Today is mostly about cats…again.
Perhaps it’s that there is a lot to say about them, and perhaps this is indicative of the fact that they take up such a large space in my world.
This is a rare cuddly moment with Matty. She loves to cuddle, especially first thing in the morning. But now that she is nearly grown up, she is often out the door and more interested in exploring the world outside than snuggling. I am actually ok with that because I have four others waiting for attention. Some days Olive won’t go outside until she’s had some petting. She seems to think when she jumps on a particular kitchen chair that means she will instantly be petted…and usually it does. She’s hard to disappoint. She lands there and looks at me expectantly. I’m here! Ready for petting!
Chicky won’t eat until he’s had a good head scratch. He’s always been like that, probably because when he first came to us he was completely wild (like Olive) and I began petting him while he was distracted by food. It worked. And, anyway, it is adorable and sweet.
Buggar, like Matty, loves the morning petting, which basically involves me holding her on my left shoulder (ugh! she’s heavy!), petting her incessantly for 15 to 20 minutes (I’m not kidding), allowing her to drool all over me- yuck!, coating me in cat hair and then bounding off of me (using claws!) with absolutely no notice, often scratching me or snagging my clothes in the process. After 7 years of this I’ve begun telling her NO…I’m not holding.
This morning, in a rare moment of being only cat as the others were outside, Weanie spotted my empty lap, giggled and came right over. I actually don’t pet Weanie for extended periods of time very often as, in this regard, too, she is high maintenance. She won’t sit still and tends to wiggle and hoist her girth around – maybe searching for the right spot to be massaged? I don’t know, but it’s really annoying. But, knowing she’s had a rough go of it lately, I humored her and let her coat my new blue velvet jogging suit with a great deal of her plush, although shedding, cat hair. (It’s spring, so they’re all shedding…ugh.) Perhaps I sound unkind, and I’m sure they think that of me, but these are some of the most spoiled cat beasties you will ever meet. Don’t forget, their Dada is around in the evenings for petting, too. They do get plenty of hands-on attention, even if it is just snippets here and there.
However, this morning I loved on Weanie for a good 10 minutes, even holding her in my arms for half of that, until she tried to do her thing and start flipping onto her back to allow me a better angle. (Keep in mind she weighs at least 20 lbs.) I quietly told her no, that’s enough, and set her down beside me and continued to pet her off and on. But these cats are pushy. And a bit of petting is never enough. Finally, I had to make her get down. At which point she nastily wahed! at me. And I was reminded how cats are, by nature, ungrateful.
As if that wasn’t enough drama and I hadn’t been clear enough that I wasn’t petting, five minutes later she started all over again, noticing my empty lap (translation: you’re available for petting) and making a beeline for it. I told her no, go get in your place, and pointed to her bed (their places all have fresh blankies that I keep washed for them on a regular basis – hmph!) on the back of the couch. She went there and last I looked she had her back – and her big rump – defiantly pointed in my direction.
This was taken yesterday when we were all enjoying the spring green and cool temps together under the flowering bush. H says Buggar has RBF…resting bitch face. And, she does. Although in this photo I think she was mainly squinting as she looked up, but that’s basically it, the RBF. When I wouldn’t pet/hold her for a droolfest this morning, but tried to make it up to her with a little petting, she actually whipped around and hissed/snarled at me. Yep, that’s the thanks I get. And that’s a good shot of Weanie’s backside, the one that was on view just a few minutes ago. Just imagine all that packed into a tight objectionable ball.
Now, Olive, who has the sweetest disposition of all the cats, has become our snake catcher. It started this winter. Now that spring is upon us, it seems there has been a hatch of garter snakes. I found one playing ‘possum that she’d caught (she loses interest when they don’t wiggle about – a great defensive mechanism! Except of course for that dead one this winter that she kept carrying around – blegh.) I took a stick and hoisted it up on some brush away from Olive’s notice. The next few days we kept seeing it in the yard – H recognized it because it had a tooth mark – and we kept chucking it out, hopefully to safety. It kept coming back.
We thought maybe it had a death wish, coming into a yard with so many cats. But later, when Olive found another snake…this one about the size of a large earth worm, we realized the original one was Mama snake…trying to get back to her babies.
Here’s Olive with the baby snake. She also lost interest in this one when it went limp and wouldn’t respond.
I have more Olive stories I will save for a later date, but her garter snake adventures made it onto the word cloth last night. I had a lot of words I was considering for placement on the cloth, but they all centered around the garden…
It seemed appropriate. And, there were these lovely stitchings from the other day…
It’s cold again today, and I will have to cover my lettuce starts again. But subsequent days are meant to be warmer, and I am so looking forward to that.
In a few minutes I am off to the thrift store for another look around. It’s not that I need anything, but that I might find something that wants rescuing. You know how that is.