housekeeping – Page 27 – Hot Dog Cool Cats

Ruby Tutu

Ruby as she sees it and as I tell it and nothing else matters! — **Ruby as she sees it and tells it and nothing else matters!**

Now those of you familiar with monkeys know that we believe deeply that we have been given a superior intellect. Sure, sure, sure we need to be socialized to develop but we just improvise along the way, especially if we have been blessed with living in a stress free environment…. like in Momma’s bedroom. And if I live in a monkey free zone without even any trees to swing on, I find nearby replacements to befriend and mesmerize, by mind control – well, that and my full on button eye no wavering stare.

Ruby listens to plush friends living on top of cherry wood armoire. — **Ruby** even chats to plush friends living on top of cherry wood armoire.

You probably know once you go monkey, there is no return, because we are the masters of intrigue, guarding secrets, yet spreading gossip at the same time. It is the Law of the Jungle buried deep in our DNA. You will not believe and it took me a while to figure it out, but a dog or a cat or even little stuffed toys to mother, can be all a monkey needs to feel invigorated and worthwhile.

I started a whisper, only audible by trained ears and in no time Jakita recognized my need to be fulfilled and cuddled closely, using my lap as a pillow to sleep on. Truth be known, I like dogs like her, because she respects me and my pretty pink tutu, never chewing on it. Instead she sucks the duvet which works for me …. even if it is exasperating for poor Momma who is not only the housekeeper but also the Laundry Lady. I bet you did not even know you had one of those at your house. I keep my glassy non wavering eyes focused…I see things.

Little Miss Muffet Charlie on her Little Miss Tuffet. — Charlie giving Ruby her space.

Hush-Hush Sweet Charlotte Cat (Charlie) is Little Miss Manners with me. She will sit beside me but give me my space. I can not imagine why she hisses so at Andy Cat but that is above my pay scale. It comes under the category of cat on cat action that only felines understand….and only God knows if they do… 🙂

So...when Jakita is busy....there is always Ruby to cuddle. — Gen asleep with Ruby.

Although Gen and I have become buds over the years, it is a work in progress because she is a Rascal. Momma pinned those bright shiny stars on my tutu. Gen thinks it is okay to bat them with her paw or even worse, she chews them. Sometime the capped on one end straight pin Momma used to attach the glittery adornments, will attack Gen back. With that she takes off, like Speedy Gonzales. However, being kind of blonde (well, another secret, don’t tell, so is Momma) Diva Gen Cat forgets and does the same thing next day or week or when the fancy strikes her. Still Gen will spend hours sleeping with me all day, waiting for Jakita, Tigger and Babby to return so we can continue to trot out the stories we have heard, and the (exaggerated) lives we have lived.

Ruby, Tigger and Babby..chewed a bit, loved a lot... — Ruby, Tigger and Babby..chewed a bit, loved a lot…

Ruby comforts me as I tell her about my dream. — Sweet Jakita can turn into a disciplinarian…no flip switch necessary….

I must say sweet little, floppy-eared stuffed Babby and the amazingly striped stuffed Tigger Kitty are the most faithful, staying snuggled under my arms, hours at a time. Then Jakita decides they need a good shaking (has no one ever told her of shaken baby syndrome) or they need a walk and she puts them in her mouth, jumps off the bed and takes them to unknown destinations, at least for me because I never leave Momma’s room. Yet somehow, like homing pigeons, they always come back to me, because they know which side their bread is buttered on.

Note: Part of the RUBY Series Also see: Ruby – The Incredibly Wide Eyed Stuffed Monkey

Email To: housekeeping@hotdogcoolcats.com

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Kitten Kaboodle

Looks ile a Kitty Tail or Tale to me.... — Looks like a Kitty Tail or Tale to me….

There is always another kitty tale to bring you and no one ever tells them better than me. I have looked at the Family Tree pictures, constructed the time line of where, when and who, as well as put my Diva Calico Gen spin on it so, pull up a chair and lend an ear.

Deep in the forest Momma went to find nests of kitties that needed Forever Homes.

You know, there is nothing like kittens (or puppies) to bring out the ooohhh’s and the aaahhh’s in the Two Footed, unless they have a pitiful heart of stone. In the spring, just after the Princess took her cats and moved back in with her parents, Feral Mama cats were birthing all over town, in the bushes, deep in the forests by swift flowing creeks or wherever a nest could be hidden from the Forest Freaks. Little did Momma know two of those kittens had her name registered as legal owner, so far up there in the clouds that only Momma’s esoteric father (aka Grandpapa) knew.

Now Momma and her father shared this amazing Father-Daughter relationship, so I am told. They were of one accord on most subjects although she did push back when he trotted out some theories passed down and nixed, by even the cavemen. But kittens, that needed a home, that was hard to argue and justify refusal.

One day on a long weekend holiday Monday, just to please her father and maybe out of curiosity, Momma went deep in to the forest and was absolutely astonished. Grandpapa was not pulling her leg…. this time. There were several nests of kittens, little balls of fur, all colors curled up next to their sleeping siblings. A quick survey indicated the Mama cats were out, probably hunting. Good, no attack cats to intercept the mission. With every color, every size available, how could a Two Footed decide which to choose? There were all so captivating. However, a pure white, stood up, stretched and stared at Momma as if to say, ‘I know what you are up to. Take me.’ The well-mannered Etiquette Queen Finicky Cat now had a Forever Home.

When Momma arrived with Finicky Cat, Daddy asked why had she not brought a second one, so back they went. Marching around the long-term care parking lot was a little scrap of a black and white kitty, following her splotchy gray and white gaunter-by-the-minute Mama, who actually stopped, looked at Momma & Daddy, as if to say, ‘Take her, please. She does not have what it takes to be a feral. She is like a stalker, following me everywhere I go. Enough already, take her.’ Thus Little Miss Fraidy Cat joined Finicky Cat in a land of abundant food, fresh water, cat nip and balls with bells (liked all that) and regular trips to vet (did not like that so much).

Our JAG boy lovingly holds FInicky. Beside him Wonder Boy holds Finicky and Fraidy Cat (he was so teeny tiny, even his tail was short). — Our JAG Boy lovingly holds FInicky. Beside him Wonder Boy holds Finicky and Fraidy Cat (he was so teeny tiny, even his tail was short).

Now when you take in teeny tiny kittens who have never been inside four walls with a roof, it is very scary for them. Ask me, I lived it. Finicky apparently rolled with the punches, sensing it was all good but Fraidy, was well, afraid. I mean did the name cause the condition or the condition cause the name, I ask?

Momma recalled that the day after they brought them home, Daddy, more of a dog lover, but would put up with Momma’s weakness, told her they were taking them back to the forest that very day because Fraidy hissed at him so ferociously, like a wild cat, he said. No telling what that orphaned feral would do once she was full size.

Momma laughed and told him, ‘Give it a week. She will be all over the new and improved life. What is not to like?’ It included not only the Two Footed but two dogs (Angel Teddy and Mama Tammy) who wanted to mother smother the latest additions to the family . Momma knew, Daddy was a soft spot, once the purring kicked in.

Gen looks very serious and pensive (both her eyes are green, really) as she tells Tigger whose steps she is following in.

Fraidy Cat and Finicky Cat were really our stepping-stones, laying down the Cat-A-Laws for Momma, Daddy and Wonder Boy, introducing for the first time the miracle and healing power of Feral Kitties.

There is another real life in the jungle or you can not beat your DNA story to bring you about our Foremothers, Fraidy and Finicky but it must wait for another day, another dollar. Kaching!

Dream Weaver

At night we drift off to sleep without any control over the dreams or nightmares we may encounter. When we awaken, next morning, it takes a minute or two to figure out the reality. Sometimes we open our eyes, feel peace surrounding us and out of the blue it hits us, like a ton of bricks. We did something yesterday, that is going to ruin today….. Or we or someone in our family is leaving or sick or dying. A sense of panic and inertia strikes us. We breathe deep and say like Scarlett O’Hara, ‘Tomorrow’s another day.’

But all dreams are not born equal. Buddy’s mother, Momma’s Aunt, (although 100% Scottish born and bred) was a Spanish Marilyn Munroe look-alike, tall and curvaceous, with black hair, streaked with glowing hints of red and blue in the sun.

In Momma’s dream, a sister of Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe dropped by her home in Ontario to let Momma know she and Daddy just had to go to Ruis’ Funeral Home, back home in Quebec that very night because it was the twenty-five year anniversary of Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe’s death and her husband, Uncle WW2 Sergeant was planning an anniversary that would amaze everyone.

Well, it was a fair distance from Ontario, maybe astro travel would work, but we would try, because we all adored Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe (besides Momma’s Mother-God-Rest Her-Soul, would be observing and recording non-attendance. Momma would never be forgiven if she was a no-show).

When Momma and Daddy arrived at the Funeral Parlor (don’t ask how, Momma was vague about the devil in the details), there was a long line up outside consisting of family and friends that they had not seen in years. They caught up with all the gossip, laughing at the absurdities of life, commiserating about Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe and Uncle WW2 Sergeant’s son, Cousin Buddy, being AWOL since the mother he had adored, had been taken from him. Then again, there was the promise he made his Father. Well, Uncle WW2 Sergeant didn’t listen to him and married that ‘other’ woman, but Buddy kept his promise. Not only that, Buddy was right. Right or wrong, no one had seen him since. Over the years Buddy had few supporters (except his club members who thought of him often), but the old folks seemed to have mellowed in their opinions in this setting. Also, they just wished he could be with them, in honor of the strong bond he and his mother shared, since it was them against the world on many occasions.

Finally the line snaked in to the Funeral Parlor. They were in the room with the coffin. Momma saw Uncle WW2 Sergeant, looking smart in his best Legion Bib and Tucker, ready to go fight WW3, if needs be, standing by his late wife’s casket.

As Momma approached, Uncle WW2 Sergeant excitedly told her that Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe had a special message for her. At that, Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe dressed in a white sleeveless dress, to best show her shiny black hair and perfect tan, sat up silently, in her coffin. With out saying a word, she opened her big, sparkly brown eyes, rolled them to the left, then to the right, closed them and lay back down.

It was a miracle, Uncle WW2 Sergeant proclaimed, Momma had been the only person sent a message, but no one knew what it all meant exactly.

Momma’s Aunt had died within six months of being diagnosed with cancer. And so it was, exactly six months after the dream, Momma was diagnosed with cancer. She successfully lived through Surgery, Chemotherapy and Radiation. Is it not fitting, through a dream, Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe was warning Momma to “look at and listen to” her body?

Her we are, just sitting around, sharing tales of what was, what will be, just marveling at the mystery of the reality. — Here we are… just marveling at the mystery of the reality.

What do you think Gen, Tigger and my Incredibly Wise Wide Eyed Stuffed Monkey Ruby? Anything like that ever happen to you? I hate those dreams where some hungry mutt is chasing me because I look like a yummy snack. I whimper, Momma sits up, pats me and says, ‘It’s okay, Jakita. It is just a dream. Go back to sleep.’ I am still waiting for a dream with a message. I am just saying, I am open to it, okay?

Thank you, Aunt Spanish Marilyn Munroe. You were always so strong and brave. Thirty-nine years old was too young to die.

Momma says she learned a lot from you, both here on earth and of course, when you materialized mysteriously in a dream. You saw first hand what your death did to your young family and wanted to make sure history did not repeat itself.

They don’t make them like our Auntie anymore!!!!

In the Beginning

Hi. It is Gen, Jakita’s BFF.

Listen up folks if you want to know who came before you! — Listen up folks, if you want to know who came before you!

You know the deal – it is my right to tell tales, kitty tails. What about the Budgie, Momma? Well, you can fit him in, when you mention Finicky. But let’s begin with Ginger and Fluffy because they were the first two cats (brother and sister) that Momma & RIP Daddy and, well, they only came when the Run Away Princess moved in. ‘Who is that?’ you ask. No accounting for stories, they meander like a river that over throws its banks, flooding your basement to such a degree that no one will sell you home insurance again. That is another story, for another ‘day in the life of….’. Let’s fill you in with how RIP Daddy and Momma took in the Run Away Princess.

Call Momma Peter Pan, but she always related well to children. That is why it was so easy to embrace RIP Daddy’s niece Pretty-Little-Dutch-Girl, (his brother’s daughter) who reminded her of that skipping rhyme they used to sing on the school yard play ground: ‘I am a pretty little Dutch girl, As pretty as pretty can be, be, be, And all the boys in my town, Are crazy over me, me, me.’ She was absolutely ‘picture perfect’ with her streaked blonde hair, turquoise blue eyes that were accentuated by her wholesome tanned skin. And so was her behaviour. Momma found that very odd. After all, she had nieces and nephews who got in all kinds of trouble growing up, in words and deeds, but Pretty-Little-Dutch-Girl’s mother swore she never did or said anything bad.

Left to Right: Mother of the Runaway Princess (RIP) The Run Away Princess Father of the Runaway Princess (RIP) The Uncle of the Runaway Princess (Daddy-RIP) — Left to Right:
Mother of the Runaway Princess (RIP)
The Run Away Princess
Father of the Runaway Princess (RIP)
Uncle of the Runaway Princess (Daddy-RIP). !

Give me a ‘for instance’, you say. Well, one day Daddy’s sweet sister was visiting with her rambunctious son. He kept jumping on the couch, his mother kept pleading with him to stop. So Momma’s five your old niece stepped in. She looked at Daddy’s sister and said, “If I had a kid like him, I would not take him anywhere.” Daddy’s sister left. Problem solved.

So being from a fine family of normal, mouthy children, Momma tried to talk to Daddy that she did not think it was healthy to be perfect. He got very riled at her, reminding her that Pretty-Little-Dutch-Girl’s grandfather had been a much respected, important in the Dutch community minister and that she probably had inherited all of his good genes. But are we not taught that all have sinned and come short of the glory of God?

Now there are optical illusions, delusions and downright lies that can mask family life. At the home base the Pretty-Little-Dutch-girl struggled and failed, to be perfect, as she entered her teenage years. That is why she became the Run Away Princess, who moved in with a (girl)friend. The disengaged parents agreed to the deception until…Momma put a letter in the Big Smoke newspaper that touched their cold hearts.

The Run Away Princess moved in with RIP Daddy and Momma the day the letter was published. Her first order of business was to have a cat since her mother would not allow pets in her house. And that, Virginia, is how Ginger (male ginger tiger-striped) and Fluffy (female soft fluffy ginger tabby) came into our lives. Don’t kid yourself, Momma fed them, RIP Daddy changed their litter boxes but their loyalty was always to the Run Away Princess who had rescued them from bedlam and brought them to an oasis. When she would go out, they would sit outside her bedroom door, awaiting the return of their Masteress (so to speak).

Or is it Fluffy and Ginger. By, George, I think I got it. — Ginger and Fluffy? Or is it Fluffy and Ginger? That is Momma with Ginger, ignoring the camera.
By, George, I think I got it now.

They moved out five years later when the Princess, no longer a Run Away, moved back home with her parents. Suddenly pets were okay, if it meant they could get their daughter back. Live and learn. Live and learn.

And the Lesson. First off: Try it, you just may like it! The Princess’ mother loved those cats, indulged their every whim, even keeping them when the Princess married and moved out, worrying over them as she had about her own daughter. Go figure, eh!

Rescue Dog

Oh, I am so lucky, no, maybe my Alpha Dog personality has something to do with it, but I am the chosen one to tell tales about dogs we had, long before I was a twinkle in my daddy’s eye.

Earlier I told you about Momma’s Angel Dog Sir Teddy but what I left out was, Sir Teddy had a wife, Little Ms. Tammy who was day and night different from Teddy. Not all dogs come from happy spaces, not all dogs get to ‘live the dream’ but in the end, well Little Ms. Tammy did.

Wonder Boy with Teddy on left, Tammy relaxing on floor. — Wonder Boy with Sir Teddy on left, Ms. Tammy relaxing on floor. It is easy to see how much bigger Teddy was than Ms.Tammy..

It was always a yearning of RIP Daddy to breed puppies. Now that they knew that American Eskimos were such perfect dogs, (better than me…I doubt that) they would buy a female and have a litter. Momma agreed half heartedly, worried that once the pups came, it would be hard to part with them. But Daddy prevailed and back they went to the same puppy mill Sir Teddy came from. Big mistake. Daddy told them why he wanted a female…and they had just the girlie for him. Momma told me, once you looked in to Tammy’s eyes, you were lost and felt you just could not leave her in this life of misery.

Ms. Braveheart — Ms. Tammy… A True Braveheart

Now Ms. Tammy, although the runt of the litter, from a distance certainly was 100% American Eskimo but her teeth and jaw seemed ever so out of alignment. Her tail did not feather over her back like Sir Teddy’s because it was somehow curled, like a Piggy’s. Her fur was creamy rather than the brilliant white of a winter snow. Yet her sweet nature made up for all of her outward deficiencies. She was six months old and had lived in a barn the first couple of months, then put in an outside run with no shade in the hot sun, and no roof for shelter, when it rained. Her five aggressive male brothers systematically chased and brow beat her, alone, in pairs or together, as a flash mob. So Tammy tried to hide behind the water trough, the food dish, anywhere to avoid the general pop. Being in Solitary would have been a dream come true for this frightened puppy.

So even though Tammy was cowed, she also was smart enough to not shy away when Daddy and Momma were taken to the pen. She rushed over, stood on her hind legs, wagged her tail, licking their fingers through the wire fence. All of the brothers watched solemnly. They knew in their hearts they would never see Tammy again but this was not a good life for her. Any loud noise made her fearful, thunder and lightning left her with PTSD. In a way, the brothers were relieved to see any happy ending, even if it would not change their lot in life.

If I had been here when Tammy was part of the family, she could have joined the circle of love that surrounds Gen, myself, the Incredible Stuffed Monkey Ruby and our Sweet Tigger. Like Tammy, I am afraid of loud noises too. — If I had been here when Tammy was part of my family circle of love. Like Tammy, I am afraid of loud noises too.

Yes, Momma says, it was in her eyes, pleading, please, please take me. Somehow Tammy knew at six months old, that finding a Forever Family would take longer and longer. Everyone wants a cute little puppy, not the full-grown dog.

As if under a spell Momma and Daddy rescued her, for a life so far removed, Tammy could not even imagine it. But there is more to be told. Stay tuned.

Buddy-Buddy, He’s a Cousin of Mine, Missing in Action

Do I have a story for you! It is like folklore… reminiscing about Buddy-Buddy, he’s a Cousin of Momma’s, Missing in Action. Still, here I am, part of the free world yet imprisoned by the Policies and Procedures that I created – what was I thinking….big sigh:

Section 3: Sub Section: 2 Item #: b) It has been agreed that each pet will have its own voice and no other member will be allowed to tell his/her story.

Here I am, on the beach, the very beach Momma lived beside, as a child, with my beach towel to lay on and a bone to chew. Does it get much better than that? — The Story Teller

So I, (I mean…obviously), we had to change it. Diva Calico Gen has been chosen to represent any kitty who is no longer with us, while I can record the happenings of any other Four Footed or Two Footed who can not contribute, by the power vested in me by the province, ( Ontario), the region (Peel) and country (Canada)…..so help me God. To some extent, Momma has influence over what is put out there and she insists I introduce Buddy, who I am not even sure existed, except My-Aunt-Who-Taught-Momma-Most-the-Things she knows, testifies this is all true.

Momma had some competitive aunties who bragged endlessly about their children’s brilliance and ability, except for Aunt-Second-Sister’s kids who were much younger than us, (Cousin-Captain and Cousin-Sweet-Thing), so we mentored them and no rivalry ever existed.

Although there were absolute genius cousins out there (as proclaimed by their very own parents), Momma’s favorite cousin was Buddy, who was four months younger than her and and though an ‘only’ child, was never put on a pedestal. She still has a picture of him at about three years old, half a head shorter than her. That changed rapidly as he grew to over six feet in his early teens.

Buddy at the front, busy, busy Momma to the left holding chair, her brother behind her, her sister to her right. I know, Buddy looks as tall as Buddy here but it is an optical illusion. — Buddy-Buddy at the front, busy, busy. Momma to the left holding chair, behind her, her beautiful sisters to her right.

Momma recalled one day, when Buddy and her were three or four. They were sent to the apple orchard to play, with Cousin Still in Diapers, who was a year younger, who they steadfastly ignored. The three of them went in the old Milk House to choose some “toys” (in reality, junk on the way to the dump), to play with. Buddy found an old ball that had a leak so that it was no longer round. He decided they should kick to see if they could knock down the wood pile (mission never accomplished). For what ever reason, Cousin Still in Diapers, chose an old egg beater. Begs the question, was his action premeditated? Could he have been charged in a Kiddie-Court-of Law? He was a solid toddler, big for his age so he appeared older than he was. Probably Buddy and Momma frustrated him because he did not feel included. Out of the corner of her eye, Momma saw Cousin Still in Diapers, bearing down on her, invading her space. He wanted their attention even if it meant whacking someone over the head with the old eggbeater. Buddy did not even pause; he grabbed it from him and reciprocated, hitting him three times.

In to the house went Cousin Still in Diapers, wailing for his Momma. Out comes Aunt Mother of Cousin Still in Diapers, (also solidly built), with Buddy’s and Momma’s mothers trailing silently behind her to listen. “Buddy, shame on you, hitting your little cousin over the head with an old egg beater”, said Aunt Mother of Cousin Still in Diapers, Momma spoke up in Buddy’s defense. “He hit Cousin Still in Diapers, because Cousin Still in Diapers, hit me with it first”. “Humph, next time you should all just play nice”, and back in the house she stalked, Cousin Still in Diapers, trailing behind her. Although not a word was said by their mothers, Buddy and Momma saw them exchange amused glances and reveled in their silent support. From that point forward Cousin Still in Diapers, was toast. They did not abide snitches in their club.

My-Aunt-Who-Taught-Momma-Most-the-Things she knows, would sometimes join them as well as Buddy had one cousin on his mother’s side that played with them, following all rules, over the years.

Probably not undercover.... — Probably not undercover….

As an adult, Buddy-Buddy’s cousin ended up joining the RCMP – probably a perfect fit for undercover because of all the intrigue he learned at Buddy’s knee. Buddy also had cousin (sister of the RCMP officer) who had to be ejected from the club because she was even too out there for Buddy to handle. She would threaten to “cut off their heads and stick them on a pole”. Some day, they believed, she might just accomplish that. Sounds like she was born after or before her time, almost. I wonder what happened to her? Maybe she ended up a guard who perpetuated torture and water boarding at Guantanamo Bay detention camp or … dare we say…even worse, a Conservative or a Republican?

Buddy, where are you now, when the going is rough and the rough are the rulers?

Free Falling

Cool Dude Fr: Morguefile By: pippalou — Cool Dude
Fr: Morguefile By: pippalou

I am the lonely old possum that hangs by my tail, in the ‘seen better days’ tree. The good news is, I am not really lonely. I am a Cool Dude. I have a caring Mama and a nest of siblings that I purposely escape each day. I make my way to my favourite perch, an evergreen. I scamper up, higher and higher, looping my tail around a branch, like a bungee cord, free-falling, so I can get an unobstructed view of the terrain below.

Why would I choose that tree, in that location? Well, you know, Momma lives there with all of her Cool Inside / Outside cats, her Hot Dog, Mr. Grey Squirrel, his family and friends, the rabbits and colourful birds, oh and don’t forget the raccoons. I like watching them too…and the bats, that at dusk, fly in formation, like bewitching shadows, their wings extended, as they glide, noiselessly, swooping and swaying, to their own inner antenna.

Jakita considers me an unsub. Whatever! I just don’t pass the sight and smell test. She constantly sounds the alarm, like ‘Do something Momma’. Maybe she thinks that Momma should climb the tree and poke me. Forget that. Momma would then make me part of her entourage, give me a schedule, expect me to fit in, what ever that means.

Jakita (left) Kitty Club Med, left to right, Beau, Gen (calico) and Andy.

The cats, I shall subdivide for you. The Inside Kitty Club Med cats, ignore me. They sashay indoors, never acknowledging my existence. I can handle that. I have to say, the feral cats, the rabbits and raccoons, even the birds and the squirrels, think all outside trees belong to them exclusively and are hostile accordingly. Sharing is not their strong point.

Do you think it bothers me? This is the room with the view and I am not going anywhere, at least, until after I fall out of the tree and meander back to my den, to snuggle with Mama and my siblings.

Stand Your Ground

So get this straight from the horse’s (or in my case cat’s) mouth. I am not a bully. I am a sweet♥ . Just ask Momma. Everyday when she is sitting in RIP Daddy’s easy chair, reading the paper (yup, she has not gone digital yet), I jump on her lap, purring loudly, sending sections helter–skelter. I scrounge around for a good place to exercise my kneading, latch on to suck on her oversize winter cardigan, finally settling down, then falling in to a blissful sleep.

So see what I said. I am such a Brainiac, I shade my eyes with my paw when I fall asleep in the daytime. All those brilliant, constantly moving, changing rainbows interfere with my sleep. — So see what I said. I am such a Brainiac, I shade my eyes with my paw when I fall asleep in the daytime.

No, I am not a mean cat but unfortunately, like all male (cats), sometime my testosterone runs high. This can cast me in a poor light, but get a grip, I am the Brainiac. I know when to stop. If I don’t, well, both Jakita and Momma are more than willing to settle me down.

I confess that when I am home bound in the winter, I act a trifle wired. I mean, when it is too cold for a Club Med kitty to venture outside, I look around for ways to burn off my abundance of hormones.

First I consider, should I give chase to the Diva Calico Gen? On the plus side, she loves a good chase, if I give her a head start. However, she is so pretty and my little sister, as well as Jakita’s best friend forever. If I take on Gen, I take on Jakita who will join the chase, jump on my back and chew my ears. That is no fun.

Gen and Jakita, BFF, asleep with Gen's Kitty, Tigger. — Gen and Jakita, BFF, asleep with Gen’s Kitty, Tigger.

Well, there is always Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte (Charlie). But that is problematic as well because Jakita is not kidding, she has ears that hear the butterflies flap their wings in Africa. The first hiss out of Charlie and Jakita barks to tell on me. Momma comes running, shoos me away, comforts Charlie, praises Jakita and I am the one in the proverbial dog house.

However, I have a secret. Jakita is afraid when Momma vacuums because her ears are so sensitive to noise, so she hunkers down by me for protection. So good luck with that hard ball you sometimes send my way, Jakita. Who said, what goes around, comes around?

A picture is worth a thousand words. Look at Jakita's worried look as she presses against me, cool as a cucumber, while Momma vacuums. — A picture is worth a thousand words. Look at Jakita’s worried look as she presses against me, cool as a cucumber, while Momma vacuums.

Something very disturbing happened last night. Since Gen, Charlie and Jakita sleep on Momma’s bed every night, I thought, I did, if you can’t beat them, join them. Once lights were out, I jumped so lightly on the end of the bed, Momma did not even feel me launching. I was nowhere near her, but still, Charlie took exception and emitted a low, steady growl. She was not sharing a sleeping space with me and she was not going anywhere. Momma turned on the lamp, looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Sorry Bad Boy Andy, you got to learn to play nice if you want to earn a space on my bed.’

Okay, got it already. This Lover Boy Sweet♥ Cat will go sleep by myself, in the sun porch or on the couch, or on the heat register, apparently anywhere but Momma’s bed. Nobody has a sense of humor anymore.

Comments, We Got Comments

So between you and me, Momma prays…a lot. Sometimes she never learns because, well, she always said, she prayed so hard to have Wonder Boy (prayer answered), and that he would be smart (also, prayer answered) but in retrospect, you get what you wish for (sometimes). Momma believes that she should have asked that Wonder Boy be not that smart, because she may have avoided a lot of phone calls from overworked and under appreciated teachers, as he always invented, not re-invented the wheel.

It is Momma’s contention, long after Wonder Boy graduated from Secondary school that she still got a recorded message every day letting her know her son had skipped classes, again! She lived in fear that the Professors would get her phone number when he was in University but once you reach the world of Academia, the rules change. Apparently, it all worked, because he did graduate, with Honors, I am told. Oh, and Momma prays for wisdom. How is that working out, you ask? Not so much, like her memory, it comes and goes, but she was wise enough to take me home.

Ok, Ok, he is cute but somehow, over the years, Wonder Boy has learned to fly without wings!

Once Momma and I started working on this Blog, she fervently prayed again that there would be an appreciative audience because she was so considerate of how much time and effort that her Hot Dog (me), the Cool Cats, the Wildlife and Others, cheerfully contributed without setting any boundaries between truth and well, being out there.

Momma’s no techie. She has lived long enough to see it ‘all’ but by jing, she never anticipated that her prayers would be answered so succinctly. Apparently God opened the skies and poured pages and pages and pages of comments, questions, and input (mostly positive along with, well thought up suggestions) from you, the very glue that makes this venture all worthwhile. There was only one problem. In the dump, your contact information was lost so it is impossible to answer individual questions.

As far as themes, background, design, headers, or photos, blame Momma. She just perseveres, putting down the stories we tell her, cropping, re-sizing, rotating photos until she more or less is flipped herself. It is so boring for me. I lay on the floor, beside the computer as she looks at everything from all angles, auto correcting, readjusting, checking then double checking, until her standard is met. Sometimes, dare I say, often times, it is not exactly our voices portrayed and the images look no better than when the process began. That is the risk you run with a Ghost Writer. Big Sigh!

Stain glass flowers, butterflies and gems of every hue create a house of rainbows.

For all of you that has reached out to Momma’s Four Footed Hot Dog and Cool Cats, we thank you and are thrilled many folks from all corners of the earth plane who share our sense of humor. Keep on keeping on. We love your feedback.

So a Shout Out to all the fine folks from different countries and continents who have reached out to us. Even as we speak, Momma is combing through the pages and pages and pages of comments. And just when you thought your greetings went into the Bermuda Triangle or the feared Black Hole, all of a sudden you will see something that looks familiar and appreciate the power of prayer. Like, who knew?

God's gift to us on sunny days because of Momma's passion for crystals and stain glass. — God’s gift to us on sunny days, lighting up rainbows of all shapes and sizes on the walls, ceilings and floors of our century old+ home, because of Momma’s passion for crystals and stain glass.

So heads up fellow bloggers, don’t despair if you get no or few comments and are wondering if any one even reads your articles. The Hot Dog (me) and the Cool Cats think your number is coming up very soon and you too may get pages and pages and pages of a Comment / Message dump, delivered by the Mystery of the Reality. Hallelujah and pass the biscuits! Remember, you got to find the end of the rainbow to discover your pot of gold.

Jakita and Her Daddy

I remember, I remember that morning because it was my favourite kind of day – it had snowed overnight and the landscape was a carpet of thick, wet white snow. Momma snapped on my lead and we were off, out the door, for a walk. With no tracks in the morning snow, the site before me was mine to discover, to carve out, like a romp down the road to visit the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Snow banks on either side of Daddy's freshly plowed gateway. — Snow banks on either side of Daddy’s freshly plowed gateway.

Yet some 6^th sense or premonition stopped me dead in my tracks. It was like a dark shadow crossed my peripheral vision. I stopped, and turned back toward the house. I saw Daddy, standing in the window of the sun porch, wearing his gray-green, unzipped snow parka. When my eyes met his, he raised his hand and waved, a big smile on his face. It felt like an eclipse, a big black cloud momentarily covered the sun. I bolted as if I was being chased by Seven Devils, dragging Momma across the neighbor’s lawn, over our gateway, up the stairs, through the door where I flung my trembling body at Daddy’s ankles. If I had given Daddy a million dollars cash, he would not have been more pleased.

“Did you see that, Momma?” Daddy bragged. “Jakita never has done that before.” Momma was speechless. She had been dragged over snow banks, like a car hitched on a tow truck, and as for me, I had no clue to what had just happened or why.

Do you see my massive snow balls, under my chin, clinging to my chest? This calls for a dip in a warm bath, toweling, hair blowing, more warm water, more toweling, more hair blowing. Not sure if Momma is just pokey BUT no kidding, it takes her forever! Now that I am older and wiser, I try to avoid this scenario. — That the way, uh huh, uh huh, I liked it…not so much now……

In order to regain some semblance of the here and now, I did a long, deep body shake. Somehow, someway, a forewarning of what the day would bring had materialized, leaving a sense of inexplicable foreboding, warning me to not leave Daddy’s side. But I am just a dog. I don’t make the rules nor do I interpret feelings… I gave myself a few more total body shakes, a couple of praying dog stretches and followed him to watch the news, resting along side my beaming Daddy.

Daddy, a good,good man who shared his breakfast, dinner and supper with me. I miss Daddy!

Then the phone rang, breaking the drone of the talking heads on the Sports-Net Channel. First mistake – Momma answered it. Second mistake, she told Daddy that one of his customers needed a quick favour. Rule #1 for Daddy was treat the Customer like King or in this case, Queen. At the end of the day, Daddy’s Second Rule was NEVER say no to money.

But of course this story does not end here – it never does, for Momma!