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Archive for November, 2009

What do you do when a strange cat dies in your backyard? The big gray, furry thing lay at the edge of the fern all day, shifting positions only slightly when one of my cats came to the window or when I talked to him. And then late in the day he ceased all movement.. So I tapped on a window. Nothing. Then a closer window. Nothing. That’s when I began to wonder what a person does with a dead cat. I’ve buried many animals in that yard, including a 100+ pound lab, but it’s been a long week and I did not feel like digging though the vine filled yard. How about the county? No, he’s not on county property; he’s on MY property. He’s my problem.

My cats perched  in the windows watching, even talking cat talk, and still he lay there. So I went out the front door to circle around, and grabbed a large stick at the last moment in case a rabid cat suddenly attacked. The spot where he curled motionless could not be seen until I was three feet from it. I took a deep breath and stepped into the opening, not believing what I saw—a perfect circle of crushed fern, an empty circle. There would be no need for the shovel tonight. Thank God!

Unless he just crawled farther back in the fern to finish his exit. Oh, please, let it not be.

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Picture: Wikkepdia

Bad Banana tweeted Saturdays are calendar kittens. That got me to wondering what the other days of the week might be. That dromedary camel above has got to be hump day Wednesday, but I know you clever bloggers and viewers out there can come up with killer euphenisms for all the days. Heck, re-do Saturday if you can beat Bad Banana. I’m waiting.

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Marilyn

I went to another funeral today. The skies were overcast and a cold wind was blowing, weather so unlike Marilyn. She was always smiling and beatific. Her daughter said in her remarks that her mother hated the “F word” and never used it, but once in the dark days of her breast cancer she looked at her and said, “Fuck cancer!” May I add an “amen?”

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There is a new kitten out in Blogdom, I understand. This post is for her/him and all the others out there. These four items work for me, but you know how cats are; past performance is no guarantee of future performance.

 

  • Guests to my house don’t know I have cats for two reasons; one, the cats hide until they leave, but most important, they can’t smell the litter box. At least that’s what they tell me. This is probably because I layer newspaper quite thickly at the bottom of the litter box, then pour Fresh Start (though others might work) on top of that. Important here: I do not use clumping litter because it creates little fragrance balls even cooking cabbage can’t mask. With my method, the urine soaks the newspapers which is covered by the nicely scented litter and holds that ammonia scent in. (Thanks to Abbe for this tip.)
  • Does your furniture look like shredded wheat? Mine does. Four new leather chairs now feel like dotted Swiss under your fingers. Obviously I learned the following trick too late, but will continue to avoid further damage. Seeing my furniture still covered with quilts and sheets from the night a wise lady asked if I had tried foil. Foil? She said cats hate it, the sound scares them. You can bet I picked up a cheap role and spread it across one chair that night—and subsequent nights for a week. Result: no new scratches although the chair is mostly exposed. In fact, the minute she hears the foil going on, Emma (the culprit) runs from the room. This is only one week’s trial but I am ceasing my research (as they say) because the results appear so promising. I’ll begin to scatter foil on all four chairs at night.
  • How embarrassing it was to leave for my super garbage guys a garbage can so smelly I hated to lift the lid to add to it. I am here to tell you the problem is solved. I no longer drop kitty litter bags into the big can, but in a small can beside it. No, it doesn’t smell up the whole garage because of my secret weapon—Glad Bags new odor shield plastic bags. I just plop the dirty bags into that (no cover) and once a week close it up and put in the big can. This would work for dog poop, too. (For the government police dogs out there: I have received no compensation from Glad Bag or, as a matter of fact, Fresh Start. They don’t know I exist.)
  • Now this is the most important point. If you remember nothing else, remember this. When you cat is meowing or caterwauling or whatever he does and he doesn’t respond to food or clean litter, you can be pretty sure what he really wants is YOU. Put him in your lap or lie beside him on the floor and stroke him and talk to him. I must credit blogger OmbudsBen for this revelation. When I read a post from him a while back a light came on. He may have been talking about his dog. I really don’t remember, but since then I hear his advice every time chirps and Charo sounds come from my kitties. (They don’t meow.) Attention soothes them every time.

 

Just don’t look to me for advice when your cat falls in love with a stoP1070013ne frog.P1070006

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Mom, He’s Copying Me!

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Attached to kiddie cart

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Granddaughter H-2's prize winning pumpkin in center

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Also attached to kiddie cart

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Boy on street with headdress of found peacock feathers

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No more Raggedy Ann with X's for eyes. This generation is creative!

 

 

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