made of glass, but she was unharmed and unperturbed.

Unlike Self, the reason for her unorthodox descent from the penthouse was not lack of coordination and Calamity tendencies. It was The Beautiful June Bug.

June is the boss around here, and she’s never been a big Henry fan. When she was trapped on the porch in Oakland and Henry had free stagger of the back yard, she used to glare at her and plot. Now I often have to stop June from being mean to Henry, though surprisingly, neither she nor Audrey has ever tried to take over Henry’s cushy bed, in its primo spot by the only heater.

Earlier on the same day that Henry plummeted from the loft, I had stopped June from sneaking up and pouncing on Henry Etta in the garden. Henry was basking in the sun and had no idea what June was up to. I poked June with a stray tiki torch until she ran off to find other trouble to get into, but I guess she just bided her time. She found Henry unattended and made her move.

This was several days ago, and although Henry Etta didn’t show any negative effects from the fall, I get the feeling she isn’t feeling that great lately. Her walk is limpier and she’s had trouble jumping onto the porch and couch. Also, she just seems kind of blah, although she’s still eating well and loving her Sea Flex. Last night she merrily ate the fish I saved her from my own dinner. But she’s been having litter box issues, and this morning I had to go and get her from the studio to bring her to the heater, a first.

In doing so, I discovered that her tail and derriere were in need of attention, so I did that with a warm, wet cloth, but really, I think she needs a bath. Also, I discovered that my genius idea of wrapping her up in one of my sweaters last night wasn’t so genius after all, and prompted an impromptu load of wash, with an unprecedented use of warm water.

I wonder if it’s just old age – she could be 15 or 20, who knows – or a phase, or if something’s wrong. If only cats’ vocabularies weren’t so limited.

4 responses so far

Mar 16 2010

Getting Warmer

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry

I got up at 7 this morning after dreaming I had an apartment right next door to San Quentin. It was 40 degrees this morning, so all around, it was an improvement.

Henry Etta, however, did not seem to find it all that warm. She was nestled so far back in her cozy bed that I could hardly see her. She poked her nose out when I turned the heat on, though, and now she’s basking.

It’s sunny again and supposed to be above 60 again, so maybe spring really is here, a few days ahead of schedule.

Despite the warming trend, the bathroom remains its chilly, uninviting self. I still have to psych myself to face taking a shower, and once I’m in it, I have to psych myself up again to face the cold (and now foggy) room. Only the thought of the pricy propane burning away merrily stops me from postponing the inevitable indefinitely.

I came across a small electric heater the other day and decided to put it to good use in the icy salle de bains. You will be relieved to hear that I placed it carefully on the bureau-esque thing (several shelves but no doors, and the teeny sink is embedded in it) several feet away from the shower. Even if it did fall down, which is highly unlikely, it would only fall on the lime green plywood floor.

Still trying to keep those new year’s resolutions.

Initial experiments have proved successful. I put the heater on, shut both bathroom doors, and let it preheat* for about 10 minutes. By then, the bathroom is warm enough to undress without fear, and same goes for exiting the shower. I was excited to actually be warm after getting dressed, instead of shivering.

Of course, I figured it out now that spring is here, but that’s the Suzy way.

*How can you “preheat” an oven? You turn it on and it heats. That’s it. It’s not heating before it’s heating.

5 responses so far

Mar 15 2010

Outside

Published by under Cats,Henry,Weather


Blurry picture of Henry taken through the sliding glass doors this afternoon

Day Four of getting up at 6 (or earlier). I think this officially qualifies as a bad habit now.

And speaking of bad: the bad habit of Daylight Savings Time means it’s dark and even more depressing at that benighted hour.

As I made coffee, I considered the expression “the early bird gets the worm”. What incentive is that to get up early? “The early girl gets the tiara” would be much more motivating for Self.

It was 34 chilly degrees as I drank my thimbleful of strong dark coffee, while simultaneously checking my emails and petting scruffy old Henry. I wonder if they make sweaters for cats, and if so, would Henry Etta wear one? I’m a little worried that her extreme thinness makes her as uninsulated as the house and I know she really feels the cold.

As I write, it’s around 1 pm, and it’s a sunny 61 degrees now. Henry actually ventured out of the house yesterday (when I put out the recycling, she followed me and then wandered off) and today (I opened the front door to get some air and she went out, seeking a sunny spot – I later saw her basking by the disused hot tub). I think she’s beginning to realize that if she goes outside, she can still come back in. I think that was her concern before, though I could be wrong. I wish she could talk and tell me her story and what she’s thinking.

I think she’ll enjoy the summer!

3 responses so far

Mar 12 2010

This Is Your Wake-Up Call

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry,Weather


Lookin’ out my front door

Rain pounding on the curved roof/wall woke me up at 6:00 this morning. Since we haven’t yet been subjected to the absurdity of daylight savings time, it’s light-ish out. Light enough for me to turn off the mountain lion deterring outside lights, anyway.

Returning to bed, Audrey was curled up neatly on her side (she tends to sleep in a ball, whereas June tends to stretch out and cover as much real estate as she can) and June was placed exactly where my feet should go, pinning down the covers. Henry of course was in her bed by the heater, dreaming of sunshine.

I figured it was safe to shut the balcony door and go back to bed for a little while.

Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the distinctive sound of the Audrometer, clawing madly at the recently closed balcony door. “Audrey, cut it out!” I yelled from under the covers. “What’s that you say? Ignore you completely and keep doing what I was already doing?” I tried to ignore her frantic clawing and clacking. After a while, I heard her quick, graceful steps on the stairs and then, you guessed it, more clawing and pounding at that door.

Giving in to the inevitable, I put my sleep mask and ear plugs away in a little brass box by my bed (so June won’t play with them into oblivion and/or eat the ear plugs). As I put on another sweater, I gazed at June, sleeping happily through the whole thing, then grumped my way downstairs.

I let Audrey out into the pouring rain, and as I write, she’s still out in it somewhere, even though it’s raining hard enough to bounce back up again. It’s dark enough to have the light on, which reminds me: why do TV shows and movies always have lights on, even when it’s broad daylight?

Visions of power outages dancing in my head, I warmed up coffee in my tiny, as-yet unbroken cup and turned the heat up from the night’s 52 to the day’s 62. This is the best part of Henry’s day, other than getting her Sea Flex treats. She melts out of her bed with happiness as the warm air toasts her tiny body. Bliss!

4 responses so far

Mar 03 2010

Dream

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Family,Henry,Weather

I woke up with a headache this morning. I’m not sure if it was the nearly sleepless night or the endless allergies or an unlovely combo platter of the two, but when I wake up with a headache, it’s usually my close companion for the rest of the day.

Thoughts of Advil danced in my head as I started the coffee brewing, but I have finally learned my lesson that taking anything to offset a headache results in what I refer to as “aspirin tummy” as well as the headache. Better to keep calm and carry on.

On the bright side, there was no Henry barf on the rug this morning. On the down side, the flash heater was out again and refused to respond to my lame-ish ministrations. I have to admit that I didn’t invest a lot of time in trying to resuscitate it, partly because I was uncaffeinated and partly because it was a two sweater morning and standing outside shivering and ineptly assaulting an inanimate object was not the most appealing prospect. I’ll call Mark later.

The night had started out well enough. I finally had the new Michael Connelly, which I requested from the library in October, and the reassuring thought that there is another one coming out this October. I had changed the sheets and fluffed up the feather bed and feather pillows, so the bed was a haven of comfort. I just settled down for a cozy read when I heard a tiny sound. I put the book down and listened. There it was again. I got out of bed and peered down the stairs.

It was Henry Etta, sitting on the stairs and sounding tiny and sad.

I called her and she came up the stairs slowly, then jumped on the bed (thank you, metacam and Sea Flex!). June, who was already ensconced in her usual place, gave Henry Etta the stink eye until I told her to knock it off. She turned her back on me and huffily resumed her beauty sleep. Henry sat next to me for a while and I petted her and talked to her while I read.

I must have bored her, though, or else the heat came on, because after half an hour or so she repaired to her cozy bed by the heater. It was nice while it lasted and I hope she does it again. She hasn’t been up there in months, as far as I know.

Sleep was hard to come by last night, and when it finally arrived, I was woken up by a heavy storm, slashing rain against the roof/walls and wind howling through the trees. I was almost sure there would be another power outage and waited anxiously in the dark, listening to the storm crescendo and thinking about the precarious electrical arrangements on the property and the foolishness of not clearing enough trees around the houses.

The power didn’t go out, though I eventually did. I dreamed of Dad. We were making dinner for a party of unknown dream people, and we were marinating fish in lime juice. One of the party goers asked Dad if he’d take a drink from his wineskin, which he offered. Dad laughed and said no, he’d stick to his 1952 Margaux. He would have in real life, too, since excellent wine rarely, if ever, comes out of a bag. Or box.

In my dreams, Dad is never dead.

I was awakened by the balcony door slamming open in the wind. I lay in the darkness for a long moment, remembering all over again that he’s gone. That’s the worst thing about dreams: waking up to reality.

I got up and closed the door.

2 responses so far

Feb 25 2010

Mysteries

Published by under Cats,Country Life

My sister’s car was parked in my driveway this morning, and I’m sure it wasn’t there last night.

She was so stressed and sleep-deprived yesterday that Rob took her to work last night and Jonathan picked her up this morning, bright and early at 6 am, once again making him the best brother ever. So the car’s presence here was even stranger.

Later I found it was because Lu thought she might drop off a load of wood at Megan’s so Rob moved the car to make way for the potential transaction.

And I thought it was because being seen in my driveway had such cachet.

Less mysterious, but still delightful, was the dozen Betty eggs she left on my table. Betty’s hens are laying again now that spring is closer.

In other mysteries, whenever I go to town and pick up an armload of books from the library, as I did yesterday, I almost invariably find more have arrived by the time I get home or check my library holds the next day. How do they do it?

And why do the cats claw the hell out of the wood on either side of the door when they have a woods full of trees all around them? It isn’t just Audrey clawing frantically to go in or out, either, since that is done by clawing the glass in the door for extra squeak. June claws the house, too, and Megan’s cats do the same thing at their house. Why? Why?

The ways of cats are inscrutable. I love it when I let them in one door and they walk straight to another door and ask to be let out of that one. Just because they can, I guess.

3 responses so far

Feb 20 2010

The Cat Report

Published by under Cats,Family,Henry

henryduvet
Perfectly innocent

So are the cats of our lives…

On Thursday night, I made yet another unnecessarily elaborate dinner at my sister’s house. My sis happens to have a much better equipped cuisine than I do, even though she – if you can believe this – has even less counter space. In fact, my very act of choosing to cook at her place led to a flurry of cleaning off the old wooden table in her kitchen to give me a little more operating room.

After the long-awaited dinner*, Harriet showed up with a mouse in her mouth. I opened the front door but she ran upstairs. Later, we discovered that Harriet had left the (dead) mouse under the coffee table Dad made out of an ancient door. Meg’s first step, unsteadily, was taken from that table, which she held onto before letting go and walking into her life. She never looked back.

Fearing for Jinx and my brother in almost equal measure, I went over to his place last night and called the cat with no real hope of success. I left an open can of very good quality cat food on an outside table for him, and called him for almost an hour with no results. As I walked around the bushes and the shipping container and the shed and the trailer with my flashlight, I thought, “Well, there’s a million places he could be.” I didn’t even raise Twilley, who was undoubtedly thrilled to be released from his unaccustomed prison.

I called my brother and told him of my lame efforts, and he was really touched. I told him how surprised I was to be so upset by the loss of a cat I never knew, and offered the hope of a Hav-A-Hart trap baited with something really good. The truth is, my brother does so much for me, and I can do so little for him. This was all I could do, other than locking the gate when I left, which he appreciated.

That’s another story, and it’s not a nice one, having to do with the kind of people who will knock down your gate and steal your redwoods for profit.

When I got home, I horrified June and Audrey by sweeping them into my arms and hugging them, making them wiggle frantically to escape my maniacal clutches. I was just so glad they were safe. All night my thoughts kept turning to Jinx, out there in the deep country darkness.

Henry Etta distracted me from these morbid thoughts (and the finale of “Monk”, which was excellent) by jumping onto my lap. I petted her messy fur and was glad she was safe forever from the perils of the Oakland streets. When the heater went on, she dumped me in its favor as usual, but she left a not so lovely parting gift. Unwisely putting my hand on the couch cover, I discovered an even bigger gift there. I took off the couch cover, changed into my pajamas, and threw the whole mess into the washer.

Then I got a paper towel, dampened it with warm water, and wiped Miss Henry’s butt with it. After I threw out the paper towel, it occurred to me how remarkable it was that she actually allowed me yank up her tail and undignify her like that without resorting to hissing or clawing.

I am now keeping a tea towel on my lap at all times in self-defense.

Note to Self: better throw that cat bed into the wash, too.

*It was manicotti, stuffed with turkey sausage and fresh spinach, etc. I deviated freely from the recipe. It turned out well, but stuffing the manicotti is a skill I didn’t pick up when I lived in Italy for a few months. If only I’d thought to ask!

2 responses so far

Feb 19 2010

Advice

Published by under Cats

Dear Readers,

At the best of times, the inside of my head looks like a particularly untidy attic. And since I seem to be coming down with a cold or similar (it’s hard to tell when you have allergies; they’re like an unending cold), it’s not the best of times for my two little brain cells.

My brother woke me up from weird dreams this morning (the kind which convince you that you are, in fact, secretly psychotic) to ask me what to do about his cats. Twilley is annoyed at being kept inside and may also be annoyed by the invasion of his petite domain by the new cat.

The new cat is still hiding in the shower, which, apart from hygiene concerns, is concerning.

I think new cats can hide for much longer than 48 hours, but does anyone have any experience with this?

Also, should we let Twilley out? I’m afraid he’ll be all annoyed and take off, but he does know where he lives now and where his food is, so hopefully his little tabby nose isn’t too much out of joint to come back home.

My brother was on his way to work for a 12 hour shift, so I said to leave them both in and I’d check on them later, so that’s what we did for today.

Do let me know your suggestions/thoughts/ideas as soon as you can, either in the comments or by emailing me at sjpeakall AT gmail DOT com.

Thanks from the kitties and the people who love them,

Suzy
Update, Friday, 7 pm: Well, they managed to get out while my brother was at work. ~sigh~ I just went over with a can of food and called them, but needless to say, no response. Left the open can of food on an outside table and hope Jinx will find it. Hope he isn’t too scared to reappear. I’m so sad and I never even met this cat!

3 responses so far

Feb 17 2010

Etc.*

Published by under Cats,Jessica

As you know, I’m getting pretty tired of being the cat doorman. Well, Audrey’s doorman, especially several times in the middle of the night. As a family, we tend to sleep poorly, so being woken up multiple times by the Audrometer in addition has led to chronic sleepiness for me. Last night, I decided to leave the balcony door slightly ajar, so Audrey could come or go as she liked. I expected to find the door blasted open in the middle of the night, but no. And it was great to get a real night’s sleep, such as it was. I imagine parents feel the same way when their baby finally sleeps through the night.

In other cat news, my brother has adopted a young black and white male named Jinx. He used to have two adorable tuxedo brothers named Thing One and Thing Two, but they disappeared (in order, actually). After One disappeared, he adopted Twilley, a handsome tabby who agrees with Audrey about the importance of hunting at all times. Twilley and Two spent a lot of time together until Two also vanished. Twilley has been very lonely, especially when Jonathan works overnight, so getting a companion seemed like a good idea.

Jinx was quiet all the way from the animal shelter to Jonathan’s place. Released from his box, he went crazy, racing back and forth in the (very) limited confines of the trailer, leaping up on the counters, spraying pots and pans everywhere. I just called to check on him and he is now hiding in the shower while my brother attempts to restore order to his domain. Twilley is bemused. Keeping them inside for the prescribed two weeks is going to be…interesting.

By the way: I forgot to mention that I finally remembered to bring Jessica her nicely wrapped Christmas present (either really late or really early – you decide) on Sunday. She was so impressed with the wrapping that she was reluctant to open it, probably a first for both of us. As soon as she took off the snowflake pin, she put it on her coat (and later, when it warmed up at the fair and she took her coat off, she put it on her t-shirt). I’m glad I was momentarily mature enough to give it to her instead of keeping it. The light-up snowman pen was a big hit, too. She used it to write down all our cell phone numbers and put them in her pocket in case we got separated at the fair. This was her idea. What else would you expect from a six year old who reads at an advanced sixth grade level?

*If I had been old enough to have my own place in the 1970s, I would have had an “etc” sign on the wall, just like Rhoda. I loved her apartment on the first couple of seasons of “Rhoda”. The terrace alone! I also loved MTM’s little studio apartment. I love mentally redecorating both of them when I watch those shows, too.

2 responses so far

Feb 14 2010

Crush

Published by under Cats,Dogs,Henry,Schatzi


I do too fit!

Last night, Megan and I had a girls’ night in. Schatzi came, too, sporting a cute new collar* which unfortunately doesn’t really show up in this picture. Also it kind of gives her demon eyes, but it was so funny I had to post it anyway. After a couple of glasses of wine, Megan observed that it really was a girls’ night, since all three cats and the dog in attendance are girls. Coincidentally, Megan’s cats, Ramona (the Pest) and Harriet (the Spy) are sisters, but our brother has only ever had boy cats.

As we binged on “Sex and the City” and junk food, it soon became apparent that Henry Etta likes Schatzi.

Yes, this is the same cat who was so spooked by hearing dogs bark in a movie that she fled the room just a couple of months ago. Now, if Schatzi is curled up next to Megan and not me (dogs are always welcome on my couch), Henry will sit on her lap to be closer to Schatzi. She has sat close enough to touch the dog. If Schatzi is sitting or lying on the floor, Henry approaches her and sniffs her carefully. Schatzi is always polite to cats, so she takes this attention in stride, but I still think it’s funny that my stray cat has a crush on a pit bull.

When Henry went for a snack break, Schatzi seized the opportunity to try on Henry’s bed for size. Being a dainty-sized dog, she sort of fit, and clearly found it as comfortable as Henry Etta does. Though she gracefully gave it up when its owner returned. No wonder Henry has a crush on her!

*Just in time for Fashion Week**. It’s a soft yellow, and patterned with little flowers which might be daisies or might be sunflowers. Either way, it brings out her brindle coloring very nicely.
**Rest in peace, Alexander McQueen. So sad.

4 responses so far

Feb 09 2010

Changes

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry

Every morning, I make coffee and then clean up the cat barf. It’s quite the glamorous life.

Maybe part of the reason Henry Etta is so tiny is that she pukes so much. Is bulimia popular among neurotic cats of a certain age?

Feeding the cats has changed quite a bit since we moved. June is still generally the most interested, and often reminds me when feeding time is as close as an hour away, but just as often lies there languidly when I put food in the dishes. June and Audrey used to only eat out of their own dishes, but now it’s a kind of free-for-all. Audrey spends so much time outside now that I rarely see her eat in the house, though I’m sure she does.

Henry has taken up the slack and is almost always the first one there, though she just nibbles a little and then retires to her cushion. Although I’m glad that she’s finally enjoying the cushy bed I bought her almost three years ago, the down side is that she doesn’t sit on my lap as much. However, she does have an uncanny ability to sit with me right before the phone rings or I have to get up for some other reason, and then I feel guilty about moving her fragile little body to deal with whatever I have to deal with.

The Sea Flex and metacam have worked wonders, and Henry Etta can run and jump better than before. But no matter what I do, her fur is always scruffy, her whiskers bent, and she is still less than five pounds.

Audrey the Adventuress has been worrying months off my rapidly diminishing life. As you know, my original plan was to keep the cats in after dinner, but my original plan failed. Plan B was to have everyone in before I went to bed, and that’s been partially successful. June is almost always in at bed time, and busy getting her 18 hours of beauty sleep (which I’m convinced is the secret to her loveliness), and Henry Etta rarely bothers with Nature, but Audrey is usually out and about, even when it’s raining, cold, and completely unappealing to Self.

Those of you who have cats in your lives will know that calling them is futile. Not that it stops me. But I hate going to bed without all the cats safely in the house. A few nights ago, Audrey went out at 8 pm and didn’t come home until 4 am, which I greeted with any parent’s enthusiasm. I was up every hour that night, calling her, and I left all the outside lights on, thinking that it would deter predators, though maybe it would just make it easier for them to see a little brown tabby at night.

The thing is, if I let her out during the night for an hour or so, I just go back to bed. So even for a neurosis, it’s completely irrational. But Megan has had one cat vanish into the woods, and Jonathan has had three over the fifteen years he’s lived here, so the odds may not be all that much in Audrey’s favor.

Still, I think my brother is probably right, and if I could sit Audrey down and explain all the risks to her, she’d still pick the uncertainty of outdoors over the certainty of indoors. And she wouldn’t have become her total Adventurous Audrey self if she’d been kept inside. I guess everything really is a trade-off.

One response so far

Feb 08 2010

Sunday

Published by under Cats,Cooking,Country Life,Family

Yesterday, Megan met up with Lu in Mendocino. I was planning to make dinner* at Meg’s house that evening, and she called me from town to see if there were any last-minute ingredients I needed.

She called me from Lu’s phone, though, because her own had decided to jump suicidally into a public toilet.

Lu, in the next stall, heard Meg’s vocal despair and asked what was wrong. When she heard what it was, she said, “You’re on your own, kid.”

You really are in a situation like that.

Meg retrieved it, dried it off, and treated it with hand sanitizer that she always carries with her, just for occasions like this. Lu reminded her to remove the battery.

I’m sorry to say I laughed when my sister called me and told me about her potty phone.

On the bright side, they were able to assist at a car accident until the ambulance came. Nothing gladdens the heart of an off-duty EMT more. And they demoted my brother to traffic duty at the scene, which made it even more fun. When he arrived for dinner, bearing home-made cinnamon rolls, the first thing he said was, “Hey, you bogarted my call!”

I made chicken with cornmeal dumplings, and we had wine and talked. It was great having Lu there. Her schedule makes it really hard to get together, but now she’s convalescing from her ankle injury, we get to see her more often. She had just had a “cold laser” treatment, which magically removed the swelling and made it much easier for her to walk. Amazing.

As I walked home with my bag – when I go to my sister’s house, I pack an extra sweater, and a flashlight, along with any ingredients needed, borrowed books, Tupperware, etc.** – my flashlight spotlit June, who walked me home under the stars.

*We usually decide what to make by comparing the contents of our refrigerators, freezers and pantries and going from there. The dish with the least ingredients to buy and/or the easiest to make is the winner. Though sometimes we try new things. It’s always more fun together.

**My dream is to have one of those Radio Flyer red wagons to carry things in. But they’re surprisingly expensive. And anyway they’d probably flip over on the puddled, rutted dirt driveway. But a girl can dream, especially at night.

4 responses so far

Feb 04 2010

Mysterious

Published by under Cats

Clearly, June knows how to spend a dark, rainy day. Even if her blanket of choice does clash a little with her orange fur.

Here you can see her multi-colored pads, to match her multi-colored fur. One of life’s enduring mysteries is how June can keep her white fur snowy white when our house is surrounded by mud. And I can’t keep the mud out of the house or the car. What’s her secret?

5 responses so far

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