Cats on crack

Charlotte waiting to get her ball back

Whenever a new toy comes into the house, it’s always a bit of a crapshoot whether or not the cats will like it.  Whether they will play with the toy or be more interested in the box it came in.

Since “meeting” Sandi, the guesswork has been taken out of cat toys.  Every toy is a hit, thanks to Sandi’s not so secret ingredient … catnip.

Yesterday the latest shipment of toys arrived and it immediately had the attention of Chanel, Charlotte, Mickey and Gabriel.  Wrapped in plastic and stuffed in a bubble envelop, they knew this package was for them and gathered around.

Tree balls and a gingerbread man came out of the envelop.  Chanel claimed the gingerbread man for herself, leaving Charlotte, Mickey and Gabriel to divide the three balls among themselves.

All of them had a ball.  They held the toy between their paws, rubbed their cheeks against it and bit the toy until it was sopping wet.  They rolled around with it, threw it in the air and caught it, and rolled around some more.

Twenty four hours later, the gingerbread man is still around, but two out of the three balls are AWOL.  

No playing today, the Manero lot is too tired to lift a paw.

 

 

Another one bites the dust

It’s been said that shards bring good luck.  In that case, there must be a lot of good luck going around in this house.  The plates, bowls, cups, ornaments and even lampshades that have met their end due to human or feline clumsiness are too many to mention.  Let’s just say that this house has quite a few partial dinner and coffee services.

Tonight it was a soup plate.  One moment it was used to serve me my dinner, the next it was on the floor in several pieces. 

Mickey was the culprit and shortly after breaking the plate, he set a new world record in the 50 meter sprint.  Like a bow from an arrow, in a blur of black fur, he shot out of the kitchen and under mom’s bed.  When I went to have a look, I found him crouched in a corner, eyes as big as saucers.

I don’t know why he was so scared, it’s not like he was going to be yelled at or punished in any way.  So he broke a plate, so what?  It’s not the first one he broke and my guess is, it won’t be his last.

Of course, like I said, it’s not always us cats who break things.  Mom and Dieter have broken their share of items too.  Mom’s most memorable breaking accident happened a few years ago and involved a navy blue candle in a glass bowl.

The candle had been burning all evening and when bed time came around, mom blew out the candle and picked up the bowl to put it away.  Well, she wanted to put it away, but the bowl never made it that far.  Shortly after mom picked up the bowl, the hot glass burned her fingers and she let go of the bloody thing.

You cannot imagine the mess ... glass and blue wax everywhere!  On the wall unit, on the floor, on the carpet ... words cannot describe it.  Dieter actually took a picture of it at the time. 

Was the mess cleaned up?  Of course it was.  Once the wax had grown hard, it was easy to lift it off the hard surfaces and most of the carpet.  To clean up the remainder, the wax was covered with brown paper and ironed with a warm iron.  The wax was absorbed in the brown paper and so not a trace of wax was left.

I’m throwing this in just in case one of you ever spills wax. 

Hurricane Irene

From what I hear hurricane Irene is passing along the east coast of the United States.  I just saw mom reading a report that 380,000 people in New York have left their homes to seek safety in shelters or move to homes of family and friends.

I image that people in North Caroline, Virginia and other states have done the same, left their homes to seek shelter elsewhere.  While a hurricane of that magnitude is certainly frightening, I wonder how many people gave any thought to their pets.  Did they take their cats, dogs, rabbits, hamsters and other animals with them? 

The news reports about people who lost their lives and material damages, but seldom or never is any attention given to animals who died in natural, or man-made disasters.  I’m not only thinking of cats, dogs and other pets, but also about cows, horses, pigs, chickens and other livestock. 

When hurricane Irene has come and gone, and we mourn those who lost their lives, let’s take a moment to remember out furry friends too.

Cats and boxes

I guess it’s safe to say that all cat owners know that we cats love boxes. Whether it’s the box a TV came in, or a shoebox, if it’s made out of cardboard, we’re in to it. I mean that literally.

For some cat owner this love for boxes is endearing, for others it’s a source of frustration. They buy fancy cat toys, only to find out that kittycat is more interested in the box than the actual toy.

As you can see from the pictures below, this cat family loves its boxes too.

Take a look at Charlotte ...

She was just a kitten when these pictures were taken. My goodness she was such a cutie back then. Well, she’s still cute, but her butt has grown several sizes. If she were to try that now ... hm, all I can say is, I feel sorry for the box.

Speaking of feeling sorry, the rest of us are no strangers to boxes either. I mean look at us and look at the boxes we’re trying to squeeze our bodies in ... those boxes are practically bursting at the seams. Do we care, no, for where there is a will there is a way.

Here is Charlie. What was he thinking?

And here's Mickey. Also with hopes and dream.

Next up, Gabriel, another optimist

Last but not least, me.

As you can see, I like a good box now and then too. It took some effort, but I managed.  Sort of.

The morale of the story ... don’t bother buying us toys. Just buy yourself a cute new pair of shoes and give your cat the box.

The story of Skitter

Today's guest blogger is Mike Williams.  Mike is the author of 'Snowed In'.  If you're interested in this book, you will find the link to his Smashwords page at the end of this blog post.

Mike once had a cat called Skitter.  Judging from his story, Skitter was quite an interesting feline.

Skitter was the smallest adult cat I've ever known. By most standards, he was about the size of a six month old kitten. Someone had a litter of all black kittens and my room mate and I decided to take one.

It didn't take long and we knew Skitter was different. He'd suddenly stand up on his hind legs and fight with invisible foes for minutes at a time. During the battle, you'd see him dodge and duck and box, crouch down and stalk and leap up to swipe at nothing. Then, just as suddenly as it started, he would sit down and lick his tail, looking as unperturbed as if he'd just awoken from a nap.


We would swear he could turn himself invisible. One minute he'd be there, the next he was gone and no amount of looking or calling for him would reveal his presence. He never disappeared when we were looking, you'd glance away and look back and there he was. Gone. Later, he would reappear in a "frantic room run."

A "frantic room run" started at any piece of furniture. He'd jump up on it and race at full speed around the room, using only the furniture as a traveling lane. That included the couch back, chairs (and anyone sitting in them), end tables and the fireplace mantle. There were two very long jumps, the first from the mantle to the next chair and from the chair after that to the couch top. Both jumps were more than six feet. Then he'd stop and lick a paw or his tail, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Skitter loved attention. I've never seen or known a cat that purred so easily. Reach down with one finger, scratch his ear twice and purrrrrrrr....

We played stretch the kitty, his favorite form of attention. He'd jump into your lap and roll over on his back. We'd grap his front paws in one hand, his back in the other and (gently) stretch him out to full length. Purrrr....

Pick him up, purrrrrrr...

He'd be happy to provide a neck massage. Just drape him over your neck and occasionally scratch his ear. Or his belly. Or his tail. Or anyplace you could reach. The purr motor would start and it was warm and fuzzy and felt like an ultra gentle massage. As long as you didn't move him, he'd continue to massage your neck with his purring.

We had to give Skitter up when my roommate and I moved in different directions. We gave him to a friend and he lived a long, happy life playing "Spirit fight", "stretch the kitty", "disappear on the owner" and "frantic room run".

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/72596

The tale of Mokie

There was a time that cats were allowed to walk and play outside.  For a lot of cats things have changed.  There are dangers everywhere, from fast moving cars to people with less than friendly intentions, and as a result people chose to keep their pets indoors.  Just one of the dangers is related by Rex Trulove, our guest blogger for today.  


Rex is one of mom's fellow Heliumites (a website where writers get paid to share their expertise by writing articles and stories). He tells the tale of Mokie.  To learn more about Rex, please visit the link at the bottom of this blog post.

I love cats. When we moved into a new home, we didn't have any. My son managed to catch a gray tiger stripe, though it was so wild it hissed, bit and scratched him. We called her Mochus Lopes, Modoc Indian for "owl eyes" because her eyes were huge.

Mokie quickly adopted me. When I came home from work, she'd leap to my shoulder, where she would curl up and go to sleep, regardless of my movements.

Mokie grew bigger and learned to love everyone in the family. She also grew much friendlier to others. She didn't like cars, but she liked people, so we let her have free access to the outside in the summer. People would stop and pet her on the sidewalk. She loved the attention, naturally.

One late spring, Mokie didn't show up. She ALWAYS came home for her special dinner. We went out looking for her, but there was no sign of her. We alerted neighbors. Over the course of the next few weeks, there wasn't a time we went outside without calling for her and looking for her. It was as if she'd disappeared from the earth.

Spring turned to summer, then to fall. No sign of Mokie, though, the whole time. Even the neighbors were saddened, because she would go and say hello, before returning home. Everyone was fond of her.

By November, we knew we'd seen the last of her. Snows had begun to fall, and Mokie definitely didn't like snow. She couldn't even be coaxed into going outside if it was snowing. 

On December 14, we prepared for bed as usual. We'd tried our best to forget about Mokie, because that brought tears. That night was special, though. We laid down and started to read our books, a nightly exercise, when there was a thump against the bedroom window. The curtains were open, and as I looked around, there was Mokie, snow flying around her and pawing to ask to get let inside.

Believe me, it took seconds to get the window open and to let her in! 

She was skin and bones, as if she hadn't eaten in many days. She was shivering, and the pads of her paws were almost bloody. She'd come a long way, to get home. She also would not leave us alone. We fixed her food, but she wouldn't eat it until we brought it into the bedroom. Then she ate ravenously.

That night, she curled up right between us, purring loudly every time we moved. That was 16 years ago, but she still curls up between us, or on top of me, and purrs when we move. She won't go near strangers, though, and she hates cars.

All I can surmise, and this is a guess, is that someone picked her up out in front of our home, then transported her some distance to their home. They probably locked her in the house. One day, it was likely that someone left the door open a little to much, and she zapped out, then started the long trek home. Judging from her paws, it would have been in excess of 1000 miles, and I have no clue how she survived the trip. 

She is currently laying on the back of the couch, right behind my wife, and is content. She just doesn't like visitors or cars.


http://www.helium.com/users/169151/show_articles

How to stop the cat from eating the seedlings

Today's guest blogger: Ann Hinds.  Mom met Ann on www.helium.com a website where humans write stories and articles and get paid for them.  Don't ask me why, getting paid seems important to humans. 

Anyway, some cats are rather fond of seedlings.  Ann gives some tips on how to avoid that.  Could be interesting as some plants are poisonous to cats.

Start your seedlings. Make sure that they are in a sunny spot that does not get direct sunlight. I have a perfect spot in my bathroom. There is a large frosted window next to the garden tub. I put a small table in the tub and can move it easily when the tub is in use. The tub gets sun all afternoon. Absolutely perfect for seed germination. Also, absolutely perfect for the Cinnamon cat who likes to nap in the tub as well...Purrfect for an afternoon snack.


Until the true leaves appear, they cannot be moved outdoors. While some of the hardier plants can be planted outside, most plants like a more controlled start. The problem with indoor seedlings is cats. Dogs do not generally mess with the seedlings but for cats, ahhh, the elixir of life.


I've listed some methods to keep your seedlings safe until they are ready to harden off outside.

Supplies you need to have on hand to start seedlings

You will need supplies for whatever method you choose.


You will need carefully grown seedlings from expensive heirloom seeds.


You will need a cute adorable cat but that choice is up to you. We already had Cinnamon so the cat part was easy. If you don't have a cat yet but want to stop one from eating your seedlings, might I suggest your local animal shelter where they have many, cute, adorable cats.

I always use Miracle-Gro. I have yet to have a problem with it and I do think it helps.

If you have not tried these tomatoes, give them a try. They are huge and yummy.

Disclaimer

No cats were injured during the writing of this article. Cats will eat seedlings. It is up to you to take steps to prevent it. You can't get mad if your cat acts like a cat.

This is my list of suggestions

• 1Cover the plants. Some have suggested that a box makes a great cover. The plants are covered at night and uncovered in the morning. This is a great suggestion until you leave the house during the day and leave the seedlings to the cats mercy. Still pretty effective.
• 2I read a suggestion on the internet to soak a paper towel with ammonia and set it in the dirt. I haven't tried this but I could see it working.
• 3Chicken wire is a thought. I do not plant anything outside without digging a hole and lining it with chicken wire. This keeps the gophers out. (That should be another article about the gopher who ate my horseradish plants). Making a cage for the seedlings is something I am considering. I just have to figure out the cat weight to chicken wire strength ratio. Also need to take into consideration, the average cat reach from the sides and the top.
• 4One of the more obvious deterrents it to spray her with water. This works but I can't spend the next few weeks sitting in the bathtub.
• 5Another interesting suggestion I found while researching was to put banana peels on the soil. I chased the cat around with the banana peel and she doesn't like it so I may try this method too.
• 6Along the same line, cats are not fond of the smell of citrus or eucalyptus. Another thing to try if all else fails.
• 7The final suggestion I found was to sprinkle plain black pepper on the seedlings. Cinnamon does not like pepper on any of her food.

PJ is too lazy to eat the seedlings. He would have to get up and prefers his food at floor level.  


To read more of Ann's work, please visit http://www.helium.com/users/498719/show_articles

Mickey and whipped cream

Are you familiar with Gay Lea whipped cream? Mickey LOOOOOOOOVES whipped cream, absolutely adores it.

A couple of nights a week, the humans in this house have ice cream after dinner. Clever cat that he is, as soon as he hears the freezer opening and sees the serving bowls appearing, he knows what’s up ... they’re having ice cream. And ice cream and whipped cream go hand in hand. So he positions himself in the kitchen and waits.

He never has to wait long. As soon as the serving bowls are filled with ice cream and fruit, mom puts some whipped cream on her bowl and he's getting a plate with his portion. Judging by the look on his face it's his piece of heaven.

What’s more, Charlie, Charlotte, Gabriel nor myself fancy whipped cream, so he has the whole plate to himself. By the time he's through with it, the plate is so clean, you can’t even tell there was something on it. And then he sits there licking his lips, over and over and over again. Some say that all that cream will go to his hips, but I don't think he's got anything to worry about. He looks pretty lean to me.

We all have our own little preferences.

Charlie likes Twinkies. When the humans have coffee, and they have Twinkies, he makes sure he’s there to get his share.

Charlotte likes treats. Actually, the word ‘likes’ is a bit of an understatement, she LOVES treats. Wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, when she hears the rattling of the treats bag, she goes storming for the kitchen. Literally, that girl would go over corpses.

Gabriel and I ... I don’t think we have a preference for anything. I’ve never seen him getting excited over food and neither have I. Now a fake mouse, that’s another thing, but that’s a subject for tomorrow.

Got to go. It's almost midnight and way past my bedtime. Catch you all tomorrow.

Cat or Skunk

He looks all innocent and dignified, doesn't he?  Don't be fooled, Mickey is far from innocent and he caused quite a commotion today with something very undignified.

I’ve long suspected that there was something different about Mickey. People call black and white cats tuxedo cats, but I’ve always been of the opinion that they are hybrids, a cross between a cat and a skunk. Today this suspicion was confirmed.

You probably all know that cats like boxes and paper bags. Humans often buy toys for cats, only to find that kitty cat is more interested in the box the toy came in than in the toy itself.
The same goes for paper bags, they have a magnetic effect on cat.

So today, Dieter (a human who walks around here) come home with a paper bag and got the bright idea of putting Mickey into it.
Mickey had other ideas and didn’t take too kindly to being picked up with the intention of being stuffed inside that bag. He struggled a bit and when he couldn’t get away he came up with plan B ... he did like one of his ancestors and farted.

His backdoor draft had immediate effect. Dieter let Mickey go and fanned his nose to get rid of the smell. That wasn’t all though, when he smelled his T-shirt he had to go and change and when he smelled his arms and hands they had to be washed.

As if that wasn’t enough, the whole area where Mickey had performed his escape maneuver stank up to high heaven. Cats and humans alike could go near that place anymore. The smell took anyone’s breath away.

So you see, the notion of a black and white cat being the offspring of a cat and a skunk isn’t that farfetched.  Can someone hand me a bottle of Febreze?

Introductions

Hi, my name in Chanel and welcome to Feline Corner.

I am 12 years old, part Maine Coon, part something else. Don’t ask me what, my father didn’t stick around.

My earliest memory is of an animal shelter where I was adopted when I was six weeks old.
I actually didn’t think that I would get adopted, because I was the ugliest kitten in the shelter. I’m not kidding, I was a scruffy little thing, but I found someone who likes scruffy kittens.

Well, you can read all about my adoption and early life in a book called ‘Kitten Diaries’, which my mom wrote. My adoption mom. It’s an www.amazon.com , costs only $8,00 and proceeds go to an animal shelter.
But enough of me, let me introduce you to my brothers and sister.

This is Charlie.

Charlie is 14 years old and a big log of a cat. He gets along with anybody and everybody and wouldn’t hurt a fly. He spends most of his time napping, but don’t get me wrong, there’s still life in the old geezer.

Next up, Charlotte

 Charlotte is 4 years old a bit of a weird girl. She sleeps in weird places, drinks from the faucet and her preferred toys are aluminum foils balls. You can present her with a store bought toy and she won’t even look at it. Give her an aluminum foil ball though and she plays with it for hours. Or at least until she kicks her ball under one of a chairs.

Next, Mickey

Mickey is 4 years old and hails from Belgium. Mom went over there three years ago for the funeral of her mother and came back with a cat. Mickey quickly adjusted and now he’s one of us. He’s the talker of the family. I’m not kidding, he makes all kinds of weird noises and when someone says something to him, he answers.

Finally, there’s Gabriel.

Gabriel, or as I call him ‘the terrorist’, will soon be 3 years old. Honestly that cat is a nightmare. He has it in for me. Whenever he sees me, he gets that weird look in his eyes and he flattens his ears. Sometimes all he does is looking, but sometimes he jumps on me. I don’t know what that cats’ problem is.

So there you have it. That my family.  I hope you will follow me because lots of things happen around here and I will be introducing some of my friends.  Stories, photos, videos, you'll all find it here at Feline Corner.