The Cat Who Sought the High Ground

Never expect a cat to keep his feet on the ground when a restricted area looms overhead like a death defying challenge to a mentally impaired feline.

Downyflake,not the brightest bulb in the box, enjoys the hunt for space (well, he doesn't need to hunt for anything else). He will try to force his 16 pounds into tiny places where a mouse, should he even recognize the creature as possible prey, might hide to escape a brighter cat. As it is, if we had a mouse in the house, I think the two would become pals and sleep together, maybe share food stuff and occasionally act like predator and prey to fool the humans into complacity.

However, never let it be said that Downyflake doesn't come up with ideas that might make his mother proud, and his father roll his eyes with despair. A 6.5 feet tall object he knew to be restricted needed to be assaulted, er. . .climbed and mastered, when his humans weren't paying attention.

Wicker is off limits, or so we thought. Downyflake knew otherwise. Cat 1, Humans 0.

Must've been a Librarian - Now a Cat

Downyflake, the other orange cat (name changed to protect the innocent - me that is not him), loves boxes. He particularly loves small boxes. Downyflake is not a small cat as you can see. He weighs in at around 16 pounds.

It is not unusual for him to nestle close to books. Okay, we're booksellers and writers so of course we have several thousand books. However, large orange cats in small half-filled boxes have got to make you wonder. Is Downyflake a reincarnated Librarian?

He does seem to feel most comfortable around books. He does not hurry away when he gets caught. Maybe he's trying to tell us all something important.

"Read, wish I still could. You never know what you'll become next time around."

Oh, yes and he does leave one with the feeling of a brilliant shine!
______________________________________________________________________________________

Technorati Tags:
orange cats, cat lovers, the cat who, cats, feline, cat, hunter, mouser, roach trap, writer, bookseller, unmerciful, beholden
Add to: | Technorati | Digg | del.icio.us | Yahoo | BlinkList | Spurl | reddit | Furl |

Scooter Pays Tribute to America's veterans!

Take a moment today to reflect on what makes America the great nation it is and honor all veterans!

The Cat Who Walked the Plank

The boardwalk sits ten feet above the ground and the handrail 3.5 feet higher. Scooter, like all of his kind, tends his territory from the best vantage point. Since he is the Alpha male in these parts, despite his age and the droop of his belly, his territory is vast--for a cat.

Each morning he uses the handrail to scan large and wildly overgrown sections of his yard, pausing to scratch, sniff the air and stare at Egrets and Great Blue Herons as if he knows someday he’ll get lucky and bag one. Never mind that both species are ten times his size--not necessarily his weight mind you--he glares at them from afar, flips his tail meaningfully, and then turns a cold shoulder as if to announce, “Sorry, not today, but don’t think I’m not watching, waiting until you leave the water and come a little closer. When you do, it’s over!”

At the end of his handrail walk, he likes to sit and savor his accomplishments, before turning around and heading to the birdbath for a wild animal drink.

____________________________________________________________________________


Technorati Tags:
orange cats, cat lovers, the cat who, cats, feline, cat, hunter, mouser, roach trap
Add to: | Technorati | Digg | del.icio.us | Yahoo | BlinkList | Spurl | reddit | Furl |

The Cat Who Hated Rain?

There are moments when Scooter seems to need to prove that he is still a feral creature. This morning was one.

A rain storm swept the region during the night. Scooter, who spends the night indoors with his human provided food, clean litter box, and a bowl filled with bottled water, acted reluctant to exit into the storm’s residue when I opened the front door for him. Actually, he turned his back on it certain, I think, that rain fell only in the front of the house.

We went through the daylight basement and I opened the rear door, which opens onto a covered porch. He went out, and glared at the still falling drizzle. It was light rain, so I dared him to join me for our usual morning walk. Yes, that’s right; I walk my cat every morning. Or, perhaps, he walks me. We don’t discuss whose idea it was the first time two years ago, and have followed the daily routine since that day. He also comes when I whistle, which I’m certain he credits as my willingness to cater to his needs by alerting him of my readiness.

This morning, since the yard was soaked, and rain still fell, I didn’t think he’d want to walk. He did and even showed some enthusiasm when he saw that rainwater had collected on the boardwalk. When he began to drink it, I scoffed his effort as foolish since he had clean water inside. He glared and returned to licking like the feral cat he knows lives within.