The Cat Daze of Summer

Oh, my poor little girls!

As I mentioned yesterday, the extreme heat and lack of central air in our house have had a noticeable effect on the cats' behavior... I didn't think it possible that they could be even more lazy than they already were, but yet again I have been proven wrong.

Anyone wandering our halls today would have been witness to scenes of carnage such as these:





Apparently, the goal here is to remain as low as possible. It was downright dangerous to walk through the house today, riddled as it was with comatose felines. This is the most I could get Annie to lift her head for me:



And poor Blackie ran out of steam before she even made it to the food bowls, although I see it hasn't yet affected her healthy physique:


I did have a bit more luck getting Blackie to raise her head off the floor & look at me when I called her... although the results would indicate that I probably should have left well enough alone:



Aahhh! Get thee behind me, Satan!!

Luckily for all of us - and just in time, if that last photo was any indication - the talented & delightful Steve from AirTron hooked us up with some new A/C parts this afternoon, and consequently the climate in our lovely abode is becoming more hospitable by the moment.

If you need proof, here's Blackie about 5 minutes ago, back in one of her normal snuggly places - on the bed, nestled in her daddy's warm comforter:



Still lazy, to be sure, but oh-so-much more comfy!

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Now playing: Cracker - Low
via FoxyTunes

Tales from a Cat House

Annie has the sniffles. Actually, she has the full-blown, snot-filled sneezes. It's not attractive at all. It's probably really uncomfortable for her, too, since she reflexively shakes her entire monstrous head with each sneeze. She must have quite a case of kitty whiplash by now.

But it does make her very cuddly, which is unusual. She typically only likes to sit with me about once a week, in the middle of the night when it's very quiet. And she's usually done with me within about 10 minutes. If I didn't know better, I'd think she were a man.

But when she's feeling under the weather, I'm her favorite person, and it's kinda hard to get her off my lap. I'm sure it's mostly for the warmth, but she actually seems to enjoy being with me & all the attention she gets. Which is very sweet, but it makes it a bit tricky to use my laptop Keith when there's already something fat & furry in my lap.

I startled her a bit by starting to play some music, as her head was nestled up against the speaker. I thought that might shoo her away, but it turns out that she likes most of it. I did finally get rid of her with some Toadies, but she seemed to dig all my emo, and she was particulary fond of James Taylor. "Sweet Baby James" made her purr like crazy. Weird.

Her counterpart Blackie, on the other hand, is currently avoiding me. This could be because I yelled at her this morning when, in an attempt to wake me up (for no other reason than her own entertainment, mind you), she decided it would be a good idea to nibble on my face. She was mistaken, obviously.

Or, she could still be a bit skittish from yesterday, when I expressed my displeasure at having torn my bedroom apart for 6 hours, only to find that she had stolen my wedding ring. To be fair, I don't think she stole it on purpose, so I don't think we need to break out the cat handcuffs. Blackie, due to her unfortunate size, tends to... well, absorb things without realizing it, kinda like the Blob. I'm not sure if these things just become hopelessly trapped in her belly fat, or if maybe they can't escape her gravitational pull. But we always check there first when anything smaller than a breadbox is missing.

I'm not even exaggerating for effect here. She sucks up my TiVo remote all the time, sometimes changing channels inadvertently when she breathes. (And those things are pretty big - you can see it in the above Annie picture, laying on Mark's left shoulder). She once assimilated my cell phone, and let me tell you: you haven't lived until you've seen a 25 lb. scaredy-cat try to figure out why her tummy is vibrating and playing Flight of the Conchords songs. She kept trying to run away from it, but the phone was so firmly lodged in her fat rolls that she had made several circuits of the house before it finally escaped. Kinda pitiful, really.

So, you may ask, why did I not look there for my ring in the first place? Ah, but I did. I gave her belly as thorough an investigation as I could, until she finally protested & hunkered off into the corner to her favorite non-people-furniture cozy spot: a fluffy, folded fleece blanket next to her cat tower. From there she observed as I methodically destroyed my bedroom, tearing apart my freshly-made bed, crawling under all the furniture with a flashlight, and performing a few less rational searches, as well (refrigerator? toaster oven? boxes still sealed from our last move 5 years ago? Surprisingly, no luck).

Then, after a nice long nap, Blackie decided it was time for a nosh and got up to eat. She was still standing on her fluffy blanket, stretching, when the ring finally became dislodged from her generous gut. As it landed with a gentle "plop", she looked at it for a moment with her head cocked sideways, then continued on to the food bowls. And while a huge wave of relief washed over me at the sight, the first words out of my mouth were: "BITCH CAT! You watched me look for that ring for HOURS!" Which, in retrospect, may have been a bit of an overreaction...

So that may be part of the reason why I'm being avoided today. Or she might just be wedged in a doorway somewhere, waiting to be rescued, like one of those 1000 lb. people who can't get out of their own house without knocking down a wall.

I'd better go check, just in case.

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Now playing: Toadies - Possum Kingdom
via FoxyTunes

These cats play dirty

A cautionary tale:

This is Annie.


Annie is one of my two kitty-babies, and has been with us for over 2 years. She fears nothing except dogs, and is sure that the entire house is her domain, even though Mark & I pretty much keep to the top floor of the house. Our other kitty, Blackie, sticks close to us, but Annie is the adventurous sort.

This is Alfie.


Alfie is one of my parents' two cats, and has been with them for many years - ever since his Auntie Laura saved him from some mean neighborhood boys who were beating him with chunks of winter ice. Alfie is at least 4 years older than Annie, and had been in our home for a good 3 years + before we ever got Annie & Blackie. He should be the alpha male in this abode.

You notice I emphasized the should. While he is every bit as intrepid as Annie, which is commendable at his advanced age, he becomes inexplicably timid around both my girls. He actively seeks them out - as he is doing fruitlessly in the above picture - yet the best he's been able to manage when he actually gets their attention is to become a white furry punching bag. Annie enjoys this immensely, while Blackie takes the whole thing very seriously, and gets all worked up about it. Blackie views Alfie the same way Lou Dobbs and Pat Buchanan view illegal Mexican immigrants. No laughing matter for her... But I digress.

Annie has developed the habit of wandering downstairs to where Alfie spends most of his time, and just loitering provocatively until he notices her. I like to call it "kitty entrapment". All he has to do is wander a bit too close to her and WHAM! The typical attack is characterized by a flurry of blows to Alfie's face, until he loses his balance or cowers in fear. Usually, this is the end of it, at least until he comes back for more (which he always does).

On a few occasions, though, Annie has chosen to deliver a parting shot to Alfie as he tries to escape her wrath. And this is the truly interesting part: as Mark has witnessed several times, Annie will wait until Alfie has turned his back on her to run away, then she advances to deliver an uppercut to his most sensitive of areas.

Yep, that's right. My darling little Annie has mastered the feline nut punch. And with a true uppercut motion, too, which almost seems impossible. And yet we've all seen it. And, sadder still, Alfie keeps coming back for more.

Maybe it's his history of abuse as a child - I mean, kitten - that has caused him enough self-esteem issues to allow him to live in such an abusive situation. But he keeps going back.

I guess you can't help everyone. And if you have male genitalia and are ever invited to Casa de Raymond, be on guard for Annie the Nut-Punching Supercat. She starts out sweet, but I make no guarantees. It's every man for himself around here, baby!