Strange Happenings

The workman left.  My mistress came in a rubbed me with a towel that smelled like another cat.  Naturally, I masked my astonishment.  Later I sniffed around at the door to the storeroom, where there has been lots of traffic, but the door has been kept closed, piquing my curiosity.  I scratched at the door a bit, but no one let me into the storeroom.

In the meantime, my mistress and I have been having "Mommy-Kitty Time," and I'm purring and sitting in front of her computer where, like on the newspaper, it is difficult for her to ignore me.  I have to make sure I am loved best.  Her hands  have the strange cat smell.

I wonder what is going on, but I'm pretty relaxed about it. Everyone is watching soccer with that awful noise in the background.  Hmmmm.  Think I'll go upstairs for a snack.  A snack is always good.  I snack all day.  Dry food, moist food, treats, bring it on.  Quaffed down with bottled water, of course.  I think some new cat toys arrived home with the groceries, but they are still in the package.  I already did catnip this morning.  I am in a get-insky mood that may bring trouble if I chew on forbidden things.  Onion bags are my favorite.  I used to chew on fabric softener sheets after they came out of the dryer.  Sometimes I ate them, and then I threw them up, causing great consternation.  After we moved, the dryer sheets were no longer available.  But life is good.

Maybe a nap.  I can't wait to see who is in the storeroom.

Thisbe

Happy Holidays to All

Not posting much, rather baking (6 diffeent cookies so far).  Got inspired by the film "Julia and Julie" and cooked a couple recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  I made a chicken with onions and fried potatoes and was it ever tasty. Easy, too.   Nostalic articles in the NY Times today about "Le Cafe des Artistes" on Manhattan's west side, and also what has happened to all the super-duper French restaurants in NYC?  What has happened everywhere?  Go to Montreal for good French cooking.  Or France, or course.

Tonight, with the first child back in the fold, we had a steak dinner with rib eyes, baked potatoes with all the accoutrements, Italian green beans, a fresh salad and wine.  Tasted really good.  I ate half a steak and that was plenty.   Looking forward to cookies.

Still need to do some shopping.  My bad!  Reading a Cynthia Riggs book (fun!) and volume II of Proust and the story stories in Quarry from Level Best Books.  It is hard to keep up with the papers and magazines much less the books.

Compared scallop recipes today with a woman at the Roche Brothers fish counter.  In the old days in Wellesley, on a day before a big holiday, the checkout line would wind all the way back to the meat counter and the store would practice queueing theory and everything moved along nicely.  They also had  a cheese labeled "local goat" and we always wondered if there was just one.  I never expected to spend such a large part of my life in Massachusetts.  

I am doing all right on the MAC, and getting the hang of things quite handily.    Poor Annie spent yesterday and part of today at the vets.  Water around her heart.  They drained it.  She did NOT say, "all is forgiven" when she got home but she was obviously much better.  Ate, drank, indulged in a little catnip.  The best present is having her better.  She is a love.

Christmas greets to everyone.

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How do you celebrate a cat's birthday?

Thisbe is nine years old today, a gift from a friend whose cat had a litter of kittens. S.O. brought her home in a cardboard box when she was eight weeks old and Annie, her housemate, has never forgiven me. We thought Annie needed a companion, but she said, "Big mistake! Take her back!" and wouldn't look at me for six months.

Now, they tolerate each other, although Thisbe was terribly upset when Annie had a seizure, and stopped eating for two days.

She has a new mouse and received an extra ration of catnip. We can't have a party because she hates anyone except the people she knew in her kittenhood. Workmen are the worst! A few growls and then zook! under the bed for the rest of the day.

Thisbe likes moist cat food, dry cat food, her special brand (Kookamonga) catnip, furry gray mouse toys, fresh water, cat grass, Mommy, Daddy and sleeping in the linen closet and luxurious relaxed baths on the living room rug, lying on her back and washing her paws and her chest. Bathing to classical music is best.

The life of a cat in this household is the life of Riley. Remember. Dogs have masters. Cats have staff.

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Thisbe comes out of the closet

As everyone knows, Friday is Cat Blog Day

And Thisbe is out from under the bed, too. After years and years, Thisbe has finally accepted our young houseguest who appears three times a year for various vacations. Usually Thisbe spends these weeks sulking under the bed or in a closet, wherever there is darkness and privacy and one can't (Thisbe hopes) be seen or detected.

Annie is the Tabby. Thisbe is the tortoise. She has a cross on her chest, and she hopes that the Pope might visit someday, as she knows he likes cats. But I digress.

When discovered under the bed, Thisbe used to hiss, "Get outta here. My space."

While we were in Europe, we shut the bedroom doors so that Thisbe's caretaker could give her the twice daily insulin she requires. After a few days Thisbe warmed up to the caretaker and didn't hide when the front door opened and the unfamiliar tread was heard in the house.

So on this occasion of our small guest's visit, we shut the bedroom doors again. Thisbe could "hide" behind the sofa in the home office or under my computer desk or in the cedar closet. She made several appearances and let the small guest pet her, a milestone. Then, three nights ago, Thisbe approached the small guest and said, in cat, "I would like to be petted." And it was accomplished. So Thisbe has been hanging out in the home office with the rest of us. The doll house is set up here and the small guest is busy night and day rearranging dolls and furniture.

Thisbe's old terror has abated. Of course sometimes a cat still likes her privacy and a trip to the furnace room or behind the couch or especially the cedar closet is still required.

Annie is always tranquil but has been heard once this week to offer up five mad meows. Don't know what that was about. She also escaped, opening the sliding door with her paw and exclaiming, (in cat) "spring is here; free at last!"

A household with cats is a complicated one, with brooding and sulking and periods of extreme lovingness. Cats are crazy. They fit right in.

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It's Cat Blog Day!

Thisbe in repose, after a thoroughly taxing adventure.

Friday is, of course, cat blog day. This morning Thisbe was most accommodating and chased some critter across the yard and ended a foot or so from the street, then freaked out, as in "where am I and how did I get here?" Her tail as big and round as a baseball bat. Definitely surprised by her catlike activity.

Notice the halo effect in the photo. Thisbe has a genuine white cross on her chest, earning her the nickname of "Sacred Kitty." She knows that the pope likes cats and if she weren't scared of strangers, she would like to meet the pope. Maybe if he hung out at the house for a very long time, and spoke softly and never ever clumped around or made noise, she would eventually come out and give him the once over. Annie would be here usualy sluttish self and jump in his lap. But then, Annie not sacred in the sense that Thisbe is.

This morning, when Thisbe realized she was in the yard alone, she saw me open the door and raced in. Gadzoosks, what a close call! Then the UPS man came, necessitating a visit to beneath the bed where everything is safe and known, including the dust bunnies.

The hummingbird appeared today. Haven't seen him/her since we returned from Chicago. Checking out the geraniums and the small blooms atop the big purple flowers, said to attract butterflies.

Tomatoes coming along apace. The lawn care people, we call them the "turtle crushers" because they have mown down big turtles, hell they would mow a cat if it were sitting in the yard, did a number on the neighbors zucchini which was marching across the grass as zucchini are wont to do in August.

My morning glories seem to be on the wane, but the geraniums and the red begonias are still crazy with blooms. Impatience still good. It's the time of year when extra grooming in the garden pays dividends. Hey, there's still at least another month of summerish weather, and a prudent gardener doesn't throw in the towel. I ate the heirloom beets which were delicious.

Baby sparrows chowing down at the feeder. I think the parents show them where it is and say, "go to it, kids." Bluejays, cardinals, titmice, doves, etc. join in the feast.

Tonight we're having a salad with bulgar wheat, shrimp, tomatoes, arugula, mint and feta. Sounds good, no? I keep telling you, an adventurous spirit is good. Go forth and eat strange stuff.

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In Honor of St. Valentine

I changed my last snarky post. Instead. . . AOL crashed when I submitted my post, and in spite of what blogger promises, it never saves a draft automatically, ever, so you lose everything. Happy Valentine's Day to AOL and Blogger! What a pair. Love and kisses. Sometimes I write the post in Word and once Word crashed and I lost the post.Happy Valentine's Day to all Microsoft products. Love and kisses to all.
Doing your taxes sucks, big time. Love and kisses to form 1040, the accountant, the IRS and Uncle Sam. Hearts and flowers, too!

The Boston weather also sucks. Love and kisses to the New England winter that keeps us indoors so we don't go spending that money the government is sending. Ooops! You spent yours online already? Sorry! Love and kisses to Uncle Sam.

The snow plow came at 4:00 a.m., waking the neighborhood and they could have saved the gas and the energy and sleep because the rains came and washed out all the snow and probably the inky-dinky spider as well. Love and kisses to the snowplow driver, the shovellers and the inky-dinky spider who long as he/she doesn't come into my basement. One of the cats might eat him which is gross beyond words. Love and kisses to the cats who never saw a crumb of food they didn't eat. Love and catnip and tummyrubs all round.

The Year of the Rat dinner was good. We saw "Babel" last night, also good. I cut some words from Promiscuous Mode. Very good.

Love and kisses and happy valentine's day to the writers who settled their strike. This writer was never on strike but felt feelings (felt feelings?) of brotherhood,sisterhood and comradeship to say nothing of solidarity. Experienced feelings! Yes!

Things do even out, most of the time. For some reason, writing never sucks, even when it does.
Write a valentine to someone/someething who is causing you grief. Send love and kisses,

Love and kisses,

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