Category Archives: cat

Night-blooming Cereus: FOTD July 6, 2019

After the dinner and party at the Raquet Club, we came to my house to play Mexican Train, and at 9:30 went to Olga’s down the street to watch her night-blooming cereus open. Gorgeous.  (Click photos to enlarge)

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Olga and the King of Cats.

 

 

For Cee’s FOTD.

Life With Cats 1.

Every time I think Annie has cornered the market in weirdness, she comes up with a new angle.  With a comfy cat bed, numerous rugs and cushions, two sofas and two people beds all awaiting her presence, tonight I walked into the bathroom to find her comfortably bedded down in her litter tray!  Go figure.

 

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Cats in Confinement

 

Here are some photos I snapped today in the Vet’s office waiting room. How many forms of feline confinement are there, anyway? Share yours with me by posting links to your blog below in comments. (Click on photos to enlarge.)

Annie and I have been to the vet twice in the past two days and since tomorrow is a holiday (Mexican Labor Day, when ironically nobody works for a day) they want us to come back on Thursday. Since her treatment is exactly the same if it is cancer or no, I decided to spare her that long needle for the biopsy.  So we’re home with one medicine, another available Thursday, another expensive healthy cat food she won’t eat and, blessedly, for her, the freedom of the whole house. She did not like her sojourn in the dread black bag pictured.

 

Here are some photos I snapped today in the Vet’s office waiting room. How many forms of feline confinement are there, anyway? Share yours with me by posting links to your blog below.

 

 

Cat Burglars – Breaking & Entering

Cat Burglars – Breaking & Entering.

Kitten Break-In Artists

The four tiny kittens dropped at my doorstep were of huge distress to my 17 year old cat, so as soon as they were old enough for shots, spaying and neutering, they became outside cats, with their own luxury cathouse as well as a huge cushy bed in the garage. The old cat chose to remain permanently inside, with her litter tray in my shower. I used the guest room shower. This drove the kittens mad, however, and they continually plotted on how to gain re-admittance to my house. In this video, they had removed one of the glass slats on the master bedroom’s bathroom window–not an easy task as there were bars on the outside of it and a screen fastened by metal rivets into the wall. The slats were held by spring-action long metal clamps and were hard for even me to remove. But, where there are determined kittens, there is a way. When I heard the ruckus, I had to come view it and returned with camera, never thinking they would succeed.

I have been looking for the video for a year, fearing it was lost when I switched over to a new computer.  Then, yesterday, I found it on a thumb drive.  Couldn’t wait to share it with you!

Three Stories Miraculously Bonded into One

Click on the first photo to enlarge all photos and read the captions.  You must do this first to reveal the mystery.  What do all of these things have in common? Can you guess before reading the complete story printed after the photos and captions? Do you even want to?

Annie just peed in my shower––I mean a man-sized stream that arced up from where she was standing on the floor in front of the shower, over the 6 inch ledge and into the shower, where  it ran from a couple of feet away right down the drain. I shouted, “No, no,” but she finished and ran away. Then I remembered that I’d cleaned out her box this morning in the location where it is located in the  guest room shower and had to empty all the sand and wash out the box and under it because there was pee all over the shower floor, probably because all the cats were in yesterday and had used it and it was not pleasant to enter, so she just peed in the shower, or they did.

Anyway, I had sprayed ammonia over all the floor and box, scrubbed them both and then sprayed again with an odor eradicator and stood the box on end to dry while the shower floor dried. Then I closed the door so she didn’t go in there while it was drying. Unfortunately, I then left to drive Yolanda home, do a bit of shopping and stop by the fraccionamiento office to see if I’d paid my special assessment. I then stopped by a couple of neighbor’s houses to apologize for Diego’s barking while I was gone–another story–forgetting that I hadn’t opened the door to her guest room bathroom and set up her litter box again, so she had nowhere to pee. She did it in the easiest place to clean. Good girl.
Phew. Telling about it took as much effort as doing the two cleanups, but now the plot thickens.

Yesterday I knocked a bottle of dark rose-colored nail polish off the counter of my master bedroom bathroom and it dropped and broke on the eggshell-colored ceramic tile of my bathroom, spraying across 8 feet of floor, over the new rug I had just bought in the states, and a bit up the wall. Rapidly drying pools of bright polish and splatters mixed in with shards of glass and tiny pieces of glass made passing through the bathroom to the tub nearly impossible! Damn! How to clean it up without walking through it and cutting my fingers to shreds? I ended up wadding Kleenex and toilet paper and picking up what shards were big enough to see, then used nail polish remover pads to tackle the polish, removing big gobs with Kleenex, then carefully scrubbing with the pads. When I ran out of pads, I put polish remover on wads of Kleenex, but it was a big job.

When I had cleared away most of the bigger puddles and largest shards and removed most of the polish off the wall and rug, I had just the decorative splashes left—about 3 feet of them—it occurred to me then that the first thing forgottenman would say when I told him the story was, “Did you take pictures?” No, I hadn’t. So, now that most of the mess was already cleaned up,  I did.  Secondly, it occurred to me that I should just pour the rest of the bottle of polish remover over the floor and use my foot in my Croc to rub Kleenex over them. I wouldn’t have to worry about glass and could apply more pressure. I finally got it all up and then put more remover down and rubbed over larger areas to remove the stain, as that porous area now sported an overall  pinkish glow.

Finally, coming up to the present and Annie’s peeing in the shower, when I was mopping up her urine with toilet paper so I could flush it, I found a pretty good sized clear shard of glass from the top part of the jar which had no polish on it to make it obvious, jagged end facing up, in the shower just where I would have stepped when I took my next shower. It had flown up and over the edge and into the shower when the nail polish bottle broke! Good Annie! Her foresight (or hindsight?) in peeing in my shower probably saved me a serious injury.

But! Did I really say finally? As I was writing this post, the plot thickened again. Just before I started writing this post and taking the photos to accompany it, I had put a small pan of Brussels sprouts on to steam. Since there were only seven largish sprouts, I used a steamer basket in a small covered saucepan with water up to the bottom of the steamer bottom.  I had cut the tops of each sprout almost through to the bottom in an X pattern, and as I sprinkled them with “No Salt,” pepper, garlic powder and a bit of balsamic vinegar, I was remembering the last Brussels sprouts I’d had when I first got to Sheridan two months ago.  They were served as an appetizer in a restaurant and since both my sister and Jim, her husband, hate them, it was up to my friend Patty, her boyfriend Duffy and me to polish off the whole batch.  That was no problem.  They were delicious—piquant and a bit charred with a wonderful smoky flavor.  I was wondering how I could duplicate that recipe.  Would I steam them first, then char them? What were the spices? For years I’d been using a friend’s recipe which I loved but I liked these even better.

At any rate, the present day Brussels sprouts went on the gas stovetop to steam and I went to the bathroom to survey the scene and to write this story, then to my desk in the bedroom to finish it.  One thing led to another and a half hour had passed before I finished typing the story.  When I came back to the living room to plug in my computer, edit photos and post, I heard a sizzling and rapid rocking sound and smelled a burning smell.  Damn! The Brussels sprouts!  I quickly turned off the gas under the completely waterless smoking saucepan, removed the sprouts with tongs and took the pan to the sink, running hot water over the charred black inside of the pan.  Yes. More hissing and steam, but then, mindlessly, I turned the pan over and ran cold water over the burning hot pan.  Instantly, an explosion of steam so intense that it removed the color from the outside of the enamel pan that was nearest to its bottom. 

Luckily, I had a huge box of baking soda and two partially full bottles of cider vinegar.  Into the pan they went with the expected chemical reaction: rapidly swelling foam and more hissing. I did a rigorous scrubbing with a scrubber sponge and Spongedaddy, using lots of muscle power as well as more soda and vinegar.  Scrub scrub scrub.  Although I got some of the char off the sides, I made little progress with the bottom of the inside of the pan. 

As I left the pan in the sink to soak, I spied the Brussels sprouts neglected on the counter.  I mixed up a bit of stevia in balsamic vinegar and sprinkled it over the sprouts. Swirled them a bit, then decided to taste. I think you’ve guessed the ending.  Yup.  They tasted exactly like the Brussels sprouts appetizer in the restaurant in Sheridan, Wyoming.  So, again, thanks Annie. I’ll think twice before scolding you for any future misdeeds.  But I’m going to have to buy a new pan.  xoxoxo

A Feline Primer

 

Photos may be better viewed by clicking on them to enlarge them.

A Feline Primer

Obsequious’s opposite, a cat has got its pride.
The moment that you put it out, it wants to be inside.
Then once inside it sees something outside it has to play with.
Each thing that you have planned for it is something it can’t stay with.

It knocks against your bottles, setting them astray
to crash upon the tiles, and only then, it may
consent to go outside again until you’ve cleaned the mess.
And cats have no contrition. No impulse to confess.

A dog may raid your garbage, steal your pork chops from the table,
but afterwards they’re guilty and they’ll woo you if they’re able.
But try illuminating cats regarding what they’ve done.
They will survey you blankly and go on to other fun.

A cat has grace and beauty , but very little soul.
It pays its rent with hummingbirds, lizards or a mole,
tiny snakes and bunnies, now and then a bat—
laid out for your viewing, on your front doormat.

Cats move with grace throughout your life, doing what they please.
When you least need their presence, they’re there upon your knees.
They’ll knead your finest tapestry, they’ll upchuck on your floor,
and sometimes when you pet them, they will consent to more.

A cat’s a living work of art, draped across your stool.
“Do unto others as you wish” is their golden rule.
So don’t expect a thank-you as you stroke their ruff.
To be graced with their presence should be thanks enough!

 

The prompts today were bottle, obsequious and illuminate. The links are below:

https://fivedotoh.com/2018/09/23/fowc-with-fandango-bottle/
https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/obsequious/
https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/23/daily-addictions-2018-week-38/illuminate

Annie’s World (At the Beach)

Annie Goes on a Beach Vacation

To read the poem that goes with these photos as well as to enlarge the photos, you must click on the first photo and then on each arrow on the right hand margin of each photo. If you are viewing via Facebook, you won’t see all the photos or the captions/poems unless you click on my URL or the name of my blog first. Facebook only shows a few of the photos unless you do this.

This post is for forgottenman, who asked for it!