When you have a cat, every day is filled with moments like this.
(I can tell she’s purring just from the way her stomach moves when breathing.)
(Compare this to a very similar clip I made of Dolly six years ago to see how far I’ve come with video.)
(Turn up the sound!)
I never have a lot of it, but when I do, it means I can scratch my cat with my chin.
Once again, taken with my iPhone.
My Uncle Joe and Aunt Vivien bought me this model cat from Taiwan. It looks so real that I thought it was stuffed at first glance. It’s life-sized, though on the small side, so appearing to be a kitten. You can only tell that it’s fake when you look closer at it’s nose (plastic, without the same texture as a real cat’s nose) and ears (too much hair — I’m guessing membranes are too difficult to fake). If I wasn’t a cat lover, I’d definitely be fooled.
I’m going to put it in the back window of my car; I’ve been looking for a decoration ever since I got my car a year ago, and this is perfect. Hopefully no one will smash my windows in an attempt to save it.
The holidays are over. I suspect that I’ve eaten more chocolate over the last two weeks than ever in my life.
The two New Year’s parties were great, although I missed seeing Rob at Aaron’s. I did get a New Year’s kiss though, something I normally feel awkward about when the couples are all partaking and I hide behind my camera.
The holes in my ceilings have yet to be fixed, and it makes me cringe every time I walk into my bedroom or bathroom, so I spent all my time in the living room. Every day, I’d wake up, eat, play games, watch movies, then fall back asleep there.
On occasion, I’d visit friends or see a movie, if only for the sake of getting out. Some nights, I’d open the blinds and let the burning sky pour in, just so I could know that there was something out there outside of my little microcosm.
I’m glad to be back to life. I was feeling so lackadaisical and disconnected, drifting aimlessly without any reason or purpose. In a strange way, I feel recharged, if only because I had two weeks without a regular schedule.
Named after Dexter the serial killer. You can’t keep this cat down. If you leave anything lying around that’s not more than 25 pounds, he’ll play with it. This usually involves batting, scratching, knocking it off a table, or chewing it.
I suspect this is why Darren keeps his house so clean.
I left when the sun was setting. Along the way, the road stretched out infinitely before me, as if to say that I can always get away, and there is always more to go. The tree line danced and waved across the horizon, eventually disappearing with the sun. Then the lines of red and white in each direction guided me all the way to Darren’s house.
In it are little things from the house I grew up in — some candles here, some cabinets there — that my parents didn’t want after the divorce. So strange to see innocuous objects from my childhood in a different setting.
It was the first time we’ve been completely sober together since we were kids. No alcohol, no weed.
I found out a couple things I wouldn’t have known otherwise:
A weekend of sweet indulgence, late nights, and intimate conversation. No one understands my relationships the way Darren does, because we both share these quixotic ideas about love. It was so comforting to be able to express myself on these things without having to explain my underlying feelings, as if someone could truly understand me, especially important in this current phase of my life.
It made me realize that home isn’t where the parents are, something I used to believe1. It’s an idea.
A comforting place you can go to get away, where you’re completely accepted for who you are.
When you live with a cat who sleeps on things to mark her territory, you never wonder why your clothes are covered with hair.
One of the advantages of having such a lovable cat is that people want to buy her things. I make a conscious effort not to spoil her with human food, so she happily accepts toys and treats from people.
Like this bunny filled with catnip that Louise bought for her.
One thing she really likes to do is grab her catnip toys by the teeth and shake them to release the scent. I don’t give her catnip very often, so in stoner terms, this meas she’s a lightweight.
And oh how she loves it; within a few minutes, the fur of the toy is covered in cat drool.
While Joel and his family were on extended vacation, I took care of their cat, Sprocket.
He used to be 25 pounds (from the previous owner who overfed him) but slimmed down to around 14 or 15, I’d say. You can tell he used to be much bigger; if you run your hand down the length of his body, you can feel the bones on his frame sticking out prominently, and there’s a fair amount of extra skin hanging from the belly.
He never got along with Dolly. For the entire time he was with me, which was just under two months, they got in about two dozen fights. Every now and then, there would be a tremendous cacophony of hissing, growling, meowing, and running from one end of the house to the other. I’d say that Sprocket was more often the aggressor, but Dolly started her share of fights. Even though she still has her back claws (Sprocket is completely de-clawed), he had a large weight and size advantage. His bite is also very strong (which I found out from feeding him treats1), I’m guessing from all the practice he got from eating.
It made me re-think getting a second cat while Dolly’s still alive. Two cats can fill a house nicely, but she didn’t get along with him at all. Since they don’t know how old Sprocket is, the aggressiveness may simply be due to his age, but I’m not sure I want to take the chance.
In any case, I can tell he enjoyed the change of pace, which was living in a house with two parents, two kids, and two dogs, to just me and a cat. He’s a sucker for treats, meowing quietly as a “reminder” to give him one. One funny thing I noticed is that he seemed to have harder-than-average paws. When pacing around on the kitchen tiles before being fed, it would sound like a horse trot.
Sprocket also loves attention. No matter what I was doing — cooking breakfast, playing games upstairs, writing downstairs — he would follow me around. It did make my Tai Chi practice more difficult, as he’d spread out on the open carpet and roll around under my feet.
He loves to sleep on blankets, and would always fall asleep on my sheets when I was under them, most commonly near the feet. He got along especially well with Bronwen. When she stayed the night, he would keep her up by constantly walking over her body, looking for a warm place to nestle.
I’ll certainly miss him. Hopefully, he’ll remember me the next time I go over to Joel’s house.
Before giving her food, I use to ask Dolly to shake or beg or give paw, and she’d lift one paw up (always her right one) for me. Now she’s associated the paw-lifting action with being fed, so she skips the step of me saying anything and automatically does it.
She’ll do anything for food really.
Cats are always curious in the snow. As they sniff, the touch of their noses melt the snowflakes, and their tongues come out to lick away the moisture. They cautiously walk into it and inspect their paws, wondering how they suddenly became wet.
As for me, I’m comfortable at home with a warm drink and the glow of my monitors. The week has me burned out nowadays, and the weekends have become the only time for me to relax, the only time I can enjoy the sunlight during the shortened winter days. You can always recognize a winter sky by its paleness, causing particularly bright days and orange nights.
Christmas will be here soon. Vacation and trips home and family and the spirit of the season. Fall has come and gone. How does the time pass so quickly? Did I imagine I’d be here, at this stage in life, a year ago? Not at all.
I never realized how much I missed the winter, until the snow started falling.
Aaron and Karen adopted another cat, and named her Lacey. She’s a tiny thing, with downy white hair and ears like satellite dishes. So far she’s a bit shy, as Chaos follows her around often, but I think she’ll get used to it.
Until Lacey came along, I would have never suspected how much the cats look like their owners, but the resemblance, as difficult as it was to put my finger on at first, is striking. Chaos is the nearly overweight cat who sometimes has a goofy look on his face like he’s saying “WHATSGOINGONOVERHEREGUYS??”, and Lacey is much smaller with big ears and delicate features.
It’s Friday, and Hurricane Katrina, more than 2000 kilometres away, has thrown cold winds and scattered showers over parts of Southern Ontario, Quebec, and New Brunswick. As I step outside to grill something on the barbeque, the cats quickly run to the screen door. They temporarily forget that they’re enemies, that they normally can’t walk past each other without a swipe or a hiss, and sit side-by-side to carefully smell the damp wind coming through.
People name hurricanes after their former lovers. The headlines are always the same:
After cheating with co-worker, Hurricane Camille leaves 250 dead from Louisiana to Virginia
$400 million dollars in damage and 1145 fatalities as Hurricane Gordon weaves through the Caribbean and takes half my CD collection with him before disappearing in his Camaro.
The cats know that something has happened. They can tell that this weather is coming from somewhere else, and that many have been affected, the way some dogs know that their owners are dating the wrong people and won’t stop defending them with their lips drawn back in a snarl.
But all the cats can do is sit and sniff.
Dolly’s new nickname is Butterball. Kat’s christening. She sure hasn’t lost any weight lately. Dolly, that is, not Kat.
Took care of Chaos over the weekend. Karen’s off in Toronto for a month, and Aaron went to visit Greg (who joined the reserves). Chaos is getting a lot bigger, and even though he’s not quite an adult yet, he’s getting more and more difficult to lift.
I’ve been thinking about a second cat, ever since Shirley suspected that her cats were giving her children allergies. We were playing around with the idea of me adopting one of them (the younger male), and she already told her kids that one of the cats may be going. Unfortunately, she found a bald spot on him, and needs to get him checked out first. If the vet visit goes alright, then we may do a one-month trial, to make sure that he gets along with both Dolly and Nala. I’m still not sure if I’m up for the commitment though. Dolly is enough of a handful already, and I seem to be getting busier every day.
