Thursday, December 17, 2015

A Rat at the Door

Did anyone just hear me scream? I opened the front door for the cats to go play outside and then went about doing the dishes. After that, I went out to play with the boys and
Boris in rat kill reenactment
there was a giant mouse (really a rat, but that sounds even more disturbing) about a foot from the door. 


Naturally I yell"what the hell is that," because rodents are known communicators and will often answer when asked a question. Boris, mistakes my question for a "let's play with that," statement and decides it should be closer to me if I am going to experience the true pleasure of playing with it. 

It is at that precise moment that "eeeyahhh oh gross, no Boris," bubbles out of my mouth. Then Whiskey decides to join in, and they are both sitting around the creature, which I realized one of them has already killed while I was being Donna Domestic in the house.
 
Whiskey exaggerating the size and viciousness of the rodent
Now I have to dispose of it, which is oh so upsetting for a cat who hunted for and gifted me with its kill. Thankfully I have one of those dustpans with a handle that you use while standing up. I sweep the poor thing up oscillating between words of praise to the cats and "get the hell away from it." 
I put the rat in a clear plastic trash bag and left it on the porch intending to put shoes on and take it to the trashcan that is outside the yard ready for pickup. 

The tea kettle went off, the phone rang and the day was kicking into gear, so I was otherwise busy and lost my focus on the task at hand. Ten minutes later, I was reading Email and heard a plastic bag rustling. I jumped up and sped to the door and found Boris dragging the bag into the house with his teeth, not by the handles, but by the rat at the bottom of the bag.
I wonder how long it will be that every toy mouse in the house freaks me out. Send Xanax.

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Oh, Christmas Tree part 2


I wanted to have a living document that I had a Christmas tree in 2015. As of one half hour after decoration, one ornament has been destroyed.

It was of cat design and given to me by a friend. I had tucked it away near the top of the tree, where it spent its last minutes of freedom with its peers, silver ball guy and Lisa Simpson.

Goodbye white kitty sitting on a red pillow. Although we never had the chance to get to know each other, I am sure you were a fine decoration meant for greatness. I apologize for Boris killing you.

While I was sitting reading a  book in the room where the tree is staying, it started to shake and the ornaments made tinkling noises. Guess who was under the tree.

Saturday, December 5, 2015

Oh, Christmans Tree

Every year I usually put up a fake Christmas, a shiny metallic-red one with green and pink lights and everything from Simpsons ornaments to glass orbs from the forties now chipped and lacking their former luster.

Whiskey obscures the tree
Whiskey has never been very playful and would prefer to sit under the tree occasionally drinking from the built in watering hole in the tree stand reservoir where I am convinced he also has a mini fridge full of ham sandwiches and perhaps a can of lard, the boy is large.

Boris joined the family last year and everything changed.
The joy and laughter that is created from a young cat and Christmas is one Norman Rockwell failed to capture in his family-that-never-was series now festooned on plates and calendars.

Of course there are rules for the safety of the furry set such as covered wiring to prevent needle sharp teeth from gnawing through, no tinsel to prevent choking or intestinal blockage, and stay away from those tree preservatives to prevent poisoning--your cat should last longer than the tree.
Boris planning his route to the top of the tree





For the less adventurous, or people with high blood pressure, an anchored tree might be best because unlike Weebles who wobble but don't fall down--your tree will when climbed, batted and attacked.

Most ornaments are bright and shiny and ball-like in shape and behavior, so the family heirlooms do not belong within a cat's reach, which basically means they should be in a box stored in the rafters in the garage.


Use cheap bulbs for the first couple of years you celebrate the holidays with a youthful cat, and don't put too much effort into painstakingly placing each one on the perfect branch. Odds are that some of your design efforts will wind up under the couch, in the bathtub or even on the porch.

Remember that cats will want to help decorate, or rather strip, the tree. Sometimes they will fixate on one ornament like a hunter in the wild and other times, it is all the ornaments on the right quadrant of the tree.


If you are fortunate enough to live with multiple cats, destruction can ramp up rapidly, but I prefer to see it as full throttle fun. So, sit back, sip some eggnog and let the games begin.

More photos to come as Christmas with Cats continues.

Every Color Deserves a Forever Home