Jan. 6, 2002 Sunday
'Tis the twelfth day of Christmas, when the three wise men arrive to take down the tree and pack all the stuff away. But the Wife isn't waiting. She's preparing to dismantle the tree solo, and do it all in one day. She woulda started yesterday, but she and the Husband decided to go shopping with the gift cards they received for the holidays (belated Christmas shopping). They came home with computer stuff (hey, no surprise there).
The Husband got a network card for his laptop, a SmartMedia card reader (for rapid downloads from his digital camera's memory card) and a USB hub to connect all this stuff together. The Wife splurged on a 40 Gb hard drive.
Both c.c. and I, being of feline persuasion and immensely curious, observed the installation and setup of these various new goodies with keen interest. Too keen sometimes. We had to be carried out of the room for hovering to close to the action with our static-laden fur. Twice.
Fortunately, this was about dinnertime, and the Husband took time out to feed us, which then occupied our full attention. For a coupla minutes. But by the time we had returned, the computer case was closed up and it was all over but the software. And that's boring. I chose to stretch out on the living room couch - c.c. went outside in the cold. I assume.
So while the Wife dismantles the tree tomorrow and the Husband removes the exterior decorations, both c.c. and I will periodically be indoors and out, checking their progress.
Or maybe we'll just nap. We don't have an official schedule yet.
Jan. 13, 2002 Sunday
Well, most of Christmas is gone. There's still the catnip toys that we stopped playing with after a week.
It was a nice day yesterday, weatherwise. I was patrolling the perimeter and suddenly I spotted a squirrel. They're not usually around this time of year. But I ignored him. A couple of years ago I learned my lesson; I was stealthily closing in on a squirrel, and I knew I was too far away, but I saw the Wife up on the deck, watching me. What to do. If I did nothing, the Wife would think I was a slacker; getting old or something. But if I went after him, I knew I didn't have any chance of catching him. Yet he seemed to be ignoring me. Either he didn't notice me or he was arrogantly defying me.
As some wise human once said (I think it was George Clooney), the only failure is not trying.
Like a shot, I bore down on the squirrel. The element of surprise was mine. But he still managed to dart out of the way. He was up the fencepost, I in pursuit. He darted across the top rail, more sure footed than I, but I threw caution to the winds and pounced. The squirrel changed direction and sped directly beneath me. I could hear the Wife cheering me on, calling my name louder and louder. I landed off-balance and had to jump to the ground. The squirrel leapt to a nearby tree and was up and gone.
I remained on the ground, aloof. I knew this mission was not to be, and I pretended not to care. I sauntered back to the house, the epitome of non-chalance. I am, after all, a cat.
Jan. 19, 2002 Saturday
It's gonna snow today. That's what all the people who should know are saying. But they don't have a cat's instincts for that stuff. They use computer models and prevailing winds and past-performance history and like that. Cats have an in-born, natural sense of change. They don't just know when it's gonna snow, they know how bad it's gonna be. And they find shelter. Humans seem more concerned with how many inches of snow they're gonna have to shovel than how much trouble it's gonna be.
A wet snow is harder to negotiate than a dry snow (when your ground clearance is mere inches, it matters). We know which it's gonna be. Sometimes we don't know 'til it starts, but we know early enough to make adjustments. We know when and where to find shelter, how far we can travel safely, and, in c.c.'s case, how to have fun with it.
There was lots of snow last year, and c.c. never hesitated to venture out into a fresh snow. This year we haven't had any snow yet, but the cold has kept both c.c. and me indoors more often. I'm not a kitten any more, but I'll check out the snow when it arrives. And c.c. is no longer a kitten any more either, but I don't know if she realizes that yet. It'll be interesting to see if she chooses fun in the snow or naps on the couch. I'll let you know.
Stay warm.
Jan. 25, 2002 Friday
It snowed last weekend. Finally. The first snow of the season. I was wondering if c.c., still a kitten at heart, would be out romping around in the stuff like she did all last year. But apparently the kitten at heart is growing up. She did go out to investigate, but only observed; no playing. She was soon back inside.
Two days after the snow, it started getting warm again. And staying warm. It felt like spring today. The snow, several inches of the stuff just days ago, is gone. And it's going to be even warmer tomorrow.
The kitten at heart thinks it is spring. She decided to go out and get a mouse Wednesday night; interrupting the Husband's viewing of The West Wing (it was a repeat anyway). But it didn't take that long for the Husband to corner the critter by the front door, scoop him up and return him to his natural surroundings. I just watched.
Thursday morning, around dawn, when cats are up and humans are not, the kitten at heart repeated the previous night's events. However the Husband had the additional handicap of not being awake. He finally cornered the mouse in the bathroom (after loosing track of him twice), then got dressed and escorted him to the compost heap and freedom. The Husband then returned to bed, slept through the alarm, and was late for work.
It's dangerous around here when the Husband or Wife is running late - getting underfoot is a prime hazard. But there have been no injuries to date and we always get fed.
The Wife will be coming home tonight - I'm gonna miss that extra space on the bed.
Jan. 31, 2002 Thursday
Sweeper is this long-haired cat who comes around here every so often. He first showed up last summer when he found his way in through the cat door and c.c. chased him into the bathroom, hissing and spitting (the little feline knows no fear). The Husband had to gently nudge him out of his hiding place with a broom, and in relating the story to her nieces and nephews, the Wife referred to the cat as Sweeper.
Sweeper showed up later outdoors and kept his distance when c.c. and I were outdoors. We figured the ground rules were in place and we wouldn't have to worry about him any more.
Which was true, up until a couple weeks ago, when c.c. found him sneaking up the stairs to the living room and attacked. He offered no resistance and quickly fled.
I observed him once when c.c. wasn't around; he was snooping around the house. My house! I realized I was going to have to remind the intruder of the rules, but when he saw me, he ran.
But he keeps coming back. He's not homeless; he's a well-fed kitty who just likes to snoop.
One night he brazenly climbed the stairs again while c.c. and I were stretched out on the floor in plain view. I deferred to c.c. (she does a good Banshee imitation), but the little cat just noted he was there and went back to her nap, allowing the interloper to advance into my ... our house!. She'd apparently gotten used to the intruder (or just gave up being incensed). I was not so happy. So I confronted him with a general growl of displeasure, and that froze him in his tracks. It also brought the Husband out, and that was sufficient to send Sweeper into retreat.
So now I spend my nights at the top of the stairs, ready with my Growl of Displeasure should the hairy one return, while c.c. joins the Husband and Wife in the big bed. The little shirker.
Feb. 6, 2002 Wednesday
Okay, now it's cold. The kinda cold where you go out to do your business, and the ground is so hard you can't cover it up, and your ears are so cold you don't care, you just want to get back inside.
So yesterday was a typical indoor day, i.e., catnapping on the couch. By noon, a nice warm sun comes beaming its warmth across the couch, where it remains for several hours before moving to the floor, at which point I interrupt by couch nap and move to my floor nap.
c.c. has adopted a front windowsill in the Wife's computer room. She stays there pretty much all day catching the sun.
But this day also included the Husband. He'd been complaining about backaches for a week, so he decided to take the day off and make like a feline - catnapping. I spent a couple hours on the couch with him while the tv played, then he went into the bedroom to stretch out (the sun doesn't go there, so neither do I).
By the time the Wife got home, he was still complaining about his back, but he also mentioned that it felt good to be rested up, and on that basis, he felt lots better.
I always knew we felines had the right idea.
Feb. 12, 2002 Tuesday
My roommate c.c. will always be a kitten. She'll always be small (compared to my own bulk), and I'll always be the older feline, and therefore the more mature. Plus she's whacky. Yesterday I was stretched out at the top of the stairs when she came barreling down the hallway at me. I was sure she planned to pounce on me, and I bolted upright, ready for impact. Instead she came to a sudden halt, rolled over on her back, then dashed back to the bedroom as suddenly as she had arrived.
I just stood there, waiting for the next unexpected attack. But she chose not to return. I would blame it on cabin fever, but the weather has been fine, and c.c. has put in a lot of outdoor time. So I have no idea why she's being kittenish.
The Husband and Wife are enjoying her antics, but she's not attacking them. Actually she has; she jumped on the Husband's shoulder one evening while he was watching tv and tried to make a comfy spot to take a nap there.
Maybe it's just me. We still play together on occasion, but I enjoy my nap time too. I'm not getting any younger.
But I think c.c. is :)
Feb. 18, 2002 Monday
The Husband wiles away his hours in front of the computer, which is located in a spare bedroom, which has become a sinkhole of lost items. The bed is piled high with old magazines and boxes of mementoes. It's like the trash can on the Windows desktop. You put stuff in there and forget about it. And it grows like untended ivy.
There is a space on the bed just big enough for the Husband's butt as he sits at his computer. When he's in there, I will occasionally join him, and it's a bit crowded for both of us, but we manage. And when he's not there, his space is just perfect for me. I can nap for hours because nobody comes through there or even comes in the door. It's very peaceful, and the Husband's scent is always present to my exceptional nose.
So guess what? The Husband decided to clean it out this weekend. My quiet napping spot is being invaded. Just when things get comfy, everything gets moved around and I have to readjust.
But, surprise! The bed is pretty much empty now, and I have lots of room to stretch out, even when the Husband is around. I worried for naught.
Sometimes, change is good.
Sometimes.
Feb. 24, 2002 Sunday
I love the weekends. Both the Husband and Wife are home to tend to our wants and needs, and we appreciate that.
This weekend was just a little different. Normally, the Husband and Wife will each be individually engaged in some activity in which we can't participate (vacuum cleaning comes to mind, or lawn mowing, or any other activity in which human choreography can be threatening to a feline underfoot). But this weekend began early, when the Wife came home from work ahead of time with chills and a fever. She went right to bed. This is the ideal setup for cats - sharing naptime with humans in an oversized bed. I got that assignment - c.c. was still outside and didn't realize the Wife was home.
During warm weather, the Husband can usually be found on weekends doing something to his truck. That's also an ideal setup - I can stretch out on the warm cement of the front steps and keep an eye on him while he putters around. This weekend was another unseasonably warm one, and sure enough, he used it to install a plexiglas rear window in the convertible top (the old pliable plastic window had refused to fit smoothly).
Eventually c.c. realized what she was missing, and joined the party. The new rear window was installed, and the Wife is feeling better.
But between a sunny day on the steps watching the Husband, and the big warm bed shared with the Wife, I was in heaven.
Enjoy your weekend.
Feb. 28, 2002 Thursday
Spring arrived Tuesday. And left Wednesday.
I was really enjoying the sunshine on Tuesday - I stretched out on the deck for several hours and let all the memories of summer return. I was ready for the return of warm days and little woodland creatures. Good thing I didn't get used to it.
Wednesday, the temperatures came crashing down, along with the snowflakes. The snow didn't hang around long, but neither did I. I was back in the house for the remainder of the day, which ended up just being cold, gray and rainy.
So it's the middle of the week and it's also the end of the month. Unless you're a cat. Then it's just another day.
Enjoy yours.
Mar. 6, 2002 Wednesday
Yesterday morning the Wife had an early meeting to attend and set the alarm clock accordingly. The Husband usually gets up first, so his routine was already disrupted (neither of them are what's called "morning people").
The Husband's first and foremost duty is feeding us, and he managed that okay. The Wife was still ensconced in the bathroom, so he decided to move on to the next routine, which is making his lunch. So far, so good. The Wife was still in the bathroom, so he popped a toaster omelet into the toaster oven and made coffee. The trash can was full, so he carted that down to the trash can in the garage (all not fully awake, mind you). He retrieved the morning paper. By then he had forgotten about the toaster omelet and coffee; I was morbidly fascinated by the choreography performed on semi-auto-pilot.
He was finishing his cold breakfast with hot coffee when the Wife came into the kitchen, running late, and filled a large travel mug with coffee to enjoy en route. The Husband put on his coat, ready to face the world, when the Wife pointed out he hadn't shaved yet, then quickly departed for her meeting, leaving her travel mug of coffee on the kitchen counter.
Humans can be such fun sometimes.
Mar. 12, 2002 Tuesday
Didn't I say it was too early for spring? The temperatures were right for it, and laying out on the deck in the sun was relaxing, but there was no fresh undergrowth in the woods to skulk through, and no small critters to skulk upon. Some birds and flowers have returned, but they've still got a few cold nights left to endure.
Humans rely on clocks and calendars to orient themselves. Non-human creatures do the same subconsciously. The sun appears in a different part of the sky at any corresponding part of the year. So when the temperatures warm up and the inexperienced creatures come out to warm themselves, they say, "hmm, something's not right." Only the older and wiser animals realize that the sun is in the winter positions in the sky, and it tells them not to get too comfortable.
Except for the sun's position, it was a summer day last weekend, and birds and squirrels were out to enjoy it. Even c.c. and I were out having fun entertaining each other. But I knew it wasn't right. It wasn't a summer sky. And sure enough, this week it's been downright inhospitable outside. Cold and windy and chilly and ugly. And cold.
But the same way I can tell it's not spring also let's me know that spring is near, and soon we will be exploring the woods and sleeping on the sun-drenched deck. Not that I have anything against the comfy couch in the living room, but I am, after all, a creature of Nature, and I can hear her faintly beckoning from afar.
Coming, Mother.
Mar. 18, 2002 Monday
Mother Nature got me anyway. Even though I knew it was too early for spring. But the middle of last week was a series of beautiful spring-like days with bright sunshine and soul-warming rays. It was too easy to allow that spring had truly arrived. And even though I knew better, I accepted it. The Vernal Equinox is but days away, so this must be spring!
It snowed yesterday.
It didn't last, and it didn't cause any difficulties, and it was mostly gone this morning. But the psychological damage had been done. There was no bright sunshine, no warming rays, no chirping birds. There were birds, but they weren't chirping; they were huddling in the evergreens. The daffodils still poked upwards toward the sun, but it was not visible in the gray sky.
So the next warm day to come along will be taken with a grain of salt. I'll still go out and observe possible woodsy critter activity, and I'll nap on the deck when the sun hits it, and I might even play a little tag with c.c.
But I'm not getting my hopes up. Not again. Not for a while.
Have a nice day :)
Mar. 23, 2002 Saturday
The Husband and Wife have a new ritual called blood sugar testing. They are now both diabetic, which allows them to do this. When they first get up in the morning (after their extended all-night naps), they wander sleepily into the living room (neither is what you'd call a "morning" person) and sit in their assigned seats (we all have furniture territory staked out, so they can find their spots even when not fully awake), with little or no conversation (communication is via gutteral sounds that seem to be understood, even in their sleepiness), and they unzip a little vinyl case.
I wouldn't normally be paying any attention to this, except this new ritual has set back my feeding time by several minutes.
They remove an electronic gadget from the case, and insert a plastic strip into it. Then it gets weird. They press a spring-loaded gadget against their fingertips that shoots a sharp needle into their skin and draws blood. I fail to see the attraction, but it does wake them up.
But there's more! One will drip blood onto the plastic strip and wait as numbers appear on the small readout. Then the other does the same thing, and they compare numbers; apparently the one with the lowest number wins. The loser congratulates the winner.
I don't know what the prize is 'cause I usually get fed then and lose any further interest.
Mar. 29, 2002 Friday
The birds are back! They're all over the lawn, pecking at whatever nourishes them. I sit out on the front steps and watch them in the morning. Yesterday was the first day they appeared in numbers, which is a pretty sure sign that warmer weather is near. I was joined by c.c., who was a little confused as to why we weren't chasing them. I explained the concept of wings and flight, but all she saw were critters milling around the lawn, just begging for a confrontation. There will be other chances when the days are more inviting to exercise (it's still on the chilly side in the mornings).
While c.c. respects my experience, she still a bit headstrong (the exuberance of youth). So after the birds had left, I took her to the back yard and pointed out the bird feeders. I told her that if she pays attention, she may find a squirrel or two attempting to get the bird seed, and that squirrels are fair game (meaning she'll never be able to catch one; they're much too quick).
Then, almost on cue, a squirrel came darting along the fence and leapt to the tree with one of the bird feeders, and paused on the branch over the feeder. Needing no further instruction or encouragement, c.c. made a dash for the squirrel.
I don't need to tell you about a squirrel's reaction time. By the time c.c. was darting up the tree, the squirrel had leapt to the fence and was scurrying back to the woods. But c.c. had saved the bird feed and was quite proud of herself. I left her on the deck landing, steadfastly watching for the squirrel's return.
Her duty is clear.
Apr. 4, 2002 Thursday
I think I figured out why humans wear watches. They’re religious symbols. Humans worship time. Or more accurately, they are slaves to time.
The simple convergence of the two hands on a timepiece can raise stress levels to unhealthy proportions. The love and understanding that occurs between a man and woman means nothing if one of them is “running behind” and making the other “late,” according to the movement of the hands.
Humans go off to work. If they don’t arrive every day at a pre-determined position of the hands on the clock, they run the risk of losing their livelihood.
And if something is supposed to occur at a specific time and doesn’t, humans take it personally.
Time is a cruel taskmaster. He causes physical and emotional disorders because of an arbitrary use of the clock.
It’s not that I don’t use time. I can tell when the Husband is due home every day (feeding time). But I don’t need a clock for the occassion.
And like any religion, humans allow themselves to be controlled by it. They don’t need to. They could walk away from it. But they won’t. They’ll hurry through dinner to be at a specific place at a specific time, even though the specific time is purely arbitrary.
Tired or not, they sleep at a specific time so they can awake at a specific time.
If that's not complicated enough, this weekend begins Daylight Savings Time, when they arbitrarily change all the clocks by an hour.
Cats, on the other hand, sleep when tired and awake after resting. They pretty much do things when they want.
No wonder cats rule the world.
Apr. 10, 2002 Wednesday
It is what the calendar-afflicted refer to as springtime. To a cat it's just a nice day. But we are aware of seasonal changes. We know the weather is going to warm up and all the woodsy creatures are going to be coming out from their long winter naps to play "chase me" with c.c. and me.
We've already started bringing woodsy creatures in the house, but they don't really count. They're ticks that cling to our skin, so we're not even aware we're bringing them in. But the Husband and Wife realize that they're there. They have a special ritual involved with removing them - we get carried into the bathroom by the Husband, while the Wife applies smelly alcohol to the spot, then ritually removes the offending insect with a shiny metal instrument called tweezers. So far c.c.'s brought home two; I but one.
There is another ritual to avoid bringing these critters in unawares - it's called the collar. Somehow, fleas and ticks don't like to share petspace on a creature with a collar. So the Husband and Wife installed one of the collars on yours truly, and I didn't complain, even though I'm not crazy about it - But I've worn one my whole life. No biggie.
Little c.c. has avoided a collar most of her life, and is not crazy about making the change. She managed to shed four collars during her first year here. But flea and tick protection is mandatory at this location, and the season has begun, so on it went. She immediately dashed outside, presumably to wiggle out of it and bury it somewhere.
Surprise - she was still wearing it when she returned. It's been four hours now and it's still on her. We'll see how this goes.
Stay tuned :)
Apr. 16, 2002 Tuesday
Spring fever, the humans call it. To me it's just a feeling of adventure; a reminder of my feline ancestry.
The humans clocks have been arbitrarily rearranged (they set them an hour ahead to give the illusion of a longer day), and the warmer weather has made the sunny days very inviting. I stretch out on the deck, with one sleepy eye fixed on the woods, waiting for all the woodland animals to come pay us a visit (they will pretty soon).
The spring fever is not limited to the outdoors. When the Husband and Wife (and c.c.) are out of sight, I chase my bag of catnip around the house with no regard to doing so quietly (I pretend to ignore it when they're around). After winter's cold and wind, the warm breezes do something - I am reverting to my kittenhood. Temporarily, of course. To c.c.'s surprise (and delight), I will even chase her (playfully) around the house. Sometimes I don't care if the Husband and Wife are around. They can join in too if they want :)
So we're pretty active right now, because it's fun. And when the sun goes down and we're ready for serious napping, there are laps awaiting us, and petting that goes with them.
But spring isn't just for cats - get out there and chase something!
And have fun :)
Apr. 22, 2002 Monday
I haven't mentioned the next-door cats in a while. There are five of them, but they are outdoors rarely, and then only when accompanied by one or more humans. There are exceptions, when one will sneak out if one of the kids leaves a door open just a little too long. One time, one of them managed to push out the screen of a window over the front porch, and before long all five of them were sitting out on the porch roof, taking in the view. They only stay out long enough to explore and generally poke around, then they're ready to return to the indoor sanctuary when called.
Yesterday the neighbor lady (a former veterinarian's assistant) brought home another animal - a dog. Not the dog you imagine in your mind when the word "dog" is uttered, but a small and intensely cute puppy, smaller than any of the resident felines. It's some kind of terrier (I don't waste my brain space on doggie data); it's all white and curious like a cat, sniffing around everything (it was exploring its new back yard under my scrutiny). Their back yard is fenced in, so I may be seeing more of him as the weather gets nicer. If I'm any judge of cats (and I am) his roommates will adopt him as one of their own.
I know from experience that dogs end up being larger than cats, but you can judge a dog's potential size by its paws, and this one will not be any kind of challenge. I just hope he's not a barker. But with five quiet cats to train him, he'll probably be okay.
Oh, yeah - his name is Obie. That's gonna be annoying when they start calling him for dinner.
May all your dogs be little ones :)
Apr. 28, 2002 Sunday
First of all, greetings to a new addition to the Opie Project family, a female human with an adult cat and an adult son, both in Southern California. Welcome to our happy madness.
Yesterday was a cat day - a day perfect for napping anywhere the sun hit - the kind of day when quiet and sunshine fit perfectly together.
The Wife had to go to work, and we felines had been fed and had staked out our spots on the windowsills. The Husband decided to heat up a toaster breakfast sandwich (kind of an omelet in a Hot Pocket); he put it in the toaster oven and set it on medium, then went to boot up his computer. He planned a quiet day of backing up a bazillion digiphotos onto cd's. And as he is prone to do, he forgot about the oven.
The toaster oven is quite old, and its built-in thermostat is, to be generous, finicky. It shut off about the same time the smoke alarm went off. The Husband jumped up, figuring his breakfast had been burned to cinder quality. He was mostly correct, except that it was still burning. It was in flames inside the toaster oven.
He pulled open the door to get it out, but the influx of air caused the flames to burst out, so he quickly closed the door. He briefly looked toward the foam fire extinguisher and visualized the mess it would make, so he chose to dampen a couple of paper towels and tossed them onto the breakfast entree, quickly closing the door behind him. It worked, but I don't think the toaster oven is going to be quite the same any more.
The smoke alarm had been blaring the whole time, so c.c and I hastened outdoors. By the time we returned, the Husband had most of the soot cleaned up and the doors and windows open with a big fan blowing on high.
All was quiet again. I went back to my windowsill.
May 4, 2002 Saturday
Greetings to Eliana in Argentina; she sent along pix of her four-footed housemates to be included in the FOO Gallery (that's the Husband's job for today). Welcome to Serena, Tomoya and Hotaru.
And a welcome to a west coast female serving us all in the military, stationed in New England and missing her pooches in California, but she has Michael, LaToya and Tito to keep her company (goldfish - tidier than dogs, but not the same). Welcome!
Spring has arrived with a vengance; brilliantly sunny days, punctuated by cloudbursts and steady rain. The woods are filling out with new growth, and everything is green. Just a few yards from the woods/backyard borderline, down a small embankment, runs a small, gurgling stream (well, in the spring it gurgles), and the new growth creates a low canopy around the trees, giving c.c. and I a cool, shaded spot to enjoy our catnaps and the outdoors at the same time.
Cats are creatures of nature, and we welcome any chance to return to it. Up until dinnertime, that is. Domestication has its perks.
May 10, 2002 Friday
Well, I've still got my collar. Can't say the same for c.c. though. She's home; it's still out in the woods somewhere. It was one of those breakaway kind, safer for a feline that's always getting into things (that's our c.c.), but decreases the longevity of the collar significantly. I think she tied her previous record of four weeks.
The Husband and Wife are checking into alternatives to flea collars. We haven't had fleas for as long as I've been here, and I think they'd like to keep it that way :)
After a coupla false starts, there are lots more summer activities happening now. The rains are steadier and longer, and everything is greener. The Husband was following that lawn mower thing around the yard again, and the shrubbery is filling in around the front steps. And the critters are out and about.
But there's something about the sill of an open window when a steady breeze is blowing - a spot of cat heaven!
Enjoy yours :)
May 16, 2002 Thursday
There's a chipmunk in the house. Technically it's a ground squirrel, which is a chipmunk with a long tail. It was brought in the house by c.c. last week. The Husband played chase games with it for a while, but it didn't want to play; it just wanted to hide. So the Husband opened the sliding glass door to the deck and turned out the lights and turned off the tv and spent a couple hours in the spare bedroom playing on his computer. I joined him, just to stay out of the way. Just before bedtime, he did another search for the critter and concluded that the breeze from the open door had invited him outside.
Heh.
For the next few days I watched the guy scurry around the house, nibbling on my dry food and drinking my water. He would then disappear behind the stove, where a family of mice had set up housekeeping a couple years ago (they were all eventually relocated to the compost heap).
It wasn't until the weekend before the Husband discovered the critter was still around. Once again, attempts to play catch with the little guy were fruitless, so he dusted off the humane trap and baited it with peanut butter (irresistable to chipmunks). So far the visitor has managed to clean out the peanut butter without setting off the trap.
The saga continues. Stay tuned.
May 22, 2002 Wednesday
Catfacts:
It is generally believed that cats are color blind; they are not. They can discern variances in color, although they don't really have a need to. We can differentiate the primary and secondary colors, but anything else becomes colorless, and we see them as intensities of hue, rather than grays. Our eyesight is more attuned to dim light and movement, which we would need to survive in the wild more than we would need color.
And it is generally believed that cats eat grass when their stomachs are upset, which may be true in some instances. But grass also provides folic acid, which felines need and cannot get from strictly meat diets. Apartment cats tend to go after houseplants for that reason. Planting a pot full of grass will keep the felines out of the other plants. And outdoor cats prefer grass to houseplants anyway.
And this is cool; did you know that cats hiss and fold back their ears to imitate snakes, because all predators fear snakes?
Now don't you feel smarter than you did a few minutes ago?
Oh yeah, the chipmunk? ... He's still here.
May 28, 2002 Tuesday
I met the dog next door Sunday. I had seen him briefly from the deck but paid no attention. Dogs are easy to forget about.
But Sunday I was down at ground level, just checking things out, when this little white hairball comes romping over to the fence, just yapping away. I just kinda stared at him, trying to determine his intentions (cats are much more logical beings than dogs; dogs take a bit of observation before realizing that they're just being irrational dogs, worthy of ignoring). So I fixed my gaze on him, while he continued that annoying yapping. I was able to determine the following:
He was smaller than I was.
He was noisy and annoying.
He was not a threat.So after a total non-response from me, his attention span became fixed elsewhere, and he trotted off. I departed aloofly, unworried. After all, he lives with five cats - they'll train him well.
June 5, 2002 Wednesday
They got another one of those people-moving vehicles, and they stand outside and talk about it and look inside it and slam doors and look under the hood and kick the tires. Humans are so weird.
When I'm inside one, I know I'm headed to the vet, so I'm not too crazy about them. But when I'm curled up under a tree or shrub, or on the front step, and I see either the Husband's or Wife's vehicle come down the street, I run to the edge of the driveway to greet it, because it usually means I get fed once they go inside :)
So a coupla days ago I'm lounging on the front steps when the Husband pulls into the driveway in a new vehicle. I wasn't prepared, but I recovered quickly, and ran to greet him as usual, and we went inside and I got fed, as usual. But the vehicle stayed in the driveway. It's still there.
So am I supposed to be recognizing this new vehicle now? The old one's still sitting next to it. And the Wife has one in the garage, and another one in the street.
How many of these things do they need anyway?
June 11, 2002 Tuesday
Remember that chipmunk that moved in and set up residence behind the stove? He's still there. The Husband and Wife put out little bits of dry cat food near the stove to see if they're gone the next morning, and they always are.
But the little rodent himself has gotten coy. He knows when to venture out and when to stay put, so we don't see too much of him any more. But we still hear him. Sometimes I'll sleep at the top of the stairs just off the kitchen at night, and I hear him. He eats my food (closer to the stove than c.c.'s) and drinks my water, than darts back to safety.
Several years ago we had a huge family of mice living in the wall behind the stove (see the petlog for 1999 - especially August), and apparently he's taken over their quarters.
The large quantity of mice were captured one at a time in those little green traps and released in the compost heap. But this guy has outwitted the trap every time. He manages to eat the food without setting it off. The Husband finally gave up on the trap. And because he's so low profile, I don't think they even remember he's around.
But in the middle of the night, if you listen closely, you can still hear him crunching on my food.
June 17, 2002 Tuesday
You remember Sweeper, the feline with the bushy tail. He shows up here periodically in the mornings, looking for a handout. For a while, the Husband thought he was homeless and offered him food, but in the past year there have been telltale signs of human care (most noticeably monthly treatments of a gooey salve called Frontline, a treatment for fleas and ticks, and not cheap), plus he has gotten finicky about the leftovers he's been getting (cat food that we resident felines already rejected). Still, when he shows up, there's usually leftovers saved for him.
Early this spring another visitor began showing up, though not often. He's a big orange tomcat the Husband named Tom (original, huh?). Tom is usually found napping on the deck stairs, though not when Sweeper's around. He runs when the Husband comes out and will stay out of reach until the Husband puts out some food and leaves; then he will cautiously return and gobble it up (though he's never inclined to finish it). He'll show up for a few mornings then disappear for a month or more.
Then there's Bruce Boxturtle (the Husband comes up with these names). He either lives under the shed or under the deck (maybe both), and the Husband saves apple cores and lettuce for him. He's very clandestine; we don't see him for months at a time, but he's so boring we ignore him altogether.
Anything uneaten at sunset goes to the compost heap at the edge of the woods. They don't want to be attracting possums or racoons that close to the house (we did have a possum get in the house once - see the Hall of Fame).
We've gotten used to Tom and Sweeper being out there - as long as they stay out there. And between c.c. and I, they will.
We're not particularly worried about the turtle at this point.
June 23, 2002 Sunday
Things have gotten kinda quiet around here at night. Not that they aren't usually quiet. But I haven't heard the chipmunk's midnight munching on my Cat Chow in several days.
Last week, the Husband saw the chipmunk in the living room near the tv. He silently made his way to the sliding glass door in the dining room that leads out onto the deck and opened it. He then crept back to the living room and outflanked the rodent.
The chipmunk bolted in the direction of the open door, but taking the route directly underneath the love seat, a drop-leaf table and the dining room table. By the time the Husband reached the dining room, there was no sign of the critter. He checked under the love seat and found nothing.
It's been my experience that any avenue that leads to daylight is the route of choice for the wild woodsy critters, so it shoulda been a reasonable assumption that he was safely in the woods by now. Except that once before he was chased toward the open front door and chose to bypass it, heading for the downstairs instead. So the Husband and Wife decided they would wait and see if he turns up again. But I already know.
It's a lot quieter around here at night.
June 29, 2002 Saturday
The days are now getting shorter, daylightwise, but they're not getting any cooler. Being a cat, I nap. But I'm torn between being a creature of the wild and napping in some shady underbrush, or being (by choice) a domesticated pet and napping on a comfy couch in an air-conditioned house.
I usually begin the early morning with the former, and enjoy the latter by mid-afternoon. Of course c.c., the poster-cat for hyperactivity, joins me outdoors in the morning, but she wants to play. If it's a nice day and it's really early and there are no humans watching, maybe. But usually I just ignore her. She sees the neighbor's cats occasionally who venture into the woods behind their own house and seeks then out. There's been no hissing/spitting encounters yet, just quiet observations from a distance.
If it gets hot enough (and this week it did just that), c.c. will join me in the air conditioning for some afternoon napping. And she naps as hard as she plays - she'll sleep through a hurricane if she puts her mind to it. She curls up next to me and lets me be the alert napper - if I hear something and sit up, it'll alert her as well. If I don't, I'm a comfy pillow.
I've noticed the Husband has been napping a lot on the couch lately too. He's finally getting the knack of our system :)
Enjoy the nice weather, don't play too hard, and when in doubt, nap!
Meow.
July 5, 2002 Friday
Ancient Egypt. If you were a cat there, you had it made. Those Egyptians had huge fields and huge storehouses of grain. And mice. They had lots of mice. And one day, an Egyptian named Moe (you can check me on that) noticed a bunch of cats just hangin' out at the grainery and pickin' off mice with ease. And from that day on, cats were given God status. Cats were cherished and appreciated. Humans who killed cats were themselves put to death. If a cat died naturally, it was mourned with the same rituals afforded any family member. They were mummified and buried in huge cat cemeteries.
Just for catching mice. Heh, we would've done that anyway. But those Egyptian folks knew how to say thanks.
There was a cat goddess named Bastette. She had a temple in the city of Bast and an annual religious festival in honor of the feline.
The cat was so honored that the rich throughout the civilized world had to have one, but it was expressly forbidden in Egypt to sell, give or otherwise pass off a cat to an "outsider." So a black market in cats sprung up. The Phoenician gypsy merchants, who were credited with spreading a written language throughout the civilized world, are also credited with spreading cats around the civilized world as beloved housepets.
Kinda makes a cat proud - just thought you'd like to know.
July 14, 2002 Sunday
c.c. impressions
I'm filling in for Opie today, who is recovering from a wounded foot.
Yeah, right. He's milking it for all he's worth, just because he had to go to the Vet last week. Every day, the Husband and Wife (it takes both of them) give him a pill and a pat on the head. Then he lays around all day. Like that's an imposition.
He's been confined to the indoors to keep outdoor dirt from getting into his wound. So how does he stay confined while I'm free to come and go? It ain't easy, but I manage.
Our cat door is a plastic device that can be configured for in only, out only, both and neither. The Husband and Wife have it set for In Only, which means if I'm out, I can easily come back in, but Opie can't go out. But therefore, neither can I. Theoretically. In order for this arrangement to work, the cat door has to close completely. But I've discovered that if I enter slowly, the door doesn't completely close behind me. Then when I need to go out, I can hook my paw under the door and pull it inward until I can get my nose under it and make my escape.
Opie hasn't caught on to this. But then, I don't think he cares either.
July 20, 2002 Saturday
Both the Husband and Wife are working longer hours this time of year. They're tired when they get home, and they don't say much - they sit in front of the tv and fall asleep. Which is kinda what I do year 'round anyway :)
Last night we had a very loud thunderstorm. We don't like them - they're very disruptive to our catnapping. So we curl up next to the Husband (one on each side), and every time the thunder claps, the Husband pats us on the head and mumbles reassurances. At one point the lights went out, but we never flinched. As long as we get rubbed behind the ears, all is well.
Of course that means everything will be wet this morning, right after my return to the morning patrols (the foot has healed well, thank you - no more limp - just an ugly scab that's flaking away daily). I've ventured out with c.c. for the last few days, but we don't stay long, because it's really been HOT! I usually find a shady patch of grass and keep an eye on the noisy one 'til she's had enough, then we both venture indoors to the couch.
The one nearest the air conditioning vent .
Be cool.
July 24, 2002 Wednesday
It was a typical Monday morning - c.c. and I had just had breakfast. She immediately headed back outside, while I lounged around as the Husband and Wife got ready to leave for the day.
Suddenly a small but rapid ball of fur came darting from the living room into the dining room. It was the chipmunk - I thought he was gone. The Wife also noticed it and went to inform the Husband. I saw him dart behind a corner cupboard , so I parked myself at the only exit and waited.
The Husband soon appeared and noticed my vigil. He peeked behind the cupboard and verified the presence of a chipmunk. He was between the cupboard and the outside wall. On that wall was the sliding glass door that leads out to the deck. The Husband retrieved my scratching post and laid it on its side, the top against the cupboard, the base against the glass door. He draped a throw rug over it to seal any escape routes and opened the door. Now when the chipmunk came out, his only path was to the great outdoors.
So now the chipmunk had to be persuaded to come out. The first step was sending me to a neutral corner. I obliged. Then the Husband fed a broom handle back behind the cupboard to tap on the far wall. He never got to the tapping part - the chipmunk dashed out, but stopped at the throw rug barrier. He wasn't aware that the door beside him was open. But he soon figured it out. He was across the deck and into the tree without slowing down.
That couldn't be the same chipmunk we assumed had escaped last month - c.c. must've snuck one in the night before. At least we all saw this one leave :)
Ain't rodents fun?
July 30, 2002 Tuesday
Just when I think c.c. is beginning to be an adult cat (there was evidence of it this week when the temperatures rose considerably, and c.c. actually chose to nap in the air conditioning, instead of chasing critters around the woods), she goes and proves me wrong. I don't think she'll ever qualify as a full-grown feline, based on her display of energy.
Case in point: Anything out of place will automatically get a cat's attention. The "adult" cat will sniff at it, determine to what degree it is a threat, then leave it alone. Somehow last week, the Wife's hand mirror (one of those oval mirrors with a long handle, for use by critters with opposable thumbs) ended up flat on the dining room floor, facing up, next to the table. I sniffed at it, determined it to be benign, and walked away.
Shortly thereafter, c.c. approached it and did a slight jump when her reflection looked back at her. Now she's seen lots of mirrors around here and totally ignored them. But they were all vertical mirrors on walls; this one was horizontal on the floor. She walked all around it, peering down into it from all sides.
Her bell ball (a cat toy with a bell inside) was nearby, and she chose to bat it across the mirror. She did this several times, to observe the reflection zipping by in the mirror. She was fascinated by that.
Apparently so were the Husband and Wife - they left the mirror lying on the floor for a coupla days, just to watch c.c. bat the ball over it.
I think I'm the only adult around here sometimes.
Aug. 11, 2002 Sunday
The Husband did an overnight vanishing act again, but at least this time he returned with the Wife (who had been missing for over a week).
They also brought home two carloads of stuff, which meant several trips back and forth from vehicle to house before I got fed. The Wife had been at the shore with her sisters for a week, which left the Husband and I to carry on numerous non-verbal communications (which we're quite good at).
It was another bright sunny day, which is very distracting to young c.c., so she didn't notice that the Husband and Wife were both home until much later, when she came prancing in meowing louding, either in anger that she had been left alone, or to announce her pleasure in seeing them home. Or both.
But now they're both home and things are back to normal. Except that the Wife spent Saturday watching home improvment shows (featuring lots of power tools), while the Husband hand-sewed buttons back onto several of his shirts.
Almost normal. Good enough.
Aug. 17, 2002 Saturday
The Husband and Wife do a lot of internet shopping, so there's always packages arriving. Once the contents are removed and placed safely out of the reach of claws, the Spouses generously (but temporarily) leave the boxes on the floor for our enjoyment.
I prefer the ones left on their side that are just deep enough to hold my larger-than-average size - I could sleep on that cushiony cardboard all day (and sometimes do).
c.c. has no preference - she'll crawl in and out of every conceivable piece of packaging, then drag or push it to a new location and begin the process all over again.
This week c.c. discovered bubble wrap. She rolled around on it incessantly. She try to burrow beneath it, but it was too light and just moved away as she tried to push her way under. As a result, she ended up pushing it all over the house. This went on for almost an hour, but she finally tired of it and went outside. The Wife scooped it up, stuffed it in the box it came in, and set it down by the door to the garage to be added to the recycling materials.
Later that night, when the Husband and Wife were watching tv (and I was getting in some lap time), c.c. came up the stairs into the living room, pulling the large sheet of bubble wrap with her, dropped it out in front of the tv and proceeded to roll about on it.
They let her get that out of her system again, then they hid it (fearing at some point she might try to eat it).
But they did save it for c.c.'s future enjoyment :)
Aug. 23, 2002 Friday
The Husband and Wife have been at a place called Pittsburgh this week, attending the funeral of the Wife's uncle (the Wife has been there most of the week; the Husband went out Tuesday night and returned Wednesday night).
The uncle was a special person to the Wife, and he was a cat person. He and his cat (a 17-year-old Siamese named Ebeneezer) shared a home in the suburbs, and they were two of a kind.
But for the past week, Ebeneezer has been alone in that house, wondering where his life-long housemate has gone. A neighbor lady has been feeding him all that time, but he still spends most of his days alone. The Wife was worried that no one would want a cat that old, and she was prepared to bring him home to live out his days with us. I, being an old neutered male, would not be greatly concerned with the prospect, as long as he kept his distance. But c.c. is a young female (very territorial), and would not welcome the addition of another feline, and poor Ebeneezer (who was used to the sole attention of a single human) would have to contend with new surrounding and a hostile roommate.
As it turned out, the neighbor lady had gotten to know Ebeneezer well over the years, and she asked if she could keep him.
So Ebeneezer is spared the c.c. encounter, and he can readjust with a human he's familiar with. But he's still lost his best friend, and felines mourn the loss of human companionship just as humans do. Best wishes Ebeneezer.
Aug. 30, 2002 Friday
Yesterday it rained. It poured. We haven't had significant rain in forever. And this was heavy-duty - certainly not weather to be braved by any self-respecting cat.
Of course when it's your bathroom that's being rained on, and you hafta go, exceptions are considered. Both c.c. and I waited by the door until the Husband opened it for us, and then we waited some more for him to stop the rain. But he just gave us a typical quizzical human look and closed the door again.
The rain did let up briefly for a while, and the Husband returned to open the door once more. I ventured out into the small, sheltered area just outside the door and surveyed the situation. I concluded that the raindrops were sufficiently far apart to make a run for the bushes. I don't know what c.c. concluded, but she was right behind.
I finished my business and quickly returned to the sheltered spot by the front door. c.c. was already headed back to the woods.
The Husband once again opened the front door, just as the rain resumed in earnest. c.c. had apparently found some small but inadequate bit of shelter in the woods, and a bit later was seen tearing across the back yard for the cat door. She was greeted by the Wife with an old towel and patted down before she got much further.
We happily spent the rest of the day catnapping. Indoors.
Sept. 5, 2002 Thursday
Firstly, greetings to a former Opie Project visitor from California who is now an Opie Project visitor from Australia. We're the same Down Under, just 17 hours different. Drive carefully :)
The Husband and the Wife left Monday morning with one of the little people they call a nephew. They returned with a very large box that they left in the middle of the living room. It was a matter of some curiosity, so I assumed it was for me.
I sniffed around the outside a bit, then tried to find my way in. There was a loose flap on the top, and I was able to get my head inside and sniff. But I was immediately removed and placed on the couch with the pointy-finger gesture that means stay.
The father of the visiting nephew had arrived by then, and he and the Husband managed to lift the contents from the box. I recognized it immediately. It was a television. But they already have a television in the living room. I wondered if they realized that.
Then the Husband began measuring the existing tv and comparing it to the new tv. He seemed to be considering putting the new tv where the current tv is (I already knew it wasn't gonna fit). He eventually reached the same conclusion, but thanks to measuring devices, he now knew by how much it wouldn't fit.
So he left it in the middle of the living room. I'm assuming this is a temporary arrangement.
I'll let you know.
Sept. 11, 2002 Wednesday
Firstly, greetings to Gabriel and Rosie, an odd couple in Tennessee, and the latest additions to the FOO Gallery (Gabriel is the cat, Rosie is the parrot). Welcome guys!
A domesticated cat will learn to accept a bird (or a mouse) because they have learned to accept another odd relationship, that with humans. Humans offer cats security, and therefore survival of their species. It all comes down to Nature's basic law - survival of the fittest.
Practically everything in Nature is prey to something else, except humans. Humans have no natural predators. To make up for that, they prey on each other. They created "hate" - a behavior that doesn't exist in Nature - it is peculiar to humans. And they refined it to an art form. They form "hate groups," and prey on other humans that are not like them. But hate defies Nature's laws - it does nothing to perpetuate survival of the species, and is more often detrimental.
Today humans are reflecting on the particular actions of the hate predators that occurred on this calendar date last year, and vowing that they will survive and the predators will not. Some have referred to the predators as animals.
And, as we know, animals are better than that.
Sept. 17, 2002 Tuesday
My backyard is becoming the United Nations of Cats. Practically every cat in the neighborhood shows up there eventually (more than I realized). There is Sweeper, the declawed black 'n white longhair, who comes around looking for a handout every so often. And there is Tom, a non-neutered male, who is a bit more shy than Sweeper, and he too shows up occasionally around breakfast time
And if one of the neighbor's five cats (who only get out occasionally) should fail to return home before lights out, he too can be found lounging on the deck stairs in the morning. There is also an all-white feline that appears at the edge of the woods occasionally, but never ventures far into the yard.
And recently a charcoal gray cat has been seen by the stairs. He's new and not shy; he stares at me with curiosity if I venture out through the cat door, but makes no aggressive or defensive moves. Then he bolts back to the woods if he hears a human opening the back door.
These felines only appear one at a time. They must have a mutual agreement - the first to arrive has squatter's rights; the rest have to come back another time.
I ignore all of them and go out the front door in the mornings. They're gone when I'm ready to come back in. A suitable arrangement.
Sept. 29, 2002 Sunday
It's the end of the month and I don't care. I don't use calendars, remember.
I can tell the seasons are changing; it's in the air. Instinct tells me things are gonna cool off pretty soon. The critters know that too. They're storing stuff away. Which means they're active. Which means they're easier to spot. Which means I was out in the wee hours yesterday morning, proving my skills have not diminished with age. I returned with a rodent at 3:45 a.m.and delivered it to the humans while they slept.
They were so thrilled they got up and turned on the lights, just to see it. Of course it had scurried into the room across the hall and disappeared behind something. Normally, they would begin moving things around to find it and chase it for a while, but they just turned out the lights and went back to bed.
They're not as much fun as they used to be.
Oct. 5, 2002 Saturday
Squirrels. Rodents; first cousins to mice. This time of year, when things cool off considerably, you can see them everywhere, gathering lunchables for the winter. An ideal time to catch them off guard, right?
Those guys are never off guard.
I used sit up on the deck and watch a dozen or more combing the woods' edge for their particular brand of crunchies, and every so often I would spot an inattentive one, digging furiously and not once looking up. So I would creep catlike (how else?) down the stairs and stealthily across the yard. The other squirrels would spot me and dart away, but the digger was still not looking up. I stopped within charging range and froze. Still he wasn't looking up.
Then one of his buddies would chirp an alarm. Where's the fairness in that? So I charged, and just as I was about to descend on his neck to carry him home, he was gone. I was that close, so a pursuit followed.
Note: In a cat/squirrel pursuit, the squirrel always wins. But the cat always tries.
Hey, I'm not a kitten any more. But I did catch one once, so I guess I made my point.
Oct. 11, 2002 Friday
Today is the Husband and Wife's anniversary. Eighteen years (126 cat years). They bought themselves a new tv and they watch it. That's a gift that's either self-fulfilling or self-defeating - I haven't figured out which.
The Wife has been working late every night this week, so we've been keeping the Husband company while he watches the anniversary present. By himself. We're dedicated cats. We also don't like the rain or the sudden drop in temperatures, which makes a warm human in a dry house all that much more appealing.
If my internal clock is correct (and if it's not, who cares), the leaves should have been changing colors by now. But they aren't. The Wife says they're just going to turn brown and drop off. No flashy colors because of the drought. Instant winter.
It is cold and damp out. At least the colors would have helped to make the transition to winter a bit more bearable.
Cats are not completely color blind. A myth. We can discern vibrant fall colors.
And that stuff about one cat year equaling seven human years? Another myth. The first year of a cat's life is equal to 21 human years. A cat becomes full grown in its first year. Each successive year is equivalent to four human years. We are here to inform.
I hope there are colorful leaves where you are.
Oct. 18, 2002 Friday
The Husband and the Wife disappeared for several days last week (they're back now), and there was a nice lady who filled in at feeding time, but only once a day (there was lots of dry food and water left by the Husband and Wife before they went). The problem is that there's nobody to complain to if we don't happen to approve of the day's menu, so we kinda have to eat what we're given. That's not very cat-like.
When c.c. first arrived, still very kittenish, she hadn't quite learned finickiness. She would eat anything, then go out and romp in the woods. I doubt she ever realized when the Husband and Wife were extendly absent. But this time she did. It took a coupla days for her to realize that they weren't around, but once she did, the complaining began. Loud and long. And it was directed at me and she wouldn't let me out of her sight.
Finally, the Husband and Wife did return, and they received the brunt of her attention. She would follow them around, meowing loudly. When they sat, she sat nearby. When they got up, she objected. Loudly. She cut back her outdoor hours to spend more time indoors so they couldn't sneak out on her again.
Since then she has received food on demand and affection from both humans, and she has quieted down somewhat. After one night with all four of us in the same bed, I think things are slowly getting back to normal.
But c.c. is still keeping an eye on them.
Oct. 24, 2002 Thursday
Greetings to 140 lbs. of dog (and his caregiver of undetermined weight) looking in from New York. Welcome to the Worldwide Opie Project, guys.
At eleven years old, I'm no kitten any more. I'm constantly reminded of that by three-year-old c.c., who just recently brought home a bird. I can't even find the energy to sneak up on a snail. So I have happily turned over the Opie Project duties to c.c. (who had pretty much taken them over anyway). At least for now.
Stairs have become annoying as well. The Husband and Wife, for whatever reason, have chosen to live in a house that has its main floor on the second floor, meaning going out and coming in involves stairs. That never used to bother me; I used to fly up and down those things. Now it's a thirteen-part exercise routine.
And the cold weather has arrived. I always figured that was why I had a fur coat. But a fur coat does nothing for aching joints. So while I still enjoy the outdoors, the duration of my visits has decreased significantly.
I'm certainly not ready for retirement, but I'm ready to start thinking about how I'll be spending my leisure years.
Which I guess explains why the house is full of padded furniture.
Oct. 30, 2002 Wednesday
Tomorrow is Halloween - a strange occasion to celebrate, but humans will celebrate anything.
Halloween is particularly unwelcomed by felines. Cats were persecuted because they were thought to be in league with the devil. Who wants all that nonsense dredged up and celebrated?
And then there's all those funny little ugly people that show up at our door demanding treats (which the Husband and Wife yield to unflinchingly). I always wondered what power they hold over them. I watch from a distance in fascination.
Sometimes these weird creatures are the nieces and nephews in disguise, and I'll come out to greet them, 'cause they're always so thrilled to see me. Still, I have to see their eyes before I get too close, though.
But then it's over and they all go away, and things get back to normal.
At least that's the way it's always worked up until now. Still, I will be observing from behind a chair.
Treats to all.
Nov. 11, 2002 Monday
Cats have natural built-in clocks (unlike humans, who have to wear their clocks on their wrists), so as the cold weather approaches, we put on weight, and our coats grow thicker. It all happens naturally. But seasonal changes in the humans' lives have to be attended to manually. Which is why I spent the weekend lounging on the front steps, watching the Husband get his old cars ready for winter (changing oil and antifreeze).
He struggled with frozen drain plugs and foul liquids, and generally enjoyed himself. I sought shade in the bushes.
So if the cold weather is coming, why was it hot all weekend? It was sunny and bright, which is no fun with extra layers of fur and fat. Even the shade of the bushes didn't help much. Of course when young and frisky li'l c.c. puts on a layer of fat 'n fur, it's not obvious. Even to c.c. She continued her all-weather frolicking, making half-hearted attempts at squirrel-chasing (she's learned that she'll never catch one).
So c.c. charged around all day Saturday in the warm sun with no adverse affects, while I didn't stray too far from the steps. The Husband spent most of Saturday under those two cars, ending up filthy, and with a back strain. He spent Sunday limping around the house.
He just shoulda been glad he wasn't afflicted with extra fat 'n fur.
Keep cool.
Nov. 17, 2002 Sunday
It's been raining for two days. Not a heavy rain, just an annoying rain.
And it's kept c.c. and me indoors together. Not an ideal situation. Being considerably younger than myself, c.c. doesn't like being confined indoors - she wants to be out running around, climbing trees and generally chasing anything that moves. So when it rains, she's constantly complaining to the Husband and Wife to make it stop. Failing in that, she complains to me. I ignore her.
Yesterday she decided she would get her exercise indoors. Which consisted primarily of annoying me. I ignored her for as long as possible, but when she came tearing out of the front bedroom, down the hall, bounding over the love seat and coming to rest while standing over me while I was seriously napping, it was payback time.
So you wanna play, kid?
We batted each other in the head furiously until she took off. Normally, that would be the end of it, but I pursued her back into the bedroom, around the bed and back into the living room. She curled up under the chessboard, laying on her side with one paw raised - a gesture of surrender. So I honorably walked away. Heh.
As soon as her back was turned, I attacked. We wrestled around briefly, then she was off down the stairs, I in pursuit. We were back upstairs quickly, and again we yielded hostilities. I returned to my spot on the couch, and she remained under the chess board, but with one eye fixed on me.
Everything was quiet for the rest of the evening. We'd gotten our exercise.
Nov. 23, 2002 Saturday
We felines have pretty accurate internal clocks. We know when timely changes occur, and this week is marking the transistion into the colder months. We know that when we can see the sky where the leaves used to be, and we can't see the ground because of where the leaves are now, that it's going to get colder.
It hasn't gotten much colder yet, but we've had hints of it with cold rain and cold winds, and we know that our days of curling up in the bushes or sunning ourselves on the front steps are just about over.
However, c.c.'s clock is running slightly behind mine.We both head outside each morning after breakfast and explore the edge of the woods. But she's confused when I head back inside earlier than usual . When she realizes I'm not coming back out, she comes in to find me. I've staked out a spot in the living room in front of the heat vent. The sun outside the big living room window warms the carpet there, and it's a great spot during the cold winter days that I know are coming.
Now c.c. knows that I am the surrogate parent, the head feline, the master to learn from, so even though she's still attracted by the call of the woods, she feels obligated to join me when I come back inside to sun myself on the living room floor. She curls up a few feet away, waiting patiently to understand what it's all about.
And she will, eventually. Because she's a cool kid.
Nov. 30, 2002 Saturday
It's cold out. Nasty cold! That's a sign that the tree season is coming,. When it starts to get really cold, the Husband and Wife bring a tree into the living room to keep it warm. They hang things on it to keep it happy. They haven't done that yet, but I know it's getting close because just before that event, the Husband climbs up on a ladder and practices by hanging things on the house, and he's been doing that recently.
Also, we've begun to get people food on a regular basis, and that's another precursor of the tree season. They call it "leftovers." Tastes like turkey to me.
Another sign that the tree season is near is that the Husband drags out these long strings of colorful little lights and curses at the ones that don't work. He's been doing that recently too.
But the biggest indicator is the Wife. The day after we get the "leftovers," she disappears all day long for three straight days, returning home nightly with boxes and bags of goodies that she displays proudly to the Husband, describing each one, and who she got it for.
I haven't figured out what that has to do with the tree.
But the really nice part of the tree season is that everyone seems happy while the tree is around, and I usually find a cozy spot underneath it while it's there.
I don't understand it, but I don't complain either.
Dec. 6, 2002 Friday
Snow.
It was a bit early this year, arriving before the Husband and Wife had a chance to bring a tree indoors (the snow usually shows up well after that event has passed).
Snow is for the young of all species. I used to like it. Now it's just an annoyance. Moreso since I do my business outdoors. Just imagine trying to use your bathroom when it's filled with snow up to your butt.
But c.c. still enjoys it. She apparently doesn't mind cold, wet feet and really cold air on the inside of her lungs. She would busily burrow into the stuff, then suddenly burst out, look around, shake off the flakes and burrow again, playfully romping through it up to her neck.. At first I thought she had found a critter under there, but she didn't need any critters to amuse herself.
The Husband was out playing in it also (although he hasn't qualified as the young of any species in quite some time), and c.c. would follow along in the impressions he'd made with his feet. He picked up piles of the stuff off the driveway with a shovel and threw it first to one side, then the other - c.c. would chase the small clumps that flew from the shovel (although not too well, since she could only travel about four feet before becoming bogged down). They kept this up until they ran out of snow on the driveway. I watched from the relative warmth and dryness of the garage.
By then they'd had enough fun and they came in the house and collapsed on the couch for a deep catnap.
For that part I joined in .
Dec. 12, 2002 Thursday
Welcome to Tikka, our newest addition to the FOO Gallery!
That tree I've been expecting has arrived. It's taking up a goodly amount of the living room. The Wife usually spends a day or two hanging colorful decorations on it, but it's been here for five days already and so far it is unadorned.
There are plently of the colorful little decorations all over the house, but none on the tree. I'm pretty sure that the tree is supposed to be decorated too.
Maybe the snow has something to do with it. There's been snow on the ground for a week, which has really hampered our outdoor activities. There's a dry patch of ground under the deck (where the cat door is), but we can't venture very far beyond that without getting bogged down in cold and wet. So c.c. and I manage to keep each other amused during our relative confinement. Mostly, we just chase each other all over the house, but sometimes c.c. will ambush me when she thinks I'm not paying attention. And sometimes I'll ambush her when I know she's not paying attention (she let's out a really surprised yelp when I'm most successful) - she doesn't expect an old feline like me to be that cunning. She keeps me young :)
Just like I knew the tree was coming, and I know the snow will be going, I know there will be lights and glitter all over the tree soon (the Wife was studying it carefully last night). In the meantime, c.c. and I have a tradition of taking turns napping under the tree, and so far we're right on schedule.
Happy holidays.
Dec. 19, 2002 Thursday
There's been a mouse in our kitchen for about a month or so; both c.c. and I have taken turns staking out the space between the stove and the cabinet. We would periodically see movement, then nothing for hours.
As it happens, when it was c.c.'s watch, the little critter ventured out. At first, c.c. didn't move a muscle, then suddenly it was in her mouth. Gently, of course, as she learned from me. Of course this didn't happen quietly, as c.c. overturned her water dish in the process. That, in turn, attracted the attention of the Husband and Wife, who had been zoning out in front of the tv.
Now c.c. is not like me. When I catch a rodent, I immediately bring it to the Husband and/or Wife in exchange for praise and stroked fur. But when c.c. claims her prize, she ain't giving it up for anybody. So when the overturned water dish brought the Husband into the kitchen, c.c., presuming the Husband was after her catch of the day, took her departure, mouse in mouth. So the Husband and c.c. went charging down the stairs to her private exit, and since the Husband couldn't fit through the cat door, some time was lost while he unlocked the back door to get outside.
It was quite dark out, and it took the Husband some time to locate c.c., but he eventually found her herding the critter in the center of the back yard. He grabbed c.c. and carried her back toward the house (she didn't want to go, naturally), while the rodent was observed making tracks toward the Hundredth Acre Wood.
Once back inside, c.c. was not content to stay put, and made a fast return to the outdoors, but the critter was long gone, and she returned to see if the Husband had brought it back inside also. He hadn't, of course.
So everybody settled back into their previously quiet evening.
I wonder if anybody knows there's still another mouse behind the stove?
Dec. 25, 2002 Wednesday
It's just after midnight on Christmas morning, a very important day for the calendar-dependent humans. I think it's supposed to be some sort of religious holiday, but it's hard to tell sometimes. It is recognized by Christians and Retailers, two vastly diverse groups.
The Husband and Wife spent a lot of time over the last few days covering boxes with colorful paper. Later this morning they will rip all the paper off the boxes and thank each other. I just love 'em; I don't have to understand them.
They will wad up bits of paper and convince c.c. to chase them around the room. I'll observe from my spot on the back of the chair.
The Husband and Wife have both been stressed over this coming holiday, but they always seem quite happy when the actual day arrives. And of course that makes us happy too. They laugh, we purr.
They give us gifts too. Not that we don't appreciate them, but how many balls, catnip mice and wiggly toys are we expected to play with. But we show our appreciation and play with them briefly before ignoring them forever.
We also hear from a lot of felines around the world by way of this website at this time of year. Many thanks and seasons greeting to all who visit here. We hope you had a good time and are surrounded by smiling humans that make you purr too.
Happy Holidays to all living things.
Dec. 31, 2002 Tuesday
The final day of the calendar year - and we all know that calendars are a strictly human frailty - but it does have one significant factor. It marks the end of the fifth year of the Opie Project, which was conceived on January 1, 1998, as an idea of both the Husband and Wife, who had just discovered the Internet months before and wanted to be a part of it. For years, I had been regularly capturing guests from the outdoors to bring them in and show them around the house. The Husband began keeping a record of my captures to turn into a website, and the rest is history. Pretty dull history, so we decided to add commentary, each in his own style, and digital photography was added in the third year.
When we started, modem speeds were 14.4 - 28 Kbs, so the pages were very simple and uncomplicated. But over the years things have speeded up, allowing for more inventive layouts. The Opie Project actually went online in June, and each June we try to upgrade the site to some degree, to keep it growing. This coming year we're planning to change our web hosting to acquire more space and features, with more interactive pages, possibly with video. But that's still in the planning stages at this point.
We hope you've found it all curious and entertaining to a small degree, and will visit again in 2003.
Happy New Year!