Cat Tales

Normally, Friday is Cat Blog Day, but I'm running behind.  Thisbe, who is in mourning for her housemate Annie, has acted strange of late.   She's always been an Extreme INDOOR cat, never venturing further than the garage or the front porch.  We've let her out on the deck a bit lately, and she's been content to sit under the table or a chair, and race into the house at the first sign of danger.  Noises, strangers and who-knows-what are Thisbe's idea of danger.

A couple times she wandered down the stairs and into the yard and seemed to be somewhat clueless about how to get back to the deck.  Once, I met her around the house and let her in the front door, which she found most MYSTERIOUS.
Yesterday, from her perch on the deck, she spied one of the baby chipmunks.  Ahhh!  Cat toys!  She left the deck and gave chase, but didn't even come close.  She returned, and sniffed around the neighbor's deck and seemed, well, confused.  Decided to go back to where the chipmunk was last seen. Went under the neighbors bushes and then their front porch.  Most uncharacteristic behavior.  I was in hot pursuit.  Thisbe jumped onto neighbor's front porch and wanted in the door. 

Listen, the fuzzy imbecile, this is NOT OUR HOUSE.  She sniffed around and acted obtuse.  Don't know where their dog was, or she would have been catatonic.   Finally I picked her up (all 16 heavy pounds) and carried her as far as I could before she let loose with the claws and wriggling and then growls and hisses.  She lay in the grass and sulked. 

I called her from the steps of the deck.  More confusion.  Can this be MY house?  I thought it was the other one.   Hmm.  Guess I'll check it out.  Oh!  It is my house.  Yikes.  I think I'll go inside and chill and think about this business.  Do I have two houses?  Where are the cat toys?  

She lay on the floor in a state of prostration.  Stress is stressful.  Her housemate, Annie, never liked it when Thisbe went outside.  She has no brains and will get lost immediately.  How true.

One of those cats with no sense of direction.  Who knew? 

Poor Thisbe,  I had to give her extra treats. 

Burglars Beware: Cat DNA lurks everywhere

Someone has finally come up with a good use for cat hair.  Our vacuum is full of it and all my dark clothes as well.  Rugs, furniture, it's cat hair uberalles.

Actually, Friday is cat blog day, but what the hell?  http://www.care2.com/greenliving/cats-help-solve-crimes.html

And the Hunter Home From the Hill

The family conversation of the past twenty-four hours has been a vigorous debate (or as vigorous as a debate can be when the parties are sleep deprived) as to whether JFK or CDG is the worst airport for traveller's changing planes. So far it is a toss-up.

The French did it again! Three years ago when we were en route to Paris, there was a transportation strike which, luckily, did not affect us.

Not so lucky yesterday. Our plane sat on the ground in Bremen (due to the air controller's slow down) and we missed our flight back to the U.S. from Paris. Of course, we might have made it if we had not been navigating the airport from hell. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say we and our luggage arrived together at 10:30 p.m. in Boston, six hours later than expected after changing planes at JFK. Let's just say that we got our work out in yesterday, hauling ass through the various terminals, and our muscles are toned from all the walking. Let's also say that we debated buying a bottle of Campari at the duty free shop and decided not to. An excellent decision as it would have been confiscated at security in NY.

Let me tell you what's no fun. Going thru security four times in one day. And being wanded and patted down thrice. And having hand baggage checked twice. And being sleep deprived, forgetting about the mini-bottle of wine from Air France and the water bottle and taking them through security. I was tempted to stand there and drink the wine on the spot, offering toasts to the guy who misdirected us, the churlish woman who took the luggage, and the two-mile walk to the gate. Oh well, Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot?

We are back. Everything unpacked. 2/3 of laundry done. Grocery list made. We decided to stop for cheeseburgers before going to the store, because an American needs a cheeseburger every now and then, and when we finished, we asked ourselves why go to the store because we could eat cereal tonight after eating such a pig-out lunch.

I did not like what I saw when I got on the scale. There is fasting and deprivation ahead. Well, it's Lent after all.

I have photos and stories and discoveries to share, but right now, the idea of a nap is toooo seductive.

At least the snow is gone. That's something. The cats are glad to see us. Thisbe made friends with the nice lady who came to give her injections twice a day. Annie is always a love. She didn't even offer three mad meows. What gives?

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All Is Forgiven

Last night, Thisbe joined us in the living room in front of the fireplace and indicated that "all is forgiven." I went into the kitchen, prepared the syringe, brought it into the living room, swabbed her fur, and gave her the injection, which she appeared not to notice. These are small, fine needles, and that went rather well. She was unfortunately under the bed having "private" time this evening, and I had to wait rather longer than proper timing indicated, but when we got back from my writing group she was waiting for food and I swabbed and jabbed while she was scarfing down moist food.

We're back to moist food, as the web sites dealing with feline diabetes indicate this is the way to go. Far too many carbs in the dry stuff. I'll see. The dry stuff from our vet (available only thru a vet) is for diabetic cats. Right now Thisbe is eating both kinds, and Annie, also porcine, prefers the dry. Annie takes heart medication twice a day. We live in cat sitter hell, that's what.

At the supermarket this morning, the produce truck was LATE. Supposed to be there at 9:00, and not in sight at 11:00. No lemons. No Brussels sprouts. We waited around and waited around and kept accosting the produce people. "They are late because of the holiday."

Grrr. Like the produce people didn't know it was Thanksgiving and might put some extra help on. Finally the truck showed up. I swear to god the Brussels sprouts were unloaded last. We had been hanging out and cooling our heels for a half an hour with entreaties and pleading looks.

Finally, finally the B.S. were brought out and we took four packages, because not only were we doing a side dish for Thanksgiving, but S.O. had it in his head they would be good with the stuffed pork tenderloin tomorrow.

The store didn't charge us for them. Have you ever heard of such a thing? I felt kinda bad, as they were not exactly cheap, and while we seem to be in a financial free fall, we can still buy groceries. They insisted there was no charge. Argued a bit but they were adamant. So thank you for the Brussels Sprouts. We'll enjoy them in good health and and are indeed thankful for your generosity and making us feel the time hanging around and looking at the produce was not time wasted.

Mostly I am thankful that we don't have to eat American Chop Suey one more night. Some wag defined eternity as a ham and two people. I have to say a pound of pasta starts to seem that way by the third night. My oldest kid could, at one time, eat a pound at a sitting. And he stayed skinny. Oh for a metabolism like that in my current years. Yowza! I could eat all the stuff I stay away from. Or try to stay away from.

Yesterday I made oatmeal raisin cookies, a kind of generic cookie from childhood. The recipe made a big batch and there are two bags in the freezer, which is always like manna from heaven. Got the recipe off the Internet. I am getting a good feel for recipes from strange sources. You can look at the seasoning and the fat and get a pretty fair idea if it will be fit to eat.

All recipes calling for margarine are ignored. If all ingredients are "non-fat," that recipe is also disregarded. Low-fat may be all right. We don't object to low, just non. You can always substititute. Healthy salads and veggies are cool. I don't make a lot of desserts, except we like a cookie daily. Seems like one should be able to eat one. Or two. Fresh fruit desserts--yum! Hard to beat fresh fruit. I'm especially fond of Cafloutis.

So I jumped from cat food to people food. Our cats won't eat people food. Won't touch. Won't sniff. It's wonderful. I've had cats that would snake a piece of chicken from a plate with their paws. Cats who ate a half a roast beef. Cats would enjoyed pizza and broccoli and green beans. Cats who want to lick the cereal bowl. Thisbe and Annie are not like those cats.

I am reading a Carl Hiassen book and he showed me how to do a great short flashback. I love his books, which are over the top but in a good, fun way. Great characters, especially the weird bad guys. This book is about bass fishing. I had a bass fishing scene in Promiscuous Mode, but the characters didn't catch any bass. Now I know that bass boats can go fast. You always learn something.

Do you think there are any mysteries where the diabetic cat and the cat with heart trouble solve the crime? I thought not.

Onward,


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Just A Spoonful of Sugar or Maybe Moist Food

Last Thursday morning, we jammed Thisbe into the cat carrier for a vet appointment. She has been eating and drinking like crazy, and we thought that maybe her diabetes was back. It is.

This means I have the honor and privilege of giving her a shot of insulin every day. Just one.

So, the fun began. First of all, a huge (to me) vet bill for the exam and the test. Then I picked up the prescription which could be filled anywhere. We headed to Walmart, hoping that was cheapest.

Oh God, then the fun really began. First of all, the pharmacy was closed for lunch from 1:30 - 2:00. So we cooled our heels buying potting soil and looking for cat grass, which nobody but the pet stores carries anymore.

The pharmacy opened and the pharmacist was very nice, and he didn't say anything when I blanched at the $100.00 price, and the thing is, the medicine is only good for one month and Thisbe only gets one millileter. I got needles and meds and we came home after an expensive detour to Kohl's where everything was so cheap you just had to buy stuff.

Back home, I did a trial run on the needle and the medication, and all was not well. I couldn't seem to make the plunger take the smallest amount. In the meantime, Thisbe got the wind up(who knows how) and disappeared under the bed.

I decided to call it a day.

Yesterday, I practiced with another needle and water, and became quite adept at getting the itsty-bitsy amount of insulin into the needle. Thisbe disappeared under the bed about the time I was thinking about the first shot. She came out to eat, took one look at me, and disappeared under the bed again, into the basement, anywhere, anywhere but in the vicinity of her mistress.

In the meantime, I had somehow expelled the insulin from the syringe.

Today we decided to take a day off, but Thisbe was not fooled and disappeared under the bed after breakfast. When I went up to get dressed, she usually comes out and we have some Mommy/Kitty time. Not this morning.

The damn cat really does have ESP. We're going to play it cool until tomorrow. Maybe she'll calm down.

The fact that the insulin has to be kept in the fridge and the needles sterile and the cat swabbed with alcohol first add to the complexity, as this point the impossibility. Maybe the smell of alcohol triggered a bad memory. Or a new memory from the vet. Maybe she remembers her former experience, when I used to distract her with catnip or get her while she was eating.

She has the wind up. Don't know what to do. And we have $300+ worth of meds, tests, exams and needles going for naught.

Some days you just want to drown your troubles with a cup of hot cocoa. Or something.,

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The Supermarket Dance: Shuffle and Back Step

Note: this post is a whine.

Our supermarket is remodelling, which means no one can find anything anywhere. They had to go "out back" to get us a bag of charcoal today, and brought a big mother of a bag that would last half the summer and now it's October. Any season when you don't have to shovel a path along the deck and brush the snow off the Weber Kettle is Barbecue Season.

Small sirloins were on sale and that sounded good to me, with asparagus from Peru where spring has sprung and acorn squash grown more locally. With a Boston lettuce salad and a big fat mushroom to top each steak. Is that yum or what?

Of course we spent twice a much time in the store as usual, backtracking and trying to find stuff. Last week a woman said, "just think of it as a scavenger hunt and have fun." Some people always have a good attitude.

I remember when Roche Brothers in Wellesley remodelled years ago. I had to change my computerized shopping list, then I changed it again when we moved. Guess what? Another change will be required. In the new new Wellesley Roche Brothers I can't find anything either, except the produce and the cheese counter. And the take home department. Man, for $12-$1400 for dinner, you would never have to cook again. For two, that is. Four or more would be a pricey business, but they do have good looking prepared food to take home.

Of course if the economy continues to go to hell in a handbasket, everyone will be soaking their own pinto beans and making soup and rice and beans and growing herbs on the window sill and pouring the bacon fat into a coffee can in the fridge to reuse.

Oh? You do that already? Me too.

It seems like the prices have risen since the store began to remodel. And I still can't find green salsa made with tomatillos. Maybe I'll make another attempt to grow tomatillos next spring. The prior effort was a disaster, but then I recall it took three tries to grow bleeding heart. The third one flourished and I even moved it and it still flourished. A reliable plant is something you can love.

So we're bringing in the houseplants that summered outside, and the geraniums I carry over from year to year and the little gew-gaws on the deck that make the outdoors kind of homey.

Annie the cat escaped today, but too late for blogging. Thisbe went out and was horrified to find a) the UPS man and b) and neighbor's dog and c) the neighbor. Clawed at the door to get in with her tail as big around as a baseball bat.

I'm deep into my robot fish story and it's humming along swimmingly. :) I just need one more long adventure for the fish to have, then a clever escape and the end. The fish has hard exciting escapes from Somali pirates, sea snakes and a curious shark. Fish can have the most exciting adventures.

Onward and upward. How about those Red Sox?

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Cat Blog Day

Would you believe I posted to the wrong blog? Here is the link. The blog is Reading Proust In Foxborough which has much to do with Proust and nothing to do with cats. The cats did do something of note this morning. Read on to see what.

http://proustwhore.blogspot.com/

Links to Outstanding Recipes + Politics But Not As Usual

Below are links to the recipes in yesterday's photos with some notes about Chicken Marbella.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/BAKED-APPLES-STUFFED-WITH-HONEY-ALMONDS-AND-GINGER-232891

http://www.elise.com/recipes/archives/001175chicken_marbella.php
Notes for Chicken Marbella: I used legs, thighs and breasts. Meat with bones always tastes better, likewise skin, even if you remove it later. Used French olives with Herbes de Provence instead of the called-for olives, which the store did not have. Everything else pretty much the same. Parsley and oregano from the garden. For the wine I used white vermouth, my standard white cooking wine.

If anyone has the Silver Palate Cookbook (the original), apparently the recipe is from there.

My friend Joan brought the most fabulous cookies, cookies supremely tasty and not too sweet. We have old-time taste buds that like sugar, but not overpowering sweetness. I'm finding that some of the current dessert recipes are too damn sweet. But not these. Don't know where they are available. Effie's Cookies. Don't they even sound old fashioned. They look totally plain, but zowie, what a nice flavor. One could even say comforting.

http://www.effieshomemade.com/

We were six at dinner Monday, and the table was quite jolly with good conversation. Writers always carry on in a spirited manner. Annie the cat schmoozed shamelessly. Thisbe, of course, was under the bed.

Last, but hardly least is a link to the New Yorker recommendation for Barak Obama. It's so thoughtful and reasoned, so unlike the Republican campaign of vituperation and slander.

http://www.newyorker.com/talk/comment/2008/10/13/081013taco_talk_editors?yrail


Onward,

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Thisbe Remembers That She is A Cat and Other Tales

Thisbe loves to see the sparrows on the feeder take off when she steps onto the front porch. The doves fly away with outrage and noisy wings, and the chipmunks and squirrels dive for cover. Such power. Such respect.

If some small creature comes back, Thisbe is ready to pounce, so long as the neighborhood is free of people, other animals and cars, along with any unrecognizable noise. Discretion is always the better part of valor in Thisbe's feline life.

She endured an entire week without catnip while I was gone, and yorked up a hairball in retribution. I like to think. In the meantime, we've had lots of Mommy/Kitty time.


Yesterday, on the march thru Salem neighborhoods for Obama, I saw some weird sights. Curtains so shabby they hung in shreds. People sitting at the kitchen table and refusing to answer the doorbell. A woman who would never vote for a Democrat again because of "how they treated Hilary." A haunted house, (almost).

For sure a lot of houses had no doorbells, and it was obvious to the casual observer that no one ever used the front door. Lots of cars in the driveway but no one home.

Is it true that if someone gives two excuses, that person is lying? Such as "I'm eating lunch and I have company." Dunno. Human nature is infinitely various.

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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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Friday is Cat Blog Day

Annie gazing at the camera.


And sometimes the cats just aren't very bloggable. I wouldn't gross you out with the description of the hair ball that Thisbe coughed up yesterday, with some weird green plastic in it. She has a tendency to eat twine or anything stringy. This morning she went onto the front porch (adventure time) and saw something rustling in the bushes where the birds (mostly sparrows but sometimes doves) eat the spilled food. Great excitement, but in the end it was Just Too Scary, and she came back inside.

In the meantime, Annie, her housemate had a nap in the garage. No place beats the garage on a cool morning for a private nap. Then Annie came downstairs to lurk in her favorite spot where she can attack Thisbe after she comes downstairs into Annie's territory, the home office.

Actually, Annie has sort of given up chasing Thisbe out of the office, and my feeling is that she is getting used to hanging with her down here.

We have cat birds gobbling up the suet, and ugly blackbirds that I don't like. A cardinal across the street, and the woodpeckers feeding their young. A gazillion little goldfinch battles over the thistle seed feeder. Always the males. The drama in the backyard. Who needs violent movies? All the rain made the tomatoes like, explode, and the sage is still blooming like crazy.

A fresh pot of cat grass in the kitchen, for the kitties eating pleasure. Annie prefers the grass outside, and when she sneaked out this week, S.O. caught her while she was nibbling some. That cat takes her paw and opens the screen door. Freedom now!

Meow!

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