Mountains of Stress

My human Craig is under a ton of stress. A mountain of stress, to be more exact. He's in the middle of two books (one manuscript is finished but there are still maps to create). And he HAS to complete his research for the backpacking book ASAP.

Everything seemed to be going pretty well - there have been no more road wash outs and the snow continues to melt in the mountains. But then last night he was supposed to go on another research trip and suddenly the weather forecast turned bad. Thunderstorms and flash floods, not a good forecast for higher elevation hiking.

(Photo: Here I am helping Craig inspect his book collection.)

Scruffy and I realize that he has to get the research done. But in all selfishness, we were excited to have him home today. Stay home and play with us, Craig! We miss you when you're away! No one else (hint: Heather) remembers to give us our favorite treats every night like you do. And no one else gets up at 3 a.m. to rub my belly until I purr.

We have plenty of catnip and wine waiting for you to celebrate the finished manuscripts (plus maps!) We can't wait!

Declaw the guy!

I was browsing on Facebook today and I noticed a post from a local woman who wrote "I'm still sad about my missing cat." So I started reading the comments and the whole situation just about makes me want to go over to her house and wring her husband's neck.

(Caption: Scruffy teaches Giuseppe some tricks of foraging for food in the wild).

Get a load of this: This woman has had two indoor kitties for 11 years (bless her!). They are declawed (take that previous sentiment back!) and recently her husband decided that they should live outside. So at 11 years old, and without claws to defend themselves or climb to safety, the old kitties were ceremoniously thrown out. And now one's missing.

OK, I can understand that some people don't like cats. Heck, I don't like some people! But to live with the cats for many years (I think the couple has been together longer than 11 years) and suddenly decide to get rid of them seems a touch heartless. And then to get rid of them by tossing them outside, like the trash, well I just don't know what to say. What kind of human being has such a lack of regard for life?

Scruffy and I have voted and it was unanimous: declaw the husband and send him packing to live outside. Sheesh. Who would have such a hardened heart? Luckily, not our humans. (Plus, we made our own key to the front door!!!)

Poor lady. What happens when the husband gets sick of their children? Lady, don't declaw them, just in case!

GOOOOAAAAL!

Scruffy Gray won. Fair and square. It was just like a soccer game, long and drawn out with a lot of posturing and scrambling and changing of positions without gaining anything. But finally, it happened: Scruffy Gray 1, Heather 0.

Heather had arranged a visit with the vet - Scruffers needs his nails cut and his back needs to be shaved. Poor guy, he's so arthritic he can't clean the fur on his back. And no matter how much time Heather spends brushing out the mattes, the fur just keeps getting worse. And on top of that Scruffy has been doing his pirate trick again where he lifts one side of his upper lip funny like he's saying "Grrr, matey!" So the pulled tooth site probably needs to be looked at since the pirate look should have ended months ago after the broken tooth was pulled.

So Heather began by pulling the dreaded kitty carrier out of the garage. Scruffers took one look at it and hid behind the couch. Heather moved the couch and Scruffy ran (limped quickly, really) upstairs. But Heather was quick and had already closed the doors to all the rooms upstairs. Scruffy was trapped. "Should be no problem now," Heather thought. Except that the door to her office wasn't really closed all the way and Scruffy snuck in and hid behind a heavy desk.

Well, after a lot of hiding and trying to lure Scruffy out, Scruffs somehow escaped and ran under Heather's bed. Heather slunk in under it and tried to pull him out. And that's when Scruffy hissed at Heather. But she was determined. So she pulled out the green towel to wrap him up and he lunged at her. And scratched her pretty good all over her hand, enough to draw some blood. And then he hid for the rest of the day.

That was Tuesday and Scruffy has yet to sit on her lap again. He'll sit next to her, but doesn't really want Heather to pet him and he won't purr for her. And every time she walks into the garage he runs behind the couch - just in case.

I don't know what his problem is. I sat in the kitty carrier no problem. In fact, I watched almost the entire game from inside the kitty carrier. Pretty good view and I was guaranteed not to be approached by Scruffy. It was probably the safest place in the house for me to watch the fun.

When Craig's away the kitties will play!

Scruffy looking around: Is that really a bag of kitty food on the floor? Wait - is this a trick? How could I be so lucky?

Giuseppe: I hate seafood. I'll just watch.

Let me just check and see where the kibble is...

There's got to be some food in here somewhere! Oh well, I guess since I'm in here I'll just lick the bag...

Be careful what you wish for

What can I say? Perhaps Be careful what you wish for would be a good place to start. I spent the past two months waiting for the weather to get decent. I have been moping like the rest of you in Washington, done with the rain, the gray, the never ending 60-degree days.

Then suddenly the temperature shot up from 60 to 92 last week. Whoa! I said I wanted nice weather, not heat stroke. And for those of you who may not understand: no one in their right mind would purchase A/C in this part of the country. Why waste your money? For what, one week a a year? So last week we suffered. Scruffy Gray hid under the guest bed all day for 3 days in a row and was so stressed from the heat, the frightening overhead fans whirling overtime and the open windows letting in the sounds of barking dogs that he threw up his dinner all three days.

And me? Come on, I'm a long-haired kitty. Half Maine Coon. Do you think for a second that I enjoy baking in my fur? So we suffered.

But there are many positives that have come from the heat wave:

1. Summer's finally here! Believe me, everyone's mood improved.

2. Now I am happy that it's 60 degrees and gray outside today. I could use a little sun break.

3. The garden is finally taking off! And biggest bonus of them all: I got to go outside and play!!!

With the leash on, dang it.

Tuna

Today was supposed to be a special treat day. Scruffy and I needed a treat, not kitty treats, like we get whenever we do something special or look cute, but a REAL treat.

Why? I think Heather realizes how hard this gray weather has been on us too. We might live inside, but us kitties know when it's gray and depressing weather outside too. We see it in the lack of sunny spots to bask in, we sense it in the humans around us. The weather is getting to everyone, no doubt.

But where was I? Treats! So Heather was making herself a little lunch and dropped a bit of tuna on the kitchen floor. It might not have made a sound, but Scruffy can hear a drop of food hit the ground anywhere in a five mile radius, I kid you not. His head whipped around and he stared at Heather, hoping, praying that for the first time since he's lived here that she would allow him a tiny bit of tuna. And she did! She took the dropped piece of tuna over to him (and walked right past me without even noticing) and he almost ate her finger in his rush to devour the tuna.

So Heather decided I was next. She took a big chunk of tuna, stuck it on her finger, and brought it over to me. I sniffed and walked away. So she placed it in a small cup, knowing that I will not, under any circumstances, lower myself to eat out of a human's hand. And I walked back over, sniffed the cup and attempted to bury it. And that's when she got it: I don't like fish! I don't know how many times I have tried to bury the salmon and tuna dinners she places in front of me, but Heather has never understood that I am just not a fish kitty. Finicky, yes. Fishy, no.

Hopefully that means she'll start buying more of those tasty chicken treats instead... Have you figured it out yet, Heather? And maybe roast a fresh chicken and drop a piece or two on the ground... A kitty can hope!

Pretty Please Mother Nature

I can't take any more rain. Please make it go away. That's all I have to say.

Except I think that everyone who lives out here feels the same.

NO MORE RAIN!!!!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

That's it! I can't take any more of this weather. I don't care if I'm an inside kitty or not, there's only so many days a week I want to stare out at rain. Pouring rain.

Whatever happened to spring and walking outside on a leash with my Craig? Nope, no way. If you think that the two of us are going to stand outside in the cold, windy, pouring rain so I can sniff the tree frogs, you are mistaken. I don't like to get wet. I'm a cat, not a dog.

So, here I am waiting for a vacation. Let's go somewhere sunny, ok? Somewhere with lots of birds to look at and maybe some tree frogs to sniff. I'm packed and ready to go!

The overwhelming "to-do" list

Phew, this Friday's been rough on me and it's not even noon. First, I had to take a well-deserved after-breakfast nap, but Heather and Craig just wouldn't let me sleep. They kept coming over and rubbing my belly and then finally Heather started photographing me, so I knew I had to get up.

I sent Scruffy over to do the laundry while I helped put up Craig's newest Hike of the Week up on his site. So much work for a little kitty! After Scruffy was done warming up the laundry (napping across a pile of Craig's clean shirts), he and I had a long philosophical debate on the nature of stairs. We discussed metaphors and the meaning of life and whether Craig and Heather would bug us less if we napped downstairs on our couches or if we stayed in our snuggle beds.

Hopefully this afternoon will be less taxing, I can't imagine being this busy all day.

Renaming the kitties

Heather swears that if she knew Scruffy well before she and Craig named him she would have called him Bilbo for the old Hobbit. I think that's because she struggled for months to get through the Lord of the Rings and she would enetertain herself by playing with Scruffs in between attempting to finish another page. She says Scruffy Gray looks exactly like she would picture a hobbit creature. Especially when he's on his back playing with his stick (he ate the attached feathers the first day so now it's just a stick).

So I asked her, what would you have called me? I don't think I can tell you Heather's answer. Sigh, OK: Dingleberries. Completely unfair! It's not my fault I'm a long haired kitty! See what I call you when you're not around, lady!