Category Archives: our furry overlords

Friday Cat Blogging: Love Is In the Air Edition

Posted by Tata on

Surely a sign of the End Times. Princess Drusy leeeks Mrs. Topaz and Mrs. Topaz permits this leeeking. Check for buggy Horsemen!

For the first time in more than a week, the Blogging Gods have permitted the uploading of a new image from my camera at my house. I can’t explain that. “Computers are trying to kill us,” says Siobhan. While I can’t put forth a cogent argument, I suspect computers may be peevishly trying to at least inconvenience. It’s raining outside. Since our satellites are spying on us, couldn’t they email and tell me where I left my damn umbrella?

Even so, no rain over New Jersey dampens my mood. Love is in the air!

I have no words for the joy this brings me, so I’ve spent the day squealing gleefully. In comments, Jill asked a question I can’t answer, though my curiosity is piqued.

After having to deal with mousies in my basement celotex ceiling (and having no assurance that some aren’t still there, I’m concerned about anything that’s going to attract vermin…that’s the one reason I haven’t bought a composter. I think about it, though, every time I cut the stems out of the swiss chard. Of course I could just toss it in the bushes in the backyard for the bunnies, but would they find them? And will they care about the sand?

Since we’ve already determined my friends know all, what do you think, happy friends? Bunnies?

A Way To Walk That Says

Posted by Tata on

All hail Princess Drusy of the jade green eyes, seen here counting sheep.

Friday morning, I got up with the alarm and padded to the bathroom, where I couldn’t lift the toilet lid and didn’t know why. When I opened my eyes, I could see a little black cat sitting on a black toilet lid cover, so I relocated said pussycat to the floor and used the commode. Then I did lots of things in my apartment that would have looked much like me holding still and sipping water for half an hour before my shower.

Siobhan: What is it you think I care about?
Tata: Hearing me make porpoise noises.
Siobhan: Two minutes. Go.
Tata: This morning, I found a dead snake and a happy cat in my bathroom.
Siobhan: Imelda, hold my calls.
Tata: Right, so I said, “For me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have!” but it came out, “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Siobhan: Christ on a cracker! What did you do?
Tata: I squealed, “Pete, there’s a dead garter snake in the bathroom.” He said, “How big is it?” and I said, “About a foot.” He said, “Well, what are you gonna do about that?”
Siobhan: He’s got to know that according to the Boyfriend Rules, Section 6: Wildlife, paragraph 3: “The boyfriend removes non-pet reptiles and rodents from domestic precincts” and he’s in violation.
Tata: Yeah yeah, I said, “Omma get some tongs and toss it out the window.”
Siobhan: Was there much screaming?
Tata: I’m shocked you didn’t hear me in the next town. So I ran to the kitchen for a set of tongs but then I stood in the bathroom, paralyzed with ridiculous fright. Drusy took this opportunity to jump off the toilet lid and roll around on the dead snake, all “Look, Mama, I keeeellt it!” I almost yakked on my adorable indoor predator.
Siobhan: I might throw up for you!
Tata: Delegate that to your intern. So I picked up the snake with the tongs and it was so small it slipped out of the grip. I grabbed it again and kept saying, “Good kitty. Good kitty,” but that’s not really enough, you know? So I was all, “Pete, at least get in here and play Point & Laugh.”
Siobhan: It’s like he’s not your boyfriend!
Tata: It’s like he’s the boyfriend who knows I can take care of myself, but you’re half-right. Later, I said, “Dude, we have to review our roles in this relationship.” He got all, “Oh no! What am I doing wrong?” I said, “Next time I make sounds only bats hear because there’s a dead snake on the bathroom floor you better vault out of bed and take video.”

Friday Cat Blogging: Crazy Diamond Edition

Posted by Tata on

Topaz.

Pete has, as a reporter once remarked of Olga Korbut, a metabolism like a raging wildfire. After those three meals most of us eat, Pete scavenges a fourth around 9:30 or 10 p.m. Two days ago, I threw a cloth napkin on the floor and made a ruling: all dinners made must include sufficient vegetables and meat such that a fourth meal may be easily prepared for him. Also: roughing the kicker. Five yards.

Sleepy Topaz.

In an effort to enforce my own ruling, I made tortellini and opened a can of petite peas. Opening a can of peas at my house is like Christmas morning and Chinese New Year rolled into one. Topaz spins around at my feet, chirping gleefully. Drusy stands on the washing machine, breathless and alert. Suspense is killing them! I pour the water into Topaz and Drusy’s bowls, which is tougher than it sounds because now both cats are trying to climb into the can with very sharp edges – but I prevail! Water in both bowls, both bowls placed on the floor. The pussycats rejoice! The pussycats drink deeply! Tonight, pussycats feast on the water of their enemies, the petite peas.

Drusy.

A funny thing happens when either Pete or I gets down on the floor: Drusy gnaws on us. It’s quite adorable and doesn’t hurt a bit unless she gets overexcited and uses her claws on your un-fur-covered thigh, but such is life! The cats come running now if Pete grabs the camera and sits on the floor. As you can see, Topaz is exhausted after mere moments of tousling with Pete. She claimed the box and nodded off.

Craaaaaaazy Drusy.

Drusy claimed Pete and did the backstroke; everyone was happy.

Last night, I baked pumpkin bread. Turns out the pussycats are mad for canned pumkpin, too. Yes, I used canned. It was on sale for like a quarter and it didn’t have dents or anything. Don’t go all “A Mr. Death is here from the village. Something about the reaping?” and “It was the canned pumpkin” and “Oh, I’m most dreadfully embarrassed.” I had some this morning. It was very tasty with a moist crumb. Also: holding. Five yards.

You Can Only Train Elephants

Posted by Tata on

Meet Zaidie.

Wendy, whom I’ve never met and no, we have NOT practiced this trick in front of a mirror ten thousand times, sent along this picture of her new puppy. If you’ve missed reading the comments here for a few months, Wendy worked up the nerve to acquire a pup. Zaidie is an impetuous fellow with a great deal of energy, which is a great combination in all one’s closest wild animal friends outdoors. Indoors? Hide your shoes. And the couch. Everything’s so delicious! How can he be blamed for the deliciousness of EVERYTHING?

I love stories about people acquiring animal companions. The shelters are full of people disguised as dogs, cats, ducks, reptiles – you name it – waiting for people to love. Our homes are happier and we’re happier when we find the right companions. Look at that face! That little guy is so cute I made the “nom nom nom” noise. I’m deeply ashamed!

But really. That is one adorable puppy. Congratulations, Wendy!

The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Posted by Tata on

Drusy demonstrates exceptional flatness.

Yesterday, I dragged my new maroon bicycle down a small flight of stairs, across what passes for a lawn and into the street. Then I rode to work at the family store, pretending I didn’t look or feel like Angela Lansbury in the opening credits of Murder, She Wrote. No, no! I am far more rugged and burly! I am fierce! I am also smaller than I at first appear, so dragging the bicycle down a twisting flight of stairs inside the family store exhausted me completely. Anya, laughing hysterically, said, “Plainly the workout is when you get off the bike.” No kidding. She would not have enjoyed watching me walk the bike through her store full of beautiful things after closing, which I will never ever describe to her and hope she never sees.

Man, I hope I got all the little pieces!

Yesterday.

Last night, it started snowing. This morning, I looked out my front window and said, “No way, I’m risking my life for the unnamed university. This cowgirl’s going back to bed.” When I woke up twenty years later, I shaved and looked outside again. Oh, those kids with their rock music and snow plows! There’s a path out of the cul-de-sac by the river and Pete reports the roads aren’t so bad. Still, my laundry’s washed. As it dries it humidifies my arid apartment.

Today.

I’m making a shopping list. Cat litter, coffee, unbleached filters, hand soap, special overpriced shampoo for my overpriced hair, body wash, NyQuil, eggs, vegetables. It’s raining outside, turning the slippery layer of pressed snow into slush. I hate this step in the thaw but let’s be realistic. Siobhan and I have a date with Suzette for martinis tonight, and I am loath to get my paws wet. Staying dry will require ingenuity. I’m considering building my own diving bell.

Two days ago, Daria returned from Virginia with another carload of stuff that used to be Dad’s. This time, more jars for jarring spring fruits and vegetables. In a few weeks, we’ll stage a final garage sale, then our stepmother Darla will pack up and go back to Canada with her cats. I regard these new items with some nervousness. A time is coming when Dad’s death and all events rippling through our lives for the last year will smooth out into the flatness of History. I am not sure how I feel about that and I can tell Daria isn’t either. In the meantime, my grandmother’s, then Dad’s convection oven has a new home with me.

I do not know how to use it but I will learn that, too.

You Better Shop Around

Posted by Tata on

The Grand Am to which I will one day glue gold-painted macaroni.

A conversation.

Tata: You’re good with babies. I believe in delegating. Wouldn’t you like to go meet my grandson for me? He’s still got that ‘new person’ smell.
minstrel: i loves me some babies. especially when i can spoil the living shit out of them and hand them over to their parents to calm down and do all the scut work.
Tata: I told Miss Sasha I’d take a special interest in the boy when he was old enough to drive his Grandma to the liquor store. My son-in-law is transferring to North Dakota by the second week of April, so I thought I’d visit during that week that is summer. Nobody listens anyhow. If you wave a cigarette around in the air, put on red lipstick and say “fuck” a lot, they’ll think you’re me. Wear a hat. It’ll be hilarious! I quit smoking years ago and no one believes it for a minute!

Another conversation.

Tata: I’m thinking about sending every person I know in California over to my daughter’s house one at a time to do a stirring impersonation of me evincing maternal interest. I’m not very motherly. I’m more the Let’s Take the Kids For Tattoos type. The other day, I explained to my eight-year-old nephew how to cause volcanic reactions with common ingredients and my sister told him to NEVER LISTEN TO ME AGAIN. I said, “Sweetheart, I’ll always have bail money.” Filming these visits might finally get us our own HBO special.
minstrel: i could wear bright red lipstick and certainly say fuck enough to fool anybody.
Tata: Awesome. Road-test dialog like, “Sweetheart, I hope you kicked that greengrocer’s bony ass,” “I love you to pieces. Now, get the hell off me and do your own damn laundry,” and “Mommy’s had enough bullshit. Who’s got the remote?” How do you feel about a red sequined dress with spaghetti straps before tea time? You could carry it off. I once arrived in the Milwaukee airport wearing it, fishnets and jump boots. They closed the schools.
minstrel: one notorious halloween party in vegas i had sadjian (a top drawer heterosexual female impersonator, dude was so good he held a female lead spot at the MGM’s “Hello Hollywood, Hello) fix me up with a black and scarlett tina turner minidress, wig, springaltor spikes. i shaved the chest, the legs, everything, and went out. our doo-wop line was black boys in drag from the show, all i had to do to bring the house to its knees was look to my right, and growl into the mic “sing it girls”. i can do red, in any shade.
Tata: Rock on, sister!

Paired socks stolen by the cats, found on the living room rug.

A third conversation.

Tata: I picture a parade of my friends arriving at Miss Sasha’s house, impersonating me. And the subsequent phone calls…
Sharkey: Count me in. I won’t even have to shave!
Tata: You’d look divine in red sequins.
Sharkey: I always have…
Tata: Sure, princess. And since Miss Sasha knows you, it won’t at all surprise her when you show up in my clothes, put your feet up and say, “Darling, bring Mommy the scotch.”

Drusy and Topaz chase a pen on a glass table.

Wanted: Pretend Me Nos. 3, 4, and 5. Applicants must be acquainted with my body of work, able to sit or stand for 30 minutes and smell suspiciously like fresh fruit. No experience being Me necessary. Strong English vocabulary a plus but fluency in any language is a bonus. Must live in California and have own transportation. Must wear red with aplomb and lack constricting personal dignity. Contact the management before happy hour to participate in this exciting project. And if you see Miss Sasha, zip it!

Caturday Night’s Alright, Alright, Alright

Posted by Tata on

This morning, I awoke to the penetrating stare of Ceiling Cat. I considered renouncing Eeeeeeevil, but we all have our limits. I renounced Eeeeeeevil before witnesses at my nephew Sandro’s baptism and waited for lightning to strike; that didn’t go well. Today, I said, “Topaz, sweetheart, please come here and try not to smite anything on your way down.” It’s never unreasonable to fear locusts, frogs and murain. And speaking of plagues:

Today Show
today@msnbc.com

To Whom It Concerns:

This morning, the show was introduced including Ann Coulter. I immediately turned off my television. If her form of hate speech is good for your ratings, I pity the audience you’re not pandering to; in any case, Coulter’s free speech is not at issue. I simply will not subject myself to her rabble-rousing vitriol.

Her fans are vocal. I’m sure you receive piles of misspelled thank-you notes whenever you include her in what passes now for political discourse. Know that I will turn off my television wherever I see her. Maybe I’m alone and maybe I’m not. Maybe reasonable people find more factual news sources when you book this irrational entertainer.

Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.

Drusy waits for us at the window.

Feel free to crib it, change a few words and get a B+ on your term paper. Being small and covered with fur, I sometimes get flustered and can’t find the words to say what I need to about a complex issue. This even occasionally keeps me from writing to my Congressmen, who by now ought to have me in their Five. I call and stutter if I have to, but I’m not going to shut up. Anyhoo, this was simple: if I see Ann Coulter’s face or hear her voice, I’m either changing the channel or shutting off the TV. The people who thought I’d find her bullshit exciting should know they shouldn’t expect my tacit approval for broadcasting it.

Next time Coulter turns up, I’ll smite a few advertisers.

Friday Cat Blogging: Move On Sometime

Posted by Tata on

You’ve seen Topaz recently. How about some Drusy?

Believe it or not, this is not a picture of a giant hand. No, it is a tiny cat head. Drusy is tall and thin but her face fits in my palm. Giving her the Kitteh Face Press is a matter of some delicacy, but that’s not important right now. No, what’s important is that Drusy walked around my shoulders and across my chest a few times before flopping down in my arms for scritches, and I deliver! See the blinky pussycat contentment. See the glinty eyes of the purring person who is a cat. See that black cat on a red couch in a bluish sage green room.

Drusy’s favorite spot.

Nearing the successful conclusion of this morning’s Iron March to Workplace Domination – in the dark hallway by my front door I was donning my coat and mittens – when I stepped on invisible little Topaz. She let out an almost human scream I will never forget, in part because since I couldn’t see her I didn’t know which foot to lift. Pete came running. Topaz went flying. I’m hopping. I ran after the flying kitty but when I got to the bedroom, both cats stared at me. Topaz was breathing a little heavily and looked kind of freaked out but let me scratch her head a little. Then she retreated to a defensive position behind some clean towels.

She’s plotting revenge. I just know it.

Behind You I See the Millions

Posted by Tata on

Pete can take a gorgeous picture of our craptastic city, can he not?

In restaurants, I order only what I can’t make myself. Lately, I want soup. Today, minstrel mentioned pho at the same moment I was searching the NJ restaurant listings for a good Hungarian restaurant. The only one I could find is the one in a formal basement in New Brunswick. I’ve been there. It’s okay, but I longed for the kasha and mushroom sauce and creamy paprikash of Aranka, a restaurant that moved from town down Route 27 to Franklin Park. One night, a friend and I drove down there and found the building painted pink and containing an ice cream parlor. We were crushed! Since then, I haven’t found a new Hungarian restaurant to love. My friends and I also lost the Russian restaurant that was like a trip through the looking glass with roasted meat. So I’ve been thinking it’s almost time to make a pilgrimage to Veselka in New York for the borscht. Pete’s justifiably fussy about food. I wonder if he’ll touch pink soup – which, if you haven’t tried it, is as close to unsightly public rapture as you want to be unless you’re Jenna Jamison. Eventually, we went to the Greek restaurant, where I had the arni fricase with artichokes. I’m reconsidering. I might be able to cook that.

I’ve never had pho and now I must try it.

Bonus picture of Topaz lying on the floor, adoring Pete.

She’s just so gorgeous. One of these days, I fully expect her to don her napkin and gnaw on our leg bones.

Topaz is not just a gushing teenage fangirl. No. She’s a wild jungle cat. I must never run out of cat food.