I wrapped objects for a care package to mail to a family member today. The cats “helped”. They particularly enjoy the tissue paper. It crackles and you can pounce on it and hide under it and in it.
Ladies and gentleman and others, my friend Liz wants help naming the art installation that she put in my yard!
Who can tell me about the chain?
The hat is clearly from either a witch or a which, I’m not sure witch.
Have at it. Let’s see, the winner will receive a prize which Liz and I have to figure out…..
Boa cat is 11. We got her and Princess Mittens when my daughter was 7.
Last summer Princess Mittens was killed by a car in front of our house. We were looking for her the day after she went missing. A neighbor said, “There is a cat dead across the street. I’m sorry.” Yes, it was Princess, all stiff. We put her in a box and brought her in the living room. Boa came in, and went stiff legged, arched and fur on end and backed out of the room. She had been crying and looking for Princess and she stopped then.
The next morning we dug a hole and buried Princess in the back yard. Boa joined us and watched. She avoided the living room for 24 hours and then was ok.
Without her companion, she is more social. Princess was the one who would come into the middle of a party and lie down as equidistant from all the people as possible. Boa would rarely venture out in company but now she is social.
In January she started dropping weight. She didn’t look right. By March I worried. I changed her food first, to an all protein, no corn, no GMO one. In May she went to the vet. She is an indoor outdoor cat. I let her out for a while when I am up writing in the hour of stupid early and the hour of insomnia and the hour of convalescence. Both cats would return when I clapped, because that meant I was locking the door and might not open it again until I returned from work. No cat door. We have a family of raccoons and they can get a bit exciting in the house.
The vet said fleas and parasites and maybe we should do a whole bunch of things including antibiotics. I negotiated by phone from Portland. My daughter promised to pat Boa while I was gone. She’s a bit cat allergic, so usually she doesn’t. She said, “Can I wear your clothes if I am going to pat Boa?” Well, good idea. She wore a cat-patting outfit and then promptly changed.
Anyhow, Boa is still thin but better. And so why would she have fleas and parasites and general awfulness after we’ve pretty much managed her the same way for 11 years? Grief, I think. I got terribly ill after my sister died and then after my father died. I think that grief lowered her immune mechanisms and she was just prone to everything. And why did I switch her food? I don’t think that cats normally eat corn or much vegetable filler, and so I wanted her nutrition to be as normally cat like as possible. Also, this spring she caught and ate 7 mice and two birds and she has never done that before. I think she had realized that the cat food I had for her was not ok. Since I switched foods, she has not brought in any catches. She also thinks I’m a bit dense, but you know….
I used to think those people who bought organic for their pets were nuts. But I can change my mind.
But reading about honeybee collapse disorder, it’s not one mechanism: http://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0006481. It looks like it’s multifactorial. Do GMOs bother honeybees enough that then they are more likely to get parasites and mites and whatever? Or maybe the bees are grieving…..
The picture is from 2005. Boa is the black one and Princess Mittens is the black and white tabby.
Z for ZZZzzzzz…. shhhh, everyone is asleep after the Blogging from A to Z Challenge and I am tiptoeing my last contribution in during May…..very quietly.
Yesterday morning Boa cat brought a mouse in the house. I heard it squeaking and protesting being played with before being eaten. Then Boa called me insistently, with her mouth full of squeaking mouse. I started down the stairs and she dropped it and it ran into a closet. She lost it.
I tried to find it, gingerly. I had to get the recycling out of that closet anyhow, because Tuesday is recycling day. I picked things up rather carefully. I found the mouse once but it skittered away in the closet again before Boa grabbed it and I was not about to grab it. Sharp teeth.
Last night Boa brought the mouse into my bedroom and tore around, chasing it. I think. I am not entirely sure whether Boa really did bring the mouse in or whether it was a dream. If it was a dream, it was very convincing and had five parts or more. And then I dreamed or heard crunching.
There is a pile of paper knocked over on the stairs. I have not checked my room for mouse feet or a tail. In the night I hoped Boa would keep the mouse on the floor and not bring it up on the bed. She didn’t.
The cat in the picture is not Boa. It’s Princess Mittens. She was about a year old and stood at the open back door growling at the terrible things in the back yard: a doe and two fauns, there to steal the apples. Princess Mittens was hit by a car last summer, at age ten. Boa misses her but would never ever admit it.
And there: I am done with the A to Z Challenge! Sleep well, everyone!
my cat worries
as I pack the bug out bags
to hide in the woods
if food stops arriving on trucks
she hates it when I pack
and the other pound kitten of nine years ago
was killed by a car two months ago
so she is lonely
I stop packing
I hold my cat
I say, “We will not go without you.”
I hold her
I get the travel cage from the garage
wash it and get my pink silk scarf
it’s been in a bag and she has been hiding there
just her face in shadow when I walk by
I put the scarf in the travel cage
leave the door open
and feed her there intermittently
I will take her in the travel cage in the car
so that she is prepared
I’ll take the fish too
I plan to put plants outside
some may survive
some say animals and plants
have unstinting happiness
but not my cat
she worries that I will leave without her
and is reassured
when I say I won’t
sometimes the hummingbird
the meow that means she’s caught something
and wants to show me
and I go to look
it is a hummingbird
I pat her and praise her
I see what you caught
She taps the hummingbird
around the room a few times
but it is dead
so she eats it
and I’m crying
sometimes the hummingbird
and that is ok