Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Here are a few pictures I pulled from this site. Not the best, but they'll do.
The strange, green thing with pink eyes is actually a cat bank. I don't think they were going for realism. Bevie thinks it's cute.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Birman(picture taken from this site.)
History Origins of Birman cat are not clear but they are believed to have originated in Burma where they were considered sacred. The modern History of Burman cat started in 1919 when a pair of Burman cat was brought to France from Burma. The male cat died during the journey but the female cat that was pregnant survived. The breed flourished and in 1925 the Birman was formally recognized in France. The Birman became recognized in England as a separate breed in 1966 and by The Cat Fanciers' Association in 1967.
Appearance The ideal Birman is a large, strongly built, elongated and stocky cat. They are colour pointed cats with long, silky hair and four pure white feet. Birmans are born pure white, and then develop color on the points. The shading of the legs comes later. Their hairs are not very thick. Birmans come in blue, chocolate, lilac and seal points.
Personality The Birmans are loving, gentle, active and playful with a docile, quiet demeanour and a soft-spoken voice. They are very intelligent and affectionate and generally greet visitors with curiosity rather than fear. Because of their soft temperament they are easy to handle and care. They get along very well with other pets
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I knew something was up. They were all acting strange. (I mean, strange, even for them.) I tried to keep a keen eye on them, but they managed to give me the slip. My real clue was when they brought in other humans and showed them my food, water, and litter box.
They got up earlier than normal. Then they brought a bunch of things out of the house. Then they came in, gave me good pets, and left. I expected Bevie and Spouse to return right off. They didn't. I waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. Finally, someone came through the front door. That was suspicious. They hardly ever use that door. But it wasn't Bevie, Spouse, or Son. It was the humans who had been here before. They were okay. They gave me food and water. The little one even raved over me and gave me gentle pets. Then they left. I was alone!
Yes, Bevie had turned on the radio. Like that was going to make me believe I had people in the house. I figured they would be home late, like that time a few weeks ago. But they didn't show up at all! They spent the night away. In the morning it was the same strange humans again. I waited all day. Nothing. In the evening, the strange humans again! And Bevie and company didn't come home again. Same thing in the morning. This time, I was in no mood for play. So when the little human wanted to play, I punched him. No claws. But they got the message and left.
Finally, late in the morning, I hear the garage door opening. The only time I hear that is when Bevie or Spouse is leaving - or arriving. They were home!
I went to the door leading to the garage and waited. Sure enough, it opened, and there was Son staring me in the face. Bevie was behind him. Finally, they had saw fit to come home. The prodigal people. Well, I turned my back and slowly walked away. Of course, Son had to catch me and hold me. Like I wanted that. But I went along with it - for awhile. I'm sure they were very stressed about being away from home so long. So I spent the first while making sure they were all right. Oh, except Spouse. It was my understanding this entire thing was Spouse's idea. So I punched Spouse in the face. No claws. Then, when Son and Spouse went upstairs to watch a show, I knew they were okay. So I punished them.
I went up and sat with my back to them. And when they tried to make up, I played feisty. They got the message. So I went downstairs. Sure enough, Bevie was at the computer. So I plopped down in plain sight and scowled. Bevie saw me, too. Even acknowleged the rightness of my actions. But I could tell Bevie was still stressed, so I gave in early and worked on comfort. It isn't always about punishment, you know. You have to take care of your property. So when Bevie went upstairs and lay down, I lay down, too. Just for a bit. To make sure Bevie was all right. I certainly didn't need the comfort.
I got my final revenge when they all went to bed. I sat outside the bedroom doors and howled. Did that for about an hour. Then I came and lay on the bed. But later, I did it again. Would have done it all night, but I need to get my rest, you know.
Hopefully, they have learned their lesson this time.
People! They just don't know how to behave.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
He knows something's up, and I don't think he's going to be overly keen on us not being around for a couple of days. We have a neighbor who has agreed to look in on him and make sure he has fresh food and water, but he's not going to be happy. I wonder how we'll be punished when we get home.
Anyway, Son and I were browsing through YouTube yesterday and came across and old cartoon I used to watch when I was his age or younger. It's called Top Cat, and it was one of my favorites. I haven't seen it in years upon years. The episode we found is in three parts of about seven to nine minutes each, and they automatically jump one to another. So you'll need about twenty minutes to watch the entire episode. Also, it wanted to jump to a completely different episode at the end, but we didn't watch that.
I'm being lazy because I think this will be my last post until Sunday or Monday. Going to be away from the computer a few days.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
He's been having more "crazy days" than usual. These are the days when he can't sit still and takes off running at full tilt throughout the house. I took out a dozen boxes containing The Archives, and he couldn't explore them fast enough. All of the empty boxes become new caves into which he can hide.
That he's stressed is evident in that he's been more "bitey" than normal. He has no patience, even for gentle caresses across his back. He knows something's up, and he's concerned. Everyone's schedules are off. The routine is broken. He's really going to stress out, I think, when we're gone for three days and two nights. We're having a neighbor come in twice a day to make sure he has food and fresh water, but that is not a routine he has ever experienced before.
Cats aren't keen on changes. They just aren't.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Bengal(picture taken from this site)
Bengal are usually short haired . They come in six colours - the Brown (Black) Spotted, the Brown (Black) Marbled, the Blue-Eyed or AOC-Eyed (any other coloured) Snow Spotted Bengals, and the Blue-Eyed or AOC-Eyed Snow Marble Bengals.
The Bengals are very mischievous and boisterous. They are also very vocal, intelligent, loving and people oriented cats. They are very affectionate and mix well with children and other animals
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Take today. I had to punish Spouse and Son this afternoon. They were in the study going through some of Son's things, putting them into boxes. Now Son probably has the best things of the three of them, although I like watching Bevie in front of the kumputer thing. All of that movement. Can't catch anything, though. I've tried.
Anyway, I figured this was a good opportunity to explore the room and play with some of those cheweable things. Normally, I can't get in there. Well, I'm hardly in there any time at all and Son whacks me on the head. And Spouse blames me! Son claimed it was an accident, but humans are not allowed. Well, there was only one response. I had to walk to the door and sit with my back to them. Bevie saw me. Asked me what was up. Upon Son's confession, Bevie congratulated me on my firm paw and walked away. Bevie knew better than to interfere in a disciplinary action.
But humans are so silly. Bevie writes and thinks that's some kind of a big deal. Well, meow, meow, meow. I can write, too. And to prove it, here is a poem I wrote just today. I call it, Why Did God Make People?
Why Did God Make People
So why did God make people?
It’s my understanding he made them last.
That means he made them after cats.
But from a different mold he cast.
People aren’t like house cats.
They aren’t like wild cats, too.
In fact, they aren’t like anything.
Except, perhaps, baboons.
They’re noisy and they’re smelly.
And they can’t catch things like mice.
They aren’t much good at anything.
‘Cept feeding, which is nice.
I keep three humans here with me.
I try to keep them trained.
But training humans is a full-time job.
My patience oft is strained.
But their bodies do have warmth.
And their hands can be so tender.
So laying on their laps,
Is the way to spend a winter.
So, take that, Bevie! Mrrrooowwwllll
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
A Guide to Figuring Out a Cat's Age in Human Terms
Q: Is there a way to figure my cat's age compared to human years? Is this important? Why not compute a human's age to a cat's? What about a dog? Definitely NOT important.
A: Veterinarian Terri Derr knows of no chart that compares a cat's age to a human's. But such charts are published for dogs. Oh, talk about discrimination!
Derr said kittens generally mature more quickly than puppies That makes sense, and a cat's adulthood and middle age are longer than a dog's Sounds good, too. Also, cats tend to live longer than dogs. Well, this sounds like it might be a good article after all. purrrrr
Here is Derr's best guess for comparing cat age to human (six months for a cat is equal to 12 human years):
One year equals 18 years
Two years equal 25 years
Five years equal 35 years
(Firestar is older than 25 but less than 35
In my prime, baby
10 years equal 45 years
12 years equal 60 years
15 years equal 80 years
21 years equal 100 years
(I'm including the dog chart at Firestar's objection. Yes. I objected.)
For dogs the comparison for human years goes something like this (eight months for a dog equals 13 human years):
One year equal 16 years
Two years equal 24 years
Three years equal 28 years
Five years equal 36 years
Seven years equal 44 years
Nine years equal 52 years
11 years equal 60 years
13 years equal 68 years
15 years equal 76 years
I see no dog is likely to reach 100.
Totally makes sense. purrrr
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
After taking in a few breaths Firestar began his frenzied racing through the house. It's a wonder he doesn't crash into things. He moves so fast that by the time you look to see him he has already moved on to another room.
He doesn't want outside, but he seems to react to fresh air like it were some kind of drug. Wish I had that kind of energy. I could power the house.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Pletta was a kitten who was with me just a short time. She was mostly black, with white paws. She was with me when I lived with my sister, Lynahr. But my nephew was allergic and Pletta had to go right off. I still recall how she used to lay on my stomach or back (whichever was facing up at the time), kneed my skin with her claws and go to sleep. For an entire month I had perpetual scratches on both sides of my body from this routine.
BJ was probably the funniest cat I've ever known, although he wasn't the most fun. When we were living by the lake, he always wanted to go outside. He would try to dart past us when we opened the door. But he was such a coward we feared he would get scared and run into the fifteen acres of undeveloped land and be taken by one of the owls which hunted in the trees. So I came up with the clever idea of using a cat harness.
We had to buy three harnesses, because the first two were too big. BJ looked bigger than he was. All that long hair. Eventually, we got a harness that fit and put it on him. He was not keen about this at all. I snapped the leash onto the harness and began to walk. He resisted, but followed, walking in a strange, hunch over way, that made Spouse, Roommate, and me laugh. Then he would stop, fall over like Artie Johnson from an old Laugh-In episode and let himself be pulled along the carpet. So we never used it outside. Well, once we tried, but we got the same result. Eventually, our solution was to purchase $300 octagon screen house and set it up on the patio with a carpet under it. We put the cat stations in it and let BJ and Baby Boy roam there. They loved it.
Anyway, one evening we had guests for supper. It was a young couple I worked with. We had a nice evening and then they saw BJ trying to sneak by them on his way to his food dish. Someone, I don't remember who, thought it would be funny to show our guests exactly how BJ walkin the harness. We did. BJ took three steps, stopped, and fell over. End of walk. Everyone laughed.
Except BJ didn't think this was funny.
He had allowed it when it was just us who lived in the house. But he wasn't keen at having been embarrassed before strangers. It was three days before he would allow himself to be held by any of us. Try as we did to make up to him, he was p*ssed off, and he let us know about it.
Good ole BJ. He was probably the softess thing I've ever held. His fur was like down. And he had a nice, soft purr. (When he wasn't ticked off.) He didn't like the harness, though. Baby Boy didn't mind it. But we didn't think it was fair to have him outside while BJ had to watch. That's why we came up with the screenhouse solution. BJ loved the screenhouse. The wild birds would fly right to it. And the dogs couldn't reach him. Not that the dogs bothered him. He had whopped them when they were pups so, even as adults, the dogs were afraid of him.
We don't have the harness any longer, which is just as well. Knowing Firestar as I do, there would be no point in trying to put one on him. He would bite the entire time. And once on, he would bite the leash. There is no way he would tolerate a leash. But he's not nearly so keen on going outside. That's good, since we no longer have the screen house either. That went when we had the big sale a few years ago. He's content to watch through windows and screen doors. Much, much easier. And cheaper.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
I found a neat on-line cat coloring site. It links to another site with even more pictures to color.
Unfortunately, the only versions which can be downloaded are the blank templates. I didn't see how to download a picture once it had been colored. But very relaxing.
Something I think Bevie needs right now. What a pity I'm about to bite the hand that feeds me.
Hey! What can I say? It's play time!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
"Intelligent cat". Sounds redundant to me. All cats are intelligent. Humans have no idea how smart a feline has to be in order to look silly. It's all an act, people! We're really quite brilliant. Just ask any cat.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
This is from her post on her own blog. If you haven't visited it, you may wish to as she also has a short video clip at the end which I was not able to embed here.
Darlin' Leibchen (Leiby kitty)
Leibchen, Originally named Darlin' Leibchen then I realized they really meant the same so he mostly went by Leibchen - or Leiby kitty.
He was nicknamed purr baby because he would start purring as soon as my husband or I would touch him.Leiby was really cute with hubby. Hubby would lay long wise on the couch on his side, and Leiby would come, meow, for Hubby to make room for him and would lay down beside him.
Leibchen died while I was away, the day I left for my trip he didn't eat his meal - and he declined quickly afterwards. I was heart broken feeling that I should have been with him. I tried to convince myself he was a cat so I should, at the very least, go out and enjoy the sites, but to no avail, I was too upset, and ended up staying in the hotel milking my sorrow between exersize and wine.
I wrote the following poem to express my sorrow and loss. And I learned, if ever my kitties are ill, and I'm traveling - STAY HOME.
He died August 8, 2005 - I was in Brussels, Belgium
One Last Time
by Lisa Izzie
Copyright 2007. Written: August 15, 2005
I only want to hold him,
One last time,
On his final breath,
That moment should be mine.
I want to hold his paw,
And stroke his little head,
Oh my darling Leiby kitty,
How dare you now be dead.
Thousands miles away I was,
In your final days.
I wasn't there to hold you,
Why die when I'm away?
I could not rush to your side,
I could I only call,
Now my Darlin' Leibchen
I can hold you - not at all.
Although I knew your time was near,
Why die while I am gone?
It wasn't me by your side,
Is what I find so wrong.
Small comfort that I called in time,
The last voice you heard was mine.
I only want to hold you,
One last time.
In my hearts an emptiness
of guilt and deep sorrow,
That on the day of my voyage,
Began the end of your tomorrow.
How I wish I'd stayed behind,
to be beside my friend,
so that I could hold you,
One last time.
So that it was me,
me by your side,
the last touch you felt,
and the last kiss was mine.
I only want to hold you, Leiby one last time.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
At the Kishi railway station in southern Japan, the stationmaster has her own litter box. Tama, a local stray cat, was named to the post in January 2007, and ridership immediately jumped 17 percent.
She's paid in cat food and gets her own hat; as the station is unmanned, her main job is to greet passengers.
This all sounds remarkably progressive, but Tama may have mixed feelings: She's still the only female manager in the company.
(Image: Wikimedia Commons)Now that's a job I could do.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
B. J. Honeycat
I remember I was holding him as we entered our place. BJ was shivering. Moved again. We weren't in the house more than a minute and BJ began to purr. I knew why. There was no scent of other cats. The apartment was small. Just a living room with a tiny, tiny kitchen attached, and a door to a bedroom with a tiny bathroom attached. The in-laws sent us home with a litter box and some food and we showed BJ where those would be. Then I let him wander. He wouldn't stop purring.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Using this site, which lists various cat breeds, we come to the fifth in our series.
American Wirehairs are medium to large in size, strong and well muscled with strong legs and firm full paws. The head is round with prominent cheekbones and a well-developed muzzle and chin. The ears are medium size and slightly rounded, and the eyes are large, round, and set well apart. The medium length tail tapers to a rounded tip.
The coat is the characteristic that separates the American Wirehair from all other breeds. Each hair is crimped, hooked or bent, including the whiskers and the hair within the ears, giving this breed a unique coat that's short, springy, resilient, coarse, and very dense. Significant variation exists in the texture and length of the individual coats.
American Wirehairs have a sweet, loving Personality. They crave human attention and affection. They are active without being hyper, and affectionate without being clingy. Wirehairs generally dislike being held and cuddled.
Craving attention, but disliking being held? That's a cat all right. mrrrooowww
Friday, March 6, 2009
I adopted a siamese cat in 1995. I named him Luna and he became my constant buddy. He would follow me everywhere. If I was watching tv he was on the couch with me, if I was taking a shower he was sitting on the toilet waiting for me to get out. He would sleep under the covers with me every night. I know it sounds stupid but when I had problems I would just cuddle with him and it seemed to make everything all better. He was my constant thing in life that I knew I could depend on.
I moved into my own apartment in August 2004 and then in January I realized he was very skinny. The vet diagnosed him with cancer. It was too far along to treat it but he didn't seem to be in any pain so I couldn't put him down yet. I knew it was going to be the hardest thing I ever had to do, he was my best friend. He seemed fine until April when he started to wheeze and I knew it was time. It was 11 pm when I took him for an emergency euth. I buried him the next day at my grandmothers where we had spent 10 years together, under a bleeding heart bush. Later that day I bought a bracelet with a heart charm and had it engraved with "Luna 4-9-05"
I went to the humane society two days later to look at dogs, even though I had no intention of adopting another pet so soon. I had to walk past the cat cages to get to the dog kennel and this little calico looked me in the eyes and meowed. I thought she was cute but kept walking. I went to visit my gramma after and told her about what the cat did. When she went back with me later that day to look at a dog I thought she would like, the same cat reached out and hit me with her paw when we walked by. I stopped and petted her and told my gramma this was the cat I was telling her about.
Out of curiosity I looked at her card to see what her name was. I grabbed my gramma's arm and stood there in kind of a shock when it said that cat's name was Luna. I couldn't believe it... needless to say she came home with me that day. It was like some sort of sign or something, I think... we've settled in nicely together and I renamed her Mushu. The weird thing is that she does a lot of the same things Luna did- from following me everywhere to being right there waiting for me to get out of the shower. It makes me sad and I still cry sometimes when she really reminds me of him. I miss Luna and always will but I think that Mushu was supposed to find me.
I guess this isn't that interesting or amazing to you but may be very coincidental. But to me, this is amazing. Mushu won't take the place of Luna but maybe just carry on his story.
An interesting perspective on cats and nine lives.
I don't believe in human reincarnation, but I often wonder about God's other creatures.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Dwight Nelson recently told a true story about the pastor of his church.
He had a kitten that climbed up a tree in his backyard and then was afraid to come down. The pastor coaxed, offered warm milk, etc. The kitty would not come down. The tree was not sturdy enough to climb, so the pastor decided that if he tied a rope to his car and drove away so that the tree bent down, he could then reach up and get the kitten. He did all this, checking his progress in the car frequently, then figured if he went just a little bit further, the tree would be bent sufficiently for him to reach the kitten. But as he moved a little further forward, the rope broke. The tree went "boing!" and the kitten instantly sailed through the air - out of sight.
The pastor felt terrible. He walked all over the neighborhood asking people if they'd seen a little kitten. No. Nobody had seen a stray kitten. So he prayed, "Lord, I just commit this kitten to your keeping," and went on about his business. A few days later he was at the grocery store and met one of his church members. He happened to look into her shopping cart and was amazed to see cat food. Now this woman was a cat hater and everyone knew it, so he asked her, "Why are you buying cat food when you hate cats so much?" She replied, "You won't believe this," and told him how her little girl had been begging her for a cat, but she kept refusing. Then a few days before, the child had begged again, so the Mom finally told her little girl, "Well if God gives you a cat, I'll let you keep it?" (Can you see where this is heading?)
She told the pastor, "I watched my child go out in the yard, get on her knees, and ask God for a cat. And really, Pastor, you won't believe this, but I saw it with my own eyes. A kitten suddenly came flying out of the blue sky, with its paws outspread, and landed right in front of her." Never underestimate the Power of God and what may appear to be breaking on one end, is answering prayer on another.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Life has routines, and humans have to learn to stick to them. The most important routine there is is the routine where things in my house have to go the way I expect them to. Generally, this isn't a problem. Bevie and the others seem to know their places and behave accordingly.
But not this past week. This past week they have been downright unruly. Unpredictable, even!
Days are supposed to begin with Bevie getting up at some strange hour. I will get up and make sure nothing is amiss - and get my back scratched and head rubbed. purrrrrr!
When Spouse gets up I am fed. Then Son gets up and the three of them leave. Shortly after Bevie and Spouse return. Son must be in a kennel or something. After that, Spouse will leave. Sometimes in the morning and sometimes later. Bevie will watch this strange show (Last of the New Wine), which is the signal Son is soon to come home. Then Bevie leaves. Shortly after, Bevie returns with Son. Not long after that I am fed again. Spouse will come home and the three of them will have their supper. When they finish eating they watch something. I will come up and let them carress my coat. Sometimes, if I'm feeling generous, I'll even purr for them. They like that, you know.
But that's not what they've been doing! They leave and come back at strange times. The one day they left very early and didn't come back until very late. That just isn't acceptable. It disrupted my entire day. They did the same thing the next day. I thought they were back to normal the day after, but they did it again yesterday! Do you realize I have had to actually wait to get fed? So, I had to discipline them. I had to be rough.
When they returned from whatever supposed important thing they had been doing, I made sure they saw me. Then I walked away and ignored them. Later, when they were watching their shows, I really took it to them. I jumped up where all three could see me plainly. Then I sat down - back to them. Oh, they just hate that. They fawned and they pleaded. They were so distressed. Eventually, I had to be merciful. But I think they've learned their lesson now.
Sometimes you just have to use tough love.
“She’s got tuna. I know she’s got tuna.”
“Shut up, Sethra. Stay on mission.”
“What’s the mission? I thought the mission was to get tuna.”
“No, you stupid fluffbrain—it’s to escape and become outdoor cats, walking by ourselves, on our wild lone, waving our tails.”
“Oh, yeah? And isn’t it you, my dear stripy sister Aliera, who keeps pushing the FEED button on the printer and waiting for tuna to come out?”
“That was when I was much younger. Anyway, she’s at the computer—yes, eating tuna casserole—so we can go into the bedroom and see if we can knock the window screen out.”
“You do it, Aliera. I’d rather mess with her stuff.”
“Will you GET OVER that fixation on her wristwatch?”
“I like the feel of the Velcro on my paws. Hey! That reminds me. We’ve been declawed. How are we going to survive as outdoor cats?”
“New plan coming up….”
“What’s the big deal about being outside cats? Even StalkerCat, who used to hang around and chat us up, is a house cat now and loving it. We’ve got it made—food, petting, toys, valet service for the litter box, and we get to sleep on her bed twenty hours a day. And we can stick our noses up to the window and smell anything interesting going on outside. Why ruin a perfect situation?”
“Sethra, have you no sense of adventure? No curiosity? No cattitude? We were meant to live wild and free, to stalk and slay our prey, to be mistresses of the night!”
“Look, we’re cats. We were meant to rule the world, but that doesn’t mean we have to WORK at it. You can if you want, but I don’t need to. After all, I’M beautiful!
“Did I mention she’s got tuna?”
What? Green teeth attract mice!