Downward Dog, Sitting Cat

                The cold temps limit my favorite exercise activities—walking, biking, and hiking—so it’s time to look at indoor options.  The clowder, of course, find any activity fascinating.  

Frank likes to help my daughter with yoga

             Exercise involving quick movements activates their hunting instinct, so I must be careful not to appear as prey.  As I run in place on the Wii Fit road course, they view my feet as separate creatures (aka targets) that need to be attacked and wrestled. I’ve tried running on our mini-trampoline (I think it’s the same brown vinyl one we had back in grade school when they were all the rage).  The problem this presents is that cats like to hide under it where they can be trampled.

                Frank sees yoga as interactive.  As soon as I’m bent into a downward dog position, he jumps up on my back and sits.  If I try to rise, he digs in his claws so he won’t fall off.  Same thing happens during push-ups. Finny and Biff like to walk across my stomach when I do sit-ups.  The exercise bike doesn’t work because the cats congregate under the pedals.

                If I were highly motivated to exercise, I might work harder to overcome these obstacles, but the effort to get down on the floor to do sit-ups pretty much taps my entire pool of enthusiasm.  I think my best bet is to layer the winter clothes and take a long walk.  I need  time away from the felines anyway.

The House without a Christmas Tree

We have Christmas-compatibility issues with our cats

                I love Christmas—the meaning, the music, the movies, the decorations, the giving, the goodies, the goodwill toward all.   Why is this season so special to me?  Maybe it’s because my birthday, anniversary, and Christmas are all rolled up into a five-day span, or maybe it’s the holiday performances I begin practicing for in September (my apologies to family and friends who weren’t in the mood to hear “Silent Night” on Labor Day weekend), or maybe it’s shopping for special gifts beginning on  December 26^th and lasting until November 1^st (after which I refuse to fight the crowds)…whatever the reason, it is secondary to the joy and wonder of God’s gift, His beloved Son, and the goodness it inspires in us.

                There was a time when I went all-out with Christmas decorating.  Having cats has changed my approach.  Actually, it drastically simplified the decorating and it pretty much decimated a few traditions.  For example, I no longer display the Fontanini nativity set that Mom collected for me when I was young.  Not only was it a beautiful display, the unbreakable resin pieces were perfect action figures for my preschooler to use for reenacting the Christmas story.  The set has been lovingly stored since the day I found Monty and his littermates batting around Baby Jesus like a hockey puck.  When it comes to cats, there just isn’t a place high enough to display precious decorations.

                I have (make that “had”) one other special Christmas collection—Olde World Christmas glass ornaments—one carefully selected each year to symbolize a special memory of our marriage.  This collection was discontinued after the cats knocked over the tree and shattered about seven years’ worth of memories.  On that day if I had not consciously decided that things are less important than loved ones, we wouldn't have cats anymore.

                Our final holiday concession to the cats is the Christmas tree.  After several years of pulling fighting animals out of the branches, reassembling disassembled bows and packages, and repairing ornaments that had been used for batting practice, I gave up…no more tree.  Last year, to relieve my nostalgic need for evergreen branches, I assembled our artificial tree on the patio and enjoyed the lights from the kitchen window.

                So our halls aren’t decked with many decorations and the gifts stay in storage until we pass them out, we still enjoy the most important part of the holidays—sharing God’s love and joy with family, neighbors, friends…and cats.      

Our tree alternative

Merps, the Grandcat

Merps grew up to look like a kitten

                Some days we have an extra cat.  He comes over for playdates with Toby.   I guess you’d call him our grandcat since he’s one of my daughter and her fiancé’s rescue projects.   He has a real name that I can never remember but we just call him “Merps.”  I know Merps is not a normal name, but if you met him, you’d understand how well it suits him because his personality is so very “merpy.”

                In the year since he was rescued as a wee kitten, Merps has been troubled by a compromised immune system and takes medication to keep his sinuses clear enough to breathe.  The effects of his drug regimen cause his “merpiness,” which I can only describe by listing his characteristics. 

                First, he is built like a tank but has never outgrown his round, babyfat body.  Instead of looking like an adult cat, he looks more like a giant kitten.  His extra kitten fat makes him roly-poly--you can’t resist sticking your hands in his fur to massage his pudginess.  It makes him purr on contact.

                Second, he is the embodiment of a “snot-nosed kid.”  We are always chasing him with a tissue.  Just like toddlers, cats aren’t very receptive to the “C’mon, just blow” command.  When he sneezes he never covers his nose so if you are in range, you will end up with green slime on your hair, clothes, and lunch.

                Third, Merps has a Dennis-the-Menace, follow you everywhere personality.  The other cats are okay with that as long as it’s not them being followed.  They view him like a very pesky little brother, but they don’t object to wrestling or boxing with him from time to time.  Henriette, on the other hand, doesn’t appreciate him at all.  I suppose if I were 6” long I wouldn’t want a snotty, overgrown baby trying to tackle me with love.

                I think most of the time Merps enjoys his visits and being “one of the guys.”  The only thing that really disappoints him is when the big cats get to go outside and he has to stay in.

                Between Merps and the steady supply of rescue cats going through our future son-in-law’s house, there will always be kittens stopping in to liven things up.  For the most part our own cats are used to the influx.  What’s another cat as long as there’s food in the dish and room on the bed?

Happy Thanksgiving!

A little morning surprise courtesy of an unidentified cat

          If you woke up in a clean house this morning--be really grateful and enjoy the holiday!
          If you woke up to a less than spotless house--still be grateful to have warm shelter from the cold and another day to experience life!
           Happy Thanksgiving from the clowder!

Wet Sock

                Another pair of socks are soaking wet!  I never have this problem in the summertime and it’s not just because I don’t wear socks then.  During the summer Frank plays in the outdoor water dish instead of the one in the kitchen.  This is a wonderful set-up because A. it’s outdoors where no one cares if the cement gets wet and B. the outdoor dish has a 5-gallon reservoir so it outlasts Frank’s playtime.

Frank strikes again

                Now that Frank is in for the winter, I get constant requests from the other cats for more water.  Frank doesn’t just splash in it so it goes onto the surrounding high-rimmed rubber mat, he uses his paw like a hockey stick and sends the “puck” (in this case water) sailing across the kitchen floor where clueless humans step in it with sock feet.

                Frank’s legendary ability to focus keeps him at it until the water dish is drained.  He'll return for more as many times as the dish gets refilled.  This cat seriously needs some outside time.

                Thus ends another entry in the “it’s going to be a long winter” chapter of my life.

Wintertainment

Bird watching--late autumn

                Once it’s too cold for outdoor clowder comfort, what keeps them busy?  Well, after they finally accept that they are staying indoors, a large percentage of winter hours are dedicated to sleeping.  Each cat has claimed a heat register.  During the day they go to their registers and ooze their bodies over them until no air can get through.  In this way they suck up all the heat coming from the furnace as they nap.

                In the few hours that remain, they work to maintain their winter weight by overeating.  Then they do what every child at home on a snow day does—bugs the heck out of the others.  Frank chomps, Finny and Toby swipe from hiding spots beneath furniture, Biff and Jersey rest with one eye open so they can watch their backs.  If Finny gets really bored, he will start rummaging in the waste baskets.  He has a special affinity for used tissues and cotton swabs.

                There is one bright spot in their day—bird and squirrel feeding time outside the dining room window.  We refrain from feeding wildlife in the summer—it would cruelly set them up for death by cat.  In the winter, however, we want them to come to the feeders.

                Our kitties line up on the window ledge and watch the eaters for hours.  If a cat is too tired to sit up, he’ll lie on the dining room table and watch.  Squirrels are their favorites, but sparrows, cardinals, and blue jays make good subjects too. 

                Most of the time the cats watch passively and occasionally try to communicate with a chuttering noise. Every now and then, though, a squirrel will notice them and lean against the window to peer in.  The cats will get so excited they forget about the window pane and try to launch through it. 

                During the long winter months we take whatever entertainment we can get.

Things that Go Bump in the Night

                You know those scenes in scary movies when people are awoken by strange noises and the husband goes to investigate with a baseball bat and gets chopped up by an ax murderer? Well, if we got up to investigate every thump and crash, we’d never get any sleep.  The cats come alive after our bedtime and create a variety of curious sounds, many of which we probably should check into but just don’t have the energy.

                At least once a night there is a stampede overhead.  It’s the decibel equivalent of three full-grown elephants running at full steam through the bedrooms.  How can 2-3 fluffy little creatures create that much racket?

                There is also the screeching and howling of one good cat fight, random crashes (we’ll just sweep up the glass in the morning—if we can find it), and the creak of doors opening (all but Toby are capable of getting into closed rooms).

                About the only sounds that still get our attention are running water (never a good sign) and the ominous chord of a cat jumping onto the low end of a piano.  The chord is usually startling enough to give me heart palpitations and it’s always followed by the dissonant scales of paws running up the keys and a final high pitched bang as the cat jumps onto the top of the piano. From there the cat can bat down any number of items.

On this night, Finnegan is the culprit

              Usually we try to ignore the commotion until morning when we can face the path of destruction with renewed patience.  Not all things that go bump in the night are harmful, some are just irritating.