Day Two Hundred Forty Three

Vacation Daze

Boo! had a busy day yesterday. Andy is on "vacation" which means he's not. He is, instead, attempting to catch up on home repairs. Under the best of circumstances, this can be trying. With six cats, two of which are Abyssinians, one of which is a tiny fireball of a kitten - forget it! The expletives were firing off every few minutes.

One particularly intense outburst got me off my chair to investigate. There he was carrying Boo! who was covered in paint. Well, to be precise, he was holding her at arms length and he had more paint on him than she did. Apparently, she wanted to "help" him. By help I mean, step into the paint container.

Into the tub she went. Now, she's a lot easier to bathe than anybody else. I can hold her in the palm of my hand and use the other to lather. With the Ragdolls I have to use both hands to hold them down and have somebody squirt the shampoo. And I come away from the ordeal bloodied and exhausted. Fancy has never had a bath.

Poor Boo! kept looking at me like, "But I've been so good! Why are you killing me?!" My reponse, "No, you haven't been good and I'm not killing you. I don't want you to die from licking toxins!" And so it went, until I finished and wrapped her in a big, snuggly towel. That she loved.

All felines had to be confined to the front bedroom after that. Dash went in willingly because his little sister was in there. Finn and Chance didn't complain either. Eli was not happy. He hissed and spat his disapproval. Fancy did not have to go in there because A) he avoids Andy at all cost and B) see A. Fancy is, without a doubt, my cat.

Another way the cats screw with Andy is to harass him while he's cooking or preparing food. I hear, "No, Dash - or Boo!" (On an aside - Andy can't tell the difference between the two Abys. He'll say, "Boo! is getting so big." I inform him that's because it's Dash.)

Anyway, one thing Fancy does, which Andy rarely sees is, he licks his food. I usually see it though. This morning, Andy had made ham and eggs and was enjoying his breakfast at the kitchen table. I watched Fancy step off the counter and give the remaining ham a big lick. I just cut off that portion and gave it to him. No harm, no foul. That is until Andy reads this and gets grossed out. All unattended food is fair game to a cat.

I licked it so it's mine, right?

Baby Boo! has turned into a cuddle bug. She hops up onto my chair at night and squeezes in for a cuddle. She purrs so loud even Andy can hear her. I love this and hopes she always wants to snuggle with me.

I could use a little more room here!
I thought you were on a diet.

Try salads, lady!

Day Two Hundred Forty Two

It's That Time of Year

With apologies to Christmas music purists:

"It's that time of year
When I gross everyone out

It's that time of year
For pickled herring salad"

(You will never be able to hear that song again without cursing me.)

Yes, my friends, a tradition in my family that used to make my stomach churn, but has mysteriously become extremely important in my old age, is my German grandmother's herring salad. My grandmother bordered on fanatical when it came to the ingredients. The herring had to come in a keg; apples had to be Red Delicious; pickles were non-garlic dills and everything had to be chopped to an infinitesimal size.

 

I have adapted the recipe to suit my laziness taste. The original recipe calls for herring packed in brine, dill pickles, Macintosh apples, chopped onion, boiled potatoes, sour cream and buttermilk. All of the ingredients must be finely chopped and mixed together with the sour cream and buttermilk.

When we lived in Pittsburgh, my poor hubby was often called upon to pick up the herring. It was in a fish market (aka somebody's basement) in the Hill District. He was chosen for this "honor" because he was a newcomer to the family - and the size of a linebacker. Those of you familiar with Pittsburgh immediately understand the reference. Those of you who aren't, think Hill Street Blues. Too young for that? Google it.

Here are a few things I simply can't do/use:
1) The herring my grandmother used came whole, in a keg. Her kitchen smelled so bad when she was skinning, beheading and fileting the poor fish even the fish were grossed out. I'm pretty sure her fingernails fell off every year and only grew back in time to fall off again each December. I have substituted already pickled herring filets in sour cream. The work has been done for me.
2) I hate buttermilk. It is halfway to vomit, in my opinion. My version omits that odious product.
3) I am on a low carb diet, so I have also eliminated the potatoes. I am perfectly happy with herring in sour cream, chopped (Envy or Sweet Tango) apples and German dill pickles.

I have made this every day for about two weeks. My husband doesn't say anything but I know this grosses him out. While I am sitting in my comfy chair, watching TV and chowing down on a low-carb version of herring salad, he finds ways to be otherwise occupied. The cats, however, think this is the greatest thing in the world. They look at me like I am huge, privileged cat. I tell them I can't share because the ingredients are toxic to cats. They aren't, but I'm not sharing.

Boo! was on a tear yesterday. She was into and on top of everything. The only Christmas decorations I have displayed this year are practically on the ceiling.

 

 

 

So far, thanks to ssscat, the tree is still standing. We opted out of adorning the tree. Andy said it would be too much of a temptation for Boo! and Dash. Everyone else is too lazy to care about Christmas decorations.

Day Two Hundred Forty One

'Tis the Season - for Vacation Days

Andy saves up his vacation days and takes most of them during the holidays. This situation creates some interesting tableaux. First of all, he is not really used to the animal activity going on all day here. I hear quite a few expletives. Just heard one as I'm typing. Apparently he was putting groceries in the fridge when a cat (Eli) fell from the top of the fridge onto his head. Now, he's had tiny Boo! do this - and land on his chest where she dug in her claws to hold on. Eli weighs considerably more than Boo! Maybe close to twenty pounds.

I waited awhile then went to check on him. I found him sitting at the kitchen counter, puffing on his e-cig, with his head in his hands. Breakfast has been postponed. He needs to compose himself. Cats do that to you.

The poor guy was trying to do touchup painting inside yesterday. Dash and Boo! were fascinated by this and would not let him do his thing alone. He would paint a spot and one of them would inspect it. This meant he had to stop and check a tiny paw for paint. Now, I would have put the cats (Dash and Boo!) in the front room if I was trying to do something without their help. He has more patience than I. 

I cannot go into the forbidden room without Dash and Boo! pressing in to join me. I do not want them in there for several reasons - their welfare being at the top of the list. Little Boo! has perfected her move. She waits for it, then jumps over the gate, under the nightstand and under the bed. She may as well be swallowed by the Bermuda Triangle at that point. I can't even find her under there.

However, this old girl still has a few tricks up her sleeve. Not really. I'm just desperate and you know what that calls for. I wait a few moments, then sneak into the room. Sneak as in hauling these old bones up and over a gate without falling on my - face.  Sure enough, there she was, completely enthralled with the "visitor." I tiptoed over to her, but she was faster and bolted back under the bed. Curses.

I use this a lot because I look like this - a lot.

With Boo! I have discovered it sometimes works to engage her in the very thing from which you are trying to curtail. So, I tried to entice her back to the "visitor." It worked! She came out from under the bed and looked at me with her head cocked to the side like she was weighing whether or not this was a trap. It was. She figured it out, but instead of going back under the bed, she tried to jump into one of the boxes on the bed. I had her! Thank goodness for boxes!

One thing I can state unequivocally. Boo! has definitely settled in. It is clear she feels at home. She has that air of confidence that only comes when one is completely comfortable in their surroundings. This also means she's a hot mess. If she can think it, she does it. I'm okay with this. I want everybody to be happy. Despite all of his eye rolling and expletives, I think Andy is, too. After all, he has lots of material with which to regale his co-workers at lunch.

Yea. That's what I said.
Six cats.

Day Two Hundred Forty

Where's Boo!?

If I had a dollar for every time I say, "Where's Boo!?" I would have a lot of dollars. Just this morning, while I was feeding them and she was nowhere to be found, Andy thought perhaps she wasn't hungry. I knew better. She has the metabolism of a hummingbird. I could hear her mew, and figured I would go looking for her after I had filled all of the bowls. Then I heard Andy chuckle. He said she was in the laundry room. He deduced this when he saw her tiny paw reaching under the door. Case closed.

I don't seem to be able to get through to anyone Boo!'s proclivity for sneaking into places without detection. She loves nothing more than to prove she's faster and smarter than you or anyone else. This is especially trying when one is attempting to enter an area where she is not allowed - like the garage or the forbidden bedroom. Andy definitely can't see her flying past him.

Once she has gotten through the forbidden zone's doorway, she makes a quick dive into or under a place where a human cannot possibly access. Well, we certainly can't. Like under a bed or into the maze of clothes and stuff piled up in the laundry room. I have gotten to the point where I simply announce to her, "Okay, if you're in here, I'm turning off the light and closing the door. Better come out or you'll be stuck in here."

Believe it or not, she usually understands this. On stubborn days, she will stay tight in her hiding place, then call to me when she's good and ready to come out. I think it's funny how cats can sound so pitiful when they need you to rescue them from something they did to themselves.

Hey, I could use a little help here!

On another note, Jack is having his annual Yuletide meltdown. I made a vow I would not enter a mall, so I have been doing a lot of online shopping. This means there is a steady stream of packages being delivered at all hours of the day. Jack finally gave up. He sat down and looked at me like, "Okay. I'm done. I don't know what's going on but I no longer care. If one of these strangers kills your sorry self, I guess that's the way it goes. Good luck." Some guard dog...

Speaking of the Bullys, the Roon made it to another Christmas. Bless her sweet heart. I can't bear to think of a Christmas without her. (heavy sigh) I have to stay in the here and now. It's just too hard to think of what was (The Frenchies and so many more) and what will be (?) so I will enjoy each day we're all together.

Day Two Hundred Thirty Nine

Oh, The Weather Outside is .....Hot and Humid

It is one of the hottest December's in recent history - for the eastern part of the US that is. I'm not pretending to be a meteorologist - that's just a fact. I can't stand the heat in Florida and wait patiently for the "winter" months when temps drop a few degrees. So far, I have had to resort to breathing in air from the freezer to get some relief. I miss the jolt of frigid air in my lungs. I am a northern girl and miss things like - oh - cold weather in the winter. (sigh)

Even the cats know something isn't right. They beg me to open the door to the porch, then look at me like it's my fault it's still so hot and yucky. To add misery to misery, it's raining today. Nothing like a humid, hot WEEK BEFORE FRIGGIN' CHRISTMAS! Grrrrr

Little Boo! wanted to run around the deck but it's drizzling and she thinks it's an invasion of some sort. Every drop is met with a dare from her like, "Come on! Give it your best shot! I'm not afraid of you!" Everybody else sits on the covered porch, nice and dry, watching her like she's tetched. It brings to mind Barney Fife if you are old enough to remember Andy of Mayberry.

I left the packing paper in the dining room because the kitties are still amused by it. I went to pick it up last night and something moved under my hand! Boo! was hiding inside of it, hoping to scare somebody. She did. As she popped out, triumphant, I thought about the costly toys I have purchased that remain ignored.

The Grands will be here shortly. That means L and Boo! will spend the time cuddling. E will regale me with tales of ice skating with his Boy Scout Troop. He loves being a scout. It fits his little personality - warrior, protector and ever watchful.

Day Two Hundred Thirty Eight

Perils of Too Many Pets!

I have a habit of setting myself up. Those reading this, who know me well, just rolled their eyes or mumbled something like, "Ya' think?" I know my husband did both of those things. Anyway, my passion for animals has brought me lots of love, joy and laughter. It has also brought me a few things I do not necessarily - shall we say - appreciate - or need.

1) I must take care of them. No matter how bad I feel, and would rather stay in bed, they need me to get up and be mom. Some days I am in a fog and mess up. Like forgetting to feed Jack and Rooney breakfast the other morning. Now, they could stand to lose a few pounds, but starving them is not the way to do it. Fortunately they did get treats when I had to lure them into the bedroom when the contractor arrived, because who in their right mind wouldn't be afraid of Jack?

2) I am constantly counting to six. I sound like the Rain Man. Sometimes it goes like this, "One, two, three...four, five...oh crap...where's (such and such)!?" Other times it's, "Two, four, six, eight....Wait a minute!"

3) I am the designated "Pooper Scooper." I deal with more poop and pee on a daily basis than the City of Orlando's Sanitation Department. I am either emptying litter boxes or scooping the backyard. Then there's Jack, who makes enormous deposits - wherever he wants. He has a habit of going out one side of the backyard to pee, then back in and over to the other side to poop. If I don't get to the other door fast enough, he just dumps a load on the pool deck - in front of the door. I'm sure he's thinking, while I'm jumping up and down yelling and flapping my arms, "Well, if you moved your lazy ass faster I wouldn't have to do this."

(Do you honestly think I would insert a picture of litter boxes or giant poop?)

4) I get startled - a lot. As in: heart stopping crashes, bangs, and other odd sounds that just aren't normal. For example, the cats are always incredibly interested in new deliveries. I know they think the nice delivery folks bring them new boxes every few days. Today's delivery was something I needed to inspect, so I took out the mile of paper packing and let them have at it. It bought me some time (actually very little) to check the contents of the box - which I had to do outside because Dash and Boo! WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE! Anyway, I'm too lazy busy to pick up the packing paper and every once in awhile somebody (Boo!) dives on to it making a crankling (crashing/crinkling) sound that scares the snot out of me.

5) I cannot go anywhere for more than a few hours at a time. I do not trust anyone to watch over the whole crew. I barely trust myself! I mean, who would repeatedly count to six? Andy sure can't. Who would remember the visitor in the forbidden room? (Wait until Dec. 26 when I can tell you everything that is involved in taking care of that houseguest!) I would have to write something the size of the Magna Carta to detail all that is involved in feeding this zoo! Who would take the time to remind Chance to use the litter box. I ask you - who? And I am the "onlyliest" one who understands Fancy's chirps and meeps. Just me. (Heavy sigh.)

6) It's conflicting. I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I am. But one (me) doesn't think of the downside to living with those cuddly darlings. It's kind of the same way with human children. The one and only time I fell down the stairs carrying a loaded diaper pail, filled with dirty cloth diapers, (because I thought those newfangled paper diapers (Pampers) would cause my baby boy's penis to shrivel and fall off,) made me change my point of view right then and there. Caregiving (of any species) is not for the feint of heart. Which leads me to:

(Once again. What picture would I put here for your viewing pleasure?)

7) The intense pain and grief when their little life is over. I am still missing Petey, the hamster. They leave such a hole in your heart when they're gone. This is why I actually enjoy the mess and chaos they create. It means they're healthy and happy and enjoying life. And when they're happy, it's all worth it.

Day Two Hundred Thirty Seven

The Mighty Boo!

 

 

 

 

Tiny Miss Boo! has really shaken up the household. Like most little sisters with big brothers, she is well protected. It's a good thing, too, because she gets herself into quite a few messes. Every day is an adventure to her and her tiny stature means nothing. In her mind, she is a mountain lion.

 

And smart! That girl is way smarter than I, which brings quite a few challenges. Boo! is one step ahead of me in everything. She has learned to anticipate my movements. That means I have to constantly change things up. For example, she has figured out my pattern in going into the forbidden bedroom. Even if I had eight arms, I couldn't stop her when she is determined to go into that room.

My method to get her out no longer works. I was using a feather toy to lure her out then catch her. Well, she figured that out and runs for the toy then dives back under the bed. Dash never figured out we use the feather toy to catch him. He falls for it every time. Not his little sister. She is way too smart to be outfoxed by a human.

Boo! also knows that if she follows me into the bathroom, she needs to follow me back out or she will be stuck in there. Nobody else gets that. I searched the house - in and out - for Finn the other night only to find him shut in a dark bathroom. He didn't even realize what was going on.

Yesterday there was a handyman here and Boo! drove him crazy. First of all, when he removed the screen from the fireplace to check it out, she quickly tried to "help" him by going into the fireplace herself. Then she kept attacking his tape measure. I know she thought he came here for the express purpose of playing with her. I mean, why does any human exist except to take care of or play with Miss Boo!

At the moment, she is lounging on the porch swing, most likely wishing someone would bring her a treat. She is an Aby after all, and they must be adored.