Category: Cats (page 1 of 2)

Mockingbird, Mockingbird

Yesterday evening I went outside to see what there was to see. The temperature had gone down and it was rather lovely in the backyard. Our outdoor cats followed me from the front steps to the side and backyard.

I sat on the picnic table and noticed a pair of Norther Mockingbirds actively doing something. For awhile they would fly to the back of the fence, sit there, fly to the front of the fence, near where I was, chirp, fly to the roof of the house next door, back to my fence, to that tree, to another tree, to the fence, flying to the ground here and there to peck, on and on. Early on the one Mockingbird was holding something in it’s beak, grub like. Fat. Didn’t keep it from chirping away, it was funny watching it, never eating it, never dropping it, never going into a tree to a nest to feed young, just flying around with it.

My children streamed out eventually and I was sharing my watchings with my daughter mostly. We dubbed the grub Mockingbird the female, and the other one the Male. The male Mockingbird would root around on the ground and find something small, fly around with it, then go over that routine again and again, seemingly he lost it, or ate it, as he was never out of full view, never went to a nest.

After a bit it was obvious that they wanted something to change. We were sitting there, many feet away from where ever their desire was. Eventually though, the male Mockingbird lived up to his name and started chastising a cat nearby. Chatter, scolding, then every so oven, swooping down … fly by’s, really close. Really close.

Different cats were around, and they mostly all got into the fun. (well, not fun, more for us that them) One cat was happy to partake in the affair. Spooky, the cat that showed up last year, tried to make him a house cat. He’s so cool, calm, big, handsome, truly a panther at heart. House living wasn’t his thing, so we let him back out to his preference. So he would sit over where the Mockingbird was patrolling, get the Mockingbird really upset. Time and again it’d swoop down, nipping the cat on the tail, back, etc.

Sometimes the cat, in fine form, would spring up swipe a paw at the bird, always catching just air. Most of the time he was cool and collected. His swiping moves, were more of the same.

He was under some old dead brush for awhile, depending on where in that stuff he was, he got Mockingbird attention or not. Other cats walked around and got the Mockingbird overexited and when they got the fly-by’s they ran for the hills. Only Spooky stayed firm.

It’s a mystery if he ever catches any. Somebody does, every once in a while. We have a great mass of Mockingbirds here. I don’t want our cats to eat them all, a few is ok, I’ve learned to live with it.

They get mice and rats too. THAT is awesome. So some Mockingbird fun. Just that, fun, training. Enjoyable to the audience.

In Honor of Our Dear Princess Sonia

Our beautiful 16-year old cat Princess Sonia just died. She’d become lighter in weight this last year as well as older looking. Yesterday I felt bad for her when I saw her and realize she wasn’t doing good, but she did rally quite a bit and looked like she might just be dehydrated … but that was only the rally before death. This morning she had eaten and drank water, my 10-year old daughter said, then later she checked up on her and found her not able to move, and from there it all when downhill until finally around 1pm she started having difficulty breathing in a different sort of way from before and slowed down from there and was dead around 1:10pm to 1:15pm.

She wasn’t conscious much since my daughter brought her to me later this morning. But we did have some eye connecting moments, and some purring here and there as she and we waited for the last to come.

She was my dear kitty. In 1992 we saw a litter of about 4-week old kittens near our apartment in S. Florida. She was part of that litter that had been born of a mother cat under the pool deck of our neighbors. No one could catch those kittens, so wild, until finally in March 1993 this cute bi-color black and white girl kitten was caught by someone else and we said we’d take her.

We got her inside and after some days she calmed down and became our 3rd cat. Bleu and Samantha were 1 & 2 cats. Bubba being what we called Bleu a lot, was about 4, and Sammy as we called Samantha a lot, was a kitten born in April 1992. I got her as a wild little thing who took to me like nothing ever before or since. Bubba I had since he was born in our house from a stray I picked up who just happened to have a litter of kittens 9 weeks later, and he was a big blue gray kitten, first born. He was mine from that instant.

I love all cats and these three were our cats for the first several years of our marriage. We were married in August of 1992, and Bubba and Sammy came to live with us right away, from where I lived with them, my parents house, they were mine though.

Princess was added then in 1993 and they all loved each other, and me them.

We had a baby finally in April 1996 and then in November of that year we all moved to the Atlanta area, me with the two girls Sammy & Princess in the back seat of my Honda Civic, and the baby there too, and Bleu was with Frank in the moving van.

We lived in an apartment for a year, then moved into this house and those three cats were happy here. Then we had another baby, but had added a 4th cat to the mix while I was pregnant, Cinnamon, who was nearly 2-years old, and was very high strung and didn’t last for long, dying at 7 years of age (that was awful for me) … when our second baby was about 18 months old we went out and when we came back found the back door not closed all the way, and Bubba was gone. Never saw him again. Then we had another baby and after a time added Strider and Dixie, 7-month old kitties. Later we added Scarlet as a 3-month old kitten. Then I was pregnant again, but lost the baby, and my Sammy also died. So we added two blue kittens that we found later, and they are Blueberry Bear and Bluebell Spitfire. Last year or so we found a kitten running in our yard that didn’t seem to belong to anyone and brought here in and she stayed, she is Clementine.

So we had 7 cats for awhile, if you have done the math. Now we have 6 again. Our eldest cat lived for 16+ with us, and was nearly just about 16-1/2 year old, with 15 of those years spritely and the last year or so declining. I was happy she lived as long as she did and so greived that she has gone on already. I really thought yesterday she might die then, but she didn’t and seemed alive enough, but old and declining. Good news this morning from my daughter, but then, it happened and we won’t ever have that beautiful tuxedo cat rubbing our legs like only she could do. Her distinctive meow, her majestic aura. She loved to play with the rings of plastic that come off a gallon bottle of water or milk. You could chirp to her to get her attention, and pretend to throw them into the air a few times, and she’d track and track until you’d let go and she’d jump sky high to get them. She’s play on the floor with them, put them on the rails of the bottoms of the kitchen chairs and … I could go on and on, she was so playful as a kitten and kept up with it long into adulthood. She didn’t play as much these last few years, but she did play atimes. We had 6 other much younger cats this whole time, so we didn’t try to get her to play as much as we should have probably.

Well, she’s gone now and that’s something that we have to deal with and move on. We’ll bury here in the back yard by my Sammy, and I’ll put wild flower seed there to grow over them.

My dear Princess Sonia is gone and my children are missing her as much as I am. It’s a sad day, this Mother’s Day. My dear friend of 16 years is gone.

See her photos on my Flickr account: Princess Sonia (Set). I only have four there now, I’ll be finding all my digitals and putting the best of her up soon, and then from my film collection once I get a scanner again (I don’t currently have one.)

Orlando Fl and Epcot

We got home late last night from Florida — after midnight, actually, which is “technically” today.

DH had business there (wed, fri, sat,) and we also took a day, Thursday, to go to a Disney park, Epcot — first time for the whole family. DH and I have both been there together a few times, and I have been there a couple or more times before meeting him (in fact I was there the first day it opened, an accident really, being there with an [singing] ensamble from HS, traveling for something else, we all just “went” there that night, and it was a suprise to us, it was the FIRST opening day.)

I’ve loved Epcot and have many fond memories from being there through the years. The last time my hubby and I were there before this recent time was in Nov. 1995, when I was 3-4 months along with my first baby. So it was longer than 11 years since we were there. Many changes indeed.

The children, being 10, 8, and 6 did like it at Epcot, but not a whole bunch over all. We sort of knew that might be the case, but we had just one day to do something and we really wanted to do Epcot and it could be done in a day, a long day, yes, not seeing “EVERYTHING” but doing alot, and seeing most of the “important” things to us.

It was a hard day for me, being over 5 months along now, on my 4th baby (or 5th if counting my 4th preg. that didn’t work out.) Being a 5th pregnancy I’m fairly big already, have been for along time, and getting bigger week by week (day by day sometimes it seems.) I hadn’t walked that much since being pregant, nor had I walked that much in the past few years or more, mostly. I’m older now, I was in my 20’s when there last [nearly out, but still in my 20’s.] I didn’t “feel” so bad, just had to go to the bathroom alot, and was tired and had to sit here and there. But later in the afternoon I started getting a heat rash on my inner thighs, I was wearing a skirt and no leggings of any sort, and it got quite painful and just got worse and worse. Finally we stopped for dinner around 7pm in “Morroco” and sat there awhile waiting for the food, then eating. I had wanted to see the fireworks at 9pm, but was so miserable because of the “rash” thing, by the time of eating, and I just didn’t want to walk any more or wait to walk out in the crowds after fireworks.

So we finally decided to, after 8pm, just haul ourselves back to the lockers, and get our stuff and get to the vehicle. Before we left “Morocco” I put Neosporin on the rash and also took Tylenol (quick release sort) — and the  ointment really made everything burn badly, it hurt to walk in the first place, and that made it THAT much MORE horrid. But as we were going out of the park, I didn’t feel as badly, the pain really went down to a small level and it didn’t “hurt” to walk, thanks to the Neosporin finally “killing the pain” some, as well as the Tylenol taking effect, no doubt. But I was more than ready to just take leave and just come back another time for the fireworks, later in the year when we want to go back to Disney for 3 or so days, maybe, and will do Park Hopping and be able to see Epcot fireworks with little problem, hoping to be staying on the Disney property and able to go in and out at will to parks and our hotel room.

I got to enjoy one of my favorite rides though, in Norway, I love that ride. It’s sort, but really good. My fav every since my first ride, whenever that was, so long ago. Mexico’s ride wasn’t open, being refurbished.

Everyone but me did the Test Track and really liked it. Being preggo, I couldn’t ride it. Tomorrow Land was quite different from last time we were there, many things the same, but other things changed. We did the new Nemo ride, cute for little ones. We did The Land, one of my favorites, and Space ship Earth. We ate in The Land area, the lesser eating place, but it was really a good lunch.

We stayed with the “$” places for food on this trip to Epcot. We had a snack from France later in the afternoon, and as I said above, Morocco for dinner later.

Hubby had appointments in FL on Friday (as well as the day we got there, Wed. and we “rested” then too,) so we rested in the hotel that day, me and the children. I was really into resting, sleeping often through the day.  I did get a migraine that afternoon that I had trouble with until finally it left me the next day, and felt it was coming back in the afternoon, but didn’t after all.

Anyhow, on Saturday DH had an appoitment on the East Coast of FL near where a family we are very good friends with lives, so we left the hotel that morning, drove over and me and the children waited in the vehichle during the appointment, then we drove to our friends house. We had a short vistit, we hadn’t seen them in awhile, and it was nice to see them all — they are a very large family, our children and theirs are in the same age ranges, only we have three, currently, while they have quite a few more. We’ve been friends since before we all had children, known each other before getting married, better friends after my hubby and I were married in 1992 (they got married in 1994.)

We had a decent time, but I was feeling spacey –needing to eat and generally just sort of “out of my element” from the Epcot day, the migraine the next day, and recovering energy still, and not having much sleep because of that migraine too. We had lunch with them and I began feeling better but the time with them was so very short it wasn’t as fun as other visits with them have been in the past, and will be in the future. πŸ™‚

We stayed at the Old Town area in the Orlando vacinity to Disney-ish area. It was an OK place with a “kitchen” which was big, with two burner stove top, but only one burner worked. They provided no kitchen items, but you could rent them per day, but we brought some things ourselves since we drove down. A full size fridge was there too, but no regular oven, and yes, there was a microwave, but I don’t use microwaves. I made breakfast items, and a quesadilla sort of thing another time, and that was it, but it gave us breakfast and lunch when we wouldn’t have had them due to hubbies business otherwise. It was a suite place, so it had the kitchen in-between two areas, the front had a murphy bed and also a couch and regular tv. The back room was the ‘bedroom” and had a door to shut, two beds, a sink, a small tv. Bathroom next to the kitchen. Not huge, not small, but I didn’t like it much, the children went nuts in it worse than they do in a regular hotel room with two double or queen beds and one tv and a couch and bathroom. Since I didn’t feel good at all the full day, Friday, that we were there, I didn’t like the place at all. FWIW. Also, the “wi-fi” was a problem, we were in one room at first when we got there, but there was NO wi-fi avail, when we made sure over the phone that there would be access to it in our room, when making the reservation. So after hubbies appointments that first day (we checked in early) we swapped out rooms to another building that they said did have wi-fi, but they gave us trouble about it, as if we were weird to need or want wi-fi in our room, :rolleyes: so in the end we could only have 1mbp connection in the back room, and it wasn’t aiding me to use my laptop when DH and I used to front room, murphy bed to sleep, and I spent most of my time there on Friday … so anyhow … I’d rather not ever stay there again. We’ve stayed in two different places there in Orlando recently, all due to DH’s business, and both I’d not ever use again. The other was a Travelodge suite place. Ick. Worse even, but both bad enough to avoid completely, in my very pointed opinion.

It’s nice to be home, even though it’s still a mess here. We have the trip clothing to wash, and other clothing still that hasn’t been laundered of course, and just the basic stuff that is always needing done that doesn’t get done enough, and the mess of how things gather and collect and get dirty in this house, which  is troublesome for me. All this piled up to be done now that we are home, and the mess the cats made when we were gone.

Future times we do wish to have all things cleaned up before leaving, but it’s so hard for me to manage and DH helps alot or totally, but it’s just too much day to day for me now and he doesn’t have enough time to do it all either. The cats we’d like to seclude in one room for when we are gone, and the one good place is the laundry room, but it’s not ready for that, needing some ceiling to be put in, and the storage stuff moved out. It’ll be there “room” for litter eventually and that’ll be good for containment when we need them to stay put anytime, it’s a decent room with a window they can look out. πŸ™‚ Just need to clean it out and set it up properly. If that can happen, our next trip should be nicer upon return. FWIW

Vanilla and Violets

Violets

We were at Harry’s the other day and I was looking through the plants outside the store, lingering and looking deeper than usual since Frankie was on the cellphone and I figured I’d just look for something to get, even though he doesn’t usually *let* me. I don’t usually press him to get a plant, you know how it is when you want something but are used to things being too tight to get frilly-froo-froo.

So it goes, I stumbled onto African Violets in the corner, and they were inexpensive. I grew up with them around me, my mother usually had a few, at least, on a windowsill in my childhood. They are so very Victorian too, so I bit the bullet, put three in the cart.

I haven’t had an interior plant for several years. I used to have household plants in Florida. I was good with them there. I like tropical greenage, and that hasn’t done so well for me in GA in the homes we’ve been in (all of two, mind you!)

The last inside plant I had was a hanging-something over the sink, a fern of some sort. It was lovely for a long while, over a year, then it went from green and healthy to whited out dried out in a zap-who-knows-how-long-a-time-zap, but it was zippety zap fast. So I left it there for longer than it was there green, in that dried dead state. It looked really cool, that’s why I left it there. A dead plant was my only household plant, the last one I had.

Because we have such a crazy household of people and are in the middle of re-doing everything for the last … bit of time, I haven’t had another plant. I do love plants and consider myself a plant person, gardener, and it’s discocerting everytime I realize that I haven’t really been a “good” version of what I consider myself to be, in fact find that I usually am a non-existant practitioner of said thing most every occasion that there is to discover these disconcerting sorts of things. Ah, the way of the life for the ever eratic eclectic one (me.)

I have my African Violets in the bathroom on the windowsill. That’s an East-SouthEast facing window, not the best for it, not the worst, alright considering the sun is not in Summer session now. It’s a transitional space for them, for now πŸ˜‰

I need to get some African Violet food since I have none, of course, seeing as I haven’t had any plants of any sort for so long, and no AV’s at all. I think I’ll devise a bottom watering system for the plants, and then also I need a delicate little watering can for top watering every once in awhile. (Never get water on African Violet leaves!)

I’m not sure where I can put these delicate little flowery plants, but I have to devise some good place for them. They need light, but it doesn’t have to be direct and shouldn’t be much direct in any case. They can also live under regular lamp light, so I’ve read, but I don’t want to do that. The problem with plants on windowsills is “cats”, as wells as window blinds.

Vanilla

I bought 2 vanilla beans that day at Harry’s as well. Frank got me some 108+ Proof straight barrel bourbon for them … I put it together today, homemade vanilla extract, it’s in a closet, dark, warm, not hot, not cold.

I looked all over the web for ideas of what to do. So many sites say you have to have such and such type of bean, or else it’s not good. I have no idea what kind mine are, Harry’s only sells it as “vanilla bean: 2” in a clear plastic box. The pictures I saw here and there online look like the ones I have, nice bourbon vanilla beans. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. They don’t have the “vanillin” white powdery look on them, but they were long, 8 inches, curved at the top, and plump and super fragrant.

I split the beans, but didn’t separate them. I stuffed them into the bottle of bourbon and capped it and put it in the closet after a good shaking.

I’ve read that you should have a bean per cup of alcohol. Or 2 per 3/4 cup. Or 12 per … on and on it goes.

I have a 750ml container of bourbon, with 2 vanilla beans installed. It’ll do. I’ve read that others say it’s alright to do that. But no one really gourmet-like seemed to like the idea of that. They mostly are in the “a few weeks in the mix” type to make vanilla. The longer steepers said it’s great vanilla, and they are the ones that use less bean to alcohol amount. We shall see what happens. I’m open to putting in some more vanilla beans later. But not 12!

The two v-beans I got were $3.99. Not a bad price for vanilla beans, but to get 10 more … uh, yeah. So this country girl will be pleased to see what a good 750ml of straight barrel Wild Turkey Rare Breed turns out to be like with 2 beans now, maybe adding 2 more in a few weeks, for good measure. December is the date I’m shooting for. I’ll take some off the top before that maybe. I’m not opposed to experimentation all along the way.

I’ve long wished to try making my own vanilla. It’s very expensive to buy good stuff, and expensive to make your own, so if I can make an expensive-ish bourbon into decent vanilla, I’m ahead of the game the rest of the game-length.

I’ve read people say that homemade is better than storebought. Others say homemade is nice and fun, but not the best by far.

It’s one of those objective subjects, isn’t it? No, I’d say it’s very subjective. And so I subject myself to experimentation for my own subjective view to be formed. πŸ™‚

Exciting day

Today our hens laid! As far as we know, three today. It’s raining quite heavily now, frequent lightening, so we haven’t checked the hens in awhile. πŸ™‚

Hawklady, one the Leghorns, then one of the Wyandottes laid. So we have a green, white, and brown each. My favorite combination! I didn’t see who laid the brown egg. Frank did. It was a Wyandotte, but he knows not which one. (He can’t tell the difference between them, for some reason πŸ˜‰ I can, Trinity has a tri-topped comb, and Pointsettia has a pointy curved topped comb, distinctive, both of them, and their feather patterns are a bit different as well.)

Earlier this afternoon Frank went to the store to get a few things, as well as get some mousetraps. We found a dead baby mouse on the front walk earlier this week. So that signifies other mice around no doubt. Foster, our outside cat, might have gotten that mouse, or another cat prowling around might have. In any case, the ants ate it, not a cat.

So Frank was at the store, and there’s Scarlet in the kitchen holding a mouse in her mouth. Russell saw it first and drew my attention to it. It was a regular sized big mouse. Well I couldn’t do anything, just keep my eye on her and the mouse in her mouth. It was alive. She held onto it, growling at the other cats gathering around her, following her … she’d put the mouse down now and then, it’d sit then try to run, then Scarlet would just pounce again and grab it up in her mouth to hold it.

Frank finally got home. He picked Scarlet up and put her in the garage, with the door down. We checked her a bit later and she still was holding that poor mouse. Another time Frank went in the garage to do something and Scarlet got in the house, holding the mouse still. I got her back out. It wasn’t fun, not wanting the mouse to fall on me, or for me to really touch it. So then she was in the garage again. Later I looked and didn’t see her. She must have been hiding. But on the step there was some white thing and gooky blood-like stuff around it. Not a lot, just a small thing, um, mouse-size innerds of some sort I guess. Sometime after that Frank looked in the garage and Scarlet came out of hiding and back into the house. She was all cutesy rubbing our legs and proud of herself. :rolleyes: Doing what God intended for her to do.

We have mousetraps now then. I hate using them. I really like mice. We had pet mice when I was growing up. Wild mice are different, I know. I still think they are cute though. That poor mouse that Scarlet had in the house, it was squeeking a few times, right after she’d put it down then pick it up again. Sigh. Poor little thing.

We live out in the country but not totally, but it’s country around and our yard is big. We have gotten mice in the house a couple of times in the past. I haven’t seen any in the house, just know they might be in the garage. So Scarlet’s mouse from today shows that they can get in the house. She got one, afterall, and is an indoor (totally) cat.

So it was a big day here, three eggs! And a live cat and mouse game.

Dog training in session

These two photos are from the other day. Dog is now being trained to stay inside.

Previously he has only been crate trained and stayed outside mostly, in his 10×10 corral and running free in fenced in backyard.

So he’s new to the inside during daytime nice weather, not in crate. In these photos he on the dirty kitchen floor, with his leash wrapped around the table leg just so he’ll stay put. He’s not depressed. He just looks like this when laying down with leash on or off. πŸ™‚

So yesterday I had him in the house off-leash.

Today he’s been in off-leash.

It’s working out alright. The cats are wary of him, well not exactly.

Scarlet and Strider both like the dog. They go right up to Lothar and rub on him. Strider even licks Lothars head some. The Think Blue Count Two duo sit several feet away and watch the dog. They don’t want to be put near him, they pop and hiss if you try to make them. They have no problem running right next to the dog though to get onto my lap. πŸ™‚

So this is first phase of “Get this dog ‘better’ trained”.

He’s over a year old. It’s just now that the first anniversary of his sisters death is at hand. πŸ™

Strider by Maisy

I am artistic, but not an “artist” by any means. I am not “naturally good with any artistic mediums to create”. I do mean “art” here, as in drawing, painting, etc.

I have a natural talent for being ABLE to do things. I have “my own way” of doing such things. I haven’t been trained. I can train myself to a degree of success, as far as I am desiring to do so.

So last week I saw some things on a craft show on HGTV, some crafting show that highlights 3 different people in the US, and that person “makes their thing” for the camera. Some lady did something with making a cat for some purpose.

I had be thinking of drawing for many months. I am a doodler, a doodler of shapes and squiggly odd things.

So that TV show coupled with my “thinking about it” the previous months prompted me to get out a piece of paper, pencil, and eraser. I created, scanned and printed, then colored that scanned/printed page with gel pens to create THIS:

Strider by Maisy
Strider by Maisy, January 2005

By no means meant to represent actual reality, this is an artsy crafty thing. I just “did it” and it took very little effort. I am very pleased with the outcome, but know it pleases me since I made it and I have no training and know that it’s a good result for the ability I put into it.

It’s just a little test for myself to prove that I do have something I can shape if I just put myself to the task.

My tastes in art have been with Monet, and other Impressionists, as well as older portrait painters [I wrote about some in a post recently connected to a quiz about “who would paint you?”]. And I like arts and craft type things with animals. I like Warren Kimble, for instance, and other such things.

So there is my tribute to the craft of arsty drawing something near and dear. I need better tools, and meanwhile I’ll do some more and see what I can do. I am not interested in doing computer art. I work with photos and create graphics and such in Photoshop Elements.

I am precisely talking about manually drawing on paper and using physical mediums like that and paint, pencils, etc.

I am all for scanning things in. As I did scan in my basic drawing that’s above, then printed it and used THAT copy to finish the drawing and colorize it. I also scanned the finished product. Duh, most obvious, hay? πŸ˜‰

See now, this is something moreso new to me. I’ve not put anything I’ve ever drawn up on this or anyother site. I have no category of “art” or “drawing” or “crafting” or such to put this post in. So it’s an EVENT primarily. πŸ™‚

Categoricalness can be defined later if there is a need for it. Otherwise, it’s just an event, a flick in the wind, something I did then moved on to something else. I fear, not really “fear”–it’s just an expression, that my comfort with the above drawing will lead me past betterment. So I am posting this to motivate myself a bit, hopefully! :veryshocked:

The weather and all that

Last night/this morning it got cold, was supposed to be around 25 degrees F. but here is was about 18 degrees around 8am or so. Considerabley colder than “city” areas around us. πŸ™‚

The day warmed up to the low 50’s and it was SO nice. But it’s to get cold again over night. Low over tonight/tomorrow morn is supposed to be 35 at this point, so they say … but right now they say it is 30 degrees … that’s now. That’s colder than it’s supposed to get at all … πŸ˜‰

Well that’s all from who-knows-where-and-who-is-taking-temps … as it’s not US at HOME. Our thermometer, the only one we have had … broke this last year. It was a digital dude that had a probe to go outside, and took that temp as well as the indoor temp, and saved low and high temps, etc. Nice, below $30 at Dillard’s some years back around this time of year (you know, all the junk the department stores have for sale in the middle of the aisle during “holiday season” for Christmas mostly …) Oh, it talked too. It’s history now though, and I try to believe what the folks in the paper, on the internet, on TV, are saying about what it is, and what it should be in the future.

I can tell relatively what temps are myself, by going out, of course, and feel good enough about my “close to nature” self to know I’m right about stuff. Like this morning, it was so frosty, I knew it was below freezing, but WAY below was my idea and when I saw they said it was 18 around this little part of GA, I believed it was about that. Below the 25 that was predicted, at least.

I can tell when warmer weather comes in and it’s just warmer weather, or when warmer weather comes in and it’s telling the tale of cold a’coming behind. Or some other kind of storm. I’m not 100% sure. Just get the feeling and come out right more oft than not. Well, I get good practice on this all in GA, with the way things go up and down, in and out. Weather changes more often in winter than in summer. But still, it’s not always hot, not always cold, not always mild, not always anything … it’s so variable here. It’s sort of always hot in the summer, but then, it’s not on a day to day, hour to hour basis, and same with the winter, it’s mild here, but not on a day to day, hour to hour basis. It really gets cold here. It was just as cold here last night, as it was in some northern towns that are cold all winter, usually.

OK then, I looked at Boston, MA on accuweather, and they had the same over night temps as the area around here last night, but today they got to 40 degrees about, but we were at 50 degrees and above. But are the same temp now again, about 35 degrees … which is what Accuweather is NOW saying about now, instead of the “30” that is said it was then as a now then πŸ˜‰

Always changing, and then that’s just it, where’s the temp from? Not here, some remote area 20 miles away, no doubt.

I’m judging house temps by how cold it feels in different areas, and seeing what the thermostat up in the hallway says it is. Lately it’s below the 50 degree mark over night, and creeps up to 53 or 55 by midday, it’s warmest and hovers then goes back down. That’s the coldest spot in the house. The back of the house gets the full day of sun, if it’s not cloudy, which helps greatly. The fireplace now in use helps to get the dining room nice, and seems to help a degree or so up the steps to the thermostat, but doesn’t get overly hot since it’s a high catherdral-ish sealing in there, and the down and up hallways are open to this area, with the kitchen right next to it with a small wall dividing it. The kitchen gets the full sun. Front dining room with fireplace gets no sun at all in winter, just a tad of late evening sun in summer. (we live with the main directions pointing through the corners of our house, visually speaking.)

At any rate, chilly inside temps of below or just above 50 are what we are getting accustomed to, and when the outside day turns to the same temps, we see it as “so mild” πŸ™‚ It’s all about inside air vs. outside air, and how much water is or isn’t in one or the other. As I’ve mentioned in another post resently, dressing modestly, for winter, means dressing warm enough to get through it fine. I like it cooler, it’s breathable air any how. πŸ™‚

What do I usually wear? Well, I wear dresses and so does my DD. We wear long skirts, as like me: I’m usually wearing one of my two Eddie Bauer thermal weave cotton long sleeve dresses, slip, with cotton tights, and tall leather boots with 1-1/2 to 2-inch heels. I may wear a denim dress instead. That’s my usualy though inside the house wearing. I have some other things to wear out, but that’s not where I need to keep warm, most places we go it’s TOO WARM in them. I do not like fake heat, no I do not. It makes me unable to breathe well. It seems to suck my breath right away, as one can imagine what it would be like if the old wives tale about “cat’s sucking babies breath away” would be like. Yes, I visualize that “old wives tale” always have. I understand what it should feel like, if it was possible … πŸ™‚ Cats don’t do that. At least I don’t think they do, they never did it to me, nor to my children, and attempt no such thing night or day here, and we have had enough cats to know.

Oh speaking of cats, that’s part of our night warming stuff on the bed. One or two or three pile around our legs and sleep all night. One gets on our legs, or goes to someone else, another takes it’s place, and on and and on. I like it. It’s great during the winter, a bit too much in the summer, but they seem to like it in the winter more themselves as well. It brings on more heat to huddle together with other living things, so I consider that we are helping them feel comfy, and they help us feel warmer, if not truly “comfy” , but I tolerate it, and so does DH, and we all live happily.

The kittens have fitted right in, spawling out on Frank’s side of the bottom of the bed most nights, moving up closer later, and sitting on my chest sometimes for part of the night. They are sweet. Think Blue, Count Two. Getting bigger, -F is a spitfire lovely cat, becoming a lap sitter with me during the day. -M is so cute and just loves belly rubs. -F is a fighter when it comes to belly rubs. -M has lovely longer hair, looks messy usually. Looks super great if he gets spooked! Bushed out to the hilt! They’ve brought young play back into the house, and from the 12 year old down to the 3 year old, all those cats are more active now. πŸ™‚ Love those youngsters.

We saw some other kittens in Petsmark last Sat. Getting kittylitter, we saw all the animals there, of course, why not?! Two brothers, one a choc. point siamese and the other a black and brown something … both mixes (and litter mates), but the one was so pretty, and they pulled my heart strings … but we already committed to Think Blue, Count Two just two weeks prior. πŸ™ Sad for them, but happy for TB,CT and so happy for us to have them too.

Fire’s down for the night. Time for bed!

Think Blue, Count Two

I’ve been reading Cordwainer Smith stories and aggregating the stuff that I have, stuff coming, and what I still need to get for a full collection of at least all his stories.

So this has combined to be part of the saga of the kittens names.

Cordwainer Smith and cats go hand in hand, as do me and cats and Cordwainer Smith literature.

So the kittens have no official individual names. Right? Right. It dawned on me the other night that they are — and it’s now their official title– as a duo:

Think Blue, Count Two

πŸ™‚

It fits as the scenario that they are cats, two that are blue, and that they have helped to avert emotional turmoil and who-knows-what-else-worse for me this Autumn … if you know the story, you know the similarities of the story and what I am saying. Otherwise, if you don’t know, just trust me πŸ˜‰

Think Blue, Count TwoThink Blue, Count Two!

 

Turkey Aftermath

Dinner is over, left-overs put away, some of the dishes washed, some not. πŸ™‚

It was a hard afternoon. I didn’t get the turkey in the oven until later than I wanted. It took until after 5pm for it to be done. Then it had to sit, of course, while the stuffing was taken out and put in a covered bowl, and the turkey had to sit to retain juices … and that’s also when the other stuff had to go into the oven since I had very little space for anything earlier.

So I really don’t know when we started to have dinner. It must have been after 6pm. I’m bushed though. And we still need to have Birthday Girls birthday tonight. πŸ™‚

We have pumpkin pies in the fridge, but won’t have it tonight, tonight it’s cheesecake for B-day. I’m not ready for it, I want to enjoy the cake! I’m too full from Thanksgiving Dinner still. At any rate, we’ll have the pumpkin pie for breakfast tomorrow.

I’ve got the bones of the birdy in a stock pot with water, and by tomorrow some time we’ll have some extra turkey broth.

The cats got the neck and such earlier. I simmered them for the broth to go with the gravy, then picked the meat off for the cats. Earier I gave them the raw liver, but Scarlet took that away for herself. Piggy that she was.

Dog got plate left-overs and boy did he enjoy them. Piggy himself.

We have lots of turkey left. It was a 19 pound young turk. Bell and Evans, the best we could do with this year. We had some of one breast and part of one leg. That leaves most of the bird for:

Turkey Scramble
and what-not-else.

Turkey Scramble will be tomorrow. That’s another post. :laugh:

New of the Holiday, and part was bad but better now

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

I have bad thing new too, though. Last night somehow Strider, my favorite cat, got missing. [Update: 4:30pm He’s found!]

Around 4am I heard someone downstairs and the garage door in the kitchen then shut loud. Frank went down and was Russell that did it. Well, I couldn’t get back to sleep so I went down, and didn’t see Strider, so big deal as he offen is sleeping in the family room. I was in the kitchen. So then Dixie went over to the door and was scratching the bottom of the corner of the door, after that a bit I started to think about it, and then went looking for Strider, and didn’t find him. Not in our out of the house. He could be in the garage, we have so much stuff piled up on one side there is no way to know if he is there.

He got out one other time during the night … it’s on this blog somewhere I would guess. Anyway, he was gone for days, and I was about to give up on him, we did go to the shelters and vets around here and put up notices and report him missing. So then the day we got him back, Frank was leaving early in the morning when it was dark still, and came back inside after starting to pull out of the driveway. He got me out of bed and told me that he saw an animal on the driveway as he was leaving and it ran into the garage …. so he then put the door down and came and got me.

It was Strider, way down under stuff where I could not see him without lights shining there to reflect his eyes. He ignored me, and I could not reach him. I finally lured him out far enough, with food, so that I could grab him.

Sigh. It’s just so horrid to have him missing again. Why him again? He doesn’t “Try” to get out ever any other time. So then, fresh memories of the other time leaves me feeling really bad since I had no idea where he was for days, and he never showed his face or meowed when “lost”. We looked like crazy for him, called him, called him very, very often. In the end it was just good timing that we found him. He wasn’t coming out.

So it’s fustrating. He is my cat. My dear one. My sweetheart. He is so nice, so loving, so much of a great cat, and more. He loves me so much, loves belly rubs, loves, to sit on my shoulder, just be with me so much. Why did he disappear that time and not come looking to get in the house? Will he do the same thing this time? Is he around, just hiding?

He could have done it this time since we have new kittens. He “seemed” to be doing well with them, not hissing anymore and eating with them, and sniffing them without hissing. The other cats are still wary and hissing at them mostly. So why the morely well ajusted cat gone? He might have been planning it, and took the first opportunity. Maybe he’s not gone, just in the house where we can’t find him, sick. Maybe, but probably not. It is sure that the door had been opened. Russell did that, but now says he doesn’t remember doing it. So what happened is not clear. But the cat could have gotten out if the door was opened and Russell was sleep walking, or not, just there going out to find something when he shouldn’t have, and a cat would just be able to walk out the door into the garage and hide instantly. πŸ™

So I’m missing my dear friend. I am praying he’ll come back on his own, safe, and sooner than later, but sometime at the least if it must be later. Please pray that he’s safe and finds his way back inside or that we find him and he is alright. He was fine last night. I paid lots of attention to him last evening.

So that’s that.

The turkey is in the oven. I didn’t get to do it yesterday, as we had to go out. I have a few more hours of it before it’s done. I need the oven to bake other things too, and I have no room with the turkey in there. Blah. It’s not fun with a small oven. It’s not “small” just not “large”.

I have to bake the rolls, and also the green bean casserole, and the sweet potato casserole.

Pumpkin pies are done, cooling. I make mine from Norishing Traditions, that’s with spices as fairly normal, but with lemon peel, and sour cream, instead of the other “normal” dairy put in most folks pumpkin pies. I also put in JD Whiskey. Recipie calls for optional Brandy. So I sub my favorite!

At some point we have to make this Victoria’s birthday, and I’m not sure when that’ll be. I’m pooped out already, being up since about 4am. :laugh:

[Update] I went out the front door just a bit ago for “yet another” perusal of the yard, to call for Strider, etc. Immediately upon going out and calling “Here Kitty, kitty, kitty” I saw Foster bounding across the street straight at me through the yard … and as he got mid-yard something to my left caught my eye … it was Strider by the back wheel of the Montana. He was wary of me and I knew I couldn’t get him, so I fastly opened the house door and yelled for Frank to come help me with Strider.

Frank came out and then opened the garage door, which was shut, for the “in case Strider is hiding out in there” in actuallity. He wasn’t though. I went out “just at the right time” seems. So then Frank came out in the front yard and Strider meanwhile went under the other car (Honda that just sits there) and up into the engine. So Frank had to go inside and get the keys to the Honda to open the hood … and did that and there was Strider right there on top. So I plucked him up and into the house we went. He is doing fine now, but at first was semi-wanting to hide here and there and a bit skittish, but I loved him up instead of telling him how bad he had been … and that seems to have worked.

Same thing of nurturing children … love them instead of yelling … the hard thing to do at times πŸ™ So object lesson with the cat today hits hard … nurturing with love in response to bad stuff really does work. It works when the big person keeps with it, regardless of how the other acts. The other comes ’round eventually. That’s the tough spot for parents and children, when parent loses the cool they had tried to keep with the frustration of the non-compliant one. It’s that one needs to push through and keep at it, and love them, love them, love them. πŸ™‚

Something I know, something I’m hard pressed to be good at mostly. So I guess I know the upper reason for Strider leaving today: teaching me to do what I know, do it, it works, but do it inspite of that, do it all along, even if it doesn’t seem it IS working. πŸ™‚

The babies (kittens)

Here are the kittens, picture taken this morning:

The Two Kittens Saturday, November 20, 2004

The post with the first kitten pictures [as well as the story] in it

Cats, cats, and more cats

On Saturday we went out on errands, shopping, of course, and Frank surprised me at Petsmart [where we go for the kitty litter we get] and told me I could pick out a kitten if I saw one I liked. πŸ™‚

There were some young kittens, and several older kittens, as well as a few adult cats. It was adoption time, of course, as Petsmart doesn’t “Sell cats or dogs”. Pet Adoption agencies come in on various days with animals from shelters and rescue services, etc.

In the past, we got Strider, Dixie, and Scarlet in this manner. When we got Strider and Dixie we were there to look for a kitten. We ended up with the dynamic-duo instead. I saw them, and didn’t look further at them since they were older kittens. I was looking for a little black kitten then, I think. Frank pointed the 7-month old kittens out to me and asked if I wanted them. Both? Well, let me see then … and the rest is history. They were the best pair of cats, sigh. Still are.

We got Scarlet next, looking for a kitten again, and the people there didn’t let us take a young onethough they had several then. [actually, we had gone to Petsmart and didn’t see much of anything, so then we tried PetCo which was just a few blocks away –holding adoptions, it was at PetCo we found Scarlet.] We ‘weren’t trusted’ for some reason. Usual pet adoption people fall in love with us for adopting any of their cats. We got Cinnamon in 1998, when I was pregnant with our second baby [Victoria]. It was a great experience. We got Strider and Dixie a few years after that. Super Great Experience. So Scarlet then, was a not-so-great-experience in that we lucked out in getting her at all. We stood around waiting for more cats to arrive then, and she showed up finally, and was just old enough for them to reluctantly so OK to us about. She’s a nice little cat, very petite. She was 3 months old when we got her. Strider and Dixie really took to her and loved her in her growing up phase. They still all like each other a lot, just that the “young” phase was greater.

We got a kitten from a family we know next, Foster. He’s over a year old now, and outside, as he just wouldn’t fit in with our family. Really a royal pain, much nicer as an outside cat, though that’s not my usual medium of caring for cats. He’s needing neutering still as well, but that means $ in the case of what needs done to allow them to do him [shots …] and then the scolding that would follow about him being an outside cat, blah, blah, blah. Frank says we’ll give him a trial inside deal. I’m not sure we will though, as he’s just a big, strong, opinionated cat.

So with all that has happened in the past year-plus, we have four inside cats and one outside cat, until this weekend.

Continue reading

Cutie Cat

Here’s the latest cutie cat in our midst:

He’s much cleaned up-like now, but the camera is in “tempermental mode” again. He’s what I have hopes of getting “fixed” soon. He is very sweet, very, very, sweet. He started hanging around nearly two weeks ago, or more, and was injured looking. His nose, you can see the darkness in the photo, was all crusty scabby in bigger and smaller areas, as well well as an older injury on his side that looks like it is healing, but was nasty and untreated. Beyond that I was feeding him after a day or so of him hanging around, and Foster, our cat I HAD to boot outside, was becoming a bothersome creature, as the visitor kitty was seemingly more “at home” and Foster acting as “visitor”.

I sat down with the new kitty one day last week and saw some pinkish color on a front paw, and upon further investigation found that his right-paw-left-claw [thumb] was declawed … freshly in a wounded way … ugh. Poor thing. So that sealed my thought process, and in he came.

He a gentle boy, perfect candidate for grown-up male cat to be neutered and house-catted. If we can get him checked out at the vet soon-ish, he’ll be fixed up and introduced, eventually, to our current-foursome of Princess, Strider, Dixie, and Scarlet.

His name is Vivaldi.

He’s gentle, but oh so catty, needing attention, and singing and performing to get it. But his name isn’t for those reasons. It’s because of something else. My love of Vivaldi music and … any guesses?

Vivaldi is a pale tabby-pattern on top, actually a bit paler than the wonderful picture of him portrays. His front feet are white socks, his back feet are white short boots, and his tummy is all white. He has a beautiful white bib too. His nose is pink and his chin and such are white. White whiskers as well.

I gave Vivaldi a bath after I got him inside. He didn’t like it much, but neither did he fight me. He sure looked a ton better since that bath! He’s a beauty, I estimate him to be not very old, but grown-up.

Scarlet the Acrobat

Scarlet up in the ceiling joists

I took this photo on September 25, 2004. Our slab basement [the house is tri-level so the “basement” is really a slab walkout right next to a crawlspace that is on higher ground] isn’t finished yet, and the cats love to get up in the ceiling area and jump from joist to joist …

Samantha Ezmerelda

My dear friend Samantha died on Thursday. I wasn’t with her. She died alone in the bathroom. I’m so sad about it.

Frank buried her on Saturday, first opportunity for such. I was napping, not feeling well. I saw the hole after I awoke, but then only had interaction with Russell, who informed his Daddy of what I said, so when I was off picking green beens in the garden he finished burying her, thinking I didn’t want to be there. πŸ™

Samantha Ezmerelda turned twelve the end of April 2004. She came to me in 1992, a tiny feisty kitten, born behind a car mechanics repair shop. A friend at work told me that her man had a friend who had a shop at which there were kittens. I blundered on over there after work and they said they’d have to catch them for me to see them, they were wild.

From what I could get out of the guys they were young kittens, but mean … they’d see what they could do, and give me a call if they caught anything [they seemed rather doubtful they would].

The very next day I got a call … they had caught one. Would I come over and get it? Sure! I arrived and they showed me how mean it was. Look at all the scratches! Beware, you are taking it home and it’s a dangerous animal.

The kitten was in a big carrier for animals, they wouldn’t let me open it. Remember, dangerous creature! I saw it, little black ball of fur. Well, big tough guys were scared of it, I wasn’t, but I humoured them.

Got home, and put down the carrier in the living room (this was June, a couple of days before getting engaged with Frank, so I was still at my parents home). I opened the door of the carrier reached in, and picked up the kitten. It purred. I pulled the kitten close and looked at it, what a sweet little girl! [I look at faces to determine sex] Oh she was so nice, yes a girl, and never mean at all.

She became my secondary buddy. Bleu was in residence already, so he had first place. I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to take the kitten with me when I got married, but she ended up coming with me and Bleu to the apartment in August 1992. Samantha fit right in and grew up into a lovely petite black cat, with a little splotch of white on her throat.

Samantha and Bleu, the early years

Samantha, by the Christmas Tree, probably 1993.

The years have flown by, and my precious is gone. I am in deep dismay that she’s gone, I’ll never have her sit on my lap, lay by my side in bed–curled up close and purring. I’ll never be able to see her sleeping, and lightly pet her, and have her perk up her head and go “Prrrbt!” with such love.

My dear precious kitty, so jealous for my attention, my number one friend within a couple of years of her life with us. For a decade I was her chosen one. I was whom she slept with. It was my tummy she curled up on … particularly when I was pregnant, she loved to lay on my babies inside me. The last time that happened was when my wee one was growing, the one that miscarried in March. My precious Samantha was with me then.

Well, it’s been a year of death and sadness in this house. First Cinnamon in September, then some hens killed, then a puppy was attacked and died, M-I-L died, I had an early-miscarriage of our fourth baby, and then this past Thursday morning I found one of my Australorps dead, and later that day we found Samantha was dead.

My dear Bleu didn’t die in our home. He disappeared one day when we were out on errands and the back door wasn’t shut. We never saw him again. That was in March 2000. So the mourning for him was more like listless, Come Home we miss you, with no closure.

So now we only have one cat left from our Florida years. Princess. She’ll be 12 in November. Everyone else is much younger. Princess was a wild cat, and we and apartment neighbors caught her in March 1993. She was a youngster, not a little kitten, but still not much grown, and she was a spicy addition to our little home. She calmed down eventually, and ended up a big fat cat. She’s slimmed down the past year, as we switched to raw feeding. She’s svelt and lightweight now. πŸ™‚

But petite Samantha is not with us. She doesn’t come running for feeding time anymore. She was getting old the last few months, it was something that nothing could stop. God called her away.

What happens to our pets? They die, they have no spirits. There personalities are what? It’s the most perplexing question of life I have. They are so unique and special, but that’s only a temporal thing. It’s a very challenging quagmire for me.

Here are some more photos of Samantha (last pics added Aug 17, 2004 2:45 pm EST, more to come):

Samantha in 2000, Asa was a baby, she’s in his infant car seat

Above and below, Samantha in September 2003, the day Cinnamon died.

Strider and Dixie


Photos of two cats
Continue reading

Mouse in the House

Earlier this morning, Foster, our youngest cat, came running into the bedroom and stopped by the bathroom door, which is on my side of the bed. He dropped something. Yes, a mouse. It was already dead. Just a play thing.

We put him in the bathroom and shut the door, with the mouse in there too. I later put Dixie and Scarlet in with them. It’s now 10:54 am, and the mouse was abandoned for awhile, and just a few minutes ago Dixie came back and found it underneath something on the floor, and proceeded to play with it some more. It’s looking frazzled, but not being really eaten by any of them … until just now. Ugh. I see some blood and guts right by the door, there is a one-inch gap under it which enables me to see into the bathroom for such an event as this. :rolleyes:

So we had a mouse in the house. Foster caught it. That earns him a gold star. Perhaps now Dixie is getting a silver star for eating the mouse.

Are there more? If one is seen, there must be more. Natural feeding, gotta love it. As long as they actually catch the mice and dispose of them more quickly in the future. πŸ˜†

Strider is doing better

After the last update here on Strider, I let him stay in the bathroom cabinet and just checked on him frequently and tried to get him interested in food.

Well, I was able to force him to eat some hamburger, but HE didn’t do it unless it was in his mouth and if I didn’t let him drop it out. So he didn’t eat much more than a few tidbits for days. No drinking either.

A few days ago, on Saturday, we were out and got home from the errands, and I went up to see Strider and immediately just decided on the spur of the moment to take him downstairs. I fished him out of the cabinet, he had moved to a harder to reach place since the last time I saw him, the first time since he’d moved to the easier to reach him place.

Oh my poor kitty was lightweight as I carried him downstairs. I put him down after re-assuring him it was alright, and …. he stayed put. He didn’t run. Since then he has stayed in the downstairs, never venturing upstairs at all. But he’s not hiding at all.

That first time he was down, I tempted him with some sour cream, and he wanted it. So I gave him some in a dish, and he gently lapped some up, stopped, then went back for more, and so on.

I then got a dish for water for him, and he wanted that, lapping it up like crazy. What a remarkable change! From refusing everything … to wanting some things.

I tried hamburger then, and he was fully UN-interested. Hmm.

Well the next day he was in the kitchen when I went downstairs. After church I went to see if he’d be tempted by the hamburger, and guess what … he begged for it when he saw me going into the fridge, and kept begging for it even when he knew what it was. He ate it.

So he’s still recovering, but eating, and drinking, hanging around us, not shying away at all. He is thin, very thin, but strong. This has been so odd, and I’m glad he’s on a major upswing.

My sweet kitty is not quite back to his normal attitude, but only by a thread. He’s grooming himself, lying in the sun if it’s out, sitting by the fireplace if there is a fire going, and just hanging out on the sofa futon, or in the kitchen, or under something or other, as any other cat would do.

I am very thankful that God saw fit to keep Strider safe thus far. He’s such a nice cat, a definite, usually, stress reducing machine, organic though.

Strider is sick, but with what?

My poor Strider. He was back for 2 1/2 weeks when something funny happened. The other night I fed them, then went to bed. I saw Strider chipper and doing great, dragging a chicken frame into the corner to chow down. Good behavoir.

Sometime during the night I heard some kind of cat heaving, but in the morning, there was no mess anywhere, so it was a mystery. But as the morning wore on, I saw there was no Strider around. I started calling and looking for him, and finally a few hours later found him under our bed. His left side whiskers were bent back hard, so he must have been sleeping hard as well, I figured. I picked him up, and he was just “not himself”. He looked alright otherwise, but was acting sedate, wouldn’t purr, and seemed to be “burping” every once in awhile.

His eyes looked frightened, but his fur looked fine. He didn’t “look sick”. He came downstairs, hung out then in the sunshine streaming through the door windows in the kitchen. He then went upstairs and stayed on our bed late afternoon, and was still there when we went to bed around 10pm. I sat down and held him, and then he started hacking, and ran to the edge of the bed, just dry hacking. His behaviour was just so odd, but then he stopped, jumped off the bed and ran into the hall, that was the last I saw him for a long time. But he ran off “full of life”.

Well the next day I set to looking and looking for him and didn’t find him all day. I was expecting a dead cat if/when we’d find him. Things muddle a bit, and it was this day that was Friday I think. No Strider. Saturday, still no Strider anywhere. I had torn apart every possible place in the house, under beds, in closets, etc.

The only other place he could be was in the crawl space. It was impossible to see in there, as the insulation in the ceiling of the crawl space is all fallen down. It’s not a fun place to go into in any case. I often had gone down there, turned the light on, opened the door and called Strider over and over.

So Saturday, Frank finally went down there in the afternoon, and crawled around and saw him hiding in a far corner, and was able to frightenly chase him to where I could just barely get into the space and grab the cat.

He looked just the same, only more frightened. I was totally happy to see him warm and moving well. Status since then, he’s in the bathroom and hiding behind the toilet, won’t eat or drink. Lethargic, yet not. He doesn’t purr much, only once in awhile. He still has the “burp” thing, and dry heavy cough.

I thought perhaps a bone was stuck from his last meal, or that he’s sick from the food, but no other cat or pup got sick, same food source.

So then I’m thinking whatever it is it’s just HIM, and perhaps a gastrointestinal thing, a gas-x product may help … over gassyness would cause no eating or drinking to be desired, and moaping and sick burpyness. Well, he can’t go on like this for long, without fluids at least.

I took a secondary approach and started giving him yukky cat hairball treatment stuff, “just in case this is a really bad sudden hair ball attack entirely” but it doesn’t make sense, in my many years experience with cats, to have anything like this at all.

I gave Strider the Petromalt that I had lying around from a long ago purchase, I put it on my finger, opened his mouth and shoved it in. It stuck to the roof of his mouth, he didn’t like it, but it forced a swallowing action, and he swallowed it fine. So, perhaps nothing is stuck. He’s just so NOT STRIDER, it’s sad, I don’t know what else to do with him. Bringing him to the Vet isn’t possible.

So, if anyone reading this has any clue as to what’s up or how to help him, please leave comments.

I stroke his fur often, and really massage his sides. Whenever he has that burp thing, is sounds really wet. Whenever he has that coughy hacky thing, it sounds wet, nearly like hacking stuff up, but nothing comes out of his mouth. No throw up, nothing. He’s not pooping or peeing either, not eating of course, since Wednesday night, so I don’t know his bathroom habits on Thursday, Friday or Saturday before we found him in the crawlspace.

So my dear kitty just stays behind the toilet, miserable, but looking pretty. I’m puzzled, but glad he’s still here with me. πŸ™

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