I was going to do a Whiskers on Wednesday post about how famously Persi and Doozer are getting along. And how much Doozer seems to idolize her. And how he keeps trying to get her to play with him. And how he likes to be where she is so he follows her around all day. And how she really would prefer to just be left alone. But it’s the witching hour around here and I really need to get the kids into bed before things turn ugly. Have a nice evening y’all!
In the middle of the night on May 9, 1992, one of the the family cats gave birth to a litter of 7 kittens under my bed. Three of the kittens were stillborn, four survived. Two weeks later, the mother cat went outside and never came back, leaving me and my sister to bottle-feed the entire litter. They thrived. When the time came, we found homes for two of the kittens and decided to keep two, one for me and one for my sister. I chose the adorable gray kitten who had woken me the night of his birth with his loud mewling and named him Sebastian. She chose the very talkative and stubborn all black kitten and named her Persi (short for persistence). We kept them together for years, moving them with us as we moved. First from one town to another, then from one state to another (and another!) until they finally ended up in Connecticut with us. They were both very old by that point (2002 or 2003, I think), and Sebastian had developed a heart condition that he eventually died from (in 2003, I think it was). Persi, grateful to be an only cat at last, went to live with my TAS in 2005. Now, my sister having gone through a bad break-up over the past couple of weeks, has moved back in with us. And of course, Persi came with her.
Persi is very old. She’ll be 17 this year. She doesn’t see very well. Or hear. And she’s a borderline diabetic (see how she’s in the bath with a cup of water?). But she’s still stubborn and as talkative as ever. She and Doozer are still trying to negotiate a peaceful coexistence and Doozer, I must say, is taking it rather well. We’d always assumed that he wasn’t a cat person, but after about 5 days of cohabitation, he’s now trying to figure out how to get her to play with him. Unfortunately she’s not that kind of kitty any more (and she really is NOT a cat person). At least they’re not trying to kill each other.
This week’s WoW offering is moving pictures. This is Doozer, looking bored. ;-)
Vodpod videos no longer available.
It’s snowing here today. It’s not the snowmageddon they were predicting a couple of days ago, but the schools are closed and we’re going to stay inside anyway. We like to have a big fire on days like this and Doozer’s favorite place to be is right in front of it.
They say that cats were domesticated because they lacked a proper fear of fire.
Yeah, I can totally see that.
Doozer’s favorite game to play is fetch. His favorite toy to play with is this one from Petstages, but he keeps loosing them. I suspect there is a cache of them underneath the stove. Since I am lazy today and much prefer knitting to pulling out the stove, I made him this cat toy:
It is knitted on two needles using the magic loop method. Don’t bother weaving in your ends. The cat won’t care.
While I was out with the children yesterday, the cat did something really and truly heinous. He had nom’d one of Isaac’s newest and most highly prized toy, a small R/C helicopter. Mr. Interrupted caught him in the act, and immediately doled out what is likely an overly harsh sentence — a kitteh time-out in the bathroom. The helicopter is a complete and total loss, but can be easily replaced. Isaac was disappointed, but got over it soon enough. The bathroom, however, is another story. You see, at some point during his timeout, Doozer retaliated by peeing somewhere in the bathroom (rather than in the toilet where he usually goes).
The bathroom to which he had been confined is tiny, practically a closet, a water closet if you will, so it didn’t take much to really stink up the place. When I arrived home with the children in tow, the stink of cat urine was rather thick in there and spilling out into the rest of the house. I immediately removed the bathmat, which was the obvious place for him to have his feline revenge on us, but the acrid smell lingered. Then I mopped the floor, but to no avail. Resigned, I scrubbed every horizontal and vertical surface — the floor (again) the cabinets, all four walls, the shower stall, the toilet — and still the stench persisted!
Mr. Interrupted pressed upon me to retrieve a black light from the local Spencer’s Gifts, which I did, but no mystery spots were revealed by its velveteen otherworldly glow. As I backed out of the room, lighting the murky corners with the ultra violet light, eyes straining for even the barest hint of the florescent smoking gun, I caught in the corner of my eye a glimpse of Doozer, taking a shit in my shoe. Feline revenge, apparently, is a dish best served stinky.
Doozer got first place in the the Wiskers on Wednesday costume contest! His prize arrived in the mail today–a hand knit snakey! Isn’t it sweet? Thanks Jess and Monica!
Also, my TAS and I are doing a word war. Last one to get to 25K words has to buy the other one some chocolate and it has to be done by Sunday at bedtime. I’m off to NaNo land. :-) Wish me luck!
says “get back to work!”
(either that or “give me tuna”. My kittehese is a little rusty.)
Doozer does not appear to care for these WoW portrait sessions.
(face biting to commence in 5…. 4…. 3….)