Cats

Catching A Catnap

/ still a dreamer / 1 Comment

It occurred to me the other day that the small fry in my life were getting far too little face time. In fact, they were getting none, and deserved a little respect. So what better time to catch them than just at the time when I settle down to work and they, with nice full tummies, settle down to catch that most cat-like of all endeavors, the catnap.

It was easy to catch Mewsette. Once she settles down for a snooze, she’s out like a light!

But then surprisingly, everyone else decided something interesting must be happening, so let’s pose! And Gypsy Rose started her on-the-back rolls and twirls which has earned her the nickname of Twirly-Girl.

Not to be left out, Claude, a.k.a. Claudie the Dog Boy, decided to sit up and get his mug in the camera. But it didn’t take terribly long for him to give it up and find his catnap spot on their favorite brown paper bag. He couldn’t keep his eyes open and was soon out like a light, too.

Ahhhh – but I did say face time, didn’t I?  OK, Mewsette, a beautiful tabby and white girl with kiwi green eyes, is the delicate soul of the bunch and so bonded to me that my moods become her moods. She is terribly devoted to me. I rescued her from Weequahic Park in Newark when she was about 9 months old. As cats go, she is the old soul, always wiser and more in tune, but sometimes in need of protection from the other two.

Gypsy Rose was another rescue from that park who’d been living in the adjacent cemetery; I snatched her while riding through one morning to work. She was 6 months old at the time. What’s so unusual about Gypsy is her tortoiseshell markings – she has touches on her face, chest and paw, stray hairs through her body, but all her bright, flashy colors are on her tummy! Gypsy is the top cat and the most independent.

I rescued Claude at the age of 5 weeks from a railroad bridge where he was waiting, no doubt, to be hit by a car or go over the edge and a 100′ drop. I hadn’t wanted a kitten, (because I would take an older cat, a pair that couldn’t be separated, a handicap, etc.), but felt he was meant to be mine. When I saw him run under the chin of my 12 year old pit bull terrier, Chloe, I knew it was true. Chloe raised him pretty much with her energy. He does all kinds of tricks no self-respecting cat would ever do, ergo the name, Claudie the Dog Boy, and is a bit on the goofy side.

Through all the paper bag and Twirly-Girl shots, Mewsette had only one thing in mind … her catnap. And a minor change in position.

Requiem for A Featherweight

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

StripesShe was a tiny little thing, and I’d really grown so very fond of her. Sadly, Stripes is no more and I sure do miss her.

People always find me when they have a problem with an animal, and so it was a few nights ago that my neighbor across the street had knocked on my door. She said she’d just come home and saw a cat in the road hit by a car … it looked like my next door neighbor’s. I grabbed my coat and ran out to find Stripes lying there, bleeding, still warm, the life knocked out of her limp body.

Stripes did indeed belong to the folks next door, and had two young girls that loved her.  Stripes and Pumpkin, half siblings, are/were primarily outdoor cats with shelter in their garage at night, all up to date with shots, neutered, etc. Her life with me was somewhat tangential, I guess you could say, but I loved her nonetheless. I saw her daily, fed her a “snack/meal” almost every day, and sat outside with her whenever I could.

With big green eyes and so very sweet and affectionate, Stripes was a little heartbreaker, and I say little – she couldn’t have been more than 5 pounds. I’d sit out on my porch to journal with my feet up on another chair so she could fall asleep on my legs. After eating, Pumpkin was off to whatever he had next on his schedule, but Stripes would have cuddled as long as the cuddles were coming. She patiently allowed me to remove the burrs from her fur acquired from her gallivanting all over the neighborhood, where she was a disturbingly good huntress. It’s no coincidence, I think, that there was a dead mouse about 2 feet from where her body lay in the road.

I miss those hopeful green eyes looking up at me through my back door screen … for a bite to eat or perhaps some snuggling … she loved any and all attention. Mine are my indoor cats; Stripes and Pumpkin had become my part-time, outdoor cats. It doesn’t matter that she wasn’t “mine.” She found a comfortable spot in my heart, and that’s where Stripes sleeps tonight.

Sweet dreams, little one.

Try and Relax!

/ still a dreamer

ClaudeHave you ever noticed the positions your animals get into? They make it look as if they invented the word `relax’. They stretch out, especially in the heat, so every potential draft will ease slowly over their languid bodies. They make it look so damn easy.
Now you might think that this is a comment on my own inability to relax, which is far from the truth. In fact, it brings to mind an experience of many moons ago when my then-husband came home to find me lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling or into space. He asked what was I doing?
I said “nothing.”
With an incredulous look on his face, he said, “What do you mean, nothing?”
“I mean nothing. I’m doing nothing. As in, nothing.” Seemed pretty clear to me.
“How could you just be doing nothing,” he asked. “You have to be doing something!”
Now THIS was a man who had a hard time relaxing!
I tried to search for what it was I was doing, and all I came up with was … in trying to satisfy the question … “I guess I’m daydreaming .. or just thinking.”
And then, with the same confused face, he asked, “How can you just lie there and do nothing?”
Well, I thought I had just come up with an answer as to what I was doing, but I let that go, and said, “Here, just lie down, and kind of stare into space and let your mind relax. You know, just drift around a bit.”
He lay down and for all intents and purposes, assumed the position one would take if they were to relax. He looked up at the ceiling.
Then he looked at me.
“I don’t know how you can just do nothing. I can’t do nothing.”
I don’t really remember what happened after that, except that he wasn’t next to me anymore. Probably feeling guilty for now having the audacity to have actually spent a few moments of my life doing nothing, I’m sure I joined him and made it my business to start doing something.
But I think the animals still have the right idea. They have learned the fine art of doing nothing, of just being in the moment. They stretch out … close their eyes … take a deep breath and they’re off into dreamland or wherever animals go when they close their eyes. We have such a lot to learn from them … and this is one of their best lessons.
It’s the weekend – try and relax!