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I do believe a more apt description would be “eccentric”.  Web definition of eccentric: a person with an unusual or odd personality. He’s definitely odd, but he’s a cat.  Whatever.  It fits. 

Mango will switch from happy, purring kitty to slapping and nipping in a matter of nanoseconds.  The reason for the short-circuit is a mystery.  One of many.  He does not know how to emit a normal cat-type meow, he groans instead.  Maybe it’s a growl. It’s indescribable.

Mango does not like the litter box.  If I don’t let him outside when he demands to be let out (via groaning at the door) he pees by the door.  Or in the bathroom if he knows he’ll get caught squatting by the door.  Since he does not enjoy getting his delicate butt-furs wet, when there is snow on the ground he finds new and innovative places to do his business. Like on my neighbor’s porch.  Specifically, on the jacket left on the porch.  The jacket has been trashed.  My neighbor is NOT happy.

On the bright side, Mango is hopelessly, passionately, head-over-heels in love with me, and only me. He gazes at me with absolute adoration, purrs with abandon at the mere sight of me, and goofily chases after me when he’s not sleeping or peeing or doing something abominable. 

I’m thrilled that he is so smitten with me (nobody else is) but this can create some problems with the sleeping arrangements.  We have a nightly ritual: every night I put him outside my bedroom door and try to close the door before he can run back in.  For a cat who spends 90% of his time sleeping, he sure can run faster than the proverbial “greased lightening”. The process is repeated until I give in and let him sleep in my room.  On my bed.   The night goes like this: 10:00 goodnight Mango.  10:45 bath time, including vigorous licking and nibbling.  Back to sleep.  12:30, furball evacuation, usually near my head.  Definitely on the bed.  GROSS.  No I do not prefer cleaning up furballs to sleeping.  2:00, exuberant scratching session on my carpet.  5:30, I’m up, Mango is sleeping in.

No, he’s not a freak, as he’s been called by members of my family. He had a rough start in life, and I think he’s well aware that his adored mommy saved him (he was going to be “put to sleep”) and he obviously wasn’t “socialized”.  He’s adapted to the best of his ability.  That’s life with cats.  You love them despite the inconveniences, and they love you back.  I guess that’s unconditional love.

…and she’s here to stay.  We called her ‘Happy Kitty” when she first showed up, but since she is now a permanent resident, she needed a permanent name.

The other cats, even Taco (who can be quite the bully), accepted her without complaint.

See the spots?  I think she is a Bengal Cat, she  also has the long, lanky body shape.

This cat begging for money was spotted in one of the cities of Belarus. He stays on his mat with a note that reads “need money for meat and fish, bless you”.

He doesn’t leave his place and watches over the money. His owner, an elderly woman, was found nearby. She said that she had rescued the cat from the “slaughters”, but at that time she had already owned some pets and couldn’t feed them all, so she decided to let the pets earn the money for themselves.

Seriously! Do you ever feel like your cat (or dog, or other pet) knows they have done something unacceptable and cares enough about it to look or act apologetic?  Do animals have a conscience?

Taco has this habit of reaching up and hugging me when he wants attention or anything from me, he does it quite often when I’m in the kitchen working.  Since I clip his claws, it’s usually not a problem (but annoying). I haven’t had a chance to do his manicure lately so his claws have gotten awfully sharp.  Today when he did his hug/give me attention routine, it really HURT, and I yelled.  He is not used to me yelling! So he ran right out of the kitchen, but two seconds later came in slowly meowing very loudly and looking straight into my eyes.  I swear he was saying “I’m sorry, you’re not mad at me are you?”  Then he got VERY loveable.

…or weeks…or months…or forever…

Apparently we are The Chosen Ones.  What will the Wicked Witch say when she finds out we have FOUR cats? She squawked and whined about three cats! 

Cats sure are strange, the way they just decide on a family and move in, without a care in the world.    She’s obviously “fixed” and has been well-taken care of, her humans must miss her.  Wherever her home was, she won’t go back.  I let her out and a few hours later there she is on the back porch begging to come in.  I so wish that she could tell us her story.

Yes, she’s made herself right at home.  And she’s already in love with us.  And of course we’re already in love with her.  That took about 30 seconds.

So what do we do now??  She’s obviously well-taken care of and has a home, someplace.  But she’s been hanging around for the past couple of weeks and was found yesterday by The Wicked Witch of the East, who clearly was not happy to find a kitty in her dungeon…uh , I mean cellar.  So of course my son brought her in and fed her.  That’s what we do.

She even has a name, “Happy Kitty”.  No, I did not name her, this all occurred even before I got home.

This morning I let her out and encouraged her to go back to her own home.

Guess what? She’s back…

*sigh*…

1. When in doubt, nap.

2. Fur is a harmless addition to any meal, plus it adds texture.

3. It’s not a twist-tie. It’s a fantasy flying furless thingy with an amazing ability to vanish.

4. You might as well take a small bite of everything on the table, that way it’s reasonably safe from being    eaten by someone else.

5. Anything on the floor is fair game, including feet.

6. Curtains really can’t hold much excess weight.

7. The best way to get whatever you want is to act awfully cute.

8. Yes, doors DO open if you stare at them long enough.

9. You shouldn’t jump on stuff that has a slippery surface.

10. Bugs are actually quite entertaining.

11. If you’re little, it’s best not to stick your head in the refrigerator if the person closing the door is not looking directly at you.

12. Stairs are not a good place for nighttime naps.

13. If you’re in a really bad mood, a nap will take care of it.

14. Almost anything has entertainment value. Especially crinkly stuff.

15. If you want to get in bed with someone you love, just scratch on their door.  It’s irresistible.

16. Barfing is not as awful as you might think. It also adds color and texture to any carpet.

17. Be persistent. Really persistent.

18. A good nap can fix almost any problem.

19. Sometimes, inspecting someone else’s car can turn into quite an adventure.

20. A screen does not have to be a barrier between you and the Great Outdoors. With the right technique this obstacle can be removed quite easily.

21. It’s acceptable to pee in the shower or bathtub if your regular toilet is unavailable.

22. A barking pit bull is not easily distracted. Therefore, you can race right past the nose of one. They are too stupid to register the fact that you are mere inches away from them while they are barking. When they shut up, it’s a different story.

23. If possible, always take naps in a patch of sunshine.

24. You can easily wake someone up just by walking on them.

25. You can keep a pit bull barking for hours just by staring calmly at it while you’re just out of reach. You can even take a leisurely bath.

26. If it stings, don’t touch it. Especially don’t eat it.

27. When you yawn, try to remember to put your tongue back in your mouth, otherwise someone will end up taking your picture.

28. You can cheer up a crying person simply by patting them gently on the face, looking into their eyes, and saying, “mew”.

29. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t sweat the big stuff either.

30. If you curl up in the lap of someone you love and look at them with adoration, it will make you both very happy.

First of all, I’m attempting to write this with the keyboard across my legs near my feet and a hefty cat purring and drooling on my lap.  The cat is BIG.  I am little.  It’s a long stretch to the keyboard. Plus, he doesn’t know if he wants to lay down or sit up or both at once.  My legs are falling asleep.

Cats need kids, and my youngest two are house-cat-dog-chinchilla-assorted little animal-sitting for their sister and new brother-in-law while they are away on their honeymoon.

Unfortunately this means that Taco is determined to give ME all his attention every single second that I am home.  And if he doesn’t GET every single second of attention back, he turns into Horrible, Yowling, Galloping, Out-of-Control Demon Cat.  This means that he is alternately destroying something, bounding across the house throwing his large self on me, reaching up and hugging me with claws and paws outstretched, sitting right in my face on the desk STARING at me, knocking stuff off every surface, or…did I mention…destroying something?

Right now he’s still sitting in my lap, but since I apparently haven’t given him my FULL attention for 10 minutes, he’s reaching up with  his adorable little gigantic paws and patting my face.  Yeah, cute. Annoying, but cute.  And he knows it.     Don’t let the innocent look fool you

I suppose this is a fairly odd topic, but I find it compelling, particularly in light of the fact that Beast, in the Wordless Wednesday photo in the previous post, seemed about to make that decision.

Beast started his life either as a stray, or neglected, nobody really knows and he’s not telling.  He was terrified of people, but finally made his way into a warm, friendly house full of cat-lovers.  These cat-lovers could not quite afford to have a cat but did their best to provide food and love.  Unfortunately Beast did not get “fixed”.    

He came to our house on a Sunday, after leaving the only real home he ever knew, and after leaving his chosen human.  Have you ever noticed that cats who have had a rough start will choose one person to love, while cats who have had a home full of loving humans will generally be quite social and willing to share their love with anyone?

Beast promptly found the tiniest most inconspicable little hole under the cellar stairs and made his way to the farthest reaches of the cellar BETWEEN THE WALLS.  This was a nice cool finished off room that seemed to be the perfect place to store a frazzled cat for a few days until his scheduled surgery.  We never saw that little hole.

Of course the logical thing to do was put out delectible food and water because everyone KNEW he would come out eventually to eat and drink.  He did not.

By Tuesday, he had not had a thing to eat or drink and we were desperate.  A friend came over and helped us remove the panelling, and with some squeezing between stinky moldy spider-infested walls I was able to pull him out and get him into a holeless room upstairs.  Good thing I’m little.  If our landlady, fondly referred to as The Wicked Witch of the West ever knew we had taken those walls apart she would have a major, broom-whacking, face-scrunching hissy fit.  I hope they look like they have not been tampered with.

Tuesday night, it was clear that Beast was dying of dehydration. He could not go for his surgery.  He absolutely refused water, milk, sardine juice, or affection.  We told him that we would not let him die.  He’d have to pick a different time for that, far into the future.  We told him that we loved him and he would have a good home.  We force-fed him drops of raw milk all night until he started drinking on his own.  He finally ate a bit the next day, had a whooping diarrhea blowout, got moved into the bathroom (easier to clean poo off the bathroom floor) and has been hiding under the tub for three weeks.

He has been eating well now for awhile, he’ll let us hold and pet him and he purrs up a storm, and he uses the litter box (yay) but the tub is his refuge.  His surgery is re-scheduled for 9/11.

I know he would have just let himself die that night, but it makes me wonder what goes on in his delicate little psyche that would allow him to just die.  I’m infinitely thankful that we got through to him and nudged him back to life.  He’s a good cat.  A bit introverted.  We now call him Emo-cat. You’ve got to have teenagers to figure that last one out.

The National Alliance to End Homelessness estimates Florida’s homeless population is about 25,000 to 65,000. 

About half of the nation’s homeless are unsheltered, and Feeding Pets of the Homeless estimates up to 24 percent of homeless people keep pets. That means as many as 162,000 pets are on the streets with their owners — about 68,000 of which are unsheltered. 

These homeless people are not only trying to take care of themselves, they are also trying to provide for the pets they love.

Dr. Anne Scholl-Mealey, a companion-animal practice owner and mother of two, has been volunteering her time and skills to care for pets of the homeless around greater Orlando for the last five years.

According to Dr. Scholl-Mealey: “When you go out and you meet these people, they really are so grateful. I wish all my paying clients would show a little bit of thankfulness,” she says. “They really are grateful someone is coming out and helping them. They almost take better care of their pets than they do themselves.”

Maybe those of us who have so much to be thankful for could offer a simple prayer of gratitude and love to this wonderful woman.

In memory of Eclair, the Bakery Cat

Somehow Eclair knew we would take care of her.  Cats know these things.

She was terrified.  Terrified of everything, even us, but she knew to beg for food, and we gave her a scoop of cream cheese, it was all we had on hand that seemed fitting for a cat.  It wasn’t long before we  brought our fancy organic cat food to share with Eclair at the bakery.

Eventually I moved into an apartment right across the street from the bakery, which Eclair immediately claimed as her property, but she wouldn’t come in or let us pet her.  She really wanted to come in but was far too scared.

One wet, freezing cold she finally did it, I held the door open so long that she couldn’t resist the warmth and in she bolted!

That’s Eclair on the left, she looks a lot like Sumari.  Eclair was so happy with us, after awhile she let us pet her, but not pick her up.  She talked to us a lot and loved the other cats too.  She had so many toes we couldn’t count them all!

One day when we were almost home, there was an accident and traffic was directed down our street.  Just as I drove into the driveway Eclair bolted across the street to greet us (she refused to stay inside for long) and the best I can remember was hearing something like a rock hitting a car and my son saying “Oh no, it’s Eclair”.  We all ran across the street and she was laying there, already dead.  I picked her up and we all cried and held her for a long time and we told her how much we loved her.  Then our neighbor let us bury her in the front yard, under a tree.

In memory of Eclair, The Bakery Cat, our cat, we love you and miss you.

I suppose SPHERICAL would be a more apt description.  Or even egg-shaped (what’s the word for that?  Ovoid??)               

Grapes are Number 1, followed closely by kiwis, cherries, plums and peaches.  Even the stray cantaloupe will be found on the floor with tell-tale nibbles here and there. 

King Taco, Lord of the Manor, has a penchant for ball-shaped food.  He senses it, knows instinctively when it has appeared in the house, and knows exactly when it has been placed on the table, and ESPECIALLY knows the very second that no human is watching said temptation.

How many grapes can one large (OK extra-large) sleepy grey cat pierce and toss on the floor in the matter of a few seconds?  How many cat-saliva coated cherries lay just out of sight under the refrigerator and baseboard heaters?  Ahh so many mysteries, so few cats to pin the blame on…

Apparently the folks next door have cat-eating dogs, pit bulls to be exact. Loud, barking, see-a-cat-go-for-its-throat kind of dogs.  This makes me a bit nervous.

This information came about because I had the honor of meeting my next door neighbor at 9:30 Friday night and he politely divulged this tidbit of trivia. He also made mention of the fact that Mango came quite close to being dogfood.  Fortunately Mango catches on quickly, especially when his life is at stake.  Back to the Taco story…

Why was I knocking on my neighbor’s door at such a late hour? Well of course to unlock his barn…the barn from which a loudly-meowing Taco was frantically trying to make his presence known.  We had been calling for him for hours and I knew there was a problem because he ALWAYS comes running to his beloved Mommy when he is called.  Sometimes he takes his time, but he comes.

He’d found a safe place to hide, up on the second floor of this big old barn that was so jam-packed  we couldn’t even step inside. There was Taco’s head popping through a hole in the ceiling (the floor for him) and we had no way to get to him.  So I said, “Taco, just come down the same way you got up there.”

Now I swear I am not making this up, but as soon as I said that he made his way across the second floor to the other side and appeared on the bottom floor and made his way to us.  He followed my directions. That’s one smart kitty!

Long before Mango appeared in what we fondly refer to as “The Wales House”, Kiwi and Kumquat accompanied me through the long journey of my strange and frequently tumultuous life.

Kumquat, Queen of cats, always appeared immaculately groomed, poised and statuesque.  Sensitive and full of love, she could inevitably be counted on to express her concern with gentle paw-pats and loud meows.

Her brother Kiwi, the scraggly, curly-furred runt, barfing daily just for the pure joy of it, frightened of the world, a lovable misfit in his sister’s kingdom was nonetheless adorable.

Kumquat passed on at 15 but Kiwi, forever sickly, lived to 18 before it was his turn to move on to better worlds.

So of course, when another little orange, curly-furred, frightened-of-the-world runt came along, we named him Mango.  It just seemed to be a perfect match, the departed Kiwi and Kumquat making way for another fruity namesake.

Now if you are a believer in such things as reincarnation, or counterparts, or the existence of a (or many) parallel universe, you’d swear that Mango was actually Kiwi, only just slightly different in a peculiar sort of way.  After all Mango is somewhat less curly and he does keep his barfing down to once a day or so.

The similarities are quite astonishing however. They both played the role of The Invisible Cat for at least a year after their initial appearance.  For those who have never experienced this phenomenon, it happens when you KNOW you have a cat, but the cat, being terrified of everything non-stationary (and stationary) decides to hide permanently except for quick midnight forays into the food bowl to refuel for the next barf.

Then there’s the curly orange fur oddity (perhaps they are distantly related to Daisy, of Daisy the Curly Cat fame), or perhaps it’s just simple scragglyness.

Either way, after 8 years I still catch myself calling Mango “Kiwi”.  So, for those of you who believe in reincarnation or something along those lines, does it apply to our furry friends?   Have you had a beloved pet die and months or years later had another come along that has many of the same personality and physical traits?

Well, to us it was the MISSING cat.  To our neighbors, it must have just been annoying, but they were kind and helpful nonetheless.

How many times can 7 or 8 people call”Taco” throughout the course of 4 days (and nights)? You’d be surprised! I would say that to this day, everybody in these parts knows that we own a grey cat with a purple collar.

The day he went missing, we of course panicked.  Everybody loves Taco, and we couldn’t imagine this pampered kitty leaving home and not returning on purpose.  After all, home is where the love and the FOOD is!

We put posters on I swear about 20 telephone poles, we went up and down the whole neighborhood and beyond for hours calling for him, talking to everybody we could, leaving our phone number on the cell phones of strangers. A few people even unlocked their sheds and garages for us to check!

Four days of not sleeping and barely eating later, Taco came sauntering home like nothing had ever happened.  We guessed that he had been in the home of some lonely elderly person who probably got tired of hearing us call for him and decided to let him out.  How did we come to this deduction?

He came home happy, well-fed, clean and groomed, and smelling like PERFUME.  How many missing cats return home smelling like Lily of the Valley?  I think he had a good time on vacation. As for the Silly Frantic Humans, we could do without the stress.

Cats everywhere are searching for the Door To Summer.  It used to be Right Here, but it seems to have disappeared!  The Door used to lead to Beautiful Sunny Days and all kinds of Fun Stuff to Stalk Down and Attack.  Then, a few short weeks later, the Door leads to nothing but Cold and Ice…WHERE DID THAT DOOR TO SUMMER GO?

Oscar the cat resides on the third floor of Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Providence, Rhode Island.

On a plaque mounted on the wall is an engraved commendation from a local hospice agency: “For his compassionate hospice care, this plaque is awarded to Oscar the Cat.” 

Oscar seems to have a knack for predicting when nursing home patients are going to die, by curling up next to them during their final hours.  Oscar’s accuracy, observed in 25 cases, has led the staff to call family members once he has chosen someone.  It usually means they have less than four hours to live.

For the full story CLICK HERE

Awhile back I bought a whole pound of catnip from San Francisco Herb Company for $4!  Their prices are amazing!  Well you do have to buy in bulk, usually one pound or 8 ozs.  Since I have enough catnip for about 100 cats and I only have three, I decided to make a pot of catnip tea.  Catnip is well known for it’s medicinal properties and is used for colds and fever as well as digestive upsets.

About halfway through the brewing process, Taco woke from his evening nap.  He was quite perky and getting a little goofy and then began demanding that I reveal the location of the ‘nip.  After pouring a nice warm cup of tea I offered some to Taco who then became utterly confused when confronted with a liquid that had the enticing odor of his favorite herb.  Here is a picture of poor confused Taco searching in vain for the more familiar form of lovely leafy ‘nip.

Stumble it!

I believe, know in fact, that everything in existence has consciousness. Everything in this universe is composed of energy, and as such embraces the vast intelligence of its source.

All beings choose to come here to this Earth, and they choose when to leave it. If it were left up to chance, then everything else would be left up to chance, or luck, or what have you, and then life would be a chaotic mess with no cohesion. Life comes when the time is right for life, and death comes when the time is right for death. This is true for all of life, and so it was true for Sumari.

Sumari, small and thin like her namesake: the family of Sumari, also affectionately known as “wild and crazy micro kitty” or simply “baby girl” is just a cat. Or cat in physical form, filled with the consciousness of the many versions of life as she chooses. Who knows the inner mind or “soul” or aspect personality of the cat? We identify the physical body as the only tangible evidence of the existence of our beloved pet, yet there is much more. That I can assure you.

Sumari came home one Sunday morning with a glint of fear in her eyes, heavy breathing, mouth slightly open, and clearly not wanting to be touched. Unusual for this sweet, loving little kitty. By Monday she looked quite ill, and had consumed neither food nor water.

By Tuesday it seemed inevitable that she would die, at only a year and a half of life with us. We told her we loved her. We told her that we wanted her to live because we loved her so much, but we also told her that if she wanted to die we loved her enough to let her make that choice. It was her choice, of that I was sure.

I did try to research her symptoms and figure out what I could do to help, but nothing seemed to fit. I also believe in the body’s ability to heal itself, if supplied with the proper nutrients and freed of the usual environmental poisons which inhibit healing. I do not believe the body can be drugged into health, and so my only therapies were love, EFT and a drop of water in her mouth when I could. (Go to Gary Craig’s EFT site to learn EFT, and surrogate EFT for others). I used “surrogate” EFT, imagining my self to be Sumari, and tapping on whatever I could come up with to help her heal.

With her beautiful eyes sunken in, her breath in rasping gasps and her mouth hanging open, death seemed so much more likely than life. She did not want to be touched, and got upset at the feel of just a drop of water on her lips. She remained in this state through Wednesday, no food or water for three days at that point.

Love and EFT were all I could give but even so, the healing began. She moved a bit that night, though with a heart-wrenching feebleness. Thursday, weak and fragile, she caught a moth and ate it. Was the hunter back? The mole-catcher, persistently bringing food to her beloved humans seemed to be making a comeback. And so it was. The death-mask lifted, ever so slowly, and wild and crazy micro kitty emerged from the depths and came back to us. My beautiful baby girl, always the size of a kitten, was back to her talkative, inquisitive self soon enough. Slowly regaining her strength, she had made her choice, and life it was!

A life of play, whether it be hide-and-seek, chase the human, race after the laser pointer or wrestling with the other cats. A life of adventure, climbing to the roof and gracefully soaring to the deck below, or coming in the window on the most daring of whims, or climbing trees and making her way back down without a hint of fear. A life of love, purring contentedly, talking and snuggling, my Sumari is back. The hunter, though, is not. No more gleefully toying with dead things, bringing lunch to the family. I don’t know why, and she’s not telling.

Sumari chose life, and for that we are thankful.