There will be more catblogging, but it may have to wait until we get to Chattanooga for Christmas. Chris’ folks have ten cats, of whom four are kittens about Mickie’s age.

This past summer, when Lucy-the-honorary-cat joined our family, I decided to (if you’ll excuse the expression) “bone up” on the subject, never having had a dog before. A visit to the local bookstore turned up a book by Stanley Coren, “How To Speak Dog: The Art of Mastering Dog-Human Communication”.

Are the catblog police going to keelhaul me for recommending this book here? Not at all. One of the many topics entertainingly addressed by Coren is why cats and dogs traditionally have trouble getting along. It turns out that dog and cat body language are basically opposites. Dog tail waving vigorously from side to side: Probably happy. Cat tail lashing vigorously from side to side: Probably not happy. Dog lying on side, belly exposed: Happy, submissive. Cat lying on side, belly exposed: May be “pointy side up”, ready to defend self. The book provides many more (better explained) examples, showing how a dog’s reaction to cat body language might be the complete opposite of what’s appropriate according to the cat, and vice versa. A very informative and entertaining read.

The Litter Robot is a beauty-ful thing. Forget the nightmare of the “Litter-Merde” and visit Litter-Robot.com.

None of our current pack of critters was a planned acquisition. Taz was the first of the bunch.

In January 1996 I went down to Norman, Oklahoma to attend some job-related training. While there, I caught up with an old friend who lived in town. She and her husband had welcomed their first child three months before, and I was eager to meet little Rosalie. Also, Donna and Kent are good critter people, and they had a houseful as usual. But there was one in particular Donna wanted to show me.

A co-worker of Kent’s had taken extreme exception to his girlfriend’s cat, and was threatening to drown him. Kent suggested to this savory character that he allow Kent and Donna to find the cat a new home instead. And so, here comes cat-loving friend to visit.

The first words out of my mouth were, “Ohhhhh… he’s gorgeous.“ I’m not sure I’d ever seen a flamepoint Siamese before. Cream-colored, with red tabby “points” on his ears, face and tail, and bright blue eyes. Donna put him in my arms, and he immediately started up with a raucous purr and began licking my face. I was a goner.

So, he had to go home with me. But home was thousands of miles and several plane rides away, in North Pole, Alaska. So we put him in one of those under-the-seat carriers (which he would never fit in these days!) and hoped for the best. I was very concerned that this unknown quantity would turn out to be a problem traveler, but he was just an angel the whole way, even when security made me take him out of the carrier and bring him through the metal detector in my arms.

He was about a year old, and we thought he was full grown. Wrong-o. Also, upon closer inspection, it turned out that his sides had “stealth stripes” in a slightly darker shade of cream. Those stripes have darkened somewhat over the years, and these days he looks more like his probable mixed Siamese-orange tabby heritage.  He is everything “cat” times ten—very loving, very temperamental, very stubborn… you get it. Definitely a cat lover’s cat.

Oh boy. Mickie has discovered the computer monitor. So now when I waste time playing Freecell or Spider Solitaire, at least I can say I’m entertaining the cat. She has also attempted to fax herself somewhere this evening. But her main contribution of the day was “helping” me with a final exam.

I am enrolled in a certificate program, Linux/UNIX System Administrator, at a local technical college. It’s all online, thankfully. So I was halfway through with my final exam today and fending off Mickie, when all of a sudden a window pops up that says “Your attempt to save this exam is already being processed.“ *CUE PANIC MODE* Fortunately, as it turned out, “save” was not the same as “submit”... Is “the cat landed on my keyboard” a common version of “dog ate homework” these days?

Yeah, this is going to be mostly a weekend blog, I bet. But as a rotating shift worker, my “weekend” can come at any time…

Tazzber seems to have suffered a bop in the bazoo this week. (I suspect Mickie.) The poor boy’s nose leather is pretty messed up and sore. There seems to be a bit of swelling, too, as he’s breathing through his mouth on occasion. I called the vet’s office, and they said put Neosporin on it, and rub it in really good. Uh-huh… I’ve got exactly one shot at touching that nose right now. The Neosporin can get on there in approximately the right place, but that’s about the best I can hope for. This is day 2 of Neosporin, and I think there’s been some improvement. Unfortunately, the injured area looks kinda like a Hitler mustache. I think he took this post too literally.

Life can hand you some sweet surprises at times. One of those is “helping” me type right now. Her name is Mickie, and she’s the newest addition to our family.

Kevin and I were just minding our own business the Monday before Halloween, heading into Wal-Mart for a few things. There was a lady standing by the door, seeking donations for a local church project, and she was holding a tiny gray kitten. Now, I want you to know, I have had to resist the charms of many a kitten over the years, but there was something special about this one. The lady said someone else had been there giving away a litter of kittens, and this was the last of five. They’d asked her to watch this one while they went into the store, and they never came back.

I was completely smitten. Kevin rolled his eyes but gave in, and the kitten came home with us. A visit to the vet the next day revealed her to be six weeks old and in excellent health, so we began introducing her to the rest of the crew. She was not the least bit shy about going up to the other critters and attempting to sack them like Carthage. Lucy the honorary cat was a bit of a challenge, but Mickie solved that by wrapping herself around one of Lucy’s legs and trying to chomp it like a drumstick.  Lucy was amazingly tolerant of this (evidence suggests she’s had at least one batch of puppies in the past, so she may have that maternal patience-of-Job thing going). Now, six weeks later, the other cats are still trying to teach Mickie manners, but she and Lucy are best buds and wrestling partners. Scares me to death sometimes, but they both seem to be having quite a lot of fun. Mickie is generally the instigator, and even when things get a little rough, she always jumps right back in.

Six weeks seems awfully early for a kitten to be taken from its mother; it’s probably no surprise that Mickie likes to pretend to nurse on her people.  It starts with a sudden, huge outbreak of purring, then she roots around on your shirt for a suitable spot, and settles in for a good suckle session. Sometimes she takes a break and just lies there, purring. Sometimes there are kitty belches (well, she must be taking in a lot of air!) I don’t know if she’ll grow out of this, but if it still makes her happy when she’s 18, I’m all for it. 

Introductions are in order.

Taz: Flamepoint Siamese. About 10 years old. Aliases: Tazzber, Kitty Destructo, Turkey Loaf.

Suzie-Q: Calico. About 5 years old. Aliases: Squidge, Calico Princess, Suzie Scrumptious.

Mickie: Gray tabby fuzzball. About 3 months old. Aliases: MickMuffin, Kudzu Kid, Big Bully.

Lucy: Fifty-pound-Border-Collie-mix honorary cat. About 2 years old. Aliases: Lucy Goose, Maggie-pie, Woofums.

Explanations will be forthcoming.

I’ve just been touring online dictionaries, trying to come up with a good explanation for “cats. iz. perverse.“  The definitions for “perverse” at LookWayUp.com included “marked by a disposition to oppose and contradict” and “resistant to guidance or discipline”. That works.