Day One Hundred Fifty Five

Treats or Tricks

I don't like to shop. It's not even the need for human food that gets me out of the house - we can live on cheese and peanut butter (used to be cereal and Pop Tarts but we're doing low carb...) I have to be running low on pet food or supplies to make the effort to leave the house. Panic sets in when the pantry looks bare - of their food.

I made one small change to make leaving easier. By putting Jack in the bedroom, I do not have to move litter boxes from the area in which he had been confined. I also do not have to move a heavy bed into that space. And, I don't have to worry about Dash and Jack having the ability to interact. It used to take me about twenty minutes to get everyone and thing situated - now it's less than a minute! Only took me five years to figure that out...

So, I was running low on litter for the rabbit's potty. Yes, she is litter box trained, unlike Chance. I also like to keep treats on hand for her. I needed cat litter and cases of canned cat food. The downside to shopping for all of these guys is everything I need is in sizes of at least twenty pounds. I ruined my back when I was loading and unloading fifty pound bales of hay and horse feed. The load is lighter these days, but still murder on my back. I walk in upright - walk out bent in half.

Going in

 

Coming out

In spite of the pain, I felt accomplished. My car trunk was half full of stuff to keep everyone clean and fed for awhile. When I get  home, Fancy and Finn are my bag checkers. They examine each bag, looking for something good to eat. I learned the hard way to put deli meat, sushi and anything containing meat or fish away immediately. Now, they are used to me bringing home treats of some sort. When I shop at Bark Avenue, I bring home cookies for Jack and Rooney and the chicken treats everybody likes. Yesterday, I was a bad Mom. There were no treats.

 

No treats!?
How could you forget the treats?

 Finn gave up but Fancy went through each bag - a few times. He could not believe I would come home empty handed. When I finished unloading the food and supplies, even feeding the cats some of their favorite canned food, he was still unhappy. The moment I walked into the bedroom, he pushed past me and dove under the bed. My back hurt and I was tired, so I just closed the door and figured he would let me know when he was done pouting and ready to come out. I took some Ibuprofen, made a cup of tea and sat down to work on the computer.

Within a few minutes, I heard him cry, so I got up to open the door. As soon as I opened it, he blinked at me then went back under the bed again. I closed the door and went back to sit down. A few moments later, I heard him cry again; got up to let him out; he flew back under the bed. This went on for awhile. Until I lost it. I understood why he was doing it, I just wasn't willing to play along.

There are those who say cats aren't manipulative or vindictive. They are either stupid, clueless or don't live with a cat(s). Fancy was making me pay. I did not play by his rules, so he made up a game in which I was the loser. Or so he thought. I decided to play my own game. I got out the treat bag and shook it good. He was stuck in the room but could hear the sound of his favorite treats being dispensed to - everybody else but him! I used my best stage voice, too. "HERE EVERYBODY! COME GET SOME YUMMY TREATS! TOO BAD FANCY'S NOT HERE! OH WELL."

I counted down for the inevitable MOW-URH!!! Translation: "Hey! No Fair! Let me out of this stupid room! Please?" I opened the door and he flew out so fast he was just a black blur. He jumped up to the counter and looked at me with disgust. I said, "Are you done now?" His response, "Yes."



I'm still mad at you.



And I don't want your dumb old treats anymore...

Andy, you might want to stop reading at this point:

Dash hasn't been here long enough to figure out the connection between my shopping trips and goodies for them. But our little Dash is still a trickster. While I was putting groceries away, I heard the terrible sound of something hitting the tile. I was afraid to look. When I did, I saw it was my brand new phone - upside down on the floor. It had been charging on the counter and Dash decided it needed to be knocked down. I knew it was Dash because he was standing next to it admiring his handiwork. His look changed from satisfaction to uh-oh when he heard and saw my reaction. I held my breath when I picked it up, fully expecting it to be shattered. It was fine. Whew.

Here he is finding a new interest -
the cord on the blinds

Tired of that -
On to the next thing

I

Day One Hundred Fifty Four

Absence Makes the Boos go Crazy

For three days, Rooney has been walking, sleeping, going outside, etc. - with a stuffed toy in her mouth. The reason? This is her way of coping when her Dad is out of town. The worst part is when she falls asleep sucking on a toy, then can't breathe. Bullmastiffs have a challenge breathing as it is - well the ones with a Bulldog face that is. Jack has more of a Mastiff face, so he doesn't have as much trouble in the breathing department.

 
I feel bad for her, but nothing short of her Dad's return will dislodge a sticky, fuzzy whatever from her jaws. She empties her toy bin completely, searching for that special thing which she hopes will make her feel better.There are toys all over the house. I just let it go, and factor in tripping over them for the duration of his trip. And, because she literally sucks the stuffing out of her toys, I have to periodically remove fuzz crusted on her nose and even pull stuffing from inside her mouth. I know that, when he returns, order will be restored and the toys will go back in the box and stay there. Until his next journey.

When Dad is away

He's ba-ack!

 

Since every other creature is dependant on me for their wellbeing, and I rarely leave the house, I'm not sure how the rest of them would cope in my absence. Especially the cats. I imagine the dialogue would go something like this:

Eli: Okay. It appears as though she's gone. She left us!
Chance: Who?
Finn: Oh, my goodness, Chance! Mom - that's who! Is she really gone?
Eli: It appears that way. We're all going to die...
Dash: Is that lady gone? Don't worry! I've been working on a plan to get out of here. We'll just go outside and eat those squirmy things. I'm fast - I can catch enough for all of you sissies!
Finn: But Mom said we shouldn't eat them. She said they'll make us sick.
Eli: 'Mom said. Mom said.' If she cared about us she never would have left us in the first place!
Chance: Do I still have to pee in the box if she's gone?
All in unison: YES!!!
Fancy: Ahem. Look, I know you all live to panic, but I'm pretty sure she'll be back. I know her and she would never leave us. Besides, the man is still here.
Eli: But he doesn't like cats. Look at him over there with those dogs. It makes me sick the way he spoils them. Do you think he's going to empty our poop box? And he hates the smell of cat food. I heard him gag once when she opened a can of tuna fish. We're going to die I tell you!
Chance: I'm gonna poop on the floor then.
Finn: You're probably the reason she left us! Why can't you just use the box like the rest of us? Oh my goodness... I think I'm going to faint...

Me: Hey guys! What's wrong? I just went out to get the mail. Why are you all sitting in the kitchen, looking so worried?

Eli: Excuse me. I wasn't worried. I didn't even know you were gone...
Dash: Look how high I can jump now!!!!
Finn: You were gone soooo long....
Fancy: They're all nuts - do you know that? I tried to tell them you were coming back. Since you're here, I could sure go for a treat.
Chance: Uh oh. I didn't think she was coming back so I pooped and peed on the floor....hide me!

Me: Chance!!! I was gone two minutes! You little stinker!! Where are you?........

Maybe she can't see me...

 

I'm telling you, these other cats are idiots!

I am Dash the Wonder Cat!

Please don't leave us again...

Oh, were you gone?
I didn't even notice...

Day One Hundred Fifty Three

Do All Animals Go To Heaven?

Pope Francis is visiting the United States this week. I just watched him speak at the White House. I cried. He does that to me. Recently, a story was circulating in which Pope Francis was comforting a young boy whose dog had died. He was quoted as saying, "Don't worry, you'll see him again. Paradise is open to all of God's creatures." That made a lot of people happy.

 

Pope Francis 

The only problem is, there is no evidence of him ever saying it. Turns out, it was Pope Paul VI in the 1970's who uttered those words. Pope Francis is so popular, he is being quoted for everything these days. Next thing you know, he will be getting credit for penning the Magna Carta.

I don't care - I love this Pope. He wants everyone to play nice. He loves all of Creation, which includes animals, and he wants us to save the planet. I heard him say that with my own ears. I also heard him say this country was founded by immigrants and we should remember that. But this blog is about animals, not religion and/or politics.

I was raised a Catholic, and we love our saints. One of my favorites was St. Francis of Assisi (the saint for whom this Pope took his name.) St. Francis loved animals, too. He is depicted surrounded by them. I wanted to be just like St. Francis. I imagined myself, standing there with arms outstretched, having birds land on me. I know, I was a weird kid. I also would have probably screamed and run for my life if any birds had actually landed on me. (Tippi Hedren in The Birds comes to mind.) My imagination and reality were rarely in sync. 

St. Francis of Assisi

I like this modern depiction with the

baby seal front and center...

 

 

While there are those who think, "They're just animals," I'm not one of them. I think God made animals when he realized people were helpless and hopeless. He gave us creatures that show us unconditional love and acceptance. Okay, so an Evolutionist and a Sociologist would have a field day with that, but it's one of the stories I tell myself. That's a heart story. My brain knows the difference.

I so want to believe I will see long lost pets again. Well, some of them. I have no desire to see Rocky ever again. I'm pretty sure he's not in Heaven cause he was hell on Earth. I would love to be with Poco again, and the Girls.

 

 

I don't know. On the off chance, it doesn't happen, I think I'll treat all of them here now like it's their last day. We're supposed to do that anyway - with those we love and ourselves. (Even though, as I type, I want to throw something at Finn because he is determined to open the locked cat door and keeps whapping on it....)

I am not now, nor ever have been, and probably won't be in the future - saint material. If I was, I would be one of those who pissed people off so bad they'd burn me at the stake...

 

 

 

 

Day One Hundred Fifty Two

How Animals are Superior to Humans

In many ways, those little (and not so little) fur, feathered or finned people you live with can be a nuisance. They can be messy, irritating, confusing, smelly and pesky. For example, I am looking at a little guy who followed me into the laundry room and decided it would be fun to jump into the laundry tub - despite the fact it was loaded with various things which could do him harm. He had to be rescued from himself.
Then there's this tableau:

I was only gone for two minutes...

Much has been written about the loyalty of dogs, the spirituality of cats, the calming effect of fish, etc. And we've all heard about the heroes of the animal kingdom that save people from burning buildings, alert them to a hidden medical condition or appear to them when life has dealt them a bad hand. I have my own list of reasons why I think animals are more humane than humans:

Animals forgive - People, not so much.
We've all been stunned (at least I have) at the stories of abused dogs who remain loyal to their abusers. With rare exception, a dog will forgive just about any form of cruelty. Even the horses which were rescued from abuse, learned to trust again. It took longer for some, but they eventually came to recognize and accept kindness. My own babies forgive me if I am engrossed in a book and forget  suppertime. They remind me, but they don't hold a grudge.

I am unforgiving. Do what you want to me - I will just write you off. But forgive you, ummm not so fast. And if you commit any act against someone or thing I love - you're toast. I love animals and children, so any form of abuse against them instantly qualifies you to go to the top of my Shit List. And you will stay there in perpetuity or until I decide you have redeemed yourself. I'm not interested in punishment - that is anathema to my peace loving ways. No, I want you to prove you really understand what you did was wrong and work to improve the lives of other abuse victims. Period.

Animals are live and let live - People are Control Freaks.
While there are days when the guys (and girls, Rooney and Roxy) I live with try to vex me into doing their bidding, they are generally chill and just want the basics: food, love and potty breaks. If they act out (Dash) it's probably out of boredom. The last time I had to scramble so much to provide entertainment for another living being was when my son was a toddler. Same idea with Dash.

I want this ball - but it's stuck in here!

People, on the other hand, are control freaks. I say "people" as in all people because I sincerely do not know another human who is not a control freak. Everybody wants to control somebody or something. They want to control each other, events, their pets, their environment, politics - even the weather. As an aside, I think climate change deniers are, in fact, controlling the environment - negatively.
See what I mean? I am the ultimate control freak. I admit to wanting to rule the world. If I did, the first thing I would end is control. Everyone would be fed, clothed and housed. Wars would cease. Abuse would be a thing of the past. Racism would be as well. Imagine...
I'll bet you're a control freak, too.

Animals scratch what itches - People try to hide theirs.
Andy left me a note this morning, "Jack has crud on his head." Okay. Of course he does. If Jack gets an itch, he scratches it. The problem is, his nails are like medieval implements of torture. When Jack scratches, it doesn't just serve to eradicate the itch.  Nooo - it also takes a few layers of skin away, leaving a nasty skloob that usually gets infected. So, the note is actually an order to me to "fix" this issue. I will do my best.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yea, animals do what comes naturally. If they get an itch, they scratch it. If they have gas, they blow it out. If they get a hairball, they hack it up. And they are not discerning. You could have the POTUS in your parlor - they will do all of those things if need be - right in front of him - right on him if he happens to be in their way.
Jack does not follow the line of logic which says, if you take a drink and walk away with water gushing from your jowls like a broken water main, a human could slide in it, fall and break their neck. Which is why a human must follow him around with a bath towel.

I do not know whose dog this is
but it could easily have been one of ours...

Most humans try to pretend they don't poop. I have actually had someone say to me once, "My shit literally does not stink." Who makes a claim like that!? I suggested she see a doctor, but she was not amused. I mean, she was proud of that; like she should get an award or something! And people (mostly women) would actually prefer exploding than passing gas in public.
Think of the words we've created for urine - pee, tinkle, wee wee, etc. It's urine. And half the time, as soon as I stand up, I am in danger of losing mine. Ahh, the joys of incontinence. Thanks to Boomers, a whole profitable industry is devoted to this problem.
I have to make sure I've "visited the potty" before letting the dogs out. Once, in the middle of the night, Jack had to go - bad. So, I went out with him. He was taking awhile and all of a sudden, I had to go! Now, there is a vine covered wall around our backyard. It gives one the illusion of privacy. I had to tinkle so bad, I figured, why not? So I squatted down, right there in my yard. Two things happened simultaneously - Jack took notice and the motion sensor spotlight came on!  There I was, already committed to the act; face to face with a giant dog who was trying to figure out what I was doing - and a spotlight beaming down on me. I just said, screw it. If someone is awake at 3 a.m. spying on my backyard, they deserve what they get.
Humans are so embarrassed to be - human.



Day One Hundred Fifty One

Sleep is Good

I finally got a good night's sleep. I simply shut the bedroom door. Well, it really wasn't that simple. Dash was on to me way before I went to bed. He kept following me around, and darting into the bedroom just in case I stayed in there. Now I'm adding mind reader to his list of abilities.


Shutting out the cats

When in doubt, or need, get out the chicken treats. Everybody but Chance loves them and will come out of hiding; in from outside; or just gather in one place for a head count. I needed a diversion and to keep them in one spot, so I pulled out the treat bag and shook it for good measure. They all came running.

 

While they were distracted with the goodies, I tossed the bag into the cupboard; slammed the door shut; hit the light switch then ran like hell into the bedroom and quickly closed the door. I also peeked under the bed in case I had miscounted. I was alone.

Success.

It didn't take long for them to figure out they had been betrayed. For awhile, there were plaintive yowls and paws appearing under the door, and somebody was trying to pull the lever down to open the door. Yes, they have figured out how the levers work. Whomever designed those things did not have a clever animal or toddler in their lives.

Jack learned early on, if he jumps up then slides down on the thing, the door magically opens up! As a result, all of our doors have huge claw marks and look like someone was imprisoned in our home against their will. Eli and Fancy reach waaaay up and pull down on the levers to, hopefully, gain freedom. Dash is a little too short to reach them but it's only a matter of time.



What? Did you think I was lying?

Pretty soon I will be big enough to bust outa here...

After a few body slams on the door for effect, they eventually gave up and let me sleep. It was great. No tiny paw up my nose. No vampire bites. No cats ricocheting off my body. No spats and no noise. They saved it all up for this morning.

As I was awakened by the beeping of the garbage truck outside the window, I also heard some odd banging sounds. For some reason, in this house, the acoustics are such that a noise generated from across the house can sound like someone breaking into any room you're in. I could have sworn someone was knocking on the wall outside the bedroom.

Now, our neighbors are known to insert themselves into our business - well they think our property is theirs, too. It is not. I wouldn't put it past them to go knocking on our walls; checking for termites or whatever one does when they knock on walls. It was the first thing that came to mind. When I discovered the source of the noise, I was ever so glad I hadn't called the police.

I'm not quite sure what happened here, but I know it involved a cat. And also pretty sure the one standing there looking at the chair had something to do with it. In any event, it was the source of the banging I heard.

Another way I had to pay for having the audacity to want to sleep sans cats, was everyone was discombobulated. They were all standing around waiting for an explanation. I also discovered Chance had peed on the floor, next to one of THREE litter boxes in the vicinity of the errant pee. It wasn't enough I had to scold him and remind him for the 1,473rd time he was to use a litter box, Fancy decided to "help" me reprimand his naughty brother. After lots of hissing and boxing, I rescued Chance and put him in the front room.
Where was Fancy when I needed some backup disciplining two kids...



I will always have your back.

Apparently, all is right in their world, because everyone is asleep. I am where I am supposed to be - within view and at their beck and call. No more reason to panic. I think I'll mess with them and go shopping. No, wait, it's still too hot. I don't willingly leave the house until it goes down to 75 degrees. I guess that means I'll be stuck in here for a few more months...

Day One Hundred Fifty

Demon Kitty

"What was I thinking?" That went through my mind several times last night as I spent another night in the front bedroom. I could have shut the bedroom door. I should have shut the bedroom door. But, the cats like to hang out in there and I felt guilty closing one more door on them. Drat this conscience of mine! Where did it come from?? Must have been some long lost ancestor who did something awful and was cursed to have a relative born in the 20th century with an uberschussige gewissen...
I think that means "excess of conscience" but it could mean "big fat butt."
Hey, what do you want from someone who got ten minutes of sleep?

It started out relatively calm. I was surprised, but content. I figured the novelty had worn off from the night before and maybe the cats would leave me alone.  I even hoped maybe Dash would cuddle up next to me again. I was wrong. As I was drifting off, I could sense someone staring at me. I slowly opened my eyes to see Dash sitting right next to my face, staring into my eyes. It wasn't a look of love, either. He looked like he was contemplating whether or not to kill me in my sleep. And there I was thinking he wanted to cuddle up next to me! He did not. He had other plans. I wish I had known how truly "Chucky" he was going to be. I would have slept in my car in the garage.

Like animals who sense a tsunami or other natural (or supernatural) disasters, the other cats stayed away. I should have taken that as a warning. But nobody pays attention to those animals running for the hills, do they? Well, Chance hung in there. But he lived to regret it. 

Dash was possessed. For some inexplicable reason, my hip was his first target. He tried to sink his tiny, needle teeth into it but, thankfully, the blanket provided some barrier. Then he started working his way down my leg. Once again, I was tired and I admit to being stupid. I kept thinking he was surely getting tired of this game of Piranha. That was until he got to my uncovered foot. When his teeth sunk into flesh, that got my attention! I sat straight up and yelled. He jumped off the bed - not to hide but to plan his next attack.  He was just getting started.

Poor Chance became his next victim. I could sense the tension, and heard some vocalizations of protest - but I was groggy and couldn't move. Come to think of it, I wonder if that little stinker slipped something into my drink! I wouldn't put it past him...

The attacks went on all night. I even incorporated them into my dreams which were bizarre  - all about murder and mayhem!  In another dream someone was shoving a rabbit's foot into my mouth. Then they stuck it up my nose, then into my eyeball! I woke up to see Dash sitting in front of me - again. This time, the "rabbit's foot" of my dream was actually his paw. He was using it like an alien using a probe. As I sputtered and spat out cat hairs, I remember also wondering when he had last stepped in a litter box. I'm pretty sure I also let out a few expletives. He sat there looking at me like, "Oh, well since you're awake, I'm bored and could probably go for something to eat." As I laid back down I'm pretty sure I could hear maniacal laughter... 

At some point, I had a dream someone was braiding my hair! But it felt so real. After the paw up my nose, mouth and eye event, I thought maybe this wasn't really a dream after all. I forced myself awake, only to realize Dash was twisting the hair on the back of my head. He was sitting there twirling my hair  around his paw like a little kid. I was seriously tired of all the attention and wondered if I would even make through the night.

In keeping with the demon theme, the assaults ceased with the sunrise. Like Dracula, he is sound asleep now. I think I might go poke him in the eye. Or look for a wooden stake...In any event there will not be a third night spent in that torture chamber!

You're getting verrry sleepy...