Cat-Woman

Yes, I have two cats. Yes, I live alone in a basement. No, I'm not like the crazy cat lady on the Simpson's, although I find her to be quite amusing when she makes an appearance. That being said, I get no end of grief when it comes to matters feline.

So what if the only picture on my desk is of Harry (male tabby) and that he has a custom Christmas sock? How else will Santa Paws deliver his kitteh treats?

So, despite, the obvious insults that could be hurled my way, I occasionally find a cat-themed item to be quite adorable. I just received my United Bamboo Cat Calendar in the mail and it's fabulous. And who could deny the cuteness of this Marc by Marc Jacobs Paisley Cat Tote? Only a cold-hearted unfeeling cat-hater, that's who.

And it's really only a cat in the abstract, right? Nobody *really* has a pink and purple and orange cat. So it's stylized and therefore sartorially acceptable, in my humble opinion. And at $90 (marked down from $128), it's a veritable bargain by Marc Jacobs standards. So I'll happily make it to my very special Conspicuous Consumption Christmas Item of the Day. Mee-yow!

PSA: Sweet Kittehs

As many of you know, this blogger is passionate about mah kittehs, H & P (just look at them!). They're so precious and loving; I can't imagine my life without them. Many evenings and weekends find me pet sitting as a part-time job. It's probably the best PT job ever (okay, it's a close tie with fashion, but that's another story) in that I get to goof around with rabbits, cats, dogs, and sometimes other things (the occasional ferret and hamster), while being paid to keep an eye on someone's home. Like I said: nearly perfect.

Currently, my summer's filled with the on-again/off-again sitting for five (5!) kittens and an older female cat at a neighbor's house. Only the kittens are rescue kitties and all are looking for forever homes. Their feeding and care in their foster mother's house is supported by Alley Cat Allies, an amazing organization that realizes the value feral cats bring to an urban ecosystem, while simultaneously acknowledging that spayed and neutered animals are happier and healthier animals. Check out their PSA:



If you're looking to add a sweet kitten to your home, any of these five would be a great addition. They're about 12 weeks old, litter trained, playful, fluffy, and just about every other good thing one looks for in a kitten. Contact Alley Cat Allies directly or consult their website for adoption opportunities.

Okay, I'm off my soapbox. Mee-yow.

What's New, Pussycat?

Diamonds are a girl's best friend? Dogs are man's best friend? Nah...it's all about mah kittehs. Yep, that's how I say it. So there.

Harry and Penny (named after President Truman and for her copper-colored eyes, respectively) are the everyday constant in my life. I try not to veer into crazy, cat-lady territory (yes, I know kitten sittin' a third kitteh DOES seem suspicious, but it was temporary, mmm'kay?) what with living in a basement and all. But if you were able to witness Harry sidling up to your leg or flopping on his bag in order to maximize the amount of tummy rubs he could acquire... Or if you were to experience Penny's endless face rubs and kneading of the paws as she purrs ever louder... You would be smitten, too.

This is not to say that all is sugar and roses.

It is not.

Cats are animals. They fight and chew and claw things. They sometimes see fit to liberate themselves from the confines of their litter box. They'll paw your face at 4 in the morning and lay their entire body across your head until you can simply no longer ignore their burning desire to eat cat food, even though you know full well you fed them with said food not even 6 hours ago.

But like I said, they're animals.

And that's the good part, really. Sure, you get emotionally attached. I was away on business for one night this week and my hotel room was a black hole of non-cat sounds and activity; I did not know how to comprehend a pair of black pants carelessly tossed on the floor, yet fully fur-free the next morning. How would I sleep without random meows and goofy cat-wrestling? But I did. And I know that they're fine and I'm fine either way.

To be able to give an animal a good home, for whatever time period - be it kitten sittin' or not - is a gift. And I'm grateful for every moment. Thanks Harry. Thanks Penny. Even you two are little rascals sometimes...

Nature Has Her Way

Well, Archie only made it one more night. Then he died. I'm not surprised, really, given the odds of raising a wild bird in captivity. Which, turns out, is actually illegal. So I guess things turned out for the best.

Tonight, though, I plan to bury Archie in the ground underneath the pumpkin vine I have growing in my front yard. That way, he can continue to be a part of my world, even if it's in a literally organic way.

Is that gross? I dunno. I don't think it is. I can't just toss him in the trash or leave him to the wild animals. Even though I only kept him alive for a couple of days, I still want to treat him right.

Harry and Penny were surprisingly curious, too, without being ready to pounce at any second. It's like they knew he was their friend. And then, in the fall, when the pumpkins are fully grown on the front yard, I can think back on my experiment in bird-rearing and smile.

For the Birds...

Unbelievably, I've been pulled into a natural disaster waiting to happen. A quick Google search shows that 90 - 95% of wild birds that are hand fed don't survive. Yet here I am, using dull tweezers and a quarter-teaspoon measuring cup to feed Archie. That's what I've named him: Archibald. Archie for short.

What's wrong with me?

Why did I have to stumble upon his gaping wide open yellow mouth last night? What led me to be outside on a ridiculously humid evening, when thunder and lightning were barely a memory and more of their ilk threatened my lush neighborhood any minute? And why him? A sibling lay prostrate nearby, clearly killed by the fall. But this little guy...he thrived. He survived.

So a 12-pack diet Coke box is his home, and a brick keeps him safe from predators. I cannot believe he even survived the night. His feathers are growing, his legs are getting stronger. And like a newborn baby, his head is WAY too big for his body.

Grow strong, little guy! Spread your wings and fly...