A Kitty Conversation - a little one-sided if you ask me

That's right, I've been trying to chat with Scruffy Gray through the door. I know he's nervous still and I can't meet him but at least I can try to calm him down.

Last night Craig didn't really go for it. Come on, Craig we're night kitties. So what if I was talking to Scruffy at 1:30 this morning? That's when everything is quiet and we can talk without any interruptions.

What do kitties talk about? Well, I have been trying to convince Scruffers that I just want to play. You know, run around, play chase, bat at him a little playing tag -but not fight. I am a Maine Coon. We don't like to fight. It's not in our genes. I'd rather have a belly rub any day!

And I've been trying to get Scruffy to tell me his story. You know, how he became a homeless kitty and how he learned to survive on the streets. So far he's been mum. Hopefully I'll be able to get it out of him. I can't imagine living outside and fending for myself. I mean, I've never been out there without a freakin' leash on and I've never had a meal that Heather or Craig didn't prepare for me. I wouldn't stand a chance alone. And really, how could I live without my early morning belly rubs or my snuggle bed?

Tulip Season is Almost Over

I love spring! I wonder if Craig and Heather will have time to take me out to see the tulips before they all get topped. Not much time left! Too bad I don't have a bike carrier they can carry me in - I don't think I'd fit very well in a pannier bag.

(Photo: Craig enjoying the daffodil fields on a bike ride.)

Weekend Musings from the Good Kitty

Is Scruffy really sick? How am I supposed to know? Heather and Craig won't let me anywhere near him. I know he gets treats two to three times a day, but that's because he's taking steroid eye drops for some eye problem.

And I know that he is super freaked out about the eye drops because I heard Heather and Craig discussing the towel they have to wrap him up in to hold him still enough to get the eye drops in his eyes. Sometimes when I'm listening in at the door I hear Heather call out "olé!" and then I'll hear Scruffy bleating. - I'm not kidding! When he gets scared he bleats like a lamb and circles the room anxiously!

I know, it wasn't very nice, but I showed off what a good kitty I am by sitting nicely and taking my eye drops casually (without squirming) all week. I know I get a treat for being good. You guys remember that I'm the good kitty, right? You guys haven't forgotten that I'm the original snuggle head, have you?

Scruffy and the Vet

Is Scruffy sick? On Monday he went to the vet (better you than me, ol' pal!) and when he returned Heather was all teary-eyed. Yes, he's an older kitty with a missing tooth and a bum leg and arthritis in his back or hips. Sure, Heather and Craig knew that when they brought him home from the shelter.

But the top of his eyes seem to be showing some weird sign that made the vet nervous. Nervous enough that Heather noticed the vet trying to pull herself together before telling Heather what she saw. Maybe Scruffy has something called FIP (feline infectious peritonitis). And maybe he'll get really sick and I'll never get to meet him.

We won't know for sure till he gets really sick. The vet that I normally see called this morning and explained to Heather that the test results came back as a "maybe". How helpful is that? And now the vet says that I can't meet Scruffy for another month. A month! Do you know how long that is in a kitty life? Forever!

All I know is that Heather works in her office all day with the door closed so I can't see what she and Scruffy are doing. They could be playing board games together and leaving me out. I am not happy with this situation.

And when I came down with conjunctivitis Monday night Heather had a panic attack. She was sure I had whatever old Scruffers has and forced me to the emergency vet that night. Ugh! I don't what she's complaining about - lack of sleep, lots of money, blah blah blah. Come on, I'm the one who got the anal probe - twice! And believe me, the tuna treat she gave me when I came home did not make up for that treatment.

Scruffy the Escape Artist

On Friday Scruffy Gray escaped from his room and decided to check out the house. We met up downstairs and he turned and ran. I thought he wanted me to chase him, so I ran up the stairs behind him. But then Scruffy arrived at the top step and started hissing, spitting and growling at me and I was forced to hide under one of the steps. "Maybe if he can't see my face he'll stop hissing," I hoped.

Heather tried to get Scruffy back into the sanctuary room but for a frail older kitty, Scruffy is quite an escape artist. He zoomed right past her and tried to go outside. He meowed and scratched at the garage door and then, like a dummy, he tried to get between the sliding glass door and the screen to see if he could escape that way. It doesn't work that way, Scruffy. Believe me! (Of course, I haven't been able to fit between the screen and the sliding glass door since I was a kitten - but that's just because I'm furrier than him.)

Heather then tried to touch him (to pick him up to carry him back to his room) and he turned on her. He tried to bite and scratch her, but luckily, Heather has quick reflexes and she got away unscathed. She finally brought out the evil kitty carrier and he walked right in. Phew!

On Saturday, Scruffy needed to recover from all the excitement. And on Sunday Scruffy got to explore the house while I was locked in Heather and Craig's room. Why is he so freaked out by me? I'm just a fun-loving, playful kitty!

When Can I Meet Him?

I tried to paw my way into Scruffy's sanctuary room today, but Scruffy didn't go for it. He stood close by and hissed and growled at me. When will he figure out that I just want to play? Oh - and I want to make sure he's not getting better food than me...

(Photo: Trying to say 'hi'.)

Scruffy Gray Comes to Life

Scruffy's feeling better. On Saturday and Sunday he spent almost the entire time in his little fleece bed, hiding from moi (not like I could come in his room since Heather has the door shut).

Heather and Craig commented that each morning Scruffy would start out wandering around the santuary room, looking around to get acquainted with his surroundings, and eat breakfast. And then as soon as he remembered I was on the other side of the door, he would retreat into his snuggle bed and hide for the rest of the day. Heather was relieved when she realized that Scruffy was hiding because he was afraid of me and not because of the unspoken thought they both had: "What if he's sick?"

Monday came and Scruffy wandered around his room a little more and ate at a normal speed. And Monday night he didn't want Heather to leave him alone in the room. When he caught sight of me, he still stood up in his snuggle bed and hissed at me a little, but I didn't take it personally.

And today Scruffy Gray has turned into a different kitty altogether. He was waiting outside of his snuggle bed when Heather went up to feed him breakfast. He had been climbing around on her work chair and up on her desk. He came to the door and looked out at me and he didn't hiss this time. I heard him climb up on the windowsill and meow at Heather's mom while she was packing her car. And I heard him get into trouble for knocking stuff off Heather's desk while she was trying to work. Wait a second - that's my job!

I hope we get to meet soon. I am kind of looking forward to having a playmate. As long as he doesn't take all of Heather and Craig's love. I am king kitty of this house, not Scruffy.

Scruffy in Fleece

There he is - I spotted him from my sentry post at the door. I tried to investigate Scruffy Gray's room (Heather's office) but Heather caught me shortly after I slunk in.

Darn! Foiled again! Scruffy was back in his fleece bed, wrapped up in Craig's fleece blanket, hissing quietly at me to stay away. No problem, fur-less friend (or fiend, whichever it may be), I just wanted to sneak a peak a see what kind of food they're giving you. I had to make sure you weren't getting all wet food or - (gasp!) fresh tuna. Then I would have really had a reason to be mad at Craig and Heather. As it is, I'm only slightly peeved. All the time. Sharing my house with another. See if I let you guys snuggle with me any time soon!

Scruffalino - the real deal

Scruffy Gray - "in the flesh!" That's right. He had all of his matted fur shaved right off (at the shelter) before Heather picked him up last night. Yes, sigh, it's true. Scruffy Gray and I are now in the same house. He's behind the door inside of Heather's office and I am periodically camped out on the other side. You know, just so I can keep an eye on the situation.

Scruffy seemed pretty excited to come to our house. He walked around the office, sniffing everything in sight, and seemed to settle right in. He ate dinner exuberantly and then that's when I knew he was stressed. He immediately threw up his entire dinner, completely undigested, and then came to the door and hissed at me. And then he hissed at Craig and hid in his snuggle bed.

I know we're supposed to hiss at each other a little (got to keep Heather and Craig on their toes, you know. Wouldn't want them to think we were ok with sharing the house.) But hissing at Craig, well, obviously it was a hard day for Scruffy. Leaving the shelter, going for a car ride with Heather (that's always an adventure, I tell you), then plopped down into a new room in a new place that smells like another kitty and listening to all new sounds. Don't worry, Scruffalino, I'm camped out in front of your door to make sure you're ok.

The Waiting Game

Here I am waiting for Heather's mom to show up for a weekend visit. And I think I'm waiting for Scruffy Gray to move in too. I'm not sure, but that's what it sounded like when Heather and Craig were talking. Of course they waited till I was out of the room, but I caught some of it.

I heard Craig tell Heather that Scruffy Gray was shaved (remember the matting of fur he had on his back?) and that now he's got a velveteen sheen. Maybe we won't call him Scruffy Gray after all....

So now I'm just staring out the window waiting to catch a glimpse of Heather's mom so I can help her unpack. She always brings a million bags - and not the kind that Heather and Craig use when they leave me. No, she packs a million tiny little bags that have a couple items each. Craig and Heather have to help unload the car when she comes and there's so many bags for me to play with! And then I get to show her my new tunnel and then I'll get to hide under her bed and come out and grab the ties to her robe as she wanders around my room. Ooh, I can't wait!

My - He's so Big!

Everywhere I go all I hear is "My! Look how big he is!", "Wow, he's sure grown!" or "He's bigger than my dog!" Well, that's because you own a rat and not a dog, lady.

But, quite frankly, all this talk about my size is getting a little tiring. So what? I've grown. I'm no longer the 8 week old kitten I was when Heather brought me home. I'm a 12-pound eleven month old cat. And, I must add, I am part Maine Coon. Do you know how big I could still get?

And what if every time I saw you I commented on your size? That's what I thought. So let's can the size comments and talk about what a wonderful, brilliant kitty I am instead.

Oh, and Craig - no more comments on my "belly drop", capisce? I'd rather you talk about giving me more 4 a.m. belly rubs, hint, hint...

(Photo: Giuseppe Gattino at 3 months of age.)

Spring Cleaning: off with the dingleberries!

I was walking around the deck last night trying to determine what type of lawn furniture we should purchase with the grill Heather is planning on purchasing (I can't wait to smell salmon steaks on the barbie!). As I was perusing the deck I noticed that it's past time to re-stain it. And add in some sanding time. Yup, the time for spring cleaning has come!

Unfortunately, that also refers to me. Last night Heather and Craig came home from cycling and found the largest kitty litter dingleberries on me they've ever seen. They tried their darndest to photograph them, but luckily I was able to wriggle away. Craig tried and tried to hold me still, but I refused to allow it. How dare you try to photograph my behind?

But I wasn't able to escape the wrath of the scissors quite as easily. Heather snuck up on me from behind and suddenly I heard a "snip". She had the nerve to cut them off of me! Come on - I would have cleaned them off myself eventually! They were just clumps of pine. A little, er, decoration. I would have destroyed them quicker than you two have been cleaning out the garage (ahem)....

TGIF - Oh, Please!

The day just didn't start out well. Craig and Heather were stressed with a ton of work and completely ignored me. Fine. I'm ok playing on my own. I went to my room to take a nice mid-morning nap on my bed and was rudely woken up by Craig. Let's get this right - you're too busy to play with me when I'm awake, but when I'm napping you want to grab me and wrap me under the covers? I finally got away after giving Craig a good talking to and a paw to the face.

Then Heather was late feeding me lunch. Again. Sigh. Don't these people get it? My lunch is at noon. 12 p.m. How hard is that to understand? Heather knows exactly when it's 5 p.m. to leave work, but noon seems to be a difficult concept for her - and Craig.

After work (right at 5 o'clock) Heather decided we should go for a walk and enjoy the day. After we struggled with the harness (please don't let her get it on me - shoot!) we set off to the next door neighbor's house. Heather wanted to talk, like always, and left me to meet their 9 year old cat, Whiskers. She was off leash while I was stuck letting her sniff me trapped in a ridiculous harness. I ran away and tried to get back to the house but Heather had the nerve to pick me up and bring me back to the neighbors. Did I mention that the neighborhood neglected dog stood and barked at me while Whiskers laughed at my harness? I desperately tried to run home but Heather stopped me every time. Finally, Heather let me go home, but she realized that I had wiggled my head out of the harness. I had to slink home with the harness stuck around my middle like I was a stinky ferret. Heather was so mad she didn't even give me a tuna treat. I was ridiculed by the neighborhood animals and she wouldn't even give me a stupid treat.

After Heather and Craig had dinner Heather had the audacity to bring out the vacuum cleaner. On a Friday night! And then to top it off, she put some sticky thing on all my favorite steps so I can't play with the stairs.

TGIF? No, way. I think I'll go back to bed and wait for Saturday.

An Update on Scruffy Gray

I was in the middle of a great afternoon nap when the phone rang. I jumped - like always - and ran over to listen in to the conversation. A woman from the Humane Society wanted to talk to Heather about Scruffy Gray.

I heard that Scruffy has been responding very well to the medication for his URI (upper respiratory infection for you newbies to cat care). His eyes look better and he's feeling better. But, there was something that seemed not quite right, so they were going to give him another look-see at the vet. (Yikes! Just the word makes my hair rise!) Heather panicked and spent all afternoon worrying that Scruffy was on his death bed. A little melodramatic, I'd say, but that's Heather for you.

After hours of fretting, the shelter lady, Janine, called back. Heather and I were playing (OK, I was really trying to convince her to feed me an early dinner-o) and we knew who was on the other end right away. We scrambled to Craig's office so we could hear what Janine was telling Craig. At last, he got off the phone and turned to us, saying with a grin on his face, "Scruffy's going to die tomorrow." Heather was annoyed, because, duh, it was obviously not true. We sat and waited for Craig to stop kidding around. Come on and tell us, Craig, I thought. I want my dinner-o!

Craig told us that Scruffy Gray had suffered a fractured leg a long time ago (it was obvious by his bowed front left leg); he was 8-10 years old - but probably closer to 10, but besides that, he is fine. He has to stay at the shelter for a few more weeks, but then (gulp), he might come here.

Hmm, well, I'd give his coming here some thought, but it's time for my evening nap. Sleep tight, Scruffy Gray!