the kitten chronicles - part 68

A recent study shows that people over 50 actually like to read "bad news" about younger people - it somehow makes them feel superior. I thought a lot about this as I gathered the top contenders for a kitten news story this morning. Should I lead with a joyful report of kitten athleticism? Last night,in an amazing feat of feline ballet, both the boys jumped 3 feet in the air and soared over Sam seated on the couch narrowly missing her full cup of orange juice. "Did you just see that?", Sam sputtered in amazement. "Is that that going to be in the Kitten Chronicles tomorrow?"So yep, it's worth mentioning.
Also under consideration for reportage - Roo-face's unbelievable memory.He was down in the laundry room fishing for lost cat toys again yesterday under the dryer. Now that I know what he's after (see "Kitten down the Drain" - part 60) I took a coat hanger and pulled out 6 Midnight Crazies and 2 mice. Of course, once they were recovered from their hiding spot they held no interest at all for the fur-faces - finding them was all the fun. But the top story again goes to a tale of woe. I dropped Sam off at Leo's last night (where he was pacing back and forth like Rooney outside the bathroom door when I'm having my shower). And I returned home to devastation. Somehow, despite only weighing 7 pounds each, the boys had successfully knocked over the palm tree in the living room leaving a huge pile of dirt on the white carpet. It must have taken both of them working as a two-man wrecking crew to knock over a pot that weighs 50 pounds...
So bad news wins the day. And bad news about stupid teenagers - bonus! Makes this over-50 blogger feel, well decidedly superior.xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 67

This blog went dormant last week as the girls and I went to Stoney Lake for some well deserved R&R. The boys were left in the capable hands of a trained kitten wrangler. But still there was great angst. Would they complete the destruction of the house? Would the drapes survive? Would there be a mounting collection of "presents" to discover behind the furniture? So many questions. And the answer is happily the house survived - only a ceramic pot painted by Samantha was turned to shards (a challenge for Sam to fix, too)The fur-faces staged a massive Love-In at the official return of their leader.
And were so concerned that they followed me relentlessly for the next two days to make sure I wasn't going to abandon them again. After much patting, stroking, ear scratching,and very loud purring, they settled back into their normal routine. The pair plan to finish off the wing chair in the living room today with their claws, today. All is right with the world the Big Cat has come home. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - route 66

Who's in the howwwwwse? Inspired by the YouTube video of the drugged-out girl at the dentist, this will be today's topic. Regular readers know the answer- the boys are in the house. And since they spend way more time than I do in there - maybe it's their house, not mine. And maybe my constant complaints about the fur brothers reign of terror are unfair. They could be right. Why should dried flowers be classified as decor and not a plaything? And why aren't house plants a food group? Shouldn't cushions always be on the floor? Magazines were made to be shredded not read, right? The correct answers to the above questions are of course a) No b) No c) No and d) Yes, you can shred any magazine with Stephen Harper or Lady Gaga on the cover. Really, this issue of who's house is it anyway is all about compromise. And since the boys are totally unyielding in their campaign to remodel the house we share, it's clear the Big Cat will be doing all the compromising on his end. Dried flowers are dust collectors, anyway. Death to dried flowers! Wait, they're already dead. Seems like I'm already beginning to see the world through huge,slightly- yellowish kitten eyes.Hey, why was the Rocky theme song Eye of the Tiger and not Eye of the Kitten? The kittens of the world demand a recount!!! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 65

The boys fascination with water took a calamitous turn last night. I was filling a pint glass with water from the Cedar Springs cooler and Rufus, attracted by that much water all in one place, leapt at the glass and knocked it out of my hand smashing it. Glass and water were all over the kitchen floor. A time-out was required for the boys while clean-up ensued. It's bad enough when I find muddy footprints in every sink in the house, but when a man can't even enjoy a simple,re-hydrating glass of water, well this is too much. Sam has observed this and now has to be wary about soaking her bras in case a kitten takes a bath in the basin full of Secrets from you Sister finery. All it would take for the boys to be banished permanently would be for Sam to have a single bra shredded by razor-sharp kitten claws. Hence, the door to the laundry room is now firmly closed. I'm thinking of filling the bathtub and letting them try some real swimming out - I think they'd love the rubber duckies. I know the Big Cat does. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part when I'm 64

Kittens as excuses. Talk about an undervalued part of pet ownership. Here's what I mean. Say the party is slowing down or hasn't really ever gotten going, one can just trot out the old "my kittens are destroying the house, regretfully I must depart" excuse.
Works every time. Of course, it is true, the kittens are destroying the house- their furry pace is unstoppable. But I can slow it with my presence. So there's a vein of truth in my begging off. Today, I read of a soccer star who was arrested for drunk driving because he said he had to go to the hardware store to purchase tools to free his cat who was trapped under the floorboards.
Frankly, I buy this excuse 100%. The boys are regularly mere seconds away from being trapped or encountering certain death every day. I must, as the Big Cat, save them by yelling things like, "Don't chew on that electrical cord, Rooney!!!" Or, "no Rufus, don't leap up on the stove, that element is red hot!!!" Barely averted disaster is the norm at Casa Big Cat." But you're never home," my uncle pointed out the other night at dinner. This is true. And it means just one thing - the lads are saving up all the drama 'til I return home just to liven up my dull life. Oh, the compassionate, little fur-faces. Raising my blood pressure will keep me alive! Eek. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 63

Persistence and stubbornness are two new kitten characteristics. This weekend while downstairs doing the official Big Cat laundry
I noticed the boys have become very adept at removing the metal grate that sits over the drain in the basement floor. They can hook the grate with their claws and they drag in off. Then they like to stare down the drain hole and ponder. Where does it go? Is that water down there? It fascinates them. And scares me. Here's why. I caught Roo-face halfway down the drain hole with just his back paws braced to hold him up. I pulled him out just in time I figured and then to stop them from doing this I put a pair of winter boots on top of the drain. Ha! This is a red flag to a persistent kitten. They just knocked the boots over dragged them out
of the way and moments later I caught Rufus again halfway down the drain hole. Kitty suicide? Who knows with these fur-brains ?
Then I put the laundry basket with the boots in it on top of the drain to stop them. The boys left, defeated. A Big Cat can be curious, too. So when they left I removed the basket and peered down the drain on my hands and knees. Damn, if there wasn't something down there about 2 feet down the hole. I reached in and pulled out 2 soaking wet stuffed mice and a Midnight Crazy ball. Amazing. The boys had knocked them down the drain hole and Rufus remembered and was trying to retrieve them! Smart
these kitties. I hung the two drenched cloth mice by their tails from the bra dryer - that looked very weird and gave Roo-face a quick pat - clever kitten! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 62

The boys have developed superior skills at lying around. It's a bit of a teenage cat thing. You walk for a bit and then with no notice at all you collapse on the floor like you haven't got a single bone in your body. This is the young male cat's way of communicating" I don't care, I'm so cool". Sometimes this stops your brother from attacking you. One of the boys will be poised and twitching, just ready to run and pounce on the other - and then the other one cleverly does something unexpected!
He lies down in a heap. This apparently looks so overwhelming attractive to the other guy, he doesn't attack, he lies down, too.
The pair of them go around the house this way now looking like Dali melting watches. And it doesn't just have to be on the floor.
Suddenly crumpling on the top of a chair is also very much in fashion at Chez Big Cat. Frankly, I'm envious. I would like to suddenly fall into a comfortable heap on the floor it would be a very effective tactic in advertising. "what do you mean, change the copy?!, I'd say and then, bing! I'm lying on the floor looking so relaxed. That ought to surprise the hell out of a client.
The downside? They'd probably immediately call 911. And I'd need it. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 61

My kittens are growing up. But a different rates. Rufus is now relatively reasonable. You can discuss things with him and he tries very hard to understand the Big Cat's point of view. Like I'll be eating my healthy chicken salad watching The Wire and he'll jump on the back of my chair and very gently put his paw on my shoulder, as if to ask, may I come down and partake of your chicken salad? And I will look into his huge yellow eyes and say firmly, No. Then he jumps down. The other boy not so much. He jumps right into the bowl of chicken salad and wonders why the Big Cat is screaming in horror. In the morning, I open the bedroom door and Rooney rushes past me - any room with a closed door is a big adventure to him. Rufus stands there and waits to be patted and then goes in. Rooney is still very excited by my homemade cat toy - ribbons scotch-taped to a bamboo garden pole and will jump and chase it like a madman (not the advertising variety). If I held the pole over the railing on the 2nd floor and waved it enticingly he would happily leap to his death without looking. Rufus yawns openly at the pathetic pole. The thing the brothers have in common is fur. Oh ya, and they lick themselves between the legs. Eek! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 60

I thought cats didn't like water. Not the boys. Their favourite spot is the sink. Any sink. The bathroom. The kitchen sink. The big sinks in the laundry room (boy, will they get a surprise if they leap in there when the the machine is on rinse!) Why they like water so much is beyond the Big Cat's understanding. They like to bat at the tap and catch the drops in their mouth. Come to think of it I like to do that myself. Maybe they learned it from me. They seem to like having wet paws, too. Does it cool them down in this blistering heat? Wait, the air conditioning is set at 16 degrees - so that can't be it. They like the tub, too. But I think that's just because they like to play mini-soccer with the bath beads. Oops, squished one, what's this sticky stuff on my paws? Think I'll lick it and find out. Uggh! Then they go around blowing little soap bubbles for the rest of the day. Eek! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 59

The boys were in my dreams again last night. In the dream they have somehow gotten into a pack of markers and had wound up with colourful splotches all over them. In a secondary sub-plot, Willie Nelson was asking to borrow my car to go on tour to pay off his debts to the IRS. This was alright with me in the dream because I was confident the car could hold all his equipment and it's good on gas. Meanwhile, technicolour kittens ran wild all over the house. Clearly, sleep dep is taking a horrendous toll on my sub-conscious. I'm not sure if I should blame too many episodes of The Wire before bed (very addictive) or the book I'm reading
Fragments of the Whole by some lunatic Aussie. Tomorrow is lock-down day for the boys (cleaning lady day) so they had better enjoy their last taste of freedom. But they better not play around with markers. If my dreams turn out to have some remote basis in reality it could be very scary. I would like to talk to Willie Nelson, though. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 58 haircuts!

I was sitting in the Big Cat chair reading the paper this morning and I came upon a perfectly ridiculous article. Somebody is now shaving cats!! Not in a Gillette kind of way - more like those ludicrous poodle haircuts. I called the boys and they came immediately (finally something they accept as viable training). I showed them picture of their breatheren with peace signs shaved into their fur. Hearts shaved into their fur. Initials shaved into their fur. And they both started to giggle uncontrollably Eeek Eek
Eek!! They found it so funny! Then they looked at my face - to scare them I made it very serious looking - they suddenly looked terrified and bolted out of my lap straight down the basement stairs to cower behind the furnace. I really think some gang signs
shaved into their fur would make them more ferocious looking and would make Weed think twice about messing with them. Maybe I could train them to hold their little paws out in gang symbols, too. East side - with their claws sticking out. It would be so awesome. Tribute to Biggie. They're down with Biggie - at least I'm pretty sure it's Biggie they like not Tupac (too skinny).
I also still have the electric razor I used to give the girls their trendy undercuts with - shave off more, Dad!!, they used to plead.
Now if I can only find the two hiding fur-faces. I know they're in the house somewhere. Here kitty, kitty....xxxdad

the kitten chronicles - part 57

There's a very good reason Pavlov didn't use cats in his experiments. If he rang the bell to signal there was food, most of the time the cats wouldn't salivate, they'd barely raise a furry eyebrow. Still I persist in a vain attempt to keep the boys off the kitchen counter - at least when I'm preparing food. I spray them with the squirt bottle repeatedly and this seems to catch them by surprise every time. They are intensely stubborn little fur-bags. They seemingly can't distinguish between daytime - Big Cat's not here we can walk freely on the counter! Long live kitten freedom! And night time -we're not allowed on the counter? Why?, Big Cat, why? Making this futile game of crime and punishment even more futile, they purr when they jump back up on the counter after being sprayed, as if to say, we are friendly little kitties, how can you treat us so badly? Rooney is the worst (he of "I can't find the litter box" fame)He just keeps coming back for more like Paul Newman fighting George Kennedy in Cool Hand Luke (lie down, Luke, lie down!)The upside is after repeated spraying with the water bottle he is a very clean cat. At this rate he won't have to lick himself for a month. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 56

I don't often dream about the boys. Actually, make that, I never dream about the boys. But last night, for the first time, they became subject matter. This dream was set at the ski cabin?! I remember Rooney walking down the hall towards the cabin door. I picked him up and looked at him, he had a gash behind his ear. The boys are playing too rough, I thought in the dream. Then, I noticed another kitten coming down the hallway, at first I thought it was Rufus, but then I noticed it was a tortoise-shell kitten and its fur was horribly matted - one of the boy's sisters! Soon all three sisters looking scruffy and ferocious were walking menacingly down the hallway. So it was them who had attacked Rooney!I woke up (it was an early morning mini-dream)right after this. According to Leo Dicaprio in Inception this means that the dream was actually 5 seconds long - or have I got it wrong, it was 5 hours long? Clearly the dream means in my mind I have saved the boys from the horrors of growing up on a farm. And that the ski cabin is becoming the perfect setting for a horror movie, "Attack of the Feral Kittens!"Eek! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 56

Why didn't I decide to get poisonous snakes as my pets of choice? OK,so you have to watch out where they are when you enter the house, but I already have to be vigilant about that with the boys. The snakes could take care of any mouse problem - so again that puts them even in the plus side of the argument with the fur faces. And here's where poisonous snakes are more lovable that kittens. They don't destroy anything. Yesterday's casualty was a gorgeous Betty platter. The boys, in their addled headed wisdom thought it would look better on the floor - in pieces.Honestly, these cats should have their own demolition business - Pussy Pulverizers. In ancient time cats were feared to be possessions of the devil - and frankly I wish the devil would come and take his possessions back. Good riddance - hope you enjoy what they do to your underworld realm, Satan. Me, bring on the hissing cobras. Cuteness is overated. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 54

Slightly weary from the long weekend and gimpy-kneed from 3 rounds of tennis I bade farewell to the boys this morning. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do", I called happily to them. They looked up at me their eyes huge and moist like I'd just destroyed their day. And I thought of course, virtually everything they like to do, I wouldn't do. Like ripping dried flowers out of vases. Spreading rubber bands all over the kitchen floor. Chasing a highlighter marker around the counter until the cap comes off and yellow markings get everywhere. Drinking from the toilet. Climbing up the curtain in the bedroom. Batting at plants until the leaves fall off. And using the wing chair as a nail sharpener. In fact, the only thing that I do that they like to do is have a nap. Man, the Big Cat is incredibly boring, they think. And that's why they never follow my advice. xxx dad