We All Make a Few Adjustments

Life is very different at our house these days. Winston has become the center of attention. The reason is primarily because he is like Dennis the four-legged Menace. We always seem to have trouble.

Bogey is curious but mostly annoyed by our new family member.

Really, Mom?

Mr. Bogey, won't you please be my friend?

A friend does not put his nose under my tail!

By the way, Mousie is mine. Keep your paws off.

That's right. Go ahead and chew up Mom's shoes but leave my toys alone.

And so it goes. 

So what to do?

Nobody wants to be my friend. 

When I see that sad little face, I feel guilty and get down on the floor to play. And let me tell you, it's time consuming to be a puppy's only playmate. 

Once bedtime arrives, I shake my head. How the heck does an entire day slip by with absolutely nothing accomplished? 

I've decided that we need to sign up for puppy class. Winston would have so much fun if he could romp with other puppies and burn off some energy. He might actually become tired and sleep. And I might have a few hours to get something done.

Sounds like a win-win to me. Suggestions, anyone? 

Thank You!

Thank you to those who so kindly expressed sympathy over the loss of my old friend, Indy. Your comments were much appreciated. Last week I picked up his ashes, and it gives a bit of comfort to have him back home with me again.

All around things keep changing at a breakneck pace. I've said good-bye to Indy, and now Bogey has taken over my lap. I wonder if Indy whispered in his ear or if Bogey senses an empty lap is simply not a good thing. In any event, he keeps me occupied. I supply the petting and he supplies the purrs.

Meanwhile, Daughter and her hubby have put their house up for sale. I've forgotten what a monumental task it is to prepare the house and then try to keep it spotless each day because you never know when an agent will bring a potential buyer. I have a corner in my basement filled with items they are storing to make the house appear more open. Removing items and neutral paint schemes are apparently critical to making a sale. At least we hope so. Fingers crossed that all goes smoothly. Of course a sale is always followed by the joys of moving, so I see some hectic days in their future.

Speaking of days, I'm at the point where I'm counting down days instead of months to retirement. Four months ago it seemed a glacial age away. But now as the finish line approaches, things have started to move at a much faster pace. I've worked full time nearly all my adult life so retirement will be an adjustment. But it's one I'm really looking forward to making.

Change brings about all types of consequences, some happy and some not so much. Yet whether we want it to or not, change most certainly will occur. I suppose it's the way we respond to change that makes the difference. Just like a tree, we can bend with the wind or let it snap us in two.

I'm working on learning to bend.

Our New Tenants

I have to admit, cats don't miss anything.

If I put a package of chicken on the counter, just as soon as I walk away, Bogey will be up beside it working tooth and nail (literally) to open it. If I stay away more than 5 minutes, I guarantee my anticipated dinner will be a distant memory. He's a sneaky chicken-loving maniac, and very, very fast.

A couple of days ago, I caught Bogey staring out the window, ears perked forward and eyes round as lunch plates. No doubt something fascinating was happening outside, so I took a peek and discovered:

Right next to the screened porch I have a small star magnolia tree which now holds the largest bird's nest I've ever seen. Look closely. Mama Bird's tail feathers are sticking straight up as she covers her eggs with the warmth of her body. I ran to the computer to try and find out what kind of bird she could be, since I couldn't see anything but the top of her. 

Thanks to the power of the internet, I discovered Mama is a robin. They apparently build large nests of twigs and grass with a mud cup at the top. I suppose robins prefer a nice firm foundation for real estate ventures. It almost looks like she could have a storm cellar, doesn't it?

The nest is in a busy area, as I'm always letting dogs in and out of the back yard. Mama just hunkers down and ignores us, though I'm sure it makes her little heart pound. She's a dedicated girl, and I'm hoping we will soon have healthy babies to hatch, and grow, and fly away.

It does take some extra care nowadays to be sure Bogey doesn't escape out the door. I don't want him mistaking this little family for chicken.

Gift Giving for a Tree Dweller

While in the midst of a recent shop-til-you-drop excursion, I ran across an item that caught my eye. It wasn't something for me, for Hubby, for Indy, for the house, or even for friends. It was for Bogey. Something I knew that if he was with me and he could talk, I'd hear him yowl, "I'd give my right paw to have one of those, Mom."

The price was right and Daughter's big SUV sat waiting in the parking lot. I couldn't help but pull the trigger. Here's the new acquisition. 

   

It's said that cats are either tree dwellers or bush dwellers. Bogey is most definitely a tree-type cat. He loves to be above the stomping grounds of mere mortals. Since the new addition is two leaps higher than the old one, he's been purring in ecstasy. I'm glad Bogey is happy. Because there's one other item I purchased for him during my shopping trip.

He's Got Bedroom Eyes

Dogs are down to earth and fairly predictable. They enjoy squeaky toys, chewy bones, playing fetch, and being scratched behind the ears. They love treats and dinner time. They adore their humans. Take my Indy boy for example. He's now blind, deaf, and nearly fifteen years old, yet still gamely stumbles after me as I walk from room to room. Only occasionally does he bump his nose on an obstacle. Now that's true love.

Then you have cats. What I don't understand about cats is their obsession with the strangest things. One of Bogey's favorite types of entertainment occurs whenever I change the sheets. He can hear the rustle of cotton bedclothes even when he's in the basement. Such activity incites a mad rush to the bedroom where he wastes no time leaping right into the middle of the action.

If I try to tuck the fitted sheet, he worms his way under one of the edges. 

Snap the flat sheet and he attacks the puffs of air that balloon beneath it. And don't let your hand get in the way. Bogey has very efficient claws. 

Then there's the ultimate coup...

Frankly, the only way I'm able to safely change sheets is by closing the bedroom door. However, this creates a frenzied meowing on the other side, the tone and tenor of which causes my ears to ring. I'm pretty sure what he's saying in cat-speak includes exceptionally unprintable comments regarding my personality, parentage, and utter lack of moral fiber. It feels like I've come between a first day dieter and a triple chocolate layer cake.    

My cat and bed sheets. I just don't get it. 

Yum Yum

Bogey loves his kibble. He meows with ecstasy over the wet canned food he gets every morning. And he absolutely adores his kitty treats. He'll even sit up and beg like a dog to receive one.

Unfortunately, Bogey loves everyone else's food, too. If he gets a chance, the dog food bowl will be emptied. Unguarded people food will disappear. He even figured out how to open the refrigerator for random food raids while the peeps were away at work. Thankfully, I now have a new refrigerator he can't open. Bogey is not happy. If cats could curse, my ears would be ringing.

Yesterday I came home to find a brand new bag of doggie dental chewies torn apart and emptied. It had been sitting on the kitchen table. My highly advanced powers of deduction told me Bogey must have knocked it to the floor, then he and Brady (Son's visiting dog and the only creature I know that loves food even more than Bogey) devoured the contents.

Their sweetly scented breath confirmed my suspicions. Since Brady eats only special food due to his history of pancreatitis, I told Son what happened. I haven't received any frantic phone calls yet, so I'm assuming the treats merely made Brady's teeth pearly white, rather than throwing his pancreas into revolt.

I must admit food tends to drive me as much as it does my critters. I love to fantasize about what treat I'll have once I get home from work. Ice cream? Chocolate? Popcorn? Pizza? It's no wonder I'm having more and more difficulty buttoning my pants.

And now it's Fall. The season of decadent eating has begun. Between Halloween candy, pumpkin bread, and Christmas cookies, I'm afraid I may need either a 12-step program or a plus size wardrobe.

I need help. How do you keep a handle on your cravings?

Meow

Don't let that innocent face fool you. Bogey is one tricky kitty. Seems like its one cat-tastrophe after another. If he isn't opening doors and drawers, stealing food, or knocking breakables off shelves to the floor, you can bet it's because he's taking a cat nap.

On the bright side, Bogey gives me fodder for stories. Plenty of fodder. His antics have been featured in more than one essay collection. Now he's got another book to add to his growing list of credits.

"The Great Curtain Caper" will appear in Not Your Mother's Book on Cats, coming soon.

Unfortunately, all the notoriety has gone straight to Bogey's head.

Bring on the paparazzi, woman. I'm ready for my close-up.

I don't care if he is a male. This feline has definitely become a diva.

Bogey's New Talent

Bogey has many talents.

He has the dexterity of a cat burglar and is able to open nearly any cabinet, drawer, or door. Why just yesterday, Hubby caught him standing on the counter-top microwave using his front paws to push the freezer door handle. Yep. He got it open. And here I only thought we had to worry about him getting into what's in the refrigerator.

Bogey is also a daredevil stunt performer, perfecting jumps, balancing acts, and skywalks that would put the Flying Wallendas to shame. And he doesn't work with a safety net, either. One of his favorite tricks is to leap from the toilet tank to the top of the shower rail. This allows him to easily snoopervise showers, bathroom cleaning, and hair drying.

Last weekend he stood on the shower railing and then jumped to the floor of the bathtub. He sat down in the tub and stared at me (through the frosted glass shower doors), waiting for me to open them. I decided not to obey him and see what happened. 

I watched him and he watched me with an expression that revealed nothing. We both waited. I wondered which one of us would give in first as a thin sheen of perspiration formed on my face. Perhaps I had misjudged him. Maybe Bogey really was trapped. Maybe he needed me to open that door. But then the phone rang. I ran from the bathroom to pick it up. 

Immediately, I could hear the sounds of paws banging against the shower door. No less than 10 seconds later, my tiger-striped cat zipped past me down the stairs. 

I think Bogey has added a new dimension to his repertoire. 

A talent for poker playing.

Bogey's Favorite Things

Bogey spent the week with pencil in paw, working hard to come up with his list of favorite things. He did take time out to pose (sort of) for a picture. Please disregard the hand subtly working to prevent him from removing the Santa outfit. Said hand is now on brief medical leave after a few well-placed puncture wounds.

Despite the drama, we'd like to present Bogey's favorite things:

1. Feather teaser-You know the ones. They're attached by a string to a plastic wand. Whip the feathers around and watch your kitty turn into a tiger. Down, Simba, down!

2. Treats-Bogey adores kitty treats. He particularly favors the Friskies line of treats with a crunchy outside and soft middle. Apparently they are so yummy that he'll sit up and beg like a dog to get one.

3. Box-Any size, any shape, if there's an empty box, Bogey will climb inside. Even if the box is half his size he can somehow stuff his chubby self in. This obsessive box behavior looks a lot like Houdini in action, if Houdini had four paws and fur.

4. Grooming brush-I use a short-wired grooming brush on Bogey. Using the brush amps him up so high it's a good idea to run when done. There's nothing more dangerous than an ecstatic cat.

5. Water fountain-This is indeed the Holy Grail of Bogey favorites. Spoiled boy that he is, he wouldn't dream of drinking from a bowl. And if I so much as unplug his fountain for a few minutes to wash it, he carries on like someone just smashed his tail in a door. A water-loving cat? Welcome to my world.

We hope Indy's and Bogey's suggestions come in handy when finding a gift for your four-footed friend because time is running short. Can you believe there are only 18 more shopping days til Christmas?

Getting What You Want Critter Style

Oh, the power of sad brown eyes. Indy started using this look to get what he wanted at the age of 8 weeks. Now that he's 13 and a half years old, you can see he's quite the salesman. A master, too.

On the other hand, we have Bogey. There are no pleading looks from this guy. When he wants something...

he simply takes it.

Dogs and cats. They use different methods but both are equally successful at getting what they want.
Someone posted this on Facebook the other day and I had to laugh.

 I think that about sums it up.

Hope your weekend brings you everything you want!

Yes He Did

We have a thief at our house. Here's a sample of his work from today.

Note to those who read my Chicken Soup story in I Can't Believe My Cat Did That. Yep, he did it. Again.

I can only shudder to think what crimes Bogey might be able to commit if he had opposable thumbs.

The Grump

St. Patrick's Day may not be a national holiday, but it certainly is well celebrated around these parts. Parades, marathon races, and pub crawls are all on the agenda for the coming weekend. And you don't have to be Irish to join in the fun.

For example, I'm about as non-Irish as a person can be, but that won't stop me from enjoying my favorite St. Patrick's Day tradition...corned beef and cabbage. All that salty, beefy, fatty yumminess will be mine, all mine. Okay, I might share a bit with Hubby, but that's it. No one else will receive a single crumb.

What????

Huh????

That's right. I am the Grump who stole St. Patrick's Day.

Looking for Love?

Isn't it wonderful to come home early from work and get a few things done for a change? Today that's exactly what I thought until I opened the sliding door leading to our screened-in cedar porch. Bogey shot past me faster than a bullet. I lunged for him and missed. He leaped to a window sill. That's when I realized it.

We had company.

A squirrel had used the doggie door to make himself at home on the porch. Squirrel ran to one side of the porch followed by Bogey. Squirrel ran to the other side of the porch with Bogey nearly on his tail. I'm shrieking at Bogey trying to get him to stop because all I can picture is him catching Squirrel and getting bitten to pieces after which we'd spend the evening in the Vet Emergency Clinic being counseled on how the squirrel no doubt had rabies, and too bad we only had 10 days to live.

In my zeal to catch Bogey and prevent certain doom I realized I was between Squirrel and the door. Not a great place to be. Squirrel and Bogey raced past me again and then Squirrel catapulted himself high into the air and sailed (I could feel the breeze!) past my head and out the door. I grabbed Bogey before he could follow.

Anyone need a squirrel-hunting cat?

Once my heart-rate finally slowed down, I did an internet search on squirrels to find out if I should be concerned about our adventure. That's when I discovered some alarming news.

This is the time of year that squirrels mate.

No doubt Squirrel was scouting out a place to rendezvous with his lady friend. Romance is a wonderful thing, but there is no way my back porch is going to become Sin City for squirrel one-night stands.

I've always hated the smell of cigarette smoke.

Big Weekend Ahead

It's going to be an exciting weekend as wedding bells chime for our son and his lovely fiancee. They are both sensible, hard-working and successful. They like the same things and have similar values. They're old enough to realize the commitment marriage means and to take it seriously. I couldn't be more delighted (and relieved).

As mother of the groom, my responsibilities are few, but I did have the task of choosing a song for the mother-son dance. I hope not to embarrass anyone too much, for I'll probably need a whole package of tissues by the time the music ends. I wrote about the details of choosing the mother-son dance tune in an essay titled "The Dance", scheduled to appear in the October issue of Sasee Magazine. I'll put up a link when the story is available on line.

Meanwhile, thanks for the comments to the Indy-Bogey picture last post. I had to smile at the responses, because their cuddling next to each other wasn't by choice. It came as a result of Mom-intervention. Yep, I made them do it. Notice Bogey's pupils in tiny slits and Indy looking away because anyone knows if you don't see something, than surely it isn't there.

Oh, the agony of Mom making you do something you don't want to do.

Happiness...Cat-Style

Of course, cats are pretty darn happy critters, too.

Not to be outdone by his canine brother, Bogey thought long and hard. Then he put together a list of the top ten reasons for cat-tappiness. Here they are in no particular order. And Bogey says to tell you...you're welcome. 

1. Allow others to demonstrate they love you. Reward them with purrs.

2. Factor play time into the day, but only for reasonable periods and when in the mood.

3. Keep a sharp eye out for interesting things and then find a way to steal borrow them.

4. Show through enthusiastic meows or withering looks just what type of meals are expected.

5. Rise above anything so mundane as worries.

6. Turn ordinary things into exciting ones.

7. Take at least 24 power naps each day.

8. Don't wait for an adventure...make one.

9. Sometimes getting even is necessary to level the playing field.

10. Limping a little bit promotes extra TLC when you need it.


Well, there you have it. Two very different views on how to be happy. I suppose each have their points, so it's up to you to choose what works.

Meanwhile Memorial Day weekend is approaching, so please take a moment to remember those who fought for our freedom while you enjoy the official kick-off of summer.

Hubby insists we spend the long weekend at the river. No doubt we'll be quite well-baked by the time we return. Near record high temperatures (mid to upper 90's) are expected, and guess what? Our ancient and slightly creepy sleeping quarters features no air conditioning! Hubby, this time you've gone too far.

But never fear. I'll practice being happy while secretly mulling over the possibilities presented by Bogey's rules #9 and #10.

The Merry Month of May

Tra-la, it's the merry month of May!

Along with being a most beautiful time of year, turns out May is also a month filled with grantwriting deadlines. Each day has been a mega-writing marathon, which makes me not exactly thrilled to sit in front of the keyboard again once I get home. At least there's only two weeks left to go...

Wait a minute! Did I say there's only two weeks left to go? Excuse me while I smoosh my nose right back on that grindstone. I only hope to have some nose left by the time May 31 rolls around.

A bit of happy news took my mind off grantwriting for a moment yesterday. My essay, "The Instigator" made the final cut into "Chicken Soup for the Soul: I Can't Believe My Cat Did That". A September release date is expected. Isn't the cover adorable?

You'll never guess who stars in my story. Or, if you read Critter Alley regularly, perhaps you will.

"I love deadlines. I especially like the whooshing sound they make as they go flying by."

-- Douglas Adams

Paybacks...

Someone is annoyed, offended, and just plain peeved.

In our skip-hopping weather, we finally returned to a long awaited spring. Cool air, bright sun and delightful temperatures taunted us until we couldn't help but make a run to the river for the weekend. So Hubby, Indy, and I packed up and headed out.

Bogey (through no choice of his own) stayed home to mind the house. Sort of.

The curtains sport a new rip. Kitty litter is tossed outside the box with abandon. He's somehow learned to will his hair to drop off and form fluffy fur clouds everywhere. They skitter and float away from the dust mop like living things. He's been busy making certain I know exactly how deep he resides in the dungeon of doom.

Yep. It seem that paybacks aren't going to come cheap.

  

Eddie Catskel

Didn't anyone ever tell you it's a bad idea to bite the fingers that feed you?

Uh...you're looking especially beautiful, young, and skinny today, Mom!

Modern Mouser

One of these days I'll catch that slippery little thing!

Before and After

Decorated...

Undecorated...

Merry freakin' Christmas from Bogey.