Sunbeams are Wonderful

Dogwood has found a sunbeam. She's been confined to the house because of foxes in the yard. Hungry foxes. When she sees one, she's lays her ears back. Getting spayed this weekend. Won't much like that.

Writers and their Cats

Tortoise Cat Thisbe  - a 'fraidy cat

Orange Cat Rulon, a power napper

Friday is traditionally cat blog day, but I wanted to offer a link an alert reader sent about writers and cats.  Above are my two.  Rulon thinks a friendly act it to give chase with maybe a few swipes of his paw.  Thisbe thinks otherwise.  Mostly they ignore each other.  He always horns in when I try to groom Thisbe.  "Horns in."  A great expression which has been reinforced by observing the feeding antics of the Highland Scottish cows.  But I digress.

The Masterpiece Mystery last night (Hercule Poirot) showed a flat with a crazy cat lady.    I haven't reached that stage yet.  In my dotage, perhaps.

In the meantime, here is the link to writers and their cats. Writers and Kitties.  
We enjoyed touring the Hemingway House in Key West and seeing all the cats with an extra toe. 

Cat on Desk

The Good Life.

Thisbe on desk in the middle of everything

A report on the cats

Missed Cat Blog Day on Friday.  I have been gardening, swanning to the Cape and the Berkshires, cooking every tomato recipe in the repertoire and finding agents to query for the Burning Man book, Festival Madness. 

By and large, the cats are cool.  The orange cat is very cool, eating well, looking out the window, shedding all over the Calvin Klein down duvet, and wondering why the black and gold cat with the big stomach continues to give him the stink eye.  He gives her a pretty wide berth.  Usually.  

Said black and gold is cool unless the orange cat gets in her face.  A few days ago he wanted to play and made chasing motion, which set her off in a tizzy of hissing.  Sometimes she is caught eating his food and slinks off (guiltily) when reprimanded. 


Nonetheless, life is CAT is pretty calm.  Good birdwatching from the living room window, and chipmunk watching from the kitchen window.  Many places to nap.  Eats of schedule.  Plenty of petting.  What's not to like?

My Mistress with the Enemy Cat

Can you believe it?  All this blather about people food that a cat wouldn't deign to sniff?  Peach Pie?  Fie!
Even more blather about baby birds (Yum) and summer and not a word about me and my tribulations.  In the dead of night, I find this totally dreadful, jealous-making photo on HER commuter.  HER with my rival, getting cozy while I pursue innocent sleep. 

What's a wrong cat to do?  I took my revenge by making a mess in the litter box.  'Nuff said.


The Interloper was in HER bedroom, on HER bed.  Does she think I can't smell?  It's Sunday morning and I only got perfunctory mommy-kitty time.

It may be summer, but the days are dark.

My Mistress with The Enemy

Thisbe
Author of The Catnip Chronicles

Medical Emergency

It is not my fault.  I swear it.  The Orange Outrage arrived with a puffy jaw and an abscess and I had nothing to do with it. I would not get close enough to bite him.  He's obviously been hanging out again with the Nevada Cat Club, a bad bunch that fights and stays out all night and gets into all sorts of trouble.  Not me!  I don't fight, just hiss, snarl and growl and only when provoked. 

They gave him the bum's rush into MY cat carrier.  Not that I have any love for that blasted crate.  Not me!  Hate the trip to the vet and all those dogs and the smell of death (we aren't fooled) and all the pain and yes, humiliation.  Stuck with needles, not gently like my mistress does when she gives me my meds but long sharp needles. I tell you the vet's office is a chamber of horrors.

The orange one is feeling better and he pretty much stays out of my face and I keep to the downstairs office except for food, freshening up, and a trip to my mistress bedroom at night. 

I can count!  I get exactly 4 pieces of snacks after my meds and my mistress tried to fool me with three today and I gave her "the look."  She offered another one.  I mean, really. 

The young guest leaves tomorrow.  I have no qualms at the sight of her suitcase.  Peace will reign again.  I wonder is she'll take the Interloper with her.  What if I am stuck with him.  Granted, he's a handsome orange fellow and I've never had a boyfriend, but strange cats give me the heebie-jeebies.

All fur, fat and outrage,

Thisbe

Saturday: A Day of Rest

Everyone left the house yesterday, and the Interloper was locked in the bedroom, which apparently he likes, lolling on the bed all day like a sultan.  I, on the otherhand, slept on the basement sofa, like the queen I am.  The Interloper was leery about coming down after everyone was home, and I gave him a pass by staying downstairs in the home office, which was cool.  Treats were dispensed, along with what my mistress called "meds," which is some device that she sticks into my hide twice a day.  It doesn't hurt, and I am calm because petting, schmoozing and treats are forthcoming.  A cat would be crazy to object.

This morning, OTOH, I emerged from said home office to find the Interloper sitting in the kitchen, big as you please.  He jumped on a chair.  Rats!  He has enough sense to always take the high ground.  We both spat, and I growled until my mistress calmed me with a back massage.  Then I slunk around.  Yowsa!  We both got treats, and since I was forbidden my drama queen act, I retreated to the coolness of the home office.  The Interloper is still on a chair, and quite comfy in my house.  Grrrr.  And again grrrr.

He uses my litter box and had the audacity to "mark" it, after I had marked it, but someone scrubbed it off.  Being a cat is a hard slog through life and endless difficulties.  My mistress says she would like to "come back" as a cat in her household, whatever that means.  People are very mysterious, and not catlike at all.

Off for another nap.  This patrolling of the house and asserting my rights as First Cat is very wearisome.  

Thisbe