Posts Tagged ‘cats’
Unwelcome Interruption
The morning had been routine thus far. All the animals were fed and my breakfast was complete. It was calm and quiet when I headed off to the bathroom for my usual morning answer to nature’s call. While in the midst of my task, I heard something tip over and then, the sound of water running. The water kept running.
I was thinking fast to assess the urgency of my response. I was home alone with the dog and cat. Could they have knocked over something that somehow turned on the kitchen faucet? I could hear water pouring. Whatever it was, it needed to be addressed, and I was the only one home to deal with it.
I executed a rather hasty end to my bathroom visit and stepped out to find a vase of flowers laying down on the table in front of the couch, with water pouring out of it. It was pooling on the short round table, then running down onto the rug below. When I first saw it, the water was beading up on the rug. There was a LOT of water.
Amid a flurry of curses, I ran to the kitchen for towels, tossed them on the puddle, then headed out to the garage for a wet/dry vac. I needed to open it up and remove the filter before using it to vacuum water. By the time I got back in, the water had soaked into the rug. I sucked water out of that rug for quite a while.
Not once did I spot Pequenita this whole time. When I came upon the scene, all I saw was Delilah licking water off the table, making her look awfully guilty. She received the brunt of my angst, even though the odds are much more likely that the cat was involved somehow. The green leaves show evidence of being chewed on by ‘Nita.
I re-filled the vase with water and set it on the counter by the sink, …which, now that I think of it, is probably a more dangerous perch from which it could be tipped. I’m guessing that it might have been interaction between the dog and cat that led to the accident on the short table, so if the cat gets after it while it is up on the counter, at least she won’t be bothered.
It took some extra effort to get over being frustrated by the incident, but eventually, I was able to “get back to grazing.” However, the day never did fully return to the calm and quiet routine that had been so rudely interrupted.
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Precious Peace
This morning the temperature was September-chilly when we woke up. We built the first fire of the season in our living room fireplace. It is my favorite time of year. Cyndie collected some of our wild American plums that are falling off the branches (they’re about the size of a cherry), with a plan to make jam. The sunlight is painting the trees at a noticeably different angle. The constant transition of seasons is entering one of those phases of being more obvious.
I was working in the labyrinth garden yesterday afternoon under a cool cloud cover and once again the herd made their way over to graze in close proximity. Delilah was mostly well-behaved and as I raked up grass cuttings from the previous day, I found myself in the midst of a most precious and peaceful working environment.
(Speaking of peaceful, as I write this, Pequenita has arisen from her warm curled sleep at the opposite corner of our bed to come lay on my chest and purr. She must have sensed what I was writing about.)
The power of that herd to settle Delilah and swaddle me in a blissful calm is precious. I get the impression that they recognize what Cyndie and I endeavor to create with this labyrinth garden. It seems as though they are letting us know we have their full support.
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Returning Home
“Yes, Pequenita, I will feed you. Have I ever missed a day?”
Boy was she persistent this morning in her attempts to wake me as I tried to sleep in a bit on this Memorial Day holiday in the US, kneading and pushing her face into mine.
I drove home in the middle of the day yesterday, probably passing Elysa as we exchanged locations; she, driving up to the lake, me heading home to take care of our animals. The horses looked thoroughly contented, happily munching hay in the paddock.
Delilah was sleeping so soundly outside in her kennel that I left her there until dinner time, in order to give the horses my full attention.
I am back in our paradise, after leaving our other paradise. The two locations are very similar in how special they are to us, but that large body of water up at Wildwood definitely sets it apart. I already am missing the lake.
The growth down here continues at a rapid rate. The lawn will need mowing again, less than a week after I last cut it. The little path I use as a shortcut to the barn is becoming a tunnel through the trees, with the leaves filling out to obscure our view of the paddocks from the house.
I still have a lot of growth to clear along our southern border, where we will be putting up the next fence. Now the project becomes a bit more work because the branches all have leaves. It has me focused on finding a wood chipper that will allow us to consume the brush piles we create without burning them, which would allow us to use the chips for ground cover over the trails in the low areas that are often wet, and for other applications around the property.
Now I am off to run Delilah a bit and get on with the day’s chores. It’s a holiday, but work here never really pauses. Luckily, it is work I enjoy.
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Disappearing Act
It is that time of year again when piles of brush get burned into oblivion. This pile was on the top of the hill on the north side of our driveway. There was a moderate collection of fair-sized branches that had been there since before we arrived. A couple of days ago, I tossed on some cuttings I recently cleared that were leftover from when I mowed this area last fall.
That created a collection that was half-fresh-cut and half-long-dead. I wasn’t sure how it would burn, because the old wood was damp from the recent rain, and there was a gusty wind that could help, or it could possibly drive it out of control.
I started daintily, pulling a small amount of debris off the pile to create a moderate fire, although, up wind of the rest of the fuel. I started on that side to take advantage of the wind, because I felt I needed it to cause the green wood to burn.
Progress was ideal and I enjoyed a fine afternoon by the fire. Cyndie made the trek all the way out on her crutches, and kept an eye on things while I took a break to walk the horses, one-at-a-time, off that damn muddy paddock and out where they could graze for a spell on the grass. After that last storm and its additional inch of rain, the little spot of grazing I fenced off for them is too soft for their weight and they will tear it to shreds if we let them on it.
When I got back to the fire, I found Cyndie had outdone herself with the cutest little burn pile ever, all clean around the edges, safely pulled away from the main one, making me think I may have over-stated my concern that she do it my way. She was sitting on a chair, weaving a basket out of the vines that were growing all over the ground up there. Being forced to use crutches does little to stop her ambitions, it just redirects her energy toward more creative pursuits.
It had turned into an absolutely gorgeous evening for a bonfire, so we decided I should head to the house to feed dog and cat, and then bring back a picnic dinner. That meant washing the manure and mud off of Delilah, before letting her inside.
That done, I picked up my bag of food and headed for the door. Before I even opened it, I could see the flames through the glass. The entire pile was ablaze something fierce. I know the feeling of standing next to that. Elysa and I were present last year when one of our burn piles went rogue and roared alive with incredibly dramatic energy. I pictured Cyndie in that chair, hobbled by the healing hip, and my heart jumped a bit.
Luckily, this pile wasn’t quite that large, and although dramatic, it was not a catastrophic event. I arrived with the bag of food and prepared to make a joke about her little clean pile burning safely on the side. She asked if she could tell me something funny.
She was sitting there as the fire appeared to be burning itself out, and was fretting over having let it burn out while I was gone, by not adding enough new fuel to the side fire. Knowing I could just re-kindle the burn, she decided to stay seated. Without doing a thing, the core of the pile ignited!
Fire is not to be trifled with. Kids, don’t try this at home.
We dined by the warm fire on a chilly evening at sunset, lingering until after dark, when our shadows eventually appeared in the moonlight. A spectacularly magnificent experience for us once again at Wintervale. Cyndie used my camera to take a few more pictures after dinner…
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Darling Delilah
For a reason that is beyond me, there are times when our dog, Delilah, will circle an unusually large number of times before finally choosing to lie down in some random spot. Last night, it was a towel spread on the floor for her. I’d love to know what that thought process is all about.
In case I have neglected to mention it, Delilah has made great strides toward mastering the art of behaving well unsupervised, off-leash, and roaming free on our property. She performs charmingly well as my cohort in a variety of chores and exploits around our land. When I am raking or digging, she is all in, usually un-doing progress I have accomplished, but very obviously well-intentioned toward assisting with my tasks.
In a simple trek down the driveway to pick up the mail, she is a cheery companion, trotting ahead a short distance, turning to check my progress, then romping off to the side to explore the enticing smells left by critters large and small.
From the mindset of not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone, I want to be aware of how much she adds to our experience here. Caring for her can be a lot of work, demanding our attention at times when it seems we can least afford it, but having her in our lives makes it well worth the effort.
Now if she can just learn to avoid baring her teeth and barking at the horses when it is time to be calm. We put the horses in the barn last night because of the cold rain, and at the critical moment when Cyndie was vulnerable between two horses who were anxious to get in, Delilah starts into a snarling, growling-bark to antagonize them. Another case of her “helping” in a way that absolutely does not help.
We think she and Pequenita are making great strides toward becoming friendly, respectful house-mates, but there are still too many times when Delilah will be amped up beyond reason and pursue the cat with too much exuberance.
Between moments of seeming to nap last night, she jumped up at the presence of Pequenita and upon my hearing what sounded like uncharacteristic amounts of hissing and meowing in protest, I was disturbed to discover a bit of fur on Delilah’s chin.
“Did you bite her!?” I exclaimed with startled upset.
I suppose it could just as easily have been a piece of Delilah’s own fur that Pequenita had dislodged with a swipe of her claws. I checked ‘Nita, who had parked in front of her food and looked no worse for the wear. In fact, in a page from the horse’s mode of behavior, both dog and cat were back together in minutes and appeared to have disregarded the previous interaction, appearing as if they were “going back to grazing” with no apparent angst carried over.
How could we love darling Delilah any more than we do? We lucked out in a big way when Cyndie uncovered the surprise availability of a 9-month-old Belgian Shepard Tervuren at a breeder not too far from us. Since then, she has grown into a beautiful, perfect dog for us.
In this case, we do know what we’ve got, before it is gone.
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Remaining Cat
With daytime high temperatures this week hovering despicably close to winter levels, the urge to crawl back into bed and refuse to face the world is strong. Pequenita has no problem succumbing to the call of the nap, taking up a strategic position on the extra blanket that had been tossed in a bundle on our bed.
She has been highly visible since last Friday when we removed Mozyr from our home, and she seems to have picked up where he left off with regard to showing up anywhere I happen to be in the house. It’s hard to tell if she is happier having our attention all to herself, or if she is just showing up to question where the heck he is.
For the most part, she seems to be doing fine without Mozyr around. Even though it has left her as a solo cat in the house, it frees her from needing to navigate the sharing of food and litter boxes. I think she likes that.
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Saying Goodbye
Mozyr has left the building. Last night Cyndie and I returned Moz to the Feline Rescue center where he first caught our attention. Mozyr initially impressed us with his athletic abilities, but from the time he arrived at our home, he proved to be a particularly timid fellow. For the longest time, under the bed was his favored place to recline.
In the end, Cyndie and I realized that he was not suited for the stress of moving outside to become a barn cat. He will do much better someplace where he can be the only pet, in a quiet home, which is just the opposite of the environment we have here at Wintervale.
I believe he was aware that we would be parting company. After we closed off his access to our bedroom, he became like a satellite to me everywhere else that I went in the house, weaving in and out and around and around my legs; hopping into my lap, or the sink again, as I stood at the bathroom mirror. I received more attention from him in the last two days than he had given me in months.
It was cute, but it didn’t change the difficulty he had with people coming and going, or Delilah’s rambunctious curiosity and the daily clamor of life in our house. He was too frequently on alert, behaving as if he was on the edge of peril. It was beginning to take a toll on his health, and he developed that pattern of peeing inappropriately around the house.
We are sad to see him go, but satisfied that he stands a better chance in a different situation. It is a relief to be able to open our bedroom door again, and get rid of the gate we have been tripping over to keep Delilah out of the cat spaces. Pequenita doesn’t need a gate to control Delilah. She has been doing a heroic job of practicing that for a long time. It is our hope that those two will now settle into a more congenial one-on-one relationship.
So, goodbye, Mozyr. May you find someplace you feel safe enough to thrive and romp and unleash your impressive athletic maneuvering, while sharing your friendly, companionable self with one special person who loves you. You are a special cat.
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Contemplating Possibilities
We now have an appointment for Friday to bring Mozyr back to the rescue center from which he was adopted. It is a tough call, but our decision to schedule an appointment has been helped by the discovery that, in addition to trashing our mattress and bedding, he has also cost us a leather couch and chair in our basement.
When we started the construction project to add that storage room in the basement, the guys covered everything in plastic. Earlier, Cyndie and I had been suspicious about residue we found on the couch, but now that there was plastic over it, we could clearly see how much, and how often he was using the couch to pee.
Mozyr and Pequenita sharing sunshine prior to his banishment from our bedroom
I placed some things on the couch to interfere with him, and he simply moved over to the chair and ottoman. The storage room of shelves is now complete, and all the plastic has been removed from the basement. Since Mozyr has lost his master bedroom privileges, he seems to have resorted to using the recently exposed couch. Now we have to get rid of it.
One of the most troublesome aspects of this situation for me is that I don’t see how we could ever trust him again. If he recovers from whatever urinary distress he has been suffering, how would we know if his behavior has returned to normal? I am not interested in having our bed put at risk for some unknown period (how long would be long enough?) of testing his ability to confine his peeing to the litter boxes. And I definitely cannot afford the sleep disruptions that his shenanigans on our bed have been causing.
While writing this, I had the thought that we could put the soiled couch out in the barn. A little cat pee would be nothing in that environment. That thought led to this: maybe Mozyr could become a barn cat. He still has all his claws. We’ll see what the rescue center thinks of that idea.
Look out, mice.
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Not Funny
I wish I could laugh about it, but we are suddenly prisoners of our cat Mozyr. Whatever the heck his urinary tract problem is, the solution he seems to have selected is to pee on our bed. More specifically, Cyndie’s side of our bed. Could he be sending her a message? I don’t know.
Poor guy. We know he is not well. After a vet visit on Monday, we have special food to give him, and he was given fluids, and also something for pain. His response is to turn his nose up at the food, and to pee on our bed. Seriously, three times Monday night. The second time, while Cyndie was sleeping. That chased her out to the couch in the middle of the night. In the morning, while I was still in bed, sitting up with my computer, I suddenly realized he was sitting on the bed next to me. That can’t be good. Sure enough, he had peed, soaking through to the mattress. I guess the hydration at the vet worked.
It gave us a great excuse to do some serious spring cleaning. Too bad that we had already just done this over the previous weekend, due to the same problem.
I waited all day before putting the mattress back down, because I just didn’t want to give him another opportunity. When Cyndie got home, she pulled out a clean mattress pad and tossed it on the box springs that I had laid back into position.
I walked into the room to lay the mattress back on the box springs, and picked up the pad to move it. Mozyr had just peed on it. That pad hadn’t been there more than a few minutes. I’ve spoken to two people who told me that a cat would be out the door so darn fast if it had peed on their bed. I’m finding that I wish I had some of that in me.
On the bright side, it got me to dig out the clothesline for the first time this year.
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Topsy Turvy
I don’t know what it is, spring weather, phase of the moon, tax return preparation, college basketball tournament upsets, or blog hosting sites putting their users through unwanted drama, but things seem a bit chaotic around here recently. It doesn’t help that I am once again on leave from the day-job due to another slowdown in business. Then, there are things like the commercial airplane disappearance, the massive mud slide, Chicago’s commuter train crash, and our dog and cats getting the throw-ups. At least the horses are fine, well… except we received a classic spring rain/snow mix that got them chilled and wet yesterday, so that we needed to move them into the barn for the night.
I captured this picture of one of Delilah’s toys recently, and when I opened it up for viewing on my computer screen, it immediately caused me to think, “That’s exactly what I feel like.”
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Relative Something 