Archive for the 'Henry' Category

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 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 21 2010

Out

Published by under Cooking,Country Life,Henry

We had a power outage yesterday evening.

Megan was at my house, and we were making dinner from the Book of Dad*. I went to grudgingly throw my green bin contents into the woods (I still think it’s gross and will attract an undesirable animal element, but apparently it makes me a better person and I can use all the help I can get), and when I came back in, the house was dark.

“??”

“The power’s out.”

“Oh.”

I put on the battery powered lamps and Megan called Jonathan, who came over right away. He was slightly delayed by a freaky guy who walked right up to his gate and was ranting about nothing and everything. The guy wandered away, and when he described the guy to Megan, she knew who it was right away. Most of the local crazies end up in the ER at one time or another.

The oven, of course, was still merrily cooking away, being gas, but Henry’s bed, which was in the washer, was not.

Jonathan set up the generator, plugged things in, and soon we had heat and light. Then, like most super heroes, he was on his way.

The power came on before we went to bed that night. There was even enough time to finish washing Henry Etta’s bed and get her settled into it.

*Braised honey-mustard chicken, to be precise. Also broccoli and almond pilaf. It was great. Dad food is the best food.

2 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 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 02 2010

Rescued

Published by under Cats,Family,Henry


Henry Etta gets comfortable

On the Sunday Megan and I wallowed in “Gone with the Wind”, we noticed that all was not well with Henry Etta.

Though she’s always had a stumbling, arthritic walk, this was really bad. Henry dragged her back leg behind her when she walked, and you would be surprised by the noise the lame leg of a four and a half pound cat can make on a wood floor. It was horrifying to watch her drag herself through the cat door.

As I gazed at my sweet girl in horror, Megan swung into action and called Dr. Karen. Yes, we have our vet’s home number and cell number. And she called us right back. I could hear her family in the background as we spoke.

She suggested metacam, which is basically ibuprophen for cats, and treats with glucosamine and chondroitin called Sea Flex, carefully calculating the dosage for the tiny old cat. She said that she’d be in her old office in Fort Bragg on Wednesday and could dispense the meds there. This wasn’t good enough for the EMT in the family. Before Meg went to work on Monday night, she went to the Feed and Pet and picked up the Sea Flex.

She also stopped by Lu’s house, and it turned out that Lu had some metacam on hand from one of her cats’ past illnesses, and being Lu, gave the whole thing to Meg to give to me.

Anxious about Henry Etta, I slept badly that night, and woke when I heard Meg come in early on Tuesday morning – the same day I was leaving for the city. She dosed Henry Etta and said she’d come by each morning to do so while I was away, and that Rob would keep an eye on Henry Etta while I was gone.

Meg called me on Tuesday afternoon before she went to work to tell me that Henry was already better! And on Wednesday morning, Henry Etta actually ran to the door to meet Megan. Just one dose made such a difference!

Before I left, I put the cuddly bed you see above right next to the heater. This is the same bed I bought her years ago and which used to be under the porch in Oakland. She had scorned it since we moved here, but now it’s her place of choice. I’m happy that June and Audrey have left her alone on it and not tried to take it over or harass her.

Now I give her metacam every 72 hours and Sea Flex every day. She seems well and happy. I feel guilty that I didn’t notice it sooner and worry that she was in pain for a long time before I noticed. I’m just glad that we were able to help her. And I love how my sister is an EMT for animals as well as people.

8 responses so far

Jan 31 2010

Return

Published by under Cats,Family,Henry,Jessica,San Francisco

Dazzled with glittery splendidness, I headed to 19th Avenue to start the trip home.

As I sped through the retro tunnel on Park Presidio, I tried (and failed) to remember the last time I had approached the Golden Gate Bridge this way. It was fun to take a different route, though it was sad to bid farewell to the beautiful city, gleaming in the pale, watery winter sunshine.

I have to say that it is so much easier and faster to go from Hooterville to San Francisco than it is to Oakland. Going to the East Bay adds anything from half an hour to an hour to the trip. And it’s much less scenic.

I stopped off in Boonville to give Erica and Jessica their long-delayed Christmas stockings and presents. Being Me, I managed forget my own gift for Jessica. Yes, the one I finally did a good wrapping job on. But she hardly noticed in the blizzard of gifts from Megan and Rob, Jonathan, and Lu. I noticed that she opened each one, spent some time looking at it and showing it to her friends who happened to be on hand, and then went on to the next one.

She also asked her mother if she could have a chocolate coin from her stocking, and then shared the remainder with her friends.

Their schedules are so hectic these days that it’s hard for them to visit. Meg and I are planning on going to get Jessica and keep her for a weekend soon.

Hugged and kissed, I went on my way. I noticed that it was not yet dark at 5:00, and that there were daffodils in the grass by the side of the road. The river had definitely receded.

When I got home, I was disappointed at the lack of greeting committee. Henry Etta didn’t bother getting up, and June and Audrey were nowhere to be seen (they didn’t reappear until 10:00 that night). I called Meg to tell her I was home, and of course her greeting and Rob’s made up for the cats’ lack thereof. Humans: picking up cat slack for thousands of years and counting!

We all enjoyed the extreme pizza delivery extremely. I think I’ll try and do that every time I go to the city.

4 responses so far

Jan 22 2010

Dinner

Published by under Cats,Cooking,Henry

audreyhenry
Exhibit A

Thursday night is my turn to make dinner.

Megan finishes her three, 12 hour night shifts on Thursday morning, so she’s too tired to dream up or whip up dinner. I have to say I’m really glad to take that small burden from her.

I usually start thinking about what to make on Thursday on Sunday afternoon. I look through my collection of recipes and my Dad’s, and if I don’t find inspiration there, I turn to Sunset and Epicurious. I love Sunset because it’s written for a Western audience and knows what’s in season here. And Epicurious has recipes from many magazines, including Gourmet and Bon Appetit, all in one place.

Yesterday’s inspiration for shrimp chowder came from Epicurious, and you can find the recipe here. I left out the fennel seeds, thinking it would be too much, and added the red pepper flakes. I substituted half and half for the heavy cream. It was a big hit. I served it with a simple salad of curly endive and radicchio (in the newly-rediscovered wooden salad bowl my parents used when I was a kid) along with a salad dressing I made with garlic, seedy mustard, olive oil, red wine vinegar, black pepper, and tarragon. Add in a loaf of ciabatta from Costeaux bakery, and dinner’s ready!

As good as dinner was, it was what happened after dinner that was really wonderful.

Audrey climbed up onto my sister’s lap, put her arms around Megan’s neck, and fell asleep with her face cuddled up to Megan’s. She stayed there for at least an hour. In the meantime, Henry Etta had curled up* next to me and fallen asleep. Audrey slowly drooped down my sister’s arm while she slept, her face eventually coming to rest against Henry’s back. She stayed like that for a while, then got up, stretched, and curled up next to Henry Etta (see above). They were actually touching!

This is a first, and I hope it’s not the last. Henry Etta is always cold, and it would be nice for her fragile old bones to cuddle up to warm, strong Audrey.

And speaking of old cats: you’ll be glad to hear that Gertie has moved in with Rose’s daughter and is doing well.

*This is a big step forward. She used to just huddle anxiously, even in her sleep, ready for takeoff if anything happened. Also I can now pet her in her sleep without getting clawed.

5 responses so far

Jan 20 2010

Silent

Published by under Country Life,Henry,Weather


Good morning!

Silence.

I woke up at 5:30 yesterday morning. Not because of the Audrometer, who was adorably cuddled up to her big sister June, but because of the silence. And darkness.

Yes, the depths of the country are pitch-black at night, and almost oppressively silent, but I still sport my Marilyn Monroe sleep mask and ear plugs. The ear plugs are to ward off Audrey’s early morning pleas for escape, and the sleep mask is because the satellite internet doodads are located in the sleeping loft (for now; I’m hoping to persuade the long-suffering Rob to relocate them for me) and their weird blue light bothers me when I’m trying to sleep*.

Taking off the sleep mask, I immediately noticed that it was completely unnecessary, because the power was out. My battery-powered clock informed me that it was 5:30, so I went back to sleep for a while. When I got up, it was still dark. I had thoughtfully provided myself with an LED lamp on my bedside table, but I had neglected to observe where the power switch was, so I ended up creeping carefully downstairs in the dark anyway.

I’m pleased to report that I’m still injury-free!

Letting the girls out, I noticed that the top of a cypress tree had relocated to my front porch, yanking the jerry-rigged (Or is it jury-rigged? Discuss. And while you’re at it, is it “Not by a long shot” or “Not by a long chalk”?) electric line with it (see above).

Inside, I discovered that I couldn’t make coffee (fortunately, I’m sufficiently degenerate to drink yesterday’s coffee cold) and also that you need electricity to make water come out of your tap or shower and to flush the toilet. Who knew?

I plugged the heater into the car battery thingie devised by the boys last month, and turned it on, to Henry’s immense relief. She had been huddling against it, looking at me pleadingly as if to ask where the hell the heat was.

As the chill began to lift (though not from my coffee) and the storm continued to batter the house, I reflected on how people always say how great it is to get away from modern conveniences and rediscover nature, etc. I disagree entirely. Not only am I already surrounded by Nature, but my view is that now we’ve emerged from caves, why go back? While finding cellphones and reality TV deplorable, I don’t want to go back to pounding my laundry on a rock and chopping my own wood. I missed the modern conveniences pretty much instantly.

Fortunately for me, the Super Brothers were on hand to rescue me after just a few hours of darkness and cold. Rob and Jonathan appeared with a generator, which they placed under the little deck outside the laundry room, running the power cord under the door:

generator

and then putting a très expensive extension cord/outlet device in the living room, so I could plug in my laptop (oh, joy!), refrigerator, lights, and other necessities:

Then they flew away to rescue other damsels in distress. Or check on Jonathan’s solar panels. I’m not sure which.

The power came back on after several hours, and it’s nice to know that I have everything ready for the next outage. And that I have the best brothers in the whole wide world.

*Basically I’m the same as my father, who grew up with total blackout conditions during WWII and also had to sleep in total darkness. Oddly, I used to be afraid of the dark until a few years ago, when I slept in a tent in my sister’s garden for a month and finally got over it. Being Me, of course I had to go to the opposite extreme.

3 responses so far

Jan 15 2010

Preying

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry

The Audrometer failed to go off this morning.

It was confusing to wake up in daylight, at the civilized hour of 8:30, without the usual 4:30 wake-up call. June followed me downstairs, and Henry Etta was peacefully ensconced in her nest on the couch (until I put up the heat and she abandoned the couch to hug the heater). No sign of Audrey.

I went outside and called her, thinking that somehow she must have escaped her nightly prison and thus not needed to wake up the warden. No answer, though June came with me to help.

No sign of Audrey.

I went back inside to make coffee – yes, I was worried enough about Audrey to look for her before making coffee – and while the coffee was brewing, went to get a sweater to ward off the morning chill. When I opened the drawer, there was Audrey, blinking and surprised, though not as surprised as I was. How had she gotten in there and closed the drawer behind her?

Last night, she burst through the cat door with a mouse in her mouth. I chased her into the bathroom and shut the door, then went out to open the other bathroom door, which opens from the back porch (this has proved to be more useful than I originally thought), so she and her prey could go back outside. No mouse in my house, is my motto.

It was a bad day for vermin yesterday. Henry Etta made one of her rare forays into the equally rare sun, and barely five minutes later was happily lunching on a mouse on the sunny bench. I think she ate the whole thing, since I didn’t find any leftovers. Cat sushi.

On my way back into the house, I noticed a dead mole. They are really weird-looking creatures, and apparently there’s something weird about their fur, too, and cats don’t eat them. So that means I get to add “mole remover” to my duties as cat doorman.

I’m beginning to think that I might as well get a cat door that goes from the outside to the inside, as well as the one going from the studio to the main house. I’ll lock it when I go to bed and hope for the best. As my brother says, rather grandly: “I don’t open doors for cats.”

2 responses so far

Jan 11 2010

Doorman

Published by under Cats,Country Life,Henry

Whoever set the Audrometer to go off at 4:30 – enough already!

This seems to be her favorite time to get up in the morning, even though it’s pitch black out and makes me really crabby. Now I don’t even bother to put on my glasses. I just lurch out of bed, open the door, and crawl back into bed, swearing. June sleeps through the whole thing (on the bed) and so does Henry Etta (on the duvet on the couch).

This morning, I let Audrey out on time and went back to sleep until 8:00 or so. I went downstairs to make coffee, and while I was in the middle of it, I heard the balcony door rattling and squeaking upstairs as Audrey demanded to be let in. I finished the coffeemaking process and went outside to the porch to call her, hoping that she’d come downstairs instead of my having to go back upstairs (this is why I never make a new year’s resolution to be less slothful. Never going to happen, my friend).

Of course she didn’t, since Audrey’s goal is never to make my life easier. While I was calling her, I felt something cold and damp poke my butt. Turning around in surprise, I looked into Lucky’s huge brown eyes. I moved away quickly before she could start eating my pajamas, remembering how she ate the futon filling with evident enjoyment.

I went back into the house and upstairs to let Audrey in.

I have to admit that I’m getting pretty tired of being a cat doorman. The pay is terrible, and they never tip me, even at Christmas. I’ve been thinking about putting in a cat door to the outside – the one I have is between the house and the cold storage – but then the cats could bring in mice and birds during the day, though I’d lock it at night. I saw June catch a mouse today and spend ages playing with the hapless creature*. Needless to say, I was repulsed by the whole thing, and when I told my sister about it, she trumped me as usual. One of her cats had left a dead and dismembered bird right by the bed.

That’s worse than being woken up by the Audrometer.

*It’s a lot easier to feel sorry for mice when they are outside and behind glass. Or in a Beatrix Potter story, wearing little hats and waistcoats.

5 responses so far

Jan 10 2010

Soiree

Published by under Cooking,Country Life,Henry


In the night garden

On Friday night, Megan made her famous Chicken Makhani (Indian butter chicken) and naan (finally using the pizza stone). If you want Indian food up here, you have to make it yourself, and Megan has it down pat. I helped her as best I could, but I mostly got in the way. I was useful for opening wine, though.

After dinner, we left Rob happily watching the original Star Trek*, undoubtedly enjoying the peace and quiet after the gabbling girls decamped to my garden.

It was still mysteriously warm, so we sat by the chiminea with our glasses of wine under a galaxy of stars. We left the sliding glass doors open so we could listen to music outside. The cats were thrilled to be allowed out – much like little kids staying up late on special occasions – and we had the outside lights on at the back and side of the house. We figured they’d be safe with the fire, lights and music.

When we were ready to go in, I lured them in with treats. It was the first time they’d had them since we moved, and they went nuts, especially Henry Etta. Lately I’ve been letting them out after dinner if they want to, as long as they’re back by bedtime. You know how kids need curfews. I’ve also started letting Audrey out when she wakes me up and then going back to bed. Today it was 4:30 am. She didn’t come back until after 9:00. I have a feeling that I’m not going to see her much once summer comes.

*Having now seen a couple of episodes, I finally understand the appeal for high school nerd boys. There seems to be an endless supply of babes in tight and/or revealing outfits with fabulous hairdos. What’s not to love?

2 responses so far

Jan 05 2010

Catchall

Published by under Cats,Dogs,Henry,Schatzi

JuneDeck
Sunny June

Like girl, like cat:

I was doing the dishes when I heard a thud. I turned around and saw that June had fallen off the sleeping loft and landed on the floor with a thud.

Unlike Me, she didn’t break the floor or her ribs. She sat up, looking a little surprised, and had an emergency bath – the kind that’s cat for “I’m really embarrassed and pretending it never happened.” I picked her up and cuddled her, and she purred while patting my face with her little white paw, so she seemed to be fine.

Audrey peered over the edge of the loft and pattered quickly down the stairs, then sniffed June anxiously. After joining in the emergency bath, they both went to the sliding doors and I let them out to play.

Later, when Schatzi and I came back from our walk on the logging road behind the house, June was waiting at the entrance to the road. When she saw the dog, she puffed up hugely. Schatzi looked away, and we sneaked past June, with me next to June so she couldn’t jump on Schatzi, who knows all about cats and their claws, thank you very much.

When I sat down to work again, Henry jumped up on my lap instantly. I used to think the shortest possible length of time was between a traffic light turning green and someone honking their horn, but now I think it’s between me sitting down and Henry jumping onto my lap, purring.

As you can see, I’ve had a hard time getting used to “Henrietta”. I’ve called her “Henry” for two years now, and it’s hard to break the habit. I’ve decided that “Etta” is her middle name, and no-one calls me by my middle name. At least, not anymore (why is it that saying your whole name is the international symbol for “You are in a boatload of trouble?”). So her whole name is now Henry Etta James, though she’ll answer to Henry or Henry Etta or any variable.

Or not.

After all, she is a cat.

2 responses so far

Dec 17 2009

Startled

Published by under Cats,Henry

When Henrietta was still living in the backyard in Oakland (I wonder if she still remembers that?), I used to always call out “Goodnight, Henry!” when I closed and locked* the back door for the night. Now I put an old duvet on the couch and make it into a little nest for her at night. She is either:

  1. Sitting on the couch;
  2. Sitting on my lap;
  3. Sitting in front of the heater.

She reminds me of my sister’s late cat Agnes, who used to sit so close to the heater that her fur would singe. She’d have to be moved before she caught on fire. I think Henrietta would climb right into the heater if she could.

When I went up to bed last night, Henrietta was curled into a ball, fast asleep. I always pet her and tell her goodnight, so I did so. I startled her out of her sleep, and she clawed my hand good and hard. I was shocked at first, but then I realized that I had been given a little glimpse into her former life. The only way she could have slept outside, alone and tiny in Oakland, would be to go on the attack if someone or something woke her up.

Needless to say, this morning she wasted no time in climbing onto my lap.

*On the news today, they had a piece on what to do if you lose your keys and lock yourself out of your house. I no longer have to worry about this. My doors don’t lock and the car keys are usually in the ignition.

3 responses so far

« Prev - Next »