You Say Potato and I Say Potah-toh

Tonight starts the first night of Fall bowling. Why it's called Fall bowling is a mystery to me. Every- Month-of-the-Year-Except-June-and-July bowling would be more accurate. But I suppose that's a potato/potah-toh kind of thing.

No matter the name. It will be interesting to discover what happens when I lace up my bowling shoes. After two months of no practice, having a bowling ball in my hand could prove to be dangerous for anyone near me. Perhaps it would be wise to wear a warning sign.

Things are interesting at my house. I've been dog sitting for both my kids this week. Even though the dogs do generally fine, in loyal doggie fashion they always listen for "Mom" or "Dad" to come back and take them home. 

Ever vigilant, Brady watches the door.

Tinker Bell does, too.

And there's one other critter at my house who also will be extremely pleased to see Mom or Dad arrive.

They eat my food and scavenge my litter box. The scent of cat poo breath is making me gag. When will those filthy barking beasts go home? 

National Adopt a Shelter Cat Month 2015

Can you believe it? Tomorrow is June 1. That means we are nearly half way through 2015. I don't know about you, but it makes my head spin to think how quickly time is passing. Some say that's a sign of growing older. In my case I'm sure it's true.

Though time passes quickly for me, I'm pretty sure it creeps by at a crawl for critters in shelters who are waiting for their own special family. June is Adopt a Shelter Cat Month. If you're thinking about adding a feline to your household, please consider taking a look at your local shelter. Kittens are adorable, and tend to be adopted very quickly. Adults, not so much. You might want to take a good long look at available adult and senior cats. Give them a chance, too. I don't think you'll be sorry.

In honor of Adopt a Shelter Cat Month, I'm featuring 3 kitty cuties from local shelters in my area. A link to information on each one is included. They are each paws-itively adorable.

This handsome orange kitty is called Donut. What a sweet face!

https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/32305586/

Here's another adorable feline. Her name is Samara, and she reminds me of my own Bogey boy.

http://www.adoptapet.com/pet/11653522-st-charles-missouri-cat

Though this looks a bit like a line-up photo, I'm sure Bitty is no kitty convict. Isn't his "beard" cool?.

https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/32091373/

Bogey asked me to remind everyone that all homes should have at least one cat because there is no better snoopervisor on earth. And he should know.

Paw Prints in Time

Indy sleeps a lot. His legs twitch and I wonder if he's dreaming of the days when he used to chase tennis balls and go for long walks around the lake. Now he stumbles when he walks and sometimes stands perfectly still in the middle of a room as though bewildered over just where he could be.

He turned 15 years old in March and I know our time together is growing short. Maybe I've been selfish letting him go on as long as I have, but every time I consider making The Call, he perks up and I see a trace of him from his puppy days.

Last weekend I bought some clay, worked it out nice and flat, and then pressed Indy's paw down into the surface. It wasn't the best impression ever made. Indy didn't much care for the process and I hate to overly annoy an old guy who wants nothing more than to nap in a warm sunny spot. Before baking the clay, I put a hole in the top of the piece so it can be hung as an ornament or in a window. 

I figured as long as I had the clay, I might as well do an impression for Bogey, too. Capturing his print wasn't any more popular.

Maybe I'll try again another day. Or maybe not. Who needs perfect?

I suppose my clay pieces are a lot like real life, filled with bumps, irregularities, and occasional wishes for a do-over. But there's something sweet about them, too. The clay is a reminder it doesn't matter what life throws at me. When I see the face of a child, bask in the beauty of a cloudless day, or hold on to the endless love and loyalty of a dear old friend, I get a rare privilege. That's when I understand, just a tiny bit, what it must be like to glimpse heaven. 

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.

How Do You Furminate a Cat?

Bogey has been furminated. Well, at least as much as he'd let me.That nice little pile of fur used to be on his back and belly. If I could only have kept grooming him longer, I'll bet I could have collected enough hair to build another cat. But once my efforts bring on a biting and scratching display, it's time to give up. At least for now.

In the areas where he let me work on him, the Furminator did it's job well. I ruffled my hand over his fur afterward and barely even a hair came out. If I had scrubbed his fur like that before, the air would be filled with floating puffs of fluff which would then glue itself permanently to my clothes. Not pretty. Not pretty at all.

This handy little tool is one awe-inspiring invention. Due to it's mystical and magical powers, I am officially in love with the Furminator. All I need to do is convince Bogey.

There has to be an efficient way to furminate a cat. Any suggestions on how to do it without losing a few fingers in the process?

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.

Clothes for Critters

Do you dress your pets or let them roam in a state of glorious nakedness?

At our house the answer is both. Most days, we prefer to live in Bohemian splendor. Other days it seems fitting to dress Indy in his sweater or put a hat (briefly) on Bogey. One serves a practical purpose. Indy is old, thin, and arthritic. In cold weather he needs a little help. The other is purely for my own entertainment. Or a photo op.

Apparently many people have extensive closets for their critters. Do a Google search and be amazed at what's available. You can find anything...sweaters, coats, dresses, shirts, hats, boots, necklaces. It's frighteningly true. Your dog or cat can (for a price) be better dressed than you are.

I ran across a picture of this fine fellow. He emphatically sums up Bogey's position about wearing anything except his furry birthday suit.

On the other hand, my son's dog has at least a half dozen outfits. What's more he loves to be dressed up in them, literally growling when you try to remove whatever item he's wearing.

Back in the days when Indy and I did pet therapy, a costume was part of our shtick. The people in the assisted living facility would laugh and clap whenever the fur kids had on some cute ensemble. Indy even had a pair of nifty sunglasses that made him look more like Joe Cool than Snoopy ever did.

How about you? Do your critters have a wardrobe?

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. 

A Key West Trip High Point...Meow!

Our visit to the Hemingway home in Key West was truly a high point for me. And in more ways than one. During the course of the tour we found out Hemingway's home is built on the highest point in Key West. It's a whopping 16 feet above sea level. That's pretty high. Well it is for Key West, anyway.

Right inside the gate I saw a sign asking visitors to alert staff if any kittens are seen wandering close to the gate that opens to the street. The cats must be trained NOT to exit the grounds. (I'm truly impressed by this fact since I've never been able to train Bogey not to bolt out the door).

Here's the Hemingway house and some of it's more interesting rooms.

The house is surrounded by palm trees and tropical plants. They provide shade, help keep the inside cool, and form an inviting oasis.

This is the living room found right off the entry foyer. The furniture is just as lovely now as it was then. I wish I had those gorgeous windows in my house.

Upstairs, the master bedroom features a hand carved headboard. Beautiful and intricate.

The bedroom has doors leading out to a full length deck that overlooks the grounds. Nice view, huh?

This upstairs bathroom featured the first bathroom in Key West with running water. A rooftop tank gathered rainwater that could be funneled into the tub and toilet. At the time, such an arrangement must have seemed the height of luxury.

Next to the house stands Hemingway's studio. Years ago, a walkway connected the upstairs studio to the upper balcony of the home. That meant Hemingway only had a short and scenic stroll to the office each day.

We weren't allowed to get any closer than this to Hemingway's desk and typewriter. I could almost sense the ghost of his muse in the room.

Hemingway's wife in Key West, Pauline, surprised him by building a beautiful state-of-the art swimming pool.

But alas, Hemingway was not happy. He dug a penny from his pocket and handed it to her, grousing that since she'd spent so much of his money to build the pool, she might as well take his last penny, too.

Pauline, having a wicked sense of humor, embedded the penny in concrete right next to the pool as a tongue-in-cheek reminder.

Legend has it that Hemingway was given a six-toed cat (poly-dactyl, or extra toes) as a gift. Sea faring men saw poly-dactyls as good luck. The cat found a true friend in Hemingway. Its descendants roam the grounds to this day. Currently 52 cats, all reported to be descendants of the original cat, are on the property. About half of them are poly-dactyl. They have free run, going in and out of the house as they wish. Of course there's an awful lot of nifty places for them to hang out on the grounds, too.

Over the years, kitties have come and then gone on to the Rainbow Bridge. This lovely little cemetery tells the story.

I got to meet several of the feline residents. This one posed to show off his extra toe. Looks like he's wearing a mitten, doesn't it?

Several of the youngsters were quite rambunctious. They pounced on the leaves I rustled for their entertainment. One paw smacked my hand and nearly drew blood. I didn't care. Who else can say they got scratched by a descendant of Hemingway's cat?

The property also has a gift shop. The cats get to hang out wherever they want there, too.

If you're a writer, history buff, or cat lover and travel to Key West, be sure to stop by Hemingway's home for a visit. And do tell the kitties I sent you!

Your Tour Guide Returns

Have you ever dreamed of discovering sunken treasure? If so, the Mel Fisher Maritime Museum would be right up your alley. Long ago, the waters around the Keys presented difficult navigating for ships. As a result, it wasn't unusual for wrecks to occur, taking lives and other precious cargo to the bottom of the sea. To this day, underwater archaeologists look for mysterious sunken treasures from long ago.

One of the most famous of these hunters was Mel Fisher. His dream of finding treasure began as a child when he read Robert Louis Stevenson's, Treasure Island. He and his crew were successful in discovering many lucrative shipwrecks, but Fisher had his cap set to find the Spanish galleon Nuestra Senora de Atocha which he had read about in Potter's Treasure Diver's Guide. It was a royal guard galleon with 40 tons of gold and silver aboard which sank in a devastating hurricane along with other ships in 1622.

For 16 years he told his crew every morning, "Today's the day", until finally it happened. They found the ship. Thousands of artifacts were discovered worth many, many millions of dollars. It was considered the richest treasure find since the discovery of King Tut's tomb. Mel Fisher was truly an example of what can happen when you never, ever give up.

We saw gold and silver, emeralds and goblets, jewelry and pirate muskets.

This small sampling shows the beauty and detail of the artifacts found by Mel Fischer.

And we we saw something else that widened our eyes. For those of you who recall me writing about our local sculptor friend, Don Wiegand, upon entering the museum the first thing we saw was a bronze sculpture Don did of Mel Fisher.

Talk about finding a touch of home in Florida!

If you get a chance, I strongly recommend you visit the museum. You won't regret it.

Next time I'll show you one of the highlights of our trip...the home of Ernest Hemingway and the fabulous felines that live there.

Me-ouch!

When Hubby discovered a dead spider in the bathroom, he told me something no one wants to hear.

"See the fiddle pattern on his body? It's a brown recluse. I found one in the garage, too."

After I peeled myself off the ceiling, I ran to the computer. What does one do about this type of uninvited guest? Fortunately, my research suggested a simple solution. Get glue traps and set them out to capture the spiders. 

I bought glue traps at the home improvement store and placed them strategically in obscure and dark locations throughout the house. Then I waited.

Three days and counting...my glue traps caught nothing. There's something really sinister about a spider who is not only poisonous, but also smart. I set out more glue traps but days later still didn't find so much as a speck of dust attached.  

I chewed my lip and brushed my hair, trying to put the whole idea of spiders out of my brain. Bogey wound himself between my legs, waving his tail in typical fashion. Then all at once he bolted away, his tail swishing madly. I looked down. Something was on his tail. Something BIG. 

I grabbed for him and quickly realized his tail had hit one of the glue traps. Let me tell you, when the package advertises "Professional Strength", it's no exaggeration. I couldn't get the trap off and screamed for Hubby. Hubby obviously recognized the edge of panic in my voice and ran to the rescue. While I held down a spitting, screaming Bogey, Hubby ripped the glue trap off. As you can see, Bogey's tail did not emerge unscathed. 

 

Bogey hissed at me and immediately began to administer emergency first aid. 

Now it's more than a week later and I still haven't captured anything but Bogey's tail. I suppose his unfortunate experience is really all my fault. When the name of a product is Tomcat, I ought to know enough to leave it alone.

The Help

There's no such thing as privacy at my house. In fact, nothing happens without complete snoopervision. Even the shower isn't sacred.

You missed a spot

No one is shy about lending a helping paw, either.

Let me adjust this for you

Yet it can be refreshing to have competent assistants.

I've got your towel on the warming rack

Sigh. Guess I'm pretty lucky, after all.

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.