Author: housekeeping

Senorita Jakita Reveals Momma

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So really,  tell me, you ask,  what kind of trouble does Momma give you? First off, she can not sit in one place more than five minutes. Then she’s off, letting the cats in or out, getting a drink of water, running to the computer, busy at house work, shoveling snow in the winter, weeding in the summer and  rearranging the basement or the garage. Momma, please, just sit down in one place, I beg.  I need my rest.  I am a dog with a medical history, don’t you know. Sometimes I just feel dizzy, following around behind you.

Can't you see, Momma? Don't go dragging that ladder in. I got my pillow, the Remote and my BFF beside me, grooming herself. I do not want to be worrying over you climbing up to change a light bulb. You are never going to break the glass ceiling, leave that for the like of Hilary (Clinton).
Can’t you see, Momma? Don’t go dragging that ladder in. I got my pillow, the Remote and my BFF beside me, grooming herself. I do not want to be worrying over you climbing up to change a light bulb. You are never going to break the glass ceiling, leave that for the likes of Hilary (Clinton).

When I have a really bad day, I just pray, ‘Momma, just  slow down’….which brings the next question. Do puppy prayers get heard in heaven? I pray, I do – maybe because Momma is the ‘praying type’ – but maybe because I truly want to bring happiness, protection and justice to Two and Four Footed creatures.  I am not proud, I will take what ever help I can get, to achieve that end. Also, I like the whole idea of the Golden Rule, the older and wiser I get – the doing on to others as you would have them do onto you.

If anyone needs to pay his or her penance for impatience, attitude and occasionally not listening, maybe it is (was, we hope), me and don’t say I said it, but Momma too.  You can be sure I want to run free with Teddy and Zanny in Pet Heaven (Teddy  will have to keep any eye on Zanny until I get there so she does not run off). I just imagine catapulting into  the arms of RIP Daddy, where I understand that the finest architects design amazing structures that are  inlaid with shimmering gemstones, creating a sea of rainbows.  The grass, like a thick carpet,  is always Kelly green, bold pillars are sculpted from pure quartz and  crystal. It is rumored that the Pearly Gates are made of the finest  gold and silver, its’ metallic brilliance off set  with different creamy colours and  sizes  of pearls, some of which, it is said (I kid you not) are the size of beach balls.

Momma's creamy pink, grey, white pearls withturquoise. No wonder Momma loves gems. I got to get me a pearl studded choker.
Momma’s creamy pink, grey, white pearls with turquoise. No wonder Momma loves gems. I got to get me a pearl studded choker.

Who wouldn’t want to make an investment now, for a future like that?

But I am getting off track – what else does Momma do that ‘takes the joy out of your living’, you ask.  Well, she gets that rickety ladder out of the shed room, (Okay , I know what the heck is a Shed Room?) brings it to the kitchen, opens it up, climbs right to the top rung, as it wobbles precariously back and forth.  She stretches more, more, until her fingertips are just barely touching the light bulb she has to replace.  I am at the bottom, just whimpering,

She looks like trouble to me!
She looks like trouble to me!

‘Get down from there, Momma, you are going to fall, this is way too dangerous, you are going to fall and break your neck or back or something equally as importance to my well-being.  What can a little doggie do, when you are lying, in a heap at the bottom of the ladder? I can’t call        9-1-1.  Why can’t you do this when Wonder Boy is home?’  ‘Oh, okay.’ I say in a huff, ‘If you insist on climbing up there, I am leaving the kitchen.  That way, at least, if you fall, it won’t be on my sorry bones.’  Ya think she listens to me – no, Momma is one of those ‘learn the hard way’ types and a very lucky one at that, so far.

And there is more and I vow to tell it all.

 

Pretty Little Miss Kat Mandu Earns her Pink Fluffy Cloud

housekeeping
Imagine, 3 calicos in Momma's household. I was the No.1 Sister, with a lot of black fur hiding the tan and oranges, all topped off with white paws chest. Oh, I was a Pretty Kitty.
Imagine, 3 calicoes in Momma’s household. Oh, I was a Pretty Kitty.

So to continue my story,  everyone wants to unravel mysteries.   They have to know the how, where, when, why I am on that fluffy pink cloud drifting around in Pet Heaven. I can only report on what I know, any other details must come through Higher Authority that I am NOT privy to.

All I remember the day before the pain struck, it was business as usual.  I ate, I went out into the dark of the night, came in and Charlie and I slept in the basement on the big couch, with the Disney World blanket, the one that Momma is continually brushing down because of the gobs of fur that Charlie expels, like the breath of all living creatures.  Sometime, somewhere this excruciating pain began, nothing like this 12-year-old cat ever felt before.

Now some would say, that is young for a cat to get sick to die, but not for a feral.  All of Momma’s rescue felines died at 10 years or younger. She bragged about how long I had lived. But apparently this was where the rubber hit the road.  I suddenly felt dizzy, rolled off the couch in the basement, crawled along in the direction of the stair case, hoping to be able to make it up to Momma. Too weak to carry on, I flopped over in front of some boxes.  The next day, poor Charlie tried to alert Momma by limping up and down the stairs the staircase, even stepping into the kitchen, looking at Momma with worried eyes but Momma’s radar was down, her GPS tracker was out of commission.

I never miss a sunset.
I never miss a sunset.

As the sun fell and darkness descended and I did not come upstairs to ask for food, or to go out into the night, Momma started to wonder.  She flipped on the basement light, went downstairs and there I was in plain sight, my head facing a box.  As soon as I heard her, I started meowing plaintively. ‘Help Momma,  help, put me out of this misery.’  Momma understood that cry.  One time in the Emergency Room, she asked a nurse to hit her over the head with a two by four because the pain was so excruciating but the staff wouldn’t. Apparently it is not listed as a chargeable service in our Government run Health Care System .

Momma ran upstairs, calling for Wonder Boy who came down to the basement and confirmed her prognosis – whatever I had, it was not good and somehow, somewhere I needed the intervention of the Two Footed good critters.

The carrying case was brought forth, Wonder Boy gently put me in on the sheep skin padding, latched the door shut (hey, at this point, I wasn’t going anywhere on my own four paws) as Momma found the number and location of an After Hours Vet Clinic – you know, where clients are at their mercy and pay sometimes double for their services.

As soon as we arrived, Wonder Boy told the Receptionist, ‘We have got a dying cat here.’  Nevertheless, I was taken in to a room for a ‘vet consultation.’ Within a few minutes Wonder Boy and Momma were invited in to receive my prognosis – not good. My heart  and liver were shutting down. Should they do some tests even knowing that long-term, this was not going to be a comeback miracle.  Immediately Wonder Boy said, ‘No intervention, give her the dignity she lived with, just stop the pain.’

I was carried in to another room, an awesome little knit sleeve put on my tiny paw where the injection would be made.  Momma and Wonder Boy stroked me and told me I was a good little brave Mandu Cat and where I was headed for there was no more pain.  The next thing I knew a fluffy pink cloud floated towards me (see, there are blue ones for the boys) and I leaped on it.  The panoramic view I have is ‘ to die for‘ but you have to wait till you get here to know the whole story.

So, when I exitted earth, headed to Pet Heaven, I had to leap over a blue cloud to my pink fluffy landing pad, where I can survey 'our Kingdom come' 24/7. I am watching you as I count the days, the hours and the minutes for the rest of my family to catch up with me.

So, when I left earth, headed to Pet Heaven, I had to leap over a blue cloud to my pink fluffy landing pad, where I can survey ‘our Kingdom come’ 24/7. I am watching you, as I count the days, the hours and the minutes for the rest of my family to catch up with me.

PS:  As my spirit passed, I was greatly amused when I heard the vet go over the charges for services rendered and Wonder Boy hit the nail on the head.  The vet said, ‘$125 for consultation, $85 Cremation, $300 to euthanize.’  Quick as a whip Wonder Boy asked, ‘What consultation? We came in, I said, we have a dying cat here, no one had to consult to tell us that.’ The Vet had to admit Wonder Boy had a point so the Consultation ended up costing $75. instead of $125. plus HST taxes of course so that the federal and provincial government could benefit from my misfortune.

Front Garden where angels perched on rivers of silver, dispensed amongst the plethora of greens, with the best seat in the house to see the butterflies and humming birds touch down. Is that me, hiding in the shadows at the back, you think? No, not there, over there.
Front Garden where garden fairies perched on rivers of silver. Is that me, hiding in the shadows at the back, you think? No, not there, over there.

PPS:  Although there is some mystery surrounding the circumstances I still have not met up with Mao Cat up here in Pet Heaven.  You suppose she is in that Catholic Kitty Purgatory all those Protestants Cats don’t believe exist.  I am keeping my eye out for her.

Sir Teddy (Bear) Spinner by Senorita Jakita

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A handsome, loyal Angel Dog who was steadfast and true. We miss you Teddy.
A handsome, loyal Angel Dog who was steadfast and true. We miss you Teddy.

If Daddy had Zanny, did Momma have a dog before me, you may wonder? Yes, she had a beautiful Angel Dog, Teddy, a bright white miniature American Eskimo who, I am told, hardly did anything wrong in is his life.

Well, I don’t believe that, I think aloud. Momma says, well,  maybe, once or twice he needed to be reprimanded, like his first grooming when he nipped Momma as she brushed him and Momma,  Quick-Draw-McGraw, tapped him on his snout and Teddy never did that again. If only I could learn so easily.

Of course, being an Angel Puppy,  he never chewed anything, snapped, snarled or growled and on top of that could be left outside, on the front porch and NEVER ran away.  Are you sure he was a dog, Momma??? That theory was even tested one day when Momma, always in a rush Momma, put Teddy outside in the morning, then went off to work.  At the time poor Daddy was recuperating from open heart surgery so every night after work Momma would go visit him at one of those Down Town World Class Cardiac Hospitals.  She did not even know she had created a problem till she got home, late. The moon was shining high in the sky, on a cold, winter night. There sat Angel Dog Teddy, waiting patiently, on the top step by the front door.  I mean, I do not get it, was he missing a dog gene?

Like me, Teddy came from a Puppy Mill, (a ramshackle barn crammed with all different purebred  breeds and sizes of dogs, from teacup to St. Bernard’s). He was so happy, happy, happy when he was handed over to Momma. He buried his head on her shoulder, clinging to her for dear life, realizing that he had a matter of seconds to bond so that he could become part of her Forever Family.  Teddy shadowed Momma even more than I do, protecting her from every person he thought was a threat – like the Courier Delivery Man who got a little too close, so was subjected to a sharp nip in the ankles. Even at my fiercest, I am not that brave.

I am told Teddy mostly  abided or ignored the cats, feeling superior because he slept on a doggie pillow at the end of Momma’s bed. With Zanny, he showed his nurturing side, though never excessively. While Teddy was napping,  Zanny was allowed  to curl up in a ball by his tail, in order to sleep.

Teddy with white cotton candy fur and Zanny, the ultimate Yorkie, settle into their napping positions.
Teddy with white cotton candy fur and Zanny, the ultimate Yorkie, settled into their napping positions.

Still, my competition will always be the Perfect Angel Teddy who was (like myself) an Aquarius, strangely enough. One weakness Teddy had, just like me.  He was always seeking and demanding the attention of the Two Footed, longing to be patted and praised, while all other family pets were to be ignored, as if they did not exist.  At least I sniff, kiss and groom the kitties, happily rolling up in a ball with them to nap – not our Teddy, he did not ‘do’ cats.

No one is without flaws, myself included.  Still it gives me pleasure to report, one time, I am told,  when Teddy was only four or five months old, he stole the night guard for Momma’s teeth. The minute he popped it in his mouth, the sharp wires that held it in place, drilled into his gums and he thought, ‘OMG, what is this?  I will never be able to eat again, save me’. He choked, gagged and shook his head until the little guard went flying out of his mouth, across the bedroom floor where Momma heard the commotion and scooped it up.  The guard was obviously misshapen and no longer wearable or even salvageable. Yet Teddy looked so ashamed that Momma  did not have the heart to chastise him.  Lesson Learned: Momma should not leave things on the bedside table and if she did, Teddy must ignore them, to avoid pain.

Besides his few faults, Teddy had a couple of amusing but harmless quirks. Sometimes if he was in the kitchen and Momma  called him to the living room, he would not walk in forwards, no, he would turn and back in. The ‘Spinner’ was added to his name when he was registered at the American Kennel Club because he loved to spin in circles as a puppy, like a white whirling dervish, hearing, feeling music not audible to the world around him.

So sometime, you may understand, I feel, give me a break, don’t tell me any more, I feel like I am gagging on his goodness.  Teddy and Fidel – Angel puppies, the two of them…no wonder Momma longed for a testosterone male.

I'll do anything to fiesta, even wear this itchy pink tutu that Momma and her guests thinks I look adorable in!
I’ll do anything to fiesta, even wear this itchy pink tutu that Momma and her guests thinks I look adorable in!

Now, with the facts before you, I’m not sure what you think, but even Momma admits Teddy was a little too serious. I would say that I am way more fun – cause girls just wanna have fun – ask Cyndi Lauper.

Teddy lived a long and charmed life, succumbing to ill-health in his old age, winging his way to Pet Heaven. I like to think impetuous little Zanny and steadfast sturdy Teddy were there to greet Daddy when he reached his Greater Reward in Paradise. But what happens once we pass, well that is all hearsay, it can not be proved scientifically or in a court of law.

Ready, Set, Go for the game of tag with Andy-Long-Legs.
Ancestor of forefathers.

However, I am just telling you what I heard whispered by Momma, the kitties, even the squirrels, sitting up on the car garage roof, chirping down secrets thorough the ages passed on from their forefathers  who lived at this home since its creation in 1867. I’d say they pretty much have their finger on he pulse.

You can see, I think a lot about Teddy.  I may be a work in progress but at least now I  attempt to live up to the fine example Teddy left.

Are you listening,  are you  with me, Zanny, or are you off on one of your wild goose chases?)

 

Pretty Little Miss Gen Adventures

housekeeping

Although as you already know, I am an Indoor Outdoor cat, I have a secret second life, reserved for Wonder Boy, wiling away the hours napping on his bed during the night, or when I am allowed. When Wonder Boy’s bed is off-limits to me, Momma’s bed will do. It is also very comfortable to sleep on especially in the dog days of  summer.

So that is a bit about me but I am so much more than that. Having two brothers makes me a little Tom Boy although I am graceful as I float through life, flaunting my exquisitely ringed tail high in air, stepping so lightly I barely touch the surface I land on.

Here I am, at 11 years old, never looking better, making my little turn on the cat walk. Easy to see why everyone wants me for their Kitty. Momma says I am the perfect cat to clone. I wonder what that is and more important, is it painful?
Here I am, at 11 years old, making my little turn on the cat walk.

However after ten years on planet earth, I got very sick.  Like what does a cat know?  Let me get back to you with the truth, the whole truth  and nothing but the truth, so Help me God!

The disease manifested itself on a hot June afternoon – I felt sssssssssssoooo lethargic that I baked on the neighbour’s patio, not even seeking the shade of the bushes.  As night fell Momma came calling but I ignored her. I was just too tired to make my way home. As darkness prevailed, Momma kept coming out, checking, so nervous because well Mao went missing and never returned, we think she must be in what the Two Footed call ‘Kitty Purgatory.’

I knew Wonder Boy  would not be happy if I didn’t make it home. Feeling unbelievably wobbly, I slipped  off the neighbor’s patio and dragged myself under the first peony bush to spend the night.

Momma kept coming out, calling my name, but I was too weak to respond. The next morning , Jakita on full alert and Momma went walking, pounding the paving, calling my name.  I heard them, but the pain and weakness kept me from responding. Like clock work every half hour Momma would come out, call my name, implore me to come back, she had no shame of what the neighbours would think. Momma may worry about her pets more than some parents do about their kids, I think.

It just so happened Momma came out on her scheduled patrol at four o’clock in the afternoon, as I started the long crawl, flat on my belly, to the front door to get help from my Two Footed Momma and Four Footed Jakita.  I know how cats react to illness. We are all so neurotic  that we avoid sick cats like the plague. She scooped me up, took me inside to lay on her bed, brought me food and water, which I refused. I had no clue what I needed to get better so I decided to disappear downstairs to the cool crawl space, away from the family hustle and bustle.

You know Wonder Boy loves me, loves me, loves me. When he could not reach me in the crawl space he was fit to be tied.  You can bet that Wonder Boy is going to persevere until I am safe and sound in his arms, no matter if it was midnight. Although the mission was successful, we all knew I needed medical intervention, to bring me back to the land of the living.

No wonder Wonder Boy and Momma were so fearful to lose me. Mao had so silently slipped out of our life. Come morning an appointment was set and it was off to the vet.   After two days and nights of re-hydration, antibiotics, anti acid and some vitamin pills, I started to pickup and even enjoy the attention and the spoiling from the Vet and Staff.  At home, I lived the life of Riley, I had 3 dishes, 1 of water, one of wet and one of dry food fed to me alone, away from the other cats, in Momma’s bedroom. What is not to love? My only complaint was I had to continue the medications, if I wanted to live.

Remember, lovable as I am, I wasn’t always fed in bed….that had been a ‘In Sickness’ commitment. Now behind my back (I hear her) Momma doesn’t call me The Diva Calico Gen. No, I am named  her $1300.00 Cat. After a run of ten years of good health, I collapsed, along with every organ in my body.

 

I am waiting, Momma.
I am waiting, Momma.

Something you should know about my Momma…. Now that I spend more time in her bedroom, I notice she rushes here, she rushes there, making a sharp left in to her bedroom, notes me sleeping with my head resting on pillow, top right hand bed corner.  I get up, do my stretch and venture to the bottom, resting my paws on the back board of the bed, begging for the food dish (for the 10th time today) to be opened and please, please, please brush me.

Momma ignores me – that’s okay, I can wait,  what else does a kitty do, I silently  communicate to her.

Momma does her In and Out of the Bedroom, as fast as she came, she’s gone and I sit there, staring at my white paws hanging over the edge of the bed.  She’ll be back.  Count on it.  Twenty minutes later back comes Momma carrying all kinds of frightful whisks, mops and brooms, enough to frighten a sane cat in to hiding, but I sit there, still imploring Momma, with my ‘I would die for you’ eyes.  She capitulates as I manipulate, brushing my fur, opening my food dish, all the while, cooing at me softly . Our God is good and predictable.

See the colorful rainbows, bouncing off the crystal ball, the glorious shades of green and blue, all perpetuated by a crystal ball hanging in the window on a sunny day. There is a cacophony of shapes and shades that change, as the sun rises or sets creating little tiaras on a Diva's head (if you have eyes to see).
See the colorful rainbows, bouncing off the crystal ball.

I just wonder….. if Momma  noticed the how the crystal hanging in the window seemed to create a tiny tiara above my head  as she squinted in the afternoon sun beam – fit for a  Countess Diva who does not lose, she perseveres on to victory.

 

 

 

Senorita Jakita on Xanadu (Zanny)

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After much negotiation, I got permission to tell the story of Xanadu (aka Zanny). Such a tragic tale, Momma could not talk about it without weeping, yet willingly bared her soul to me so I could pass on ‘her-story’. So exquisitely Yorkshire, born black, which morphed in to dark steel-blue like a horse blanket, thrown across her back,  and further accentuated by tan markings, on her chest, paws and  face.

Zanny takes Tigger to wherever she is headed. Note how she shows no mercy in her method of transportation. Poor Tigger.
Zanny takes Tigger to wherever she is headed. Note how she shows no mercy in her method of transportation. Poor Tigger.

We can not go backwards in time but       If only:  Daddy had shut you in a bedroom since he had to remove               the Front Door to get the Window Pane replaced.  If only:  Momma had noticed you had taken off. If only:  You had sauntered around the neighbor hood (I know, I know, Zanny did not DO saunter) and returned  to wait on the step to get left back in, like the cats do. If only:  You had listened to Wonder Boy when he commanded you STOP.

No, by this stage, you were in a full-blown panic attack and rushed in to the swift moving morning rush hour traffic. Like an out of control meteorite, you streaked under the back wheels of a car that could not react fast enough to save you.  The young driver was heartsick that her car had taken the life of a puppy but we can not blame her.  Life is all in the timing and laws of averages and you had used all your Chances to Evade the Grim Reaper, over the six years of your tumultuous life.

As for me, I am not suicidal.  I always stop and wait for the disadvantaged Two Footers to catch up. Of course, neither was Zanny. She was an adorably gorgeous yet high-strung Yorkie without an ability to bring reasoning to the equation.  But I promise you, I just have one more ‘gone with the wind’ story to tell you later. It just happened a few days ago but then you’ll realize, it brought Momma and I to an understanding, so it is all good, trust me!

Momma says some times we can not help our rash behavior...it depends on the alignment of the planets on the day you are born...apparently Zanny's chart was capricious.
Momma says some times we can not help our rash behavior…it depends on the alignment of the planets on the day you are born…apparently Zanny’s chart was capricious.

Momma says because I am an Aquarius, I understand, at the end of the day that rules and regulations, policies and procedures are put in place for a reason, so it serves me well to obey them. (Zanny was a Scorpio but must have had some Pisces with her head in the clouds or Leo who love to party, possibly). I always have a goal (the food off your plate, the pillow on the couch to rest my head on, or a cat to groom or chase or tattle on). I painstakingly watch for the first opportunity to put the plan in motion. It is not just that open door Momma has to worry about.

Another Zanny tale was that she slept in Daddy’s bed, burying herself under a mound of blankets, staggering out to the kitchen each morning, looking bleary eyed and hung over, as if she indulged too much the night before.  However, by the time Daddy returned with his coffee and donut, she was ready and waiting to share it with him. She could eat anything and still be the size of nothing, Momma tells me.   Oh, I wish I had her rate of metabolism.

Zanny’s spontaneous zest for life was always getting her in trouble – like the time she was chasing the kitty cats and ended up falling down the staircase to the basement, blinding herself in the right eye. Even before I heard that story, I took one look down and vowed it was too suicidal for me to ever go down that staircase. To this day, I have never been to our basement. But poor Zanny never had a plan, though she always had an action.  No doubt that blind eye that hindered her from jumping on the couch, also contributed to the fact she did not see the car that claimed her life.

Jakita and Tigger scope out their territory, in tandem, heads and bodies posed to take on whatever life brings them. Jakita looks like a serious mother, ensuring Tigger is being readied for the world and its challenges.
Jakita and Tigger scope out their territory, in tandem, heads and bodies posed to take on whatever life brings them. Jakita looks like a serious mother, ensuring Tigger is being readied for the world and its challenges.

PS:  Zanny, I am taking good care of your little stuffed Tigger.  Like you, I carry him in my mouth from room to room, to sit on the doggie cushion or couch with me.  Like you, sometimes I have to give him a good shaking to smarten him up but mostly he behaves, probably better than you and me.  Momma tells me you used to sometimes take helpless little Tigger outside and she’d have to go out in the dark, with a flashlight to find poor Tigger, all alone and weeping.

Just in case you get reincarnated and come back down to earth, think about your past life.  It is never too early to self evaluate and find  corrective actions for the next time.  Even considering a better way, for a better day, gives you good karma, I understand.

PPS:  Zanny, you were a true north strong and free spirit.  Sometimes  I swear I still feel you hanging around, reminding us, no one knows what the morrow brings forth.

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Pretty Little Miss Kat Mandu & Charlie

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Charlie, always hovering at the basement door, too shy to explore other territory.
Charlie, always hovering at the basement door, too shy to explore other territory.

And so the legacy between Charlie and I began. The more successful my mission, the more I peddled influence over Charlie, my devoted team of one.  In no time she would only come up the basement stairs to eat and drink or as an alert to have me come back in the house at night.  I had poor Charlie convinced the puppy was out to get her, the other cats were conspiring to bring her to ruin and the Two Footed trio would be her down fall. Charlie was an amazing soldier – she followed and executed orders, without any questions.

Meanwhile, having a bird in the bush, I once again awakened like a Phoenix, rising from the ashes.  It started at 8:00pm everyday when I would complain to Momma to feed me.  Then at 9:00pm I would insist both the kitchen and the front door be opened. Also, I would not venture outside until all the Two and Four Footed stood back and I had a clear, unfettered path out in to the night. Only then, would I scoot out to the front garden to watch the fairies dance.

Look at these tiny little Garden Fairies, relaxing before the Circle of the Fairy Dance has them twirling on their toes, to music only they can hear.
Look at these tiny little Garden Fairies, relaxing before the Circle of the Fairy Dance has them twirling on their toes, to music only they can hear.

It was most important to not come in contact with any pets or people. I especially had to keep an eye on Jakita, the family dog who might give me, like, who knows, dog-a-tude. In any case,  she was far too pure bred for me to appreciate her.   By 10:00pm, I came back, I  hopped up on the bench, waiting for Momma or Wonder Boy to open the door so I could go to sleep with Charlie in the basement. If I didn’t get in, Charlie would actually pad over to Momma’s bedroom door and meow to remind her ‘Mandu needs in’ – shy little Charlie would do that for me.

I loved Charlie like my own flesh and blood. Sometimes, when there was a full moon, on a summer night , once Charlie had gone to asleep, I would sneak outside again,  when Wonder Boy was around to help me in my Nocturnal Adventures.

Now that I have been forced to review the error of my ways, I realize how my sociopathic, ritualized behavior affected Charlie. She became obsessed with the food dishes, hovering menacingly at the top of the stairs, hissing at the other cats if they came near. She ate too much, out of boredom, and became  overweight, making it a problem for her legs to support her portly body.  I noticed in the last year, that she laboriously limped as she dragged herself from the basement, up the stairs, to the food dishes.  Then there was the crawl space I insisted she explore. Her calico fur became matted– the curse of the double coated, thick bristly outer hair and soft undercoat but she could no longer groom her self. She began to resemble a raccoon, with distinct camel humps of fur, instead of like a domesticated cat.

I, Charlie, admit I do look a tad racoonish but look at the exquisite calico markings. Please be polite and ignore my camel humps of fur - just beware, that is what comes from one to many nights in the Crawl Space with Kat Mandu as my Mentor.
I, Charlie, admit I do look like  raccoon but NOTE the exquisite calico markings. Please be polite and ignore my camel humps of fur – just beware, that is what comes from one to many nights in the Crawl Space with Kat Mandu as my Mentor.

Truth be known, no matter my poor attitude, I had a great home even if I had to reside with other cats.  The month before I passed, Calico Diva Gen was sick but Momma & Wonder Boy realized (because she let them know her).  No one could tell I was even sick because I successfully kept them at bay.  But I could sense it,  so I went back to hopping on Momma’s bed two or three times a day, Diva Gen at the top, curled in a calico  ball, me at the bottom, curled in a smaller calico ball, like two skeins of blended colors of wool. By this point I was the weight of a feather, according to Momma.  Special food  was brought to the bed for Gen to restore her health. I would wait till the Diva had her fill, then polish off the rest, trying to communicate to Momma, ‘I’m sick too’ but duh, she did not get it. Still Momma  could make me feel so good, kind of reminding me of my Baby Mama so many ages ago, as she brushed and combed me, till I slept in heavenly peace.

So I get it, I made Charlie paranoid, patrolling the top of the stairs, hissing at all takers so she could have all the food, all the water (I was always allowed complete  privileges). All the cats knew the basement and crawl space was just for her and I.  It is beyond me why she did not exercise her right to a free will (no, no, no, not free Willie).

Don’t be so quick to condemn me for my self-serving ways because sitting on my little pink fluffy cloud up in Pet Heaven, I am watching over Charlie Cat – and wouldn’t you know. She has reinvented herself. She is not as preoccupied with food and is upstairs all the time, no more hissing or blocking the staircase so the other cats now can eat or drink and wander around the basement, at their leisure. Oh, and the crawl space has been closed off,  so it is off limit to all takers. Anyway, Momma never liked me or Charlie enforcing law and order, Kat Mandu style  and well, we all live to please our Momma.

Mandu pondering the self serving Changes in Charlie's life.
Cat Mandu pondering the self-serving changes in Charlie’s life.

Oh, one more thing, as I look down from paradise the other day, I am almost sure I saw Charlie  sniffing Jakita and rubbing noses with both Gen and  Andy. If you can’t beat them, join them.

I tell you, it’s a strange, strange world, we live in, Master Jack.

Senorita Jakita Draws Up A Plan

housekeeping
I'm in the Jailhouse now....my karma has caught up wit me!
I’m in the Jailhouse now….my karma has caught up wit me!

So...none of us are perfect but, I must admit, one annoying habit I had as a puppy, was to be gone like the wind, like a Jack Rabbit, anytime I saw an opportunity and an open door. I remember a go-round with the Pizza Delivery Guy, Momma, Daddy, our niece and great-nephew as they all tried to corral me, while I played ‘catch me if you can’.  I mean, I even stopped, waited up for them, because between you and me, those Two Footed are helplessly slow. When they just about had me in their reach, I took off in a frenzy, with no GPS tracking record of where I was   headed and no consideration for the outcome. It was just a game of chase that I had played endlessly, back in the barn. No use in betting against me, I always win.

In the end, I would tire, plant myself down on the ground, panting loudly, my tongue  hanging out of my mouth, my eyes bright with the latest victory.  Only then would I let Momma pick me up and take me home. I licked her fingers to let her know how much I appreciated the lift because I was exhausted, my heart about to burst from all the excitement.

Let Sleeping Dog Lie, Charlie!
Sleeping like an angel after the Great Escape!

To tell you the truth, I could not tell you how many times, with how many people I played this game but Momma was always involved in the rescue attempt, although Wonder Boy probably was the winner of capturing me . I do not seem to be able to outfox Wonder Boy. He must be even more clever than me, is that possible? Daddy was involved in the hunts often, as well, but he loved me so much that he was putty in my hands.  In his eyes, I did no wrong but he hated me running away because that was how the puppy love of his life, Zanny met her Waterloo

But more about that sorry story later, back to me, because it is all about me….What else did I do to poor Momma besides run away, snarl and growl, occasionally nip, not stop or come on command, chew everything (now I only chew kleenex I find lying around – I noticed they always get tossed in the garbage anyway so it is not like I am destroying something that has added-on-value).

I love company, be it friends or family and  demand attention every time someone comes in the door, like my very life depended on their stamp of approval. I will even suffer the humiliation and itch of a party dress to get their attention.

I'll do anything to fiesta, even wear this itchy pink tutu that Momma and her guests thinks I look adorable in!
I’ll do anything to fiesta, even wear this itchy pink tutu that Momma and her guests thinks I look adorable in!

It has got to be that I go through life looking for every Two Footed to build my ego because of that Barn-of-Horrors I lived in, during my first six weeks of life. Not only was the barn stone cold physically and mentally, it was a super unsettling atmosphere for healthy development of a puppy’s  emotional quotient.  In any case, once everyone has greeted me, I always go back to shadowing Momma because she needs me. Trust me,  I never know what she is up to.

Truth be told, it is not like Momma is a saint.  She listens about the same amount as me and if I heard correctly, that started the minute she was born.  Her mother nicknamed her Quite Contrary, which my Daddy would remind her about often.  But Daddy, who was her constant companion for so many years, went out one day and did not return, yes, another story that makes me cry.

You see Wonder Boy is busy, at university three days a week, at work three-day a week, and in between, he has a Social Life – he is a Leo, you know. Most of the time I am by Momma’s side, so I feel totally responsible for her well-being.

Sometimes I think, Momma is like an out of control Politician on speed or his alcoholic wife and dysfunctional kids. She does not make life easy for me. So that is why a year ago, I kicked protection up a notch or two, of the protectee (Momma) as per Secret Service lingo.  Unfortunately, I have no team to back me up,  and no gun (we are talking the True North Strong and Free).

It is just me and a plan – always a plan.

Sir Casey At Bat – Who’s on First?

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Is it my turn yet, please, please? I know I am the last kid, I mean cat on the block, I must learn to respect my elders,  but I got so many questions and so much to say, so can I just jump in? Thank you, thank you, now where to begin……

I was not one of the lucky ones, scooped up by the Two Footed as a kitten. No, I lived at the Colony, probably over two years, but I couldn’t swear to you how old I was, just how hungry,  hot and cold I was.  And the truth is George Orwell had it all wrong – Two footed ggggoooodddd, Four footed bbbbaaaadddd!! I know, I lived it. The word catastrophe was coined for cats like me.

 

Wow, a place to lay my weary head. I was weak, still had gouges of fur missing and hopped around on 3 paws but had visited the Vet a week ago so was on the way to recovery, we thought. It had taken me no time to figure out the comfort of duvets and pillows to rest and recuperate upon.
Wow, a place to lay my weary head. I was weak, still had gouges of fur missing and hopped around on 3 paws but had visited the Vet a week ago so was on the way to recovery, we thought. It had taken me no time to figure out the comfort of duvet and pillows to rest and recuperate upon.

The day I first saw Momma, I knew I had struck pay dirt.   So listen and learn, listen and learn. And tell this story over and over again to all feral kitty cats so they too can seek out a Momma, like mine.   First things first, I am a short-haired Male Tabby with many shades of gray stripes on my body and legs, and the prominent M on my forehead. My paws are all perfectly tipped with the lightest pastel shade of gray possible.  I also have a thick, bushy charcoal ringed tail which I use to show my emotional state be it fear, uncertainty or happiness – and majestically long white whiskers.

Yes, I am one cool cat dude but let’s be straight, the first time I saw Momma, she did not befriend me for my looks. No, at that point I looked like I had the mange – crusty fur with big tufts missing from the constant marauding Toms, trying to fight to the finish, all in the name of establishing territory.  My ears were tattered and torn, I had huge oozing gashes scattered across my belly, back, paws and head, thanks to the Forest Freak. It was rumored to be part wildcat, part coyote with fox added in to make it more frightful.  Whatever IT was, all of us from the Cat Colony were treated with the same lack of respect.  We had all  been cauterised with the same distinctive branding mark on  the left side of our neck.

Then there were those pesky traps put in place,  it was said, by some simpleton who wanted to catch rabbits.  I got caught not once but twice and worked my way out of them but still had a front paw, then a back paw that I couldn’t use for days. I was what is known as a ‘Hot Mess’. Such is the life of a Cat from the Colony.

Such a joy to watch the touch down. Their very beauty and colors mesmerize.
Such a joy to watch the touch down. Their very beauty and colors mesmerize.

You may ask what I remember from the Colony – as little as I possibly can, I tell you.  It was a brutal life.  The kitten stage was fun, Baby Mama was fair but busy, so along with my siblings, we climbed trees, chased butterflies, learned to stalk and hunt to survive (and for fun too).  At night we would curl up in a ball with Baby Mama in the den, who would groom us before we would drift off to sleep, feeling protected and content. But soon enough we were half the size of Mama, then the same size, then even bigger than our poor Brood Baby Mama who had a new batch of kitties and the rules changed.  We were out of the den, voted-off –the-island, so to speak. It was time to make our own way in the world.

There are so many tales I could tell you about this existence, so ask me sometime but let’s skip ahead – to the Good Time’s.  Everybody loves a Happy Ending!   But before I go, you want to know.  What happened to you once you were kicked to the curb, so to speak at the Cat Colony?  Well, my steel-gray – almost black and white brother (Momma named him Seven, don’t ask) and I hung out together, hiding in the bushes and forests, communicating in soft meows, making sure there were no enemies in sight before we went out hunting for food  which we shared for survival.  It was a sure bet that every evening the Tom Cats in charge of the dens would come by to practice their Gorilla Warfare tactics on Seven and I, to keep them in tune for  when the Forest Freak came calling, I guess.

Once I no longer had the comfort of a den to hide in, I started noticing three alien cats, two Black and White Toms and a Calico Female, appear each and every day at the Cat Colony.

Posing with my paws tucked in, head up, the camera was kind to me. I look very apprehensive to put my fate in the hands of the Two Footed but the other choices were facing the Forest Freaks or Testosterone Toms.
Posing with my paws tucked in, head up, the camera was kind to me. I look very apprehensive to put my fate in the hands of the Two Footed but the other choices were facing the Forest Freaks or Testosterone Toms.

They all had smooth, shiny, thick fur and sleek bodies. The three of them appeared a bit hoity-toity, when they came to the creek, dipping their paws in the water, then shaking them delicately, laying in the sun on the cement slab walls that encase the Creek, grooming themselves and each other, their tails and ears twitching at any sound that could indicate a threat.  All three of them had a non aggressive relaxed yet curious look about them.  After a couple of hours in the sun they would get up, stretch and leave single file, a Black and White in the front and one at the back, the Calico in between them.  Were they another Colony?

How would I get Membership for their Kitty Club Med? There had to be an answer to this riddle.  I got it, I’d follow them when they left.

And so a plan falls into place and space.

 

 

Senorita Jakita’s ‘Sophie Alert’

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What ever is with Momma?  Does she forget? I am a doggie and when I see an open door, it is an invitation to adventure (especially when I was still a little wet behind the puppy ears). The Great Unknown is a dog’s addiction. Give me half a chance and I am off and running. Some would say that only an untrained dog thinks like that but they would be wrong.  Don’t trust us. We are not all born like Sir Teddy, Momma’s American Eskimo Angel Dog.

Momma has me in Rain Gear as I sit in window of the sunporch. Notice leash in place so if I should escape, I will 1) be easier to catch and 2) be protected from the rain or the snow or the sleet or the ice. or even sunshine. Momma thinks of everything.
Momma has me in Rain Gear as I sit in window of the sun porch. Notice leash in place so if I should escape, I will 1) be easier to catch and 2) be protected from the rain or the snow or the sleet or the ice. or even sunshine. Momma thinks of everything.

It happened again recently and Momma, was like … shocked – I had not done this since forever.  She had gone shopping for the Sunday Specials, at the local drug store. I saw a kitchen door ajaro and lucky for me, the sun porch door was just swinging in the wind because the night latch had not been anchored in place properly.

Momma was kind of dopey that day, she had not much sleep because Itty- Bitty spent the night and Momma was multi-tasking, as usual. She was concentrating on remembering the bargains without considering the consequences.

Where are you Sophie??? We are so worried.
Where are you Sophie??? We are so worried.

Oh no,  I’d be like little white, fluffy Sophie, the sad little terrier whose picture was on every telephone pole in Brampton, announcing, ‘I am lost.  Please call my Mommy’s number below if you find me’.  Momma stopped at each pole and warned me to never do that to her and I promised but it was a sunny morning, and our cats were parading up and down the sidewalk, teasing and tantalizing me, so I am sorry, okay, but I joined them.  I never had any intention of running away – I just wanted to see if any of our neighbors were up so I could get patted and scratched and praised but alas, it was too early, they were all in bed, (except Momma), don’t you know.

So I went to the first neighbour, then the next after that … I had a plan, I was coming home, the minute I heard Momma slam the car door – that is what the cats do. They chase squirrels, they harass birds and catch mice. The minute Momma arrives  back home, they cut a fast path to our open door, acting all goodie two shoes and sidle up for some Momma loving.   So that was my plan, honest. I wasn’t pulling a Sophie.

It started innocently enough for me, just sniffing the perimeters of our front yard,  but it seems I got preoccupied with something, maybe a squirrel, or no, I was out looking for Sophie (that is a compelling story, although light on truth) and I failed to hear Momma return.  Then I heard Momma pleading, calling my name softly so Wonder Boy did not hear because he would have chided Momma for her carelessness. How many times had he told her, slow down and do it right the first time (she had done a quick search in the house and was pretty sure I was like the X-Files, out there, somewhere). Still, I lingered, another minute. Who wanted to go indoors when outdoors was so marvelous?

At last my puppy conscience kicked in. Poor Momma did not deserve this, so I left the back yard of my favourite neighbour, ran up the sidewalk, communicating with my eyes, ‘I’m here’.  Momma was so relieved, she got down on her knees and I ran to her arms for a cuddle – I really don’t like being out alone, I have no one to protect me and trust me on this, Momma needs 24/7 surveillance to keep her out of trouble.

Okay, is it me, or do you notice too, that Momma has a leash on me and her hand around my neck, holding me firmly in place - just paranoid. But then look how many pictures you see me in where I am in a fenced back yard - with a leash on, in the house, where I have to go through two locked doors, with, you guessed it, a leash on. Oh, & by the way, what is up with my eye?
Okay, is it me, or do you notice too, that Momma has a leash on me and her hand around my neck, holding me firmly in place – just paranoid. Oh, & by the way, what is up with my eye?

PS: Momma and I are still curious, did Sophie find her way home – we did not want to call the number and upset Sophie’s Momma – but when you erect these signs, you should be compelled to let the public know the outcome. Post something that says  ‘HELP! Still Looking, Or Home At Last, Thank God Almighty, Sophie is Home At Last’.  I shall call it a ‘Sophie Alert’ and include it as a Regulation in my Policy and Procedures for All Creation.

Regulation Common Sense:  If you post signs for a missing pet, you are obligated to let the Public know the results so we can give up or continue the search.  Don’t toy with our emotions. I can not abide thinking poor fluffy, cuddly, little Sophie being homeless. We have seen those wrenching stories on the television, hungry, bedraggled dogs living on the streets that never ever find their home again.

We can’t sleep at night, please, let us know.

Sir Andy-Long-Legs Explains His Role

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Seeking sun and shadow in the lush lawn of the back yard as I survey my kingdom. Momma says this photo screams to the world how handsome and physically strong I look, like a born leader, with a Plan to be Followed.
Seeking sun and shadow in the lush lawn of the back yard as I survey my kingdom. Momma says this photo screams to the world how handsome and physically strong I look, like a born leader, with a Plan to be Followed.

Hands down, I am the strategist cat in this gang land.  For instance,  I quickly noted how our Forever Family turn the door handles to open them and so I routinely do the same, with various degrees of success (I see Clem, the Feral has figured it out as well – bummer, another Brainiac…not as clever as me…of course. When it doesn’t work, I move back and hurdle my body against the door and in no time, I am in or out – like Houdini, I am magic.

At one point, we had the cutest little Yorkie, Xanadu (aka  Zanny).  She was an escape artist, faster than a speeding bullet, ripping in and out of traffic, crossing busy streets and the word STOP meant GO FASTER in her ditzy little pea brain. We all know stories like that have no good endings….Then again, tiny as Zanny was,  I worried she could also be dog napped because well, a pure bred puppy is like money in the bank for some evil Two Footed excuses for humanity.

And so because of all Zanny’s  aberrant behavior, I learned how to stop her dead in her tracks (except that fateful day – I know, it is her story to tell).  If Zanny escaped and was off like the wind on her lead, I,  Andy-Long-Legs would

Daddy's Zanny with Tigger (who often deserved a sharp shaking). I know I know, she was to die for pretty - but like the Tin man- 'If she only had a brain'.
Daddy’s Zanny with Tigger (who often deserved a sharp shaking).I know I know, Zanny was to die for pretty – but like the Tin man ‘If she only had a brain’.

dart in front of her and sit my body on the lead, waiting for  Momma to catch up with us.  Some times, if the Yorkie got out without the lead on, I would stop her in her tracks by plunking my long, sinewy body on top of this itsy-bitsy fur ball.  I also taught my siblings how to team tag Zanny and they too could help in the rescue. I was / am a legend in my own mind, until…that day.

 

Like Senorita  Jakita,  Momma tested me and, no kidding, I am what is called a Cat-a-stein because of the way I respond to human stimuli. It seems that Momma has to crafty herself  to outsmart me.   Momma says I just  walk to the beat of my own drum.  However if you are asking me, I am the Leader, the Brainiac Management Cat, goal oriented, with plans in place, carried out and on to the next fire to control, then extinguish. It is a ‘Plan-Do-Check’ method of operation. If Jakita has an over abundance of dog-a-tude, I have cat-a-tude in spades.

One day, years ago, when Daddy was still with us, God-Rest-His Soul, I came in for a bite to eat (I may catch birds, bees, mice or whatever – but I am a city slicker kitty – I only eat specially blended and  balanced top of the line cat chow, with Vitamins and minerals added, two maybe three mouth full at a time, befitting a Cat of Extreme Culture).

Somehow I sensed Momma needed my help and I would do most anything for my Forever Family. She was lying down on the couch in the living room and I meandered in, issuing mournful sounds (‘I am so sorry you are feeling poorly‘, I meowed).

I jumped on the couch beside Momma, placed my two paws on either side of her face and carefully looked her over, never breaking eye contact.  After conducting my appraisal, I decided some deep kneading and purring were the remedy.  I went about pushing the blanket with my two front paws, offering white noise in the form of a low purr for a few minutes, then once again took Momma’s face between my paws and looked for signs of improvement.  Apparently, it was working, so I continued my mission, kneading and purring, with us both drifting off to never, never land.

A couple of hours later Daddy came home, and stood over Momma and I. He asked did she want him to get rid of that cat. Well…excuse me!  I  jumped off the couch, gave Dad a huffy look and stalked out the door, tail held high.  I had completed the healing, now, anyway, and if that was the gratitude I was shown, I was so out of there.  If I was going anywhere, I would do it on my own steam, not with an eviction notice being carried out by Daddy, apparently the self-appointed Sheriff in Town.

There is one more thing I want to share with you so you know how special I am. Beau and I (Beau followed me everywhere) discovered that Wonder Boy (Momma & Daddy’s one and  only child) sometimes partied at his friend (Lover Boy’s) home, about five or six houses down the street.

When a party broke forth..frequently, may we add... we would pad on down the street, slink behind bushes as we meandered over to peek in the basement window to rouse our Lord-and-Master, to remind him, ‘It is time to go home.  The roosters are crowing’.  At the window, we batted the glass pane with our paws, to get Wonder Boy’s attention.  Of course, we ended up getting everyone’s attention.  If Wonder Boy was still not ready to come home yet, he told us to ‘just go away’.  Do you think we listened?  We knew Momma would be on our side. We silently padded out back to the sidewalk, which is public property, you know and patiently waited for our Lord-and-Master.  When  Wonder Boy finally headed home, we raced on ahead of him, not trotting at his side, like a dog would, but streaking, kitty style, anxious to be in position on the front step, vying to be ‘first in’ when he opened the door.  Once more, we sighed, we were enfolded in the bosom of our chosen home wherein we found a comfortable spot to rejuvenate our kitty souls.

Andy 'Fais Do-Do' (baby talk for 'make or go to sleep') under Momma's duvet with his head resting on the lace pillow case.
Andy ‘Fais Do-Do’ (baby talk for ‘make or go to sleep’) under Momma’s duvet with his head resting on the lace pillow case.

PS:  Over the years Lover Boy was so  entertained by Wonder Boy’s cats, that he finally convinced his parents that they too should get a kitten. They chose a handsome, long-haired, ginger kitten, who was as street savvy and (almost) as clever as me.  I am sure you have already guessed – Lover Boy proudly tells the world he has the best looking, smartest cat in the world.                                    What were the odds of that  happening as long as I am still alive?