I'm Rocking the Cat

My cat, Poppy, is a rambunctious little girl. Her favorite thing to do is to "flip and flop." She loves to roll around on the rug looking as cute as a button.

Unfortunately, she likes to flip and flop on my lap, too, and it never ends well. But I've finally found a trick to keep that wiggle-worm still. I rock her--like a baby. When I'm at the computer and she jumps onto my lap, I scoop her into my arms and we sit and have a cuddle.  This has turned our mom-and-girl time into a much more pleasant experience for both of us. (When I'm sitting on the couch, Poppy likes me to have an afghan on my lap. She'll liable to sit with me more often when I've got an afghan.)

As it turns out, Poppy likes to watch YouTube videos almost as much as I do. Just this week we've watched episodes of Restaurant Impossible and What's for Tea? (Love What's for Tea? It's about Scottish woman, named Sheryl, who cooks dinner (sharing the recipes) often in a crock pot, or a grocery store haul, and she ends her videos with beautiful shots of Scotland. (I love her!) This is the kind of food I grew up with. (My mother wasn't Scottish, but my Dad was half Scot.) This is the kind of food I want to make.  (Poppy is content with 9 Lives.)

But Poppy isn't just a mama's girl. Lately, she's developed an independent streak. Instead of spending all her time with us in our offices, she's been snoozing on the couch or behind the living room drape. Go figure. But our times together are much more calm (with a lot less biting) than they used to be just because I finally figured out what she needed as opposed to what she wants.

Does your pet require you to adapt to its needs?

She really, really loves me!

I have been lucky to have a string of wonderful cats. In fact, I came across a saying just yesterday:  "No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat." They were all special, but one stands out:  Fred.  He was my son. My little prince.  My sweet puppy boy. I adored him from the day I first saw him at Pet Smart. It took me five months to convince Mr. L to finally let me have him. (The store stipulated that he MUST be adopted with his brother, which is why they were both there for THIRTY-NINE WEEKS.)

Unfortunately, George didn't work out. He was a runt, but he was also a bully. He attacked the other cats, and even I was bitten (and my thumb started to turn black), but when he viciously attacked our Betsy, that was the last straw. He had to go. (And believe me, it was a tearful decision. We'd never had a cat failure.) Luckily, Mr. L's cousin's best friend was looking for a cat. George went to live in Buffalo and the minute he saw Cindy, it was love at first sight. He's still with her and he has not only tolerated her other cats, but been best buddies.  Go figure. (We learned the hard way that five cats strains the system.)

After George left, Fred became my boy. He was the most cheerful cat on the planet. All I had to do was look at him and he would purr. He loved for me to throw him over my shoulder and dance. He came when I called him. He wasn't much of a lap cat, but he'd sit with me for at least five minutes every evening. I loved that cat with all my heart and he loved me. I'm still broken-hearted that we lost him to kidney disease 20 months ago.

But loving Fred did not prepare me for Emma.

We got Emma and her sister nine months ago after 11 sad months of being catless. Not that we didn't look for cats. We looked for cats all the time visiting shelters and pet stores. None spoke to us. We wanted babies, because all of our previous cats had been elderly and we didn't want to lose new ones for at least a couple of decades. (We had three cats that lived to be 20.) One of my readers fosters cats.  She told us about Poppy and Emma.

At first, Emma was aloof and Poppy was the lover. (She still is, but on HER terms.) It took Emma a while to warm up to us. She's only now learning to be a lap cat (and it seems ONLY when I'm sitting in the family room editing the day's work. Go figure.)  But over the summer, Emma decided that I am her human. She is with me at least 22 hours of the day. She sits beside me (in the other chair) in my office. If I get up, she gets up. She follows me like a puppy. If she's out of sight and I call, she immediately comes running.  At night, she sleeps either at my feet, or next to my pillow.

Lately, we noticed that the normally silent Emma only talks when I go into the kitchen. For the rest of the day, she's as quiet as a mouse. Here's a video I took of her the other day.



I often feel sorry for Mr. L because Emma snubs him. The other day, I walked into his office (which adjoins mine) and Emma walked past him (on his desk) to jump to his other office chair, climbed on top and begged me to make a fuss of her. She would love it if I made a fuss of her 24/7 telling her what a beauty she is and how much she's loved.

Yeah, she (and her sister) is a keeper.

Have you ever had a very special cat?

Rock-a-Bye Poppy

For a while now, I've been having a problem with my baby girl, Poppy. She's the sweetest little girl in the world. Unlike her sister, who pays attention to everything and comes when she's called, and does everything she's told, Poppy is a rebellious girl. She doesn't listen all that well. Like her sister, she's a flipper and a flopper. She loves to roll on the rug--back and forth and forth and back. She's a good lap cat at the end of the day and will sit quietly, but during the day? Not so much.

She also likes to bite -- everything. Not just me, but paper, boxes, desks, you name it, she bites it. She's not teething. She has passed her first birthday, but she still likes to BITE.

Recently I realized that there was a way to calm her. She will settle in my arms and I rock her like a baby. She purrs and purrs and then falls asleep. This is all very nice and loving ... until my arms and feet fall asleep. Then I have to put her down and she almost immediately jumps back on my lap. This makes it very hard to get any work done.

The girls chill under Mr. L's lamp.

Luckily, Mr. L has a 200 watt light bulb in his office. Under the light we've placed three cat beds. (We used to have more cats.) The girls often sleep under the warmth of that incandescent bulb. (We aren't going green with that lamp any time soon.) I also have a small oil-filled radiant space heater in my office and I keep a cushion next to it that's big enough to accommodate both girls. Now that the weather has turned, I'm hoping they will use it more and let me work.

It's not a terrible problem to have cats who love me and want to be with me. I just need to convince them that they need to change their timing.

What's your biggest pet problem?

A DELICATE SUBJECT ...

 They say that a major contributor to global warming is (ahem) cattle farts. Well, in this house there are no cows/steers.

There are kittens. Kittens who fart. Kittens who take great DELIGHT in farting while they are on my lap. Oh, yeah -- they save it up for me. Mr. L laughs because they never fart on him.

Of course, we could change their diet. I know people who have fed their cats the same kibble every day, every meal of their lives. Uh-uh. I'd kill myself if I could only eat one thing for every meal.

Maybe I'm anthropomorphizing the girls, but our boys had definite ideas about what they'd eat. Fred was a tuna boy. Chester preferred shrimp (which Fred wouldn't touch). They preferred fishy food over the other canned foods. The girls gobble everything, which is why Emma has lost her kitten look--she's growing like a weed. (Poppy ... not so much, probably because her sister tries to steal her food. Emma is part piglet.) They do get kibble with their meals for their teeth and urinary tract health.

So ... do your pets pass gas?

(Look at that innocent face. "I didn't fart. I promise, Mum." Yeah, right.)

Our neighbors have DOGS!

About 14 months ago, new neighbors moved in.

They had dogs. Rather big dogs.

Ruh-roh!

When I was five, I got bitten by a wire fox terrier who was just as big as me when he charged and knocked me down. Since then, I've been wary about "big" dogs.

I love dogs. Little dogs. My parents had scotches and Westies and they were pretty much sweet little dogs. Mac (the Scottie and their first) was our favorite, but their last dog, Jessie, was also a sweetheart, and in between was Buddy, who was a joy to walk. I would love to have a dog--preferably a small poodle mix. Supposedly, poodles don't smell when they get wet. But -- Mr. L isn't a dog person. He once was, but I converted him to being a cat person, and now he doesn't want to look back. *Sigh*

And so our neighbors have these largish dogs. We thought that might be a problem, but it turns out it hasn't. Their yard wasn't fenced when we moved in, and the chain-link fence we had wasn't up to code. Mind you, it was grandfathered in, but since the new neighbors also had children--one of whom was only three, we decided to upgrade our fence. Oooba-dooba -- that was a headache, and incredibly expensive. Even worse, they said they could do the fence in one day. They didn't. So there was our in-ground pool EXPOSED for more than 24 hours and there was a small child next door. (The dogs had been going out on leashes for their outdoor visits.) Finally the fence was in, but the gate was not. I'm a born worrier, so that was another headache. Finally, the gate and fence were finished. And a few weeks later, the neighbors finished off fencing their yard on both sides of the house.  Looks very nice.

That's when they started letting their dogs loose in the yard, and since then we have had hours of entertainment.

These are very quiet dogs. So when we hear them bark, we know they mean business.  Usually there's a squirrel (or some other animal) on the other side of the big fence at the back of their yard, which the previous owner put in as a wind break. When we hear them bark, we usually look out the window. Yup--one of them has barked to say, "We're cold! Let us in." Sure enough, a few seconds later, the back door opens and dogs go inside with their tales wagging incredibly fast.  Sometimes we see them wrestling in the snow. The other day, I was clearing the driveway and one of them (Lucy) came bounding up to the fence to warn me not to intrude on her territory. I told her, "Good dog!" She kind of blinked and said, "Oh, okay" and then ran back to play with her pack-mate.

Next time I get a chance to talk to the neighbors, I'm going to ask if it would be okay for me to give them dog biscuits. I'd like to make friends with them.

Meanwhile, here's a picture of one of our new kittens, Poppy. Isn't she adorable? (Um, for some reason she thinks she can help me write. She also likes to sit on my mouse which is uncomfortable for both of us.) It's okay if Mr. L has become a cat person. It really is.

Are you a dog or cat (or other animal) person?

Our New Kittens: The Whole Story

It's been almost a year since Mr. L and I had cats.  We lost our boys last March, 12 days apart, and were devastated. We weren't ready for kitties for a long time. In fact, although we had looked at a number of cats and kitten (21 in one day) we didn't find our forever furbabies, and truthfully we really weren't ready. Unfortunately, our boys had developed a bad habit of marking their territory. It was only the last year of their lives that this happened, but the damage was done.  We pulled the carpet and had to repair the floor. The carpet to the back door was also marked. (We've yet to address that situation.)

Last weekend, we were determined to find kitties. The local Humane Society had been sending me 4 or 5 emails a day saying they were overwhelmed with cats and kittens.  So, we kitten-proofed portions of the house and on Saturday went to find some. Only ... when we got to Lollipop Farm, not only was there only one cat available, but there was a mob of people looking to adopt cats. They had a "Valentine's Day Special" and had slashed the price of cat adoption and had already "moved" 25 cats during the three hours they had been open. We were crushed. (I cried.)

So I posted my frustration on Facebook and one of my readers, who happens to be a kitty foster Mom, send me a message. We went back and forth and arranged to meet Mooch-Mooch and Sepi. (*Shudder* Who came up with those names? Foster Mom strongly encouraged me to change them -- which was a no brainer.)

It was kind of funny. The pet store has no dedicated "meeting room" to get to know cats, so we had to gather in the store's (very clean) bathroom. Kind of like a clandestine drug deal. Of course, they captured our hearts in just about an instant. They were a little younger than we had planned on (but not by much, they're 13 weeks old), and they came home with us.  We named them Pippa and Poppy.

They were TERRIFIED. Why not? We were two GIANT strangers. The first night, they ran around for about an hour, and we put them in the laundry room (out came the baby gates once again) and decided to let them get acclimated to that room first. They'll be staying there at night for a few weeks until we introduce them to the whole house.

Yesterday, they spent the day with us in our connecting offices and it sounded like a herd of elephants were racing around. They have a LOT of energy. And like all teenagers, they are HUNGRY all the time! They didn't get tuckered out until last afternoon. We have a rambling ranch house and we  thought we'd let them run around last night, but they were terrified by all that open space. (They really are very little girls.) So back into the laundry room they went, and they were pretty fine about that. Tonight we're going to introduce them to another "confined environment" to see how they do.

Foster Mom warned me I might not get much word done with kittens in our offices.

She was right.

But there have been more smiles in this house in the past few days hours than there have been for eleven months. I'd say that was a pretty good outcome.

Three months later

Grief can hit you when you least expect it. Yesterday, I opened the first can of tuna we've had since we lost Fred. Fred LOVED tuna water. He knew that if you cut up onions, that tuna water MIGHT happen. So if he smelled onions, he'd be dancing around my feet in anticipation. It would break my heart when I was cutting them for some other purpose.

So yesterday, I cut onions. No boy. Today I opened a can of tun and drained the water down the sink. Man, that was hard.

It's been almost three months since I lost my tiny son and it hasn't gotten much easier. We will have new cats sometime this summer, but they won't be Fred or Chester and that's really hard to wrap my head around.

Friday with Fred

Other people's cats do cute stuff and love to pose for pictures. I tried to get my cat, Fred, to do a photo shoot yesterday and he wouldn't cooperate--wouldn't hold still, or when he would, he wouldn't look at the camera. Apparently he has no interest in cultivating a social media following. (Like, wow!)

If your pet photo afraid?

Summer is Here!

Okay, fifteen minutes ago it was April and cold and miserable and now suddenly it's coming up on 4th of July week. Where has time gone?

It's been two years since my mother passed away, and it seems like a couple of weeks--tops. I mean, why else would I think, "Oh, I need to call and tell her....?"

So, let's look back on our "summer" so far. Yeah, technically we're just three days in, but that's not how I look at summer.

Summer starts when we open our family cottage.  That was in late April. I've been there for three weeks (off and on) to do writing retreats--just me and my cat, Fred. (He's not very good company. He lies around and sleeps a lot.)

The lilacs came and went.

The BIGGEST community yard sale happens the first weekend in June. Been there, done that! (Didn't find much, but I did get fried dough and Mr. L got his $1 hot dog at 9 am that he always looks forward to.)

The Strawberry Festival was last weekend.  Another fried dough day (that's it until next June).

Last weekend we had two of the hottest days on record for June. (Which makes me dread the rest of the summer.)

But there's still lots to look forward to.

• Weekend (2-martini) lunches at our favorite restaurant(s).
• The Vintage Car Show
• The Owen Shores jewelry sale (and hope they have a yard sale later this summer)
• Lunch at the Sherwood Inn
• Our 26th wedding anniversary
• more yard sales with treasures yet to be found
• the Jazz and Wine Festival (where do you think I got the idea for Booktown #11?)
• Labor Day
• The big Pultneyville community sale
• The Harvest Festival

There's lots more to look forward to. Like local sweet corn, picking my tomatoes, cutting gladiolas to sit on my dining room table, watching my niece splash around in the pool and shouting, "Aunt Du-wane, look what I can do!" Thunderstorms with lightning slashing the darkened sky. Rain on the roof.

Okay, I won't rush the summer. There's so much to do and get done during the next three months.

What's your favorite thing/event in summer?

Still Alive and Kicking

Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do. Over the summer, I learned to stab my cat.

Actually, he's not at ALL my cat. Chester belongs to Mr. L and he suffers from kidney failure. He was going back and forth to the vet for a while and finally the vet (not OUR vet) said, in no uncertain terms, that if we didn't hospitalize Chester that he would die within a couple of days.

Why were we hesitant to board him?

Nine months before, we boarded Chester for 8 days when we took a trip. He needed to be medicated (for something entirely different) and my brother, who was taking care of the cats, wasn't up to that.  But every time Mr. L called to see how Chester was, he was inching closer to death. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink. They were having to hydrate him every day. Finally, we called my brother and said, "Bring him him." He did, and Chester did a turnaround pretty darn quick. By the time we returned two days later, he was in the pink.

Fast forward nine months and Chester was going downhill. Mind you, he's 18.5 years old. We've never had a boy cat live that long. But he needed fluids every three days. For a while, we were taking him to the vet, but it got to be more and more inconvenient because they had to squeeze him in between appointments. And another thing, Chester does not travel well in the car. It was very upsetting for him to have to travel every three days to a place he despised.

So it was decided that Mr. L would learn to give Chester his fluids. We went to the vet, got our lesson in subcutaneous fluids, were handed a bag of lactated ringers and a bag of 18 gauge needles and sent home to do the deed. I was surprised that many of my readers/Facebook friends had also given their cats (and a couple of dogs) a new lease on life with fluids, and was grateful for their encouragement of "you can do this!"

For the first couple of times, Mr. L did the deed. But then no matter what we did, we were spraying ringers all around the kitchen, and Chester wasn't getting his fluids. That's when I took over. Some days it works well, and he doesn't flinch when I stab him, and some days it doesn't go well. The vet techs (and OUR vet) both assured us that they screw up on a regular basis, but not that we've ever seen.

We've been doing this for almost four months now and Chester is back to being his old self. He kills his Beanie Babies on a regular basis (distributing them around the house), he eats and drinks well, and he's usually on one of our laps at any given time of the day. (But mostly Mr. L's because ... you know, Chester owns Mr. L.)

To what lengths are you willing to go to keep a pet alive?

A new member of the family

My sister-in-law and her husband lost their 18-year-old cat, Molly, last week. Sisti (as she calls herself) wasn't sure if she should even GET another cat because she worried it might outlive her. But her husband said, "Let's do it." And so here's my nephew, Dickens. Isn't he just adorable??? He's just 8 weeks old and has already stolen all our hearts.

Miss Marple says ...

And you should always listen to Miss Marple ...

Celebrate cats!

Here at Casa de Lorna, we celebrate cats every day.  How about you?

Lap Sitter

In early May, I broke my office heater.  I had taken it to our family's cottage for the weekend (it gets REALLY cold there) and brought it home.  My office is the farthest from the furnace and it's COLD there from October through May.

The heater's wheels idn't turn as well as they should and as I was pushing it toward the door to the house -- oops! It tipped over.  The next thing you know there's oil allllllll over the driveway. Luckily, There was cat litter in the garage.  I tossed it on the oil and the next day you wouldn't know it had ever spilled.  Of course, the heater was a goner. It went out with the trash on Tuesday, but it was rescued by someone looking for metal to recycle so I guess alls well with that. Except for one thing.

My cat Betsy was very fond of that heater. In fact, she practically lived next to it all winter.  She's got a cushion she sleeps on on one side, and a towel on the other. Sometimes there's a bit of snarling if Chester decides HE, too, wants to sleep there during office hours.

Since there was no more heater, Betsy decided she was going to sit on the only other warm object in the office.  ME.

Betsy takes a break on Mr. L's foot for a change.

This is all well and good for five or ten minutes.  But even a 7 pound cat gets heavy after a while. And it's extremely difficult to type when said cat decides to CONTINUALLY rub her head on your hands WHILE you're trying to type. And when typing is a VITAL part of your job ... well, let's just say productivity goes down pretty quickly.

Betsy likes to sit on my lap first thing in the morning. All morning. Right after lunch, most of the afternoon, and then in the evening when I'm trying to read the newspaper.  I figure she puts in 4-5 hours a day on my lap.

I often sit in the living room to edit what I've written.  My butt isn't in the chair 30 seconds before there she is ready to spend the next hour on my lap.

I'm not really complaining.  Betsy is almost 18. I don't know how much longer we'll be blessed with her company, and I want to make her happy.  So ... I guess she'll continue to sit on my lap for as long as it pleases her ... and me.

Have you got a lap sitter?

More Cats In Trouble!

It's release day for the long-awaited fourth book in the Cats In Trouble Mysteries, by my good friend Leann Sweeney.

When quilter Jillian Hart returns to her lake house in Mercy, South Carolina, she discovered her friend, Tom, is missing-and his estranged half-brother has moved into Tom's house. Jillian doesn't trust the guy, especially since he allowed Tom's diabetic cat to escape. When police officers find Tom's wrecked car with a dead stranger inside, Jillian is determined to find out what happened to Tom-before someone else turns up dead.

You can by it from:

Amazon  ~  Barnes & Noble ~ Books A Million ~ Indie Bookstores

For:
Kindle ~ Nook ~ Sony E Reader ~ Kobo

If you've read the others, I know you'll enjoy it.  If you haven't they are:

The Cat, The Quilt and The Corpse
The Cat, The Professor and the Poison
The Cat, the Lady and the Liar
Enjoy!

The most precious gift

Well, the tree and ornaments are packed away for another year.  The stockings likewise. The holiday music is back in the drawer (taking up most of it, I might add), and Mr. L has breathed a sigh of relief for another 11 months.

Santa was very good to me this year.  Mr. L gave me a Kindle Fire (which I will blog more about later) and a bunch of other swell stuff, but the gift that meant the most to me was this one ... in a frame.



This picture of our sister act was taken only a few months before we lost our dear sweet Bonnie (left).  Unwrapping this made me cry, but only because I miss her so.  Bonnie wasn't smiling, but maybe that's because she already didn't feel well.  (We'll never know.)

What was your favorite Christmas or Hanukkah gift?
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The wrapping paper is almost as important

Yesterday I received a lovely gift from a friend. Oooh!  I love receiving lovely gifts from friends. It came in a plain brown box, but inside was a lovely white box tied with a red ribbon.  You can't tell by the picture, but the paper was textured and there was a card taped under the ribbon.

I had lots of fun opening my gift and admiring it. But what I didn't at first notice was how much fun the wrapping paper was for three very nosy cats.

First Chester had to investigate, trying to dig a hole through the paper.  (He likes to do that on boxes, and in bed at night, too.)  Then Fred had to investigate what "the black cat did."  (Fred is the quintessential "copy cat."  Whatever Chester does, Fred has to do, too.  The box the gift came in was fully investigated, too.)

But it was our little princess Betsy who had the most fun.

Betsy sat on the paper -- in at least a dozen poses. She sniffed it.  She peeked over the top.  She batted her paw at it.  She sat on it. She enjoyed it.

Therefore, this present was more than just a gift to me, it was the gift of fun for my cats.

You can't ask for better than that!

Do your pets get in the act when it comes to (wrapping and) unwrapping gifts?
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I'm not just goofing off . . .

Where the heck have I been lately?  I used to be a very good girl and post every weekday.  Lately ... I've missed a few days here and there, and that makes me feel like I did in school when I didn't do my homework.

The truth is, times are tough.  I mean ... emotionally speaking.  I keep forgetting that not everyone who reads this blog also reads my weekly (Saturday) post on the Cozy Chicks. I sometimes save my big news for that post because, quite frankly, more people read that blog than this one.

I had a roller coaster couple of weeks when one of our cats got sick and ... died.  I've been in a terrible place because of losing our dear sweet Bonnie.  (And you can read about her on Saturday's Cozy Chick post.)

The holiday (stressful) season has started.  At least this year I have no house guests.  (One brick off my shoulder.)  It's also Craft Show season.  As usual, I'm doing three this year ... and every year it gets harder.  I need to make a decision.  Do I keep doing these shows (which are a bear to prepare for and a bear to do--involving 6+ hours of standing on one's feet) or is it time to stop?

I have writing deadlines.  This is a constant.  I also have writing projects I'd love to be working on but can't because my time is limited.

And last of all ... it seems I've developed a couple of health (and yet more teeth) issues that need to be addressed.  My hope is that they can be controlled with meds ... but I'm just in the discovery phase (which is also the TERRIFYING phase).  The thing is ... how can you have health issues if you're not feeling lousy?  Go figure.  Still, it's stressful.

So please forgive me if I miss a few days on the blog here and there.
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LAST DAY TO ENTER THE JEFF RESNICK SHOT GLASS GIVE-AWAY.  Winners will be announced tomorrow.

What's wrong with this lovely picture?

What's wrong with this picture?

A lovely cat family.  Mama, two orange kids, a part siamese (the white one), and a little black kitty who was spooked and ran under the deck when we came out on our porch on Saturday morning.
Yes, what's wrong with this lovely little family group.

They're feral.

Why are they feral?

Because our neighbors think it's swell to have cats.  AND NEVER NEUTER THEM.  Consequently, there are constantly new litters of kittens being born.  The neighbors toss a bowl of dry food out on their deck, but that's as far as they go when it comes to cat maintenance.  The cats are outdoor cats.  And there are more than THIRTY of them running around the neighborhood.

According to the Humane Society there's no law that says this is cruel, but forcing cats to live outdoors in Western New York in winter is inhumane in my book.  Forcing them to bear unwanted litters of kittens is inhumane in my book.  Making them hunt for their food in an area filled with preditors is inhumane in my book.

Hmm...might need to write about book just about this.
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Counter Grazing

Back in February, I bought a seed packet of cilantro.  It's one of my favorite herbs--so pungent on Indian or Mexican foods.  Yum-yum!

Well, apparently I'm not the only one in the house who likes cilantro, which I'm trying to grow on my kitchen window sill.



And who do you suppose jumped on the counter to get at it?