different cats, different styles

Before I had a cat, I imagined what it might be like. None of them has been a neck warmer, however sweet that would be on a blizzardy January Nebraska night.

I had an impression of what I wanted in my pound cat...!

I imagined this is what having a cat would be like!

Dougy is the closest to a body part warmer of any of my cats. When he stops by for a cat nap in the middle of the night, he walks on me, meows to ask me if I’m awake, kneads any exposed skin he can find, then snuggles between my chest and top arm. He wraps all four legs around my arm, and I suspect I keep him warm, rather than the other way around. Ha!

Dougy loves my computer desk…when I’m trying to use it!

Andy isn’t a snuggle bunny. He likes to sleep, instead, by a small fan on top of a small bookcase by my bed. There’s a window behind it, which I crack open for the fresh air. I suspect night sounds are what interests Andy, not a chance to share my bedroom! From the bookcase to my bed is a small jump.

From my bed, he can jump to a television stand and a drawer I leave open for his amusement in case he needs a way up to catch an occasional fly, spider, or moth. A cat chasing a critter pretty much ends any possibility of sleep. On the other hand, a fly, spider, or moth loose in the room doesn’t help sleep conditions either. Dougy always comes running when he hears Andy on the hunt.

Andy before a haircut. That piece of cottonwood is a favorite perch.

Two cats hunting definitely end any possibility of sleep!

Louie the ginger cat was big enough to kick me out of bed had he chosen to sleep there. He visited only to wake me up to feed him. This he did by several means: tail end in my face, sniffing my nose, patting me roughly with a big paw (claws barely out for effect), walking up and down my body, and, toward the end, he self-taught himself to put his front paws on my covers, his rear paws on me, and push my covers down! When a nearly 24 pound (10.8kg) cat pushes your covers off, you get up!

Louie climbed on the kitchen table to check out this bouquet. Bad kitty!

Then there was little Freckles, the cat only those who’ve been around since fall of 2009 will remember. She was a small teenaged cat, like Louie, that I rescued from the city pound. She was my first cat.

Freckles was a sweet kitty.

She was a nervous little tabby cat, having spent weeks in the pound at a time they caged cats next to the dogs. They couldn’t see each other, but they definitely were aware of each other through smell and sound. She relaxed immediately at home when I brought her to the apartment: No more dogs!

That first night, I brought her out to rest on my chest while I sat in my recliner. The moment I picked her up, she began a purring, a surprisingly loud purr for such a petite cat. I pet her till I fell asleep. The vibrations of her purring felt so good on my chest! When I woke up, she was still there, still purring.

Freckles wasn’t big enough to warm anything much, though she warmed my heart.

Different cats, different styles.

vicissitudes of cat photography

One thing about digital cameras, you make a crap photo, and all you’ve wasted are the few electrons it took to create the image on the memory card. Occasionally, though, mistakes yield a potentially “good” photo that, with a little help from Photoshop, give the false impression you know how to handle a camera to make true art!

For example:

Impressionistic, “arty” photo of Andy and Dougy in the window, or a failed effort to get a focused photo of Andy and Dougy in the window, heavily processed in Photoshop.

Let’s face it, you can tell a cat, but not much! Andy looked cute in his favorite perch, but low light (flash went off each time I attempted to get a candid shot) and a wary cat from all the flashes of light in his face didn’t make for a happy subject. (Andy’s always wary, thanks to all those baths he got as a kitten.) Oh well, even a surly Andy is cute. He can’t help it!

I don’t know if anyone mistakes this for “art”, but this Andy portrait sure as heck took some major Photoshopping to capture his surly, little essence!

My digital camera will select an ultra-slow “shutter” speed for flash photos in low light. Slowly…! Before the flash goes off, your cat subject usually leaves Dodge to do something else, probably naughty and much more interesting! Not for this one, though, so I have to destroy it and everyone who reads this blog to assure no one knows I ever took a bad kitty shot. Never!

Photoshop couldn’t help this one of Dougy. I tried, man! I tried!

Another benefit of digital photography is the crap photos, once deleted, exist no more. There aren’t any negatives to betray the reality that my cat photo everyone admires is one of dozens taken that I couldn’t Photoshop into submission. I guarantee, very few of my photos are virgins.

Patience, persistence, practice, prayer, Photoshop, and a good stout pair of woven stainless steel mesh shark-resistant gloves yield great cat photos every time! If you lack any of those, however, try making videos of the little darlings. I bet I scrapped out five minutes of videos to get this one short vignette:

Notice the thumbnail photo that appears on the YouTube still is, well, pretty darn much like the first photo in this post, only I couldn’t run it through Photoshop to make it “purr-ty”!

=(^+^)= [Andy] =(^+^)= [Dougy] =(^+^)= [Andy] =(^+^)= [Dougy] =(^+^)=

[NB ~ Not unlike cat photography, this text went through 21 revisions – knock on wood! – before I called it polished enough for public viewing. Cat prose is much like cat photography: Patience, persistence, practice, prayer, proofread function, and a good stout pair of woven stainless steel mesh shark-resistant gloves yield great cat prose every time! But is it great literature? Dun-dun-dunnnn!]

=(^+^)= [Andy] =(^+^)= [Dougy] =(^+^)= [Andy] =(^+^)= [Dougy] =(^+^)=

You don’t believe me? Here’s a Screen Print of the revision record for this simple, little post. In addition to the 5 P’s for successful cat photos and videos is the “P” of perfection. Nothing’s too good for my readers! Rats! This addition makes another revision! “Argh!” as Charlie Brown used to say.

So many revisions! Can’t I think straight?

Twenty-two. Rats! Not another one! Yep, twenty-three!

shaggy no more

I manage a disciplined grooming schedule for the boys, for good reasons. No one likes to give a cat a bath. Two cats needing baths is a nightmare realized. If the two cats have poop balls [AKA “dingleberries” for you squeamish readers] hanging tight on their buttocks, that bath business becomes one of “well, the sooner I get them in, soaking, then plucked and worked out, the sooner those poop balls will be gone, and the sooner the cats can forget the indignity they are just about to endure”.

Believe me. Once you’ve washed poop off two cat butts, you feel like Lady Macbeth trying to clean her hands of blood and guilt: The memory of cat poop squishing in your fingers, under your fingernails blocks out all efforts to sterilize those appendages adequately, no matter how hot the water and abundant the soap applied. Ew! I mean, you’ll toss your toothbrush if it falls in the wash basin after a poop bath, no matter how long after the deed.

[This old video of Dougy after a poop bath makes the business seem fun, a jolly good time. What it doesn’t show, since filming and bathing a cat at the same time is impossible, is the cat attack and hissy fit Dougy put on for the bath time!]

Geez. How did I get on that subject? Oh, the grooming schedule for the boys!

While the boys are on a rigid grooming schedule to assure mats and hair that traps poop are dealt with before they are a problem, I do a poor job of managing my grooming.

Just two weeks ago, I cut my beard from Taliban length to a less provocative tightly trimmed length. The shorter beard accentuated the next deferred grooming need: the hair on the top of my head extended well beyond my collar, something I hadn’t noticed. I made an appointment, which I had yesterday afternoon. Finally! You know how it is. The moment you make the appointment, you hair starts to bother you for its length, the same length you hadn’t noticed for weeks, months!

I like the woman who cuts my hair. She asks me how I’d like it. I tell her to cut it as short as she wants. She cuts it how she thinks it looks just right, and I’ve never been disappointed. Every other person I had cut my hair I gave extensive instructions, and the haircuts almost always were tolerable but not what I wanted: I thought I knew what was best for me and didn’t trust their judgement.

[This video has nothing to do with this post, but it is a hilarious look at cattitude!]

Let this be a lesson. If you go to a professional for a service, let him or her decide what’s needed. If they blow it the first time, go back to giving instructions. Most times, however, they know their job better than you give them credit for, and the finished result will be pleasing, even better than you wanted. In the case of a rare bad haircut, it will grow out. A good haircut feels good and requires little maintenance till it gets long again. I like that!

I even let her trim my beard to deal with some small messes I made of it with scissors two weeks ago. She did a bang up job of it! Like my cats when they get grooming, I was a good boy. Unlike my boys, though. I gave the woman who cuts my hair a generous tip. I always do!

(Maybe I should tip the boys’ groomer, too. I never thought about that till just now.)

fleas, ticks, and heartworm day, part 3

Andy must have told Dougy a story because Dougy definitely wasn’t as easy to corner as I thought he’d be!

I took a mug over to the kitchen sink, then doubled back to the spot where I give the boys their Greenies treats. Dougy’d stopped by there moments before I went to the kitchen, but finished the Greenies Andy left before I doubled back.

I sat down on a chair by the table, gave a little thought to a new development. Dougy, when he saw me come back, hopped on a section of cottonwood branch the boys like to perch on. It’s only two or three inches high, but it seems to meet some cat perch specification because the boys “argue” about which cat gets it every chance they can.

Had Dougy eaten too many Greenies to be lulled into my flea, tick, and heartworm treatment plot? Andy tends to eat all the treats if Dougy doesn’t come over for his share fast enough, the treats are that tasty! Dougy sat on the cottonwood perch and eyed me warily.

“You want some more Greenies, Dougy?” I asked. I shaked the bag, the way I let the boys know I’m about to put out treats. With their cat-sharp hearing, they come running from anywhere in the apartment when I shake the bag. Andy came back to just outside his safety zone in case he needed to run from me. No trusting me today! Not after that indignity!

Dougy sat there, immobile with indecision. He noticed Andy’s nervousness. I think he snooped at the trash where the discarded treatment tube used on his brother was, too, and his cat-sniffer recognized the unwelcome scent. As noted in part 1, cats are not stupid!

Little by little, enticement by enticement, I thought Dougy was about to get down on the floor to eat more treats. Then he curled up on the perch.

I thought about it. At worse, I’d miss the opportunity by moving toward Dougy too fast or by under-estimating how securely I could hold him down by the nape of his neck when he wasn’t stretched out straight. At best, though, I could surprise Dougy, secure him by the nape of his neck, and squeeze the treatment between his shoulder blades without incident!

Whew! A rush of adrenalin took me to Dougy’s safe spot (he thought). I grabbed the loose skin of the nape of his neck, squirted the treatment out so fast he didn’t have a chance to protest, and like a rodeo cowboy tying off three legs of a calf in the calf roping event, I tossed up my arms to show I’d completed the task! WOOHOO! I set a new record!

This was the best fleas, ticks, and heartworm day ever. I’m glad I watched how their veterinarian secured Andy the last I took him in. I used his technique today with great success! I mean, if a veterinarian wants to have good control of a kitty any time more than any other, it has to be when he takes the cat’s temperature! (You do know how they do that, don’t you?!)

fleas, ticks, and heartworm day, part 1

Today is the day I need to round up Andy and Dougy for the monthly hell of squirting a few drops of flea, tick, and heartworm treatment between their shoulder blades. It’s never pretty.

Though it is great fun to have two brothers that play well together, cats that quickly evaluate events they feel will result in wetness or travel in a carrier aren’t fun at all.

Cats aren’t idiots. If they sense wetness or travel in a carrier, they find the farthest, least accessible spot under the heaviest piece of furniture in the darkest part of the apartment to hide. I’m not getting any younger…

TACO could infect my cats with diseases they, as inside cats, otherwise aren’t exposed to. He’s one reason my boys are inside cats.

Andy is particularly clever. If I catch him first, I usually finish the task at hand with the least pain to cats or me. Even then, I have to pin him down, wrap him up, or endure nine and a half pounds of mad, frightened cat…with claws! I handle pain well, and heal fast, though I’d rather skip the blood and scars over application of a few wet drops of flea, tick, and heartworm treatment.

Dougy’s main character flaw is likeability with trust. He’s so cute when he tries to avoid something he doesn’t like because he’s not too good at it. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t manage to make flea, tick, and heartworm day miserable for us both if he can. And he can!

Dougy’s physically bigger than his brother by three-quarters pound or so. He can handle me if it means not getting his treatment. He’s surprisingly fast, but I’ve learned I need to close as many doors as possible before I begin. Of course, once I start closing doors…!

Yeah, the boys figure something they won’t like is afoot, and Andy hides immediately! Dougy’s strategy is a zig-zag gallop of escape and evasion through the clutter of our home. I’m not fast, so I’ve learned which places both boys like to hide as my strategy to get through flea, tick, and heartworm day.

[Remember this video? TACO looks a lot rougher since the time three years ago he and Louie, above, had their first tête-à-tête encounter.]

I eventually get the job done, but always wonder if flea, tick, and heartworm day is necessary. The treatment is pricey. The boys are inside cats. Heartworm isn’t common where I live, and, according to their veterinarian, cats with it typically are cats brought here from other states, not local cats. I am unaware of fleas or ticks in my neighborhood.

I apply the hated drops anyway. Like health insurance for me, it isn’t necessary when I feel well, but invaluable when the risk of illness threatens or becomes a fact. I’d rather put up with the boys’ resistance now than deal with sick or afflicted cats later.

A lovely spring day!

The predicted high for today is 74 degrees F [23 degrees C]. The sky is overcast, and rain is in the works for tonight. On this July 28th, typically a time in the middle of the hottest part of the year where I live, we are having something like a lovely spring day!

Andy’s sprawled on his back by my desk, a typical business for this little cat. On one hand, he’s very trusting to expose his tummy to the fellow (me) notorious for the “got-yer-tummy!” game. On the other hand, he’s positioned directly under a ceiling fan. Must feel good, even though it isn’t hot!

Not sweating today! That’s the midday temperature at top.

Dougy’s nowhere to be seen, but I know what he’s up to. It’s midday, nearly so, so the cat brothers are having themselves a midday nap.

I’m tempted to join them on this lovely spring-like day!

=(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)= =(^-^)=

I spoke too soon. Dougy just came over to Andy and patted him on the tummy. Andy bounded up, assuming the stance of a serious predator, all four paws on the ground, tail fluffed out and raised high! Dougy got the reaction he wanted! Dougy found something else to amuse himself, now that he’d ruined his brother’s nap.

Andy slipped off for a midday snack of cat crunchies, not to be confused with the mid-morning Greenies break. Dougy’s looking for more trouble to get into.

So much for the midday nap!

cat lounger

I found a little extra money in my budget this week, then discovered that the cat lounger that both Andy and Dougy love to spend time on is on sale for…the same amount of money I found in my budget!

The extra money could’ve been set aside for a rainy day, I guess, but I have one small annuity that each month pumps rainy day funds into a savings and loan account I rarely touch. That account, by all accounts, is a nice little chunk since I haven’t touched it in some time. “Out of sight, out of mind”, eh?! It will cover a fine storm some day. Maybe not a 500 year storm, though a 100 year rainy day is safely covered.

Cat-nephew Sox, a cool cat! You met him earlier, but he’s so handsome, I decided to post his photo again.

Since we’re hitting the clichés hard and fast today, I note that while I am reasonably fiscally sound, I am known to “spend money like a drunken sailor”. Sometimes!

This week was one of those “sometimes” occasions.

I thought and thought. What do I need? Nada, pretty much. One of the benefits of retirement is material needs diminish, spending goes down, and you don’t even work at it. This is the guy who occasionally “spends like a drunken sailor”, so when I say “trust me”, I suspect you needn’t hear “cross my heart and hope to die” as further verification of my veracity.

I gave you a bit of a hint, above: Sox, my Seattle sister’s very handsome tuxedo cat, I decided, needs a cat lounger like his cat-cousins out in Nebraska. I mean, Nebraska’s a cool place, her cats are cool. (“Cool cats”- catch that clichéd expression?!) But Seattle cats? Come on! On a coolness scale, even I concede Seattle is cooler than where I live.

Surely Seattle cats rank in the top 10 American cats for coolness. Yet, there is an emptiness in Sox’s world, a void that needs filled. A neighborhood Starbucks won’t suffice, man: Sox needs a cat lounger to compete with the coolest of all Seattle tuxedo cats, Henri, le chat noir et blanc! (I think I got the French reasonably close… for someone who never studied it.)

So, I ordered the cat lounger for my cat-nephew! That “mad money” is in amazon’s hands, and they notified me today it is on the way to Seattle. It will change your life, cat-nephew Sox. Guaranteed!

Yes, Sox! This could be you, come tomorrow!

Yes, Sox! This could be you, as early as tomorrow! Woohoo!

Andy’s pretty tail

Back on the 14th of July, I noted one of Andy’s nicknames is “Pretty Tail”. Today, I have some objective evidence to support that:

I think you may agree. Not only is Andy’s tail pretty, it’s pretty amazing! Dougy seems to think so, too ~ >sniff<

a trip to the veterinarian

The boy’s groomer noticed a small rash by Andy’s left arm yesterday when trimming him. The rims of his ears, too, were red. When I learned about this, I made an appointment with Andy’s veterinarian. I’m a mother hen when it comes to the boys’ health.

It turned out his vital signs are all OK, and his veterinarian feels the redness is an allergic reaction to the cat shampoo or something in his environment. He doesn’t have feline acne…! The “rash” he feels may have happened when grooming himself. Anyway, all I need do is watch it to make sure he’s healing without any infection.

Andy and Dougy are delighted to be together again, I noticed. They’ve been sniffing and rubbing against each other since Andy and I got back.

“Where you been, brother?” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!” Sniff-sniff!

Andy, incidentally, was very wary and hard to catch this morning, but was a very good boy at the veterinarian’s. The whole time we waited (the veterinarian had an emergency surgery), Andy kneaded the blanket in the carrier and purred with his eyes closed!

A small price to pay for peace of mind!

This afternoon, I’m driving a veteran down to the Veterans Affairs Office in the next town. This is the fourth time I’ve driven someone somewhere. It’s part of my RSVP volunteer activities.

The bus that usually is available to take people to appointments is headed to Hot Springs, SD, today, so they needed a volunteer to take this fellow to his in the next town. It’s interesting and fun! Plus I get out of town for a bit, my car gets a few highway miles on it, and someone else gets a free ride someplace they needed to go.

Andy and Dougy come home from the groomer.

Not much to say today. Getting the boys to the groomer’s and back wears me out, even though the groomer is only three blocks away! Today was their bi-monthly appointment. As usual, they were good boys while there, according to their groomer. That is amazing since there was a barking dog there, too. My boys do not, repeat, DO NOT like doggies! If I go “woof-woof” to them, as a inter-species sort of joke, it always falls short. If the television is on, and there is a dog on the screen, “woof-woof” not only isn’t funny to the boys, they sometimes get upset. Ah me! Anyway, here’s the video of the boys arriving home.