Happy Birthday

How did I spend my holidays? On Black Friday, which I consider a holiday because I have off and my wife Sue works, I visited the Book Barn and got a good hour and a half of Quality Lap Time, mostly with Tiger (pictured)-- I didn't see Mrs. Howell, my favorite lap-kitty. Tiger is okay, a bit cranky because he hurt his hips at some point, and if you are too aggressive scratching there he will snap at you. Once, before I learned this, he took a swat at my hand; I let him, rather than pull away. He wasn't actually attacking: what he did was just grab my hand (with his claws, half-extended: how else for a cat?) and pull it up to his head, which is where he wanted me to scratch. After that incident I saw the note the Book Barn staff had posted telling of his injury, and then I understood. So we had a nice time, he all curled up on my chest (my belly makes a nice shelf) and me reading the book I bought, "Dreadnought," about the buildup to WWI.

The following Tuesday (Nov. 27) I had off, too: my 45th birthday. Birthdays are given as a holiday by my employer. I went this time to a local insurance company, Bailey's Insurance, who I can recommend as a friendly, cat-loving establishment: even though I don't do business with them, they welcome my visits. Mr. B lives there, and on the weekends I would see Mr. B in the window (their office is next to the Post Office). I finally stopped in during the week and they were more than gracious about me meeting the cat, and Mr. B loved it. It got so, they told me later, that anyone sitting in the chair I always used had Mr. B right there wanting his cuddle. He is a polite cat, though, and waits to be invited before he will jump up. Pictured is a photo they took on 21AUG07; that's me and my chins on the left,
and Mr. B on the right. They just aquired a kitten, already a young cat (7mos or so, now), a stray. Also affectionate. So that's my birthday: I enjoyed it, but rather pathetic, no? I don't even have my own cats to blog about. I have to grab my chances as I can. Vern the neighbor's cat still comes by, but the last time, Sue was home, and I couldn't let him in. He didn't want to be petted: he wanted his fix, and left in a huff (oh, you can tell, all right).

Steve

Quality Cat Time

I got in some quality cat time yesterday: my wife was working, it was windy, cool, and raining (thanks, TS Noel), and the cats at the book store were bound to welcome some cozy laps.

Mrs. Howell and one of the several black cats were on the porch at the Book Barn in Niantic; thanks to a kid who grabbed the black cat (Mrs. Meow, I learned later) and brought her inside, I was able to claim her chair. Mrs. Howell on my lap, a good book I found to read; I was set. Then Mrs. Meow escaped the kid and got back outside, making a beeline for "her" chair. I persuaded her to try my chest: I am so fat there is a nice shelf on my belly, with an assisting arm. She was happy to curl up, and I got a good double-cat hour in before duty called and I had to leave.

Steve

Cat Tales

Sunday I saw Vern the neighbor's cat in the yard-- we have a bird feeder, and access to the woods-- and he was acting frisky, climbing a bit up a tree and sharpening his claws on a stump. Then he looked up on our deck to see if I was there. I went to the sliding door and he ran right up.

He's sort of friendly; he will rub and be affectionate, and then suddenly start hissing and bite and run off. I have let him in the house before, where he does a quick tour and then leaves. Needless to say, this is when Sue isn't home-- she is mildly allergic, but mainly just doesn't like animals. I have given him catnip on the rug by the door, and that's what he wanted Sunday: he knew just where I keep it and was all excited when I took it out.

This stuff is 20 years old: I got it when I first got Alice and Trixie as kittens in Florida; it was some special "weed", not your run-of-the-mill Hartz stuff. I keep it in an old peanut butter jar. It's a mark of how often I treated the cats that I still have any left after all this time.

So Vern got a good dose, rolling and rubbing in the pinch I put on the carpet. Sue was squalling all the while-- "Get that cat out of my house!" but I let Vern have his fill, and then he left. I had to vacuum immediately. The picture is Vern on the wall in the back yard, taken that same Memorial Day weekend before I went to the hospital.

Today, Tuesday, I telecommuted, as I try to do once a week to save some gas (110 mile round-trip commute). I took advantage of the weekday at home to visit a nearby office, Bailey's Insurance, in a shopping plaza. They have an in-house cat, Mr. B, who just loves me: a long-haired orange tabby. They have just adopted a stray kitten, but Mr. B, who was hiding from the kitten in his play tunnel, came right out when he recognized me and jumped in my lap. He loves to be scratched and rub his chin, and I was covered with hair. I had a good 15-20 minute visit, lowering my blood pressure, before I had to put him down and leave.

This is what I'm reduced to in order to get my pet fixes. I also play with Sophie, the black Lab next door. Come the cooler weather, when the cats come back inside, I can visit the Book Barn in Niantic, who have about 20 cats-- grab a book and a seat and get a good hour or more of Lap Time (Mrs. Howell is my favorite).