Battle of the Cats

We have a guest cat in our house for the week. Meet Tucker:

Catnip! CatnipCatnipCatnip!

He's just as skittish as he looks. The only reason he's not under the loveseat is that I brought him some catnip.

Tucker was brought over for catsitting on Friday night and proceeded to hide under/in a chair in the sunporch for his first few hours. Apparently Tucker has become the hiding master, as necessitated by the fact that he lives with a six-year-old girl who likes to use him as a dolly.

We eventually got him into the living room, where he slipped into the loveseat. Now, if we want to get him out, we have to either recline the seat and reach under there, risking head injuries or blindness as we squirm into the inner workings of the seat--or get out the catnip.

You can guess what my preferred method is.

Tucker has slowly, slowly come out of his shell/hiding place. He spent most of Saturday in the loveseat, but that evening he lounged on the living room floor for quite a while, only darting away when TH clomped* down the stairs. But he would hang out under the side table next to his sanctuary, rather than going all the way back into hiding, while he checked out the threat. He even wandered around the living room, hopping up to look out the window.

The prospect of temporarily housing a second cat worried me. I worried about Shakespeare. Not because I thought he might be in danger, but because I thought he might be a danger. See, Shakes has gradually become the terror of all my friends. He acts all friendly, rubbing against your legs and letting you pet him and even pick him up--but then he arbitrarily decides he's not all about this anymore, and he bites you. I don't know where we went wrong, but I blame TH. He never had a cat before, so he played rough with him, and that, I think, made Shakes think he could play rough back. Either that, or it's the classic Siamese temperament--which is temperamental. Bipolar, even. Although he's a barn cat, Shakes obviously has some Siamese or maybe seal-point Himalayan blood.

This here catnip is MINE. I will mark it with my belly fur to designate it so.

This is him sitting on top of his scratching board thing, where I had placed his catnip, evidently trying to absorb it through osmosis...or protect it from Tucker, the catnip fiend.

But Shakes has been a doll baby. Seriously. Every time he comes near Tucker, there's growling and hissing--but it's almost always from Tucker. Tuck's a good cat, so I think this is mainly a response to being in another cat's territory. Just self-preservation. Tucker's even batted at Shakespeare's face a few times, and Shakes doesn't really fight back. He even makes chirping, happy noises toward Tucker, which I translate as, "Won't you be my friend? Please? Please please please? It would make me so happy!"

To which Tucker replies with a hiss and a growl.

Of course, he does act in some ways I consider passive aggressive. For instance, if Tucker is in his loveseat enclave, there's a good chance Shakes is sleeping on top of the loveseat.

This has given me hope, though. I thought Shakes would be hard to socialize after almost five years of being the King of the Castle.** I thought I'd have to wait until we move to get my second cat.***

But I think--much to TH's chagrin--that Shakes will have a little buddy to play with by the end of August.

Hopefully this one will spend some time outside the loveseat.

I'm watching you.

*Really, Firefox? "Clomped" is a word? Okay, I'll take it.

**TH and I have no illusions. Our names may be on the deed, and we may pay the mortgage, but The Bard runs the joint.

***I remembered last week that I'd been promised: once I got an agent, we would get another cat. It was just another incentive to work hard, and I had so many of those that I forgot the cat thing until over a week after I accepted representation.

Various and Sundry

Several wildly divergent and incredibly trivial matters to bring to your attention. One or more may cause significant cognitive dissonance, as that seems to be the name of the game all over the intertubewebs today. Don't say you weren't warned.

1. Cats singing Christmas carols.

2. This ought to wake you up (originally found on Whatever)

.

3. Which leads us here...

4. And finally, I love my area TV news. Because they come up with priceless gems like this:

"The attorney for convicted killer Levon Chisley is asking Centre County Court to declare him indignant so court costs and fees related to his appeal would be covered by the court."



How about you? Found anything interesting today?

Cat Games

My cat and I have several games we like to play together. Usually, we play sometime in the latter part of the morning or early afternoon, depending on when I get sick of his constant mewing. Some of them, however, are not in any way initiated by me or The Husband, and are, in fact, very unpleasant.

Throw-and-Run-Past: Human throws a toy, or even just a random object, up the stairs. Cat bolts up the stairs as if on fire, only to run past the object and into one of the upstairs rooms. Human comes upstairs, tantalizes him with object, and then throws it down the stairs. Cat bolts down the stairs as if being chased by an invisible Doberman, only to run past the object and hide in the living room. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Chase-and-Run-Past: Similar to above, except that the toy in question is on a string, and the game area encompasses the entire house. If Cat does, in fact, grow brave enough to enter the same room as the toy, he will hide under or behind furniture. This variation has more potential for visual entertainment, as the entire first floor of our house has wood laminate flooring, and nothing skids on a slippery surface with as much unintentional grace as a cat.

BlanketMouse: There is a mouse under the comforter--except there isn't, it's a human hand or a cat toy, bumbling merrily along under the covers until it runs straight into the cat. Cat then attacks BlanketMouse. BlanketMouse struggles valiantly, but eventually succumbing to Cat's mighty deathgrip. Repeat, with occasional instances in which BlanketMouse gets brave and wanders out from his comfy comforter home.

Hey, That Toy Doesn't Go There: This game can be played by whomever is going up the stairs. Cat has a particular toy consisting of a small, round, carpeted platform, to which is attached a long spring topped by a stuffed star. If the cat finds said toy at the top of the stairs, and is in the mood to be annoyed (this is frequent), he will drag-push-nudge it all the way to the bottom...and sometimes through the living room and dining room, and into the kitchen. In one memorable instance, he tried to drag it through the cat-door that he uses to get to the basement. Cat may take a while to participate in the game, once the toy has been placed at the top of the stairs, but when he does, you will know by the signature thump-thump-thumpthumpthump that marks his turn.

There's a Human in This Bed, and I Don't Like it: This game, strictly nocturnal, is not played as frequently as the others--thank goodness. In this game, Cat decides that the humans in the bed aren't being as vigilant as they should, and it is his sacred duty to keep them on their toes. The object of this game, for Cat, is as follows:

1. Leap onto the bed in a single bound, landing on some sensitive area of first human.
   
2. Use first human as a springboard to the second human, on which he must land on another sensitive area. Chest, kidney, groin--it doesn't matter. As long as they make a funny noise.
3. Jump to the floor and run from the room before they can enact their vengeance.

The object of this game, for the humans, is to not sustain fatal damage.

The Floor is Made of Lava: Also a nocturnal game, best played in the very early morning hours. The title is self-explanatory, but in case it is not: Cat must traverse the room without touching the floor. Bonus points if he can knock something large and heavy off a dresser.

And, finally...

That Toy is Boring, but Your Hand is Not: In which Cat decides he would rather eat the human's hand. Bonus points for kicking/scratching/destroying an arm while feasting.



I'd love to get a second cat, but I'm not sure what the outcome would be. Either Cat would have someone his own size to play with...or he would have a teammate in his strange, crazy games. Until I can be certain of my own, and my husband's, safety, I will consider one feline plenty.

Inching forward

I'm actually getting used to this new template. Now I'm not sure if it's ugly or not.

Miss Snark is inching toward my number on the Happy Hooker Crapometer. It should be up either today or tomorrow, if she keeps up at this pace. I'm back to being nervous again, as you can probably tell. Well, I was nervous, but then the cat almost killed me. After that, I decided to exchange my anxiety for gratitude--gratitude that I'm freakin' alive.

How did the cat almost kill me, you ask? Well, normally he confines his assassination attempts to the stairs, trying to attack my ankles as I ascend or, worse, descend. Today, he got all crafty.

I was in the basement, faithfully editing away at the WIP (60 pages to go! w00t!). I had my headphones on and the music cranked up, as usual, so I didn't hear Mr. Psycho Kitty creep from the stairs to the beam that crosses the center of the basement. Which, of course, is directly above the table where I sat.

As I'm reattaching a split infinitive, something big, long, and heavy falls onto my shoulder. I screamed, then looked up to see how the &$%@ something fell from the ceiling onto my head. Our house is old, yes, but no so old that parts of it should be falling on me.

What do I see but the cat, looking down at me all innocent-like. "What?" his eyes seemed to say. "Wasn't me."

What fell on me? I'm really not sure. It was long, black, hard plastic....and it came within two inches of my skull. If it had hit my head, it might not have given me a concussion, but it definitely would've hurt. My shoulder is fine thanks to my thick, cushiony, fleecy pink robe.

So I'm not talking to the cat today. He gets the silent treatment until he purr-ily apologizes for such a rude attempt on my life. As far as my Crapometer-related anxiety goes, well...I'll just talk to myself about it.

*Mutters incomprehensibly*.

-Kristin

Random Linkage Fun

Wanna get in the holiday spirit? Wanna walk around your house singing like a cat all night?

Here ya go. (Note: If you haven't already, you have to download the Rhapsody player to listen, but it's free and there's no registration.)

I find this place really interesting. My nation is approaching its one-day anniversary. It's kind of a slow process, and a bit complicated, but definitely eye-opening and fun. I'm looking forward to building Kristinia into a superpower that strikes fear and/or respect into the hearts of its enemies.

I love stuff like this. There's nothing better than old pictures of places you know...makes you think about how things have changed in the past fifty or sixty years, and how much they will change in the future.

That's all for now.

-Kristin

My Cat's Tongue

My cat is weird.

He likes to lick things. Not all things, mind you, but certain things. My hand. My legs when I get out of the shower. My feet when I get out of the shower. The shower.

He also enjoys licking a certain toy. When he does this, a loud raspy noise can be heard from two rooms away.

He licks tape. The sticky part.

He licks the strips you pull off self-adhesive envelopes when you go to seal them.

Most of the time, when he does these things, I'll give him a weird look and continue whatever I was doing. If the noise is really annoying, or if I think he's reached his Recommended Daily Allowance of glue, I'll make him stop.

Last night, however, he really got a weird look from me. We were sitting on the couch together--me on my laptop, him sleeping next to me--when I heard a strange noise. I looked over to find him licking the couch.

It's made of microsuede or something like that. There was a large wet spot directly in front of him, which he had created.

Like I said. He's weird.

-Kristin

Wha--?

Okay, I had one of the weirdest dreams I've ever had last night. And I've had some doozies.

My window was open, and a white horse was outside it. The horse kept rearing up, like it was upset or scared or something. And it was freaking me out pretty good, too. Then...okay, here comes the weird part...

It stole our cat. Took him right in his mouth. I don't remember anything after that.

I don't believe in this stuff too much, but just for kicks I looked at some dream dictionaries online. From this one:

To see a horse in your dream, represents a strong, physical energy. You need to tame the wild forces... If the horse is white, then it signifies purity, prosperity and good fortunes.

Okay, not bad. I'll take some good fortunes.

Now, about the cat:

...for the cat lover, cats signify an independent spirit, feminine sexuality, creativity, and power.

And about the stealing:

If someone steals something from you in your dream, you are feeling a lack of emotional understanding or appreciation in your life.

Okay, so let me get this straight. My purity, prosperity, and good fortune don't sufficiently appreciate my independent spirit, feminine sexuality, etc. Or something.

Never mind.

These dream dictionaries, generally, are a lot like horoscopes. They throw a lot of vague, general ideas at you, in the hope that one might fit. For instance, let's check out my horoscope:

You are quite determined today to fulfill your heart's desire, but you may be thwarted every time you make a move toward your goal. Fortunately you are not willing to give in to discouragement. Pick yourself up as often as necessary and start all over again. Although you aren't usually so persistent, today it will play out in your favor.

Now, of course I'm determined to fulfill my heart's desire. I mean, everybody wants something, every day...it's part of the human condition. We are never truly satisfied with what we have--at least, not for long.

And who doesn't feel thwarted, at some point during the day? Who goes through an entire day without experiencing at least one minute of frustration?

Of course, everyone wants to hear that they won't "give in to discouragement." I certainly don't mind being told that. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy about my potential accomplishments.

And I can certainly cite some times when I haven't been as persistent as I should. Everybody can. Everyone gives up at some point, and frequently it's sooner than they should.

So what did my dream mean? Well, it probably meant that I was sleeping on my arm, or the cat jumped on me in my sleep and made me dream about him, or whatever. Or it meant...nothing.

But it sure was weird.

-Kristin