the kitten chronicles - part 118

The senseless kitten attacks continue. Saturday I returned home from a 15 minute trip to get a Starbucks and saw through the window that the kitten destruction crew had struck again in my absence. They'd knocked a plant off a stand and consigned yet another Grandy pottery bowl to history. Then to make matters worse when Sam came over for dinner on Sunday they generously peed on her purse and bag. Claiming them for the cat nation? Who knows. But apparently they're getting increasingly territorial.
Soon they will directly challenge the Big Cat's personal turf. If they pee on my bass I sweat they'll be the ones getting turfed.
To deal with all this smelly business (until the scissors deal with the cause next week at the vet's) I've gotten an industrial air freshener that fires off a blast of lemony goodness every 30 minutes. I put it above the boys litter box and it scares the hell out of
them. It works off a motion detector so when they walk by it activates and blasts lemon at them. This causes them to skitter away to a safe distance and stare back at the unit with hatred in their eyes. "Why Big Cat? Why?!" This war is escalating boys and I have technology on my side. Which gives me a terrific idea- replace the boys with robot cats. Would they leave tiny piles of batteries everywhere? At least batteries don't smell. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 116

The boys discovered a lost Midnight Crazy ball in the basement this morning. Did craziness ensue? Well, not so much. I'm not chronicling kittens anymore. They took a few half-hearted swipes at it and then immediately flopped on their sides exhausted and bored silly. Apparently it takes a lot more to excite a teenage cat. Like a tap running. Oh brother, are these fur-faces weird. Still if I have one of the boys all calmed down and asleep in my lap the slightest noise from the brother in the other room rouses enormous curiosity. "What's going on in there?! Is he having more fun than me?" The cat in my lap jumps up and heads in the other room to investigate. Rooney is the most prone to this. He's convinced something fascinating is going on that is more deserving of his attention. Something at the door! A car horn! A bird chirp! Frankly, he'd make a darn good watchdog. I wonder why they don't use cats anyway? They're smarter and you could train them to press an alarm button. You could. Of course with my watchcats they'd just run up to the intruder then suddenly flop over on their sides so they could get their stomachs rubbed.
Not very threatening. Unless you're afraid of cats in which case it's terrifying. Ack! They're try to roll on me! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 115

This morning the boys were violently hurling their bodies against my bedroom door "Wake up Big Cat! Wake up!!" What's up lads?
Is the Casa Big Cat on fire? Ordinarily they just scratch on the door. But no it was just a regular November day and they were full of feline energy. "lets get this show on the road, Big Cat!". This meant where they normally walk beside me during our morning routine they ran frantically. Down the stairs to their bowls. Down the stairs to the ironing board. Back up the stairs. Has someone been slipping Red Bull into the kitty water bowl? Bee? This is not good. When I left them they were maniacally batting at an extension cord. All the throw rugs in the Muskoka room were strewn in piles all over. And they were making this weird humming
sound. Although, it might just have been purring. Is the 24th of November something special on the cat calendar? Can anybody tell me. I'm a rookie cat owner. Maybe today is International Cat Liberation Day, kind of a Cinco de Mayo for the fur brain set. I fear
what damage may be done to the house in my absence. If anybody notices a big plume of smoke coming from East York today my worst fears will have been confirmed. The destruction is complete. The horror. The horror. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 114

People who know the Big Cat personally now routinely ask, "How's the destruction of the house going?" And swallowing hard I reply, "Ahead of schedule." When you house two adolescent cats who needs Tepperman? The boys believe in team work and apply this to all their undertakings. Plants. "You take the top and I'll take the bottom, brother!" The couch. "Lets both roll all over it - the fur will spread twice as fast!" Carpets. "I'm sharpening my claws - oh, you are, too. Good work!" Then add in the sad fact that the house smells like a giant litter box when I walk in through the door after a grueling day of writing about bladder control products.
Wait, that's it!!! I could outfit the boys in kitty TENA protective underwear. That would solve at least one problem. And frankly they'd be so embarrassed to be seen in them- they might start hiding out full time in the dark seclusion of the Casa Big Cat basement. I don't know why I haven't thought of this solution sooner. Clearly I'm slipping as a Creative guy. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 113

The days are getting shorter and the birds hungrier. I fill up the bird feeder so they boys can watch the Nature Channel from their chair in front of the back door. And the feeder is empty by the end of the day. The fur-faces look at me imploringly. "Why aren't any birds coming, Big Cat?" Then they lose interest and go to the basement to root through Sam's stuff. The boxes and bits of furniture form a maze that gives them a new playground. One sits on top of Sam's bookshelf and the other leaps up a set of 3 boxes -hop-hop-hop and chases him down. This results in the occasional crashing sound when one of Sam's pots is knocked out of a box to the floor. But no real damage to anything. So play on, lads, play on. The challenge is to keep bringing new stuff into
the house to stimulate them. Of course, I'm trying to go in the opposite direction and remove clutter. Less obstacles means a faster race boys. They already have a favourite track from the living room to the TV room at incredibly high speed which ends in the rug sliding into the china cupboard and furry bodies experiencing multiple roll-overs like a car crash. With all this dramatic
stuff going on it's very hard to focus on America's Next Top Model. But I do. I'm a champion focuser. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 113

Chicks love bad boys. It's the only plausible reason why Bee favours Rooney over Rufus. Rooney (the black and white cat to infrequent readers) is the bad boy of the Casa Big Cat. He walks with a unmistable swagger and repeatedly finds himself in trouble with his leader (me). This morning ironing my shirt was slowed by a certain black and white fur-face puncturing my shirt with his claws. Like a hockey player who moves in the faceoff circle, I ejected him from the room. This is the second day in a row he's been kicked out for this infraction. Does he care? Not one iota. He loves his bad boy persona. He's always the first to jump head first into the fridge (Bee kept both boys in the fridge with the door closed for a full very-chilly 5 minutes the other night to teach them a lesson) and the first to jump in the sink when the water runs. He also withholds his affections preferring to lie about a foot away from you - near - but on his own bad boy terms. There is appeal to this act I have to admit. He's the furry Elvis of the house. He even has the curled upper lip thing going I swear. He's bad, he knows it. What makes it work at Casa Big Cat is the kitty yin yang of it - together there is balance. However, if Rufus ever goes bad on me all bets are off. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 111

The boys are very clean. They groom themselves on a regular basis and their fur shines with a healthy glow. The cat doctor recently commented on the luster of their coats. Naturally the fur-faces are exceedingly proud of this. But even when you are a very conscientious groomer there are areas you can't reach. And that's where the brotherly buddy system kicks in. The boys lick the tops of each other's heads. And thus, the lone area that can't be self-cleaned gets managed by the other guy. It's a good system. It's also used to indicate "no hard feelings" after a particularly vigorous fight. First there's charging up and down the stairs, much wrestling, some biting and the occasional bit of yowling when one guy bites too hard. Then after staring at each other very hard with a look that says "Do you not understand the concept of "play fight"? That frickin' hurt!!" One will walk over to the other and lick the top of the other brother's head. And peace is in the valley. Peace keeping. Maybe Mike Pearson got the idea from his
cats. I'd like to think so. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 110

The boys are stubborn. It's not so much that they refuse to learn from experience, it's that they are convinced in their tiny furry minds that what they are doing is right. How else to explain that after dragging Rufus out of the ceiling in the basement (he looked embarrassed - I don't think he knew how to get back out) The next day I found the ceiling tile on the basement floor.
So some fur-brain had climbed back up there and his weight had made the tile fall out causing him to plummet to the concrete floor. I questioned Rufus about this but he just stared blankly back at me. "What tile? What basement? Do we even have a basement? "Direct questioning gets the Big Cat nowhere fast. I got the same result when I inquired of Rooney why he likes to like on the cold, hard stone mantlepiece of the fireplace rather than say a cumfy cushion. His defiant stare said it all. "Because I can,
Big Cat! Because I can!" It seems that anywhere high up is the new Mecca to the lads. The higher the better. If they could get to the roof they would be so proud. "Look Big Cat, we have climbed to the highest height in Four Oaks Gate!" Twin Sir Edmund Hillarys
that's what I've got here. Actually Rooney looks just like Sir Eddie after not shaving for two months with frost on his beard. I am
merely their humble Sherpa. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 108

Just when you think there's no more trouble they can get into kittens will find something. Saturday morning I'm downstairs ironing my shirt and Rooney is perched on the washing machine watching.But he's looking up at the ceiling. I hear some scratching noises above me. Raccoons in the basement? Couldn't be. Hey, where's Rufus? Somehow he had climbed up into the ceiling. So I removed the ceiling tile and lifted him out- covered in dust, cobwebs and insulation -idiot! Later that morning, I'm in the Muskoka Lodge to practice my bass and both of the boys run behind me straight into the fireplace and disappear. O.K. now this is concerning. Can they actually escape through the chimney? Somehow they've managed to climb up inside. Luckily they get bored and climb back down leaving little sooty paw prints all over the basement carpet. The buggers! Then to cap things off Rooney makes a mad charge for freedom out the door while I'm picking up the Globe. I turn just in time to block his escape with my foot. You know, I had thought the lads and I were like Robinson Crusoe, trapped together - but the boys think they're starring in Prison Break. The idiot fur-faces probably don't even know that show's been cancelled. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 107

This damn time change is confusing for kittens. The boys don't read clocks (although maybe I should put one outside the bedroom door just in case). So now they're happily waking me with their incessant scratching on the bedroom door at 6 in the freakin' morning. They don't give a hoot about school children needing sun when they walk to school - they're staying stubbornly on old time. Traditionalists, those fur-faces.
They do spring forward, however. When I open the bedroom door to yell at them to go back to sleep. Clearly, felines operate on some kind of primitive Circadian hard-wired impulse. The same one that makes them jump in the sink at the sound of running water?
Maybe that's instinct, too. Drink now. We could be dying of thirst later! This instinct could be leading them to sharpen their claws on Bee when she visits during the day when I'm not home - they're simply defending Casa Big Cat. You can't really blame them for that can you? Plus, they're confused by the time change. A least that's their defence.
xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 107

Dang! I missed the Cat Whisperer last night on TV. So I have no idea what to whisper to the boys to bend them to my will. Came home after a few drinks last night and tried some improvised whispering. "Please don't pee around the house!" "Do you have to shed your fur everywhere?" "Why is there cat litter strewn throughout the entire house?" and then quietly, "Help me, Jesus..." None of these heartfelt whispers seemed to strike a chord with the fur-faces. Much blinking. Occasional purring. And when Jesus was mentioned they both walked out of the room. I should have taped the segment. Or PVRed it. Except I don't have the equipment to do either. I'll try some more whispering tonight and if no further luck will go back to just yelling my head off at them. It reduces stress better than whispering anyways. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 106

The Cat Whisperer is in town and I'm so excited. He (or she?)is an expert in training cats who can pass on specialized wisdom guaranteed to bend your cat's will to the behaviour you desire. Tonight on the news on Global the Cat Whisperer will appear and will reveal some secret tricks. I could use the help. So far whispering has not worked at all but maybe you need to whisper your request directly in the cat's ear - and I haven't tried that yet. Screaming isn't working. That much is clear. The offending feline only gets a look of fear and confusion in his eyes at the sound of a raised voice. And goes and hides in a closet for a while only to sneak back into the room later and resume the same activity. Hopefully, the Big Cat will learn how to whisper instructions to his young charges in such a persuasive way that soon all counter- jumping -up- on, random defecating and odd bits of territorial urination will be things in the distant and smelly past. Still, one whispered phrase keeps repeating in my head -"fat chance", it says and then it laughs a whispered laugh. Which is pretty creepy. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 104

Yesterday I took the boys to the cat doctor for the first time. At first I was worried I wouldn't be able to get them in their cat carrier but a little Big Cat trickery worked beautifully. I simply put the carrier on the kitchen counter, then turned on the tap. When the poor saps jumped up to check out the sink, they were quickly stuffed in the carrier. Brilliant! They were complete champs getting their shots and anti-worming meds. They didn't even mew when jabbed with a needle. And the friendly Doc said they'd be very popular when they come back to have their nuppins removed. I guess "good patients" are appreciated in every line of medicine. "May we remove your nuppins?"
Nary a mew. "OK, that's a "yes" let's start lopping!"The lads have been deemed very healthy and both weigh over 10 pounds now. When they got home it was another matter
altogether, back to the silent protest. "How could you do this to us, Big Cat?!!"
"Why Big Cat? Why?" Ah well, they have very short furry memories so things will be back to normal by tonight. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - 103

The Maine Coon is some sort of huge semi-prehistoric cat. It actually exists. A couple of days ago in the paper there was a picture of one over 4-feet in length. Naturally, I showed the picture to the boys to inspire them. Frankly, I think the monster cat terrified them - they both ran out of the room and hid under the wing chair in the living room. This does not bode well for the boys going outside to the very scary real world. Out there looms Weed,(the neighborhood Tom) not nearly as imposing as the Maine Coon, but still twice the size of my teenage boy cats. I'm thinking I must change the kitten chow to real adult cat food in an attempt to "pump them up" as Hans and Franz used to say on SNL. The fur-faces are girly-man cats right now despite their in-house swagger. Plus, they're far too friendly- they purr at everything. This morning they both jumped in the laundry room sinks and this made them purr like crazy. Would an enormous Maine Coon cat do this? I don't think so. The Main Coon would shred the laundry and force people to stand on the dryer shaking with fear until someone with a tazor came to rescue them. Maybe I should send the boys to training camp in Maine this summer. Just a thought. xxx dad