the kitten chronicles -part 202

Sorry for the long time in between posts, loyal followers. Interruption of employment will do that. That's right readers, the Big Cat is on the dole. This makes for much more time with the fur-brains. I may be getting on their nerves. "Why is the Big Cat always home these days?" "He constantly stops us from our valuable work in home destruction - we're now hopelessly behind schedule!"
It's true. The boys have only succeeded in destroying a small throw rug in the past 3 weeks - small potatoes for a world-class
demolition team like Rufus and Rooney. Other things have taken up their time. Like critters coming into the house. Last weekend I was sitting reading the Globe when the boys and I heard a chirping coming from the living room. I assumed a bird had flown down the chimney and was trapped in the house. So I picked the boys up and put them in lockdown in the study so I could deal with getting the trapped bird out. I looked in the room - no bird. I thought I must be imagining things. I released the boys and sat back down with the paper. Then came a new flurry of high-pitched chirping. Back into the living room to investigate. The lads stood back at a safe distance from what looked like a chubby, short-tailed mouse. They carefully poked at the thing with their paws - it made the chirping noise. The boys were very entertained. A new cat toy! How splendid! The new guest turned out to be some kind of vole or mole. And given its stubby legs it couldn't really evade the boys. But boy was it fun to play with. And play they did. But very gently. No tossing it in the air and catching it in their mouth like they often show off doing with their stuffed mice. After half and hour of "investigation" I intervened and removed the visitor with a tea towel and put him shell-shocked, but otherwise fine in the front garden. So how are you going to top that excitement, boys?, I asked the delighted felines. Quite easily, as it turns out. This morning a bird did fly in the house. This provoked a different response from the boys. No more careful restraint. Instead both cats charged after the crazed sparrow leaping several feet in the air. They immediately chased the bird down into the basement working as a deadly tag team. I followed with a blanket hoping to catch the latest visitor before they did. But as I was going down the stairs the boys were heading back up - the game apparently was over. I checked each room for signs of feathers and random mayhem - nothing. The bird had flown up the basement chimney. Rooney and Rufus looked at each other. "Next time, brother, next time." xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 203

I've had some inquiries about the boys from readers of this blog so consider this a kind of update. One asked does Rooney still wash his feet in his water bowl? No he's no longer a foot-washing Baptist. But the fur-brains still spill their water bowl in protest of something - maybe because I give them tap water and they'd prefer the Cedar Springs water from the cooler. Another reader asked, "Do they still sleep on the stairs?" Yes, the other day I found them sleeping on the stairs in front of my room, one on each stair, guarding my bedroom like they did when they were tiny kittens. This choked me up. How is their destruction of your house going? Well, I no longer have a carpet in the living room - they made short work of that - and the rug that was in the hallway, as well. Good job, lads! The house plants are so scraggily they don't interest the boys anymore. They're working diligently on the 2 leather chairs and should be finished destroying them by Christmas- if they don't get distracted by the curtains. Final question.
Do they still scratch you? Not so much. Although occasionally one will notice my bare foot tapping time to the theme from So You Think You Can Dance and will plant his claws in said foot to stretch himself. This causes the Big Cat to scream. Which isn't very soothing when you're trying to have a nice, peaceful stretch. The Big Cat can be very annoying this way. And that remains consistent. No question about it. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 202

Zak Gaiifianakis is my choice to play the Big Cat in the upcoming movie of The Kitten Chronicles. And his career arc is moving in the perfect direction. The Hangover Part I - a huge hit. The Hangover Part 2 - not such a hit. And what's coming next? Obviously
The Hangover Part 3 - a total stinko disaster. By then he'll be begging to get in the cat suit. I showed his picture to the boys and they clawed the page. But I think it may have been because I spilled some chili on it while coming up with this plan. The boys love my chili. Frankly, they love whatever I'm eating. This results in me frequently tossing them out of the room. I think Rooney hoped I would also toss the chili stained portion of the newspaper with Zak's picture on it. That I'm saving in the pre-production file.
I also like Robert Downey Jr. for the part. But the boys find him scary. It's sleeping in the baby's crib that freaked them out. I told them that was a long time ago but they reminded me that the two Siamese cats who jumped into the baby's bunk in Lady in the Tramp never worked again in Hollywood. They're both pretty up on the Hollywood dirt - especially the stuff about cats. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 201

After 200 episodes of Seinfeld, Jerry gave each member of the cast an M- class Mercedes. After 200 Julia Child recipes the Julia-wanna-be author celebrated by eating her entire output of Gateau St. Henri and reportedly gained 3 pounds the next day. So after 200 posts about cats destroying my house something fitting should be done. Maybe a pottery sacrifice. I could buy a really bad figurine from Goodwill and place it just so on the dining room table and the fur-faces could celebrate by cheerfully knocking it on the floor. Or maybe I could get the boys their own recyliner something with a nubbley fabric they could really sink their claws into.
Or I could leave the fridge door open all day and the boys could forage at will. Do they like feta cheese? Lets find out. The best thing might be to just move the stove. I'm pretty sure there are over 100 stuffed catnip mice, beer caps and Midnight Crazy balls trapped behind there that the lads have been trying to valiently fish out for months. Oh hell, I'll just give them a toilet paper roll
and watch them make their own confetti. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 200

The fur-faces are very excited about the 7th and final game of the Stanley Cup. Are they hockey fans? Not really. It's just that there is chanting from the crowd each night during the game that whips them into a frenzy. All because of the Canucks goaltender Roberto Luongo. When he's playing well the Vancouver fans all chant Loooooooooooooo!! And when he's playing poorly the Boston fans all chant Looooooooooo!! The cats think they are saying Meeeewwwwwww!! And it gets them very excited. It's like there are 17,000 cats in the stands at the game all trying to communicate with my boys. All the Meeeewwwwwing!!! (really Loooooooing!!)
makes them run around in circles in front of the TV set mewing frantically in reply. So tonight's game whether it's good or bad for Luongo is going to be exciting for cats. The only outcome they won't like is if Vancouver starts Cory Schneider in net. Corrrrrry!!!
doesn't sound like mewing at all. How disappointing. In that case they'll probably go upstairs and have a nap. I might, too. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 199

My mornings are starting earlier and earlier. The sun rises around 5:30 or so these days and the boys are determined I should be up with it. It's a bit like having a newborn baby in the house - but more irritating. My next door neighbours actually have a newborn and they tell me she sleeps so maybe I should kindly offer to swap the fur-brains for the baby for a couple of nights to help out? They might just take me up on it. Suckers. This morning Rufus did his trick where he knocks over the giant vase with a great crash to get the sleeping Big Cat's attention. This was at 6:15. Now I'm used to the noise but what I'm really worried about is that the vase will fall on his doofus brother one morning crushing him. So I plan to move the vase into the bathroom each night before I go to bed. Then we'll see what they come up with. Maybe slamming the study door. Rooney does this already and gets trapped in the room for hours.... Wait this is going to be great. They both go into the study. Slam the door. And get trapped.
Meanwhile the Big Cat peacefully snoozes. Perfect. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 198

Cats are moody. Whoo boy, you say what a newsflash. But true none the less. Rooney found a hidden Midnight Crazy ball behind the TV the other night and was instantly reverted to excitable kitten state. Much racing around the house ensued. The next day I picked up the same Midnight Crazy ball and threw it in Rooney's direction. No reaction. He calmly walked by it leapt up on the chair and went to sleep. Just not in the mood I guess. Same goes for the Nature Channel. Some days I open the back door and put a chair in front of the screen door and the boys can't wait to jump on the chair and gaze longingly outside. Next day - no interest.
"Try to keep up will you, you pathetic, insensitive Big Cat." Food is their only consistent interest. Not a moment goes by when they aren't completely ravenous. Forget the toys and the screen door, Big Cat - produce the food!!!If I did it on demand I'd have a pair of lolling 400-pound furry behemoths on my hands in no time. And at that weight they could push any piece of furniture in the house over to get my attention. A terrifying thought. Actually, no need to push over furniture - they could simply pin me to the mat UFC-style until I tapped out. I must maintain my weight advantage or all is lost. Think I'll have fries today at lunch. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 197

I awoke this morning to a rather loud crash. I knew immediately what it was. If I don't spring out of bed when the boys start scratching on my bedroom door Rufus pushes the giant vase filled with dried flowers over. This never fails to awaken the Big Cat.
And so the day begins. The boys thrive on routine. And when that routine is broken chaos ensues. For instance, they have been trained to expect food when I enter the house - this is our weekday schedule. I return from work with the mail in hand and they swarm me they're so hungry which sometimes results in mail on the floor of the hallway. But on the weekend I may go in and out of the front door many times - and every time I re-enter Casa Big Cat they feel I should give them a can of Miss Mew Tuna Pate.
This isn't happening I tell them. Why Big Cat why!! Ideally they would prefer every day to be consistent. If this means they get 12 cans of food Saturday and Sunday this would be perfectly OK with the boys. Also when I'm around the house on the weekend I'm disturbing their schedule. Sometimes I interrupt them just in the middle of destroying something - the nerve of that Big Cat!!
Why isn't he at work? The slacker! We cats have pottery to reduce to shards and leather chairs to put thousands of tiny pin holes in.
And all he does is read the paper. And not feed us. Almost forgot that. I sense the boys have little respect for their leader. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 196

Did you know that the average house cat sheds its own weight in fur every month? OK I made that up. Entirely. But if you had to vacuum the couch at Casa Big Cat you would think it was very possible. The lads shed great clumps of floating fur everywhere. And yet their coats remain mysteriously the same! They are two very dynamic hair growing machines. Really their hairball problems should be off the charts. I wish there was something constructive I could do with all this fur. Hats and mittens would be nice - hey, kitten mittens! Maybe you don't want the full-time responsibility of taking care of a cat. But with mittens made out of Rooney's fur you could pat yourself. Very soothing. Could be just the thing for hospitals and old age homes. When I get home tonight I'm going to empty the vacuum cleaner and start knitting. Kitten Knittin'! Even the name sounds soothing. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 194

Maybe I should have named the black and white fur-brain Houdini instead of Rooney. He is proving to be quite the devious escape artist. The trick to successfully getting out the front door and into the very exciting world of outside is timing. You can't just run straight off when the door opens - you hang back, so you're not noticed, then at the last second- bolt into freedom. It's like Prison Break. Luckily, like a long time resident released from some dark jail the escapee is often dazzled by the brightness of the outside. It's best to scoop up your indoor cat when he's in this state. It also helps that Rooney doesn't seem to quite know what to do when he makes it outside. This morning Rooney zoomed through Rod's legs as he struggled to get out the door and on to Adam's grad ceremony at George Brown. The Big Cat gave chase. And was so close to catching the black and white evader. But Rooney proved a speedy teenager cat can stay just ahead of an angry hobbled old Big Cat.I only caught him because he tried to squeeze through the wire fence into Bill and Yvonne's and got stuck. It's quite possible he doesn't know they cancelled Prison Break. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 193

For the Royal Wedding, our receptionist's brother dressed his cats up in little outfits to watch the broadcast. The boys snickered at this news when I informed them. Then they got a look of fear in their eyes and hid under the couch in the living room. They probably had visions of the Ol' Big Cat fashioning them some Canucks jerseys out of crepe paper and duct tape. Fear not lads, while the Canucks are my rooting preference I'm strictly a Maple Leaf fan so the odds on you finding your furry body compromised by some homemade blue and white outfit is incredibly remote. Even if Burkie claims we're only 3 players away from glory. The boys found that statement even more hilarious than the story of the cats in tiny waistcoats and fascinators. But then they share the Big Cat's fatalistic sense of humor about the home team. What they don't know is I'd put them in tiny western outfits for an Old 97's concert any day. Rooney would look amazing in a miniature 10-gallon hat, trust me! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 193

Warning!!: The outside world is a terrifying place. Just ask Rooney. He has been outside a grand total of 3 times in his life (not counting the time Sam and I took the boys outside as little kittens) and 2 out of three times it has been pouring rain outside
rendering him soaking, freezing and miserable. And 2 out of 3 times it has also been dark. Hey, what's that thing with the ringed tail and a mask on - it looks like it could kill me!!! So now we have an established pattern for when he bolts out the front door.
Each time he's done it recently, he's somehow found his way to the back door and runs back inside drenched and scared out of his mind. I dry him off with a tea towel and he goes downstairs to the Muskoka Room to sleep off the nightmare of the outside world on the bed. I imagine Rufus might venture around a little if he ever went outside. But Rooney is all impulse and then regret. "What have I done?" he thinks, I've traded a life of warmth and delicious Seafood pate for darkness and wet misery - I'm a fur-brained idiot!". Rooney would have made a piss-poor explorer. Queen Isabella most likely would have recognized this and not given him a boat. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 192

How would the boys fare in the wild? It's a question I mull over regularly. Not well is the answer- especially if they didn't have canned food and a can opener. The lads I fear are very domesticated. Last week I gave them what I thought was an incredibly tasty treat - raw duck livers and hearts. Knowing what wimps they are I even chopped them up a little to make them easier to eat - bite-sized portions. Rufus rejected them completely. Rooney dragged them around the floor creating a bloody "kill zone" that looked like lions had dragged an antelope inside the house. OK, I thought maybe if I cooked them they boys would find them more to their liking? Into the microwave they went. Rufus turned his nose up at the cooked pate. Rooney chased it around the floor again.
This behaviour would lead to starvation in the wild. They'd catch dinner and play with it instead of eating it. Fancy Feast it is then,
boys. The good thing is if I keel over from a heart attack the boys won't eat me - they'll just remove my liver and kick it around the living room floor. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 181

The boys yearn for trees. They can see them swaying gently in the breeze out the back door screen. But they can't sink their claws into them and soar to great, lofty perches like the true jungle cats they aspire to be. So they climb indoors ever higher. Rooney climbed to the very top of the kitchen cabinets, up where only mixing bowls live. This confused the old Big Cat. I was trying to close the cabinet and I felt a cat tail in there so I stopped and looked down on the counter - no cat. Then I looked up. The cat tail interfering with the door was coming from above. Rooney grinned at me like the cat in Alice and Wonderland, he was so proud. Then yesterday in a clear case of feline one-up-man-ship Rufus crawled up into the ceiling tiles in the basement (Again? This is now passe) And Rooney alerted me by pacing the floor and mewing. Rufus has a new more dramatic way to wake the Big Cat up, too. He has lain on his side and pummeled the bedroom door with his feet for months now. This, the Big Cat can ignore. So now he hurls all his weight at the giant container full of dried flowers at the top of the stairs and knocks it over. This makes a very big crash. And surprise, surprise the Big Cat comes rushing out the door in a panic. Mission accomplished. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 190

The same old routine gets boring for the boys. Scratch at my door at 6. Downstairs for anti-furball bites. Watch the Big Cat iron his shirt. Try and catch drips in the laundry sink. Sleep. Big Cat home now. Good! Soft food. Then try and eat some of the Big Cat's food. Get thrown repeatedly on the floor. Slink off into the darkness of the living room. Sleep. Repeat. So to break things up they break things up. Sometimes this involves Rooney trying to get as high up as he can. He tries a delicate tightrope walk between the pictures on top of the piano. This is difficult enough without the Big Cat screaming at you at the top of his lungs. Or you might want to increase the skill required by leaping up onto the mantlepiece in the dark. What are these new curios up here? SMASH!!!
More screaming from the Big Cat. Boy, he screams a lot. He really needs an anger management class. Just trying to sharpen your claws in Casa Big Cat gets him screaming. "No, not there!" Actually, "no, not there" applies to everywhere you want to sharpen your claws these days. The Big Cat is constantly cranky. Once, he gave us tuna fish water from the can. That was nice. Ah, memories.
xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 189

Bee just pointed out that it is is now a full year since the fur brains came to live with me. We picked up 2 small fluffy kittens last Mother's Day and the rest.. well, the rest has been semi-faithfully reported in this blog. Many pieces of smashed pottery later the boys still reside at Casa Big Cat and I had to grudgingly admit I would miss their company if they weren't around. This weekend one or the other of the boys was missing at various points in the day. Saturday morning I couldn't find Rooney so I started to search the house. No sign. Finally I went up into my bedroom and discovered the curtains lying in a heap on the floor the curtain rod knocked off its holder. I called Rooney and heard a small meow in reply muffled by yards of thick fabric. It turns out Rooney was trapped inside the lining of the curtains and couldn't get out. He'd probably been in there for an hour. When I managed to get him out he ran full speed out of the room and down the stairs no doubt to warn his brother about the cat-eating curtains in the forbidden room. You'd think that would be enough drama for one weekend but Sunday he went missing again and I found him trapped in the hall closet. Imagine this has been going on for a year now. I wouldn't have it any other way. EeK! (formerly a kitten sound from a year ago) xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 188

You can teach an old cat new tricks. Well, at least a teenager cat. Rooney's learning curve is accelerating. And this sometimes makes things harder for the wily old Big Cat. This morning I tried the old jingle bell ring to lure him into kitty solitary (Gorrette's coming) But he wasn't completely buying. He stood outside the room and looked in from the hall. Fool me once shame on me. Fool me like over 20 times shame on you, Big Cat. Rooney wasn't budging. So I had to chase him down. This is tricky as he is fast and runs under things to escape. Rufus never fell for the bell even once. On the other hand he doesn't try as hard to get away - he merely provides a token chase and then gives up. So I carry him upstairs open the door to toss him in... and Rooney sees daylight and makes a break for it. Luckily he chose the wrong escape route and ran into my bedroom - much easier to catch in a contained environment. I could see he was cursing his decision as I chucked him into confinement. Next time I go down the stairs Big Cat and you'll never take me alive - you dirty rat! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 187

The cruel reign of Rooney, "The World's Fussiest Interior Decorator" continues. Last night I was quietly watching The Real Housewives of Beirut, or maybe Pittsburgh,( but they were really tanned!) And then CRASH. I rushed into the darkened living room flipped on the lights and there in pieces was Rooney's latest victim - a small jade elephant. Formerly a symbol of good luck. But no more. Rooney was unashamed. He pointed his paw at it as if to say, "All clutter must go." Then of course he ran out of the room as fast as he could go before I could catch him. "Spartan" is how he likes things. Especially the mantle piece. "Too many darn curios", he fumes and then with a casual paw he dispatches the offending bric-a-brac. Oh, he also knocked over Sam's paper angel in a pickle jar - but it missed the floor and it was saved by falling into the wood pile. I do draw the line at him destroying vital childhood memories. That's just going too far. But in his tiny fur brain he's simply doing the world a service. Frankly, I could loan him out to the people who produce the TV show, Hoarders. He'd get rid of the stuff in no time flat. Smash! Crash! Boom! No more hoard. You're free!" Thank you, oh great furry black and white saviour I accumulated all this stuff over an entire lifetime and you liberated me in mere minutes". Wait, there's another crash coming from the Muskoka room - it better not be my bass...xxxdad

the kitten chronicles - part 186

If it were up to Rooney he'd happily be an "only" cat. He figures it would be nice to get 100% of the attention. Not Rufus. He is helpful in finding his brother when the black and white fur-brain gets himself trapped somewhere. Rufus will stand outside the spot where his brother is and meow an alert to help the Big Cat track the errant brother down. Vice versa, not so much? This morning Rufus was nowhere to be found as I was heading out the door. For some reason I thought he had climbed up into the drop ceiling in the basement again. I swear I could hear noises coming from up there - but when I called, no answer. So I questioned his brother who was no help at all- he just lay down on the floor in response to my inquiries trying to get his stomach rubbed. What other cat are you referring to, Big Cat? I know of no other cat... Well, thanks a lot for all the help, mister! Finally, I found Rufus trapped in the front closet and Rooney was crushed he hadn't been able to attain lone cat in the Casa Big Cat status. He sulked off to climb into the basement sink and catch drips. So close, he thought, so close. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 185

The boys have finished off the off-white rug in the living room. Frankly, I think they are complete slackers. It took them almost a year to do it. What do their claws hurt or something? C'mon boys, put some effort into it will ya? Anyway the result is we now have bare hardwood floor. My Mother informed me this is a very popular look these days. So apparently the boys were just trying to get me up to speed with current interior design trends. The fur brains are clearly trying for the dramatic "sparse" look you see in architecture magazines. You know, where the room has virtually no furniture at all - just a block of marble in one corner placed just so. This means the rest of the furniture must go. The brocade wing chair is done. Nice work, lads. The boys are now focusing their efforts on slashing up the couch and the two remaining chairs. If they don't get too distracting by the new pussy willows.
There is something about fresh pussy willows that cats find irresistible. They cannot rest until every single furry gray bud has been ripped from the branch and chased across the slippery hardwood floor. Wait, now I get it. They only destroyed the rug so they could properly chase the fallen pussy willows! This means they don't really know anything about interior design after all. I better call off the interview between the boys and HG TV. Although seeing Rooney in a little ascot would have been very memorable in my opinion. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 184

It seems Rooney's traumatic experience with the outside world has smartened him up. Now he looks outside when I open the door to bring in the Globe and Mail and if it's raining (and isn't it always these days?) he turns back inside as if he knows standing under a yew tree soaking wet and shivering is not at all desirable. Instead he immediately flops on his side in front of the hot air vent and begins to purr loudly. Indoors is OK. Just look at the feral cat with ratty looking matted fur and snow on him. Wouldn't want to be him. And so begins another day in the indoors paradise that is Casa Big Cat. Yesterday, the boys enjoyed a full day of the house with the furniture in a new position. For them it's like changing the rides at an amusement park. So they eagerly ran at full speed across two tables leaping over chairs - new and more challenging obstacles! Change is good. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 182

The boys are avid watchers. During the day they sit on a chair and gaze longingly out the french doors. Their heads turn on a swivel at the arrival of a new bird or squirrel. They can happily spend hours just watching. But they are on tight schedule. The afternoon means they go to the front of the house to await the return of the Big Cat, their self-appointed leader. Last week I was getting out of my car and there they were all exciting to see me- perched in the window. I waved and they pawed the glass. Then I saw Weed, the 40 pound neighbourhood tom on the front porch next door. So I thought I'd show them a real cat. I picked Weed up and carried him over and then I held him up to the window waving his huge paw menacingly at them. Knowing there was glass (and safety) between them and the giant cat they put on a good show of "let me at him, I'll pulverize him!". Weed just grinned a knowing older cat smile. " Disrespectful punks", he thought to himself. "C'mon out and play, kittens, I'l show you a thing or three!" This holding up rival cats thing entertained me so much that last night I came upon the "Furry Intruder", the black cat who had invaded the boys turf only last weekend. He was walking along in a happy mood (probably thinking about the intense humiliation he had inflicted upon the lads) So grab him up and carried him to the window to show the boys. Their reaction was horror. Their eyes went wide with terror and they both ran off the couch. Probably to guard their food. That's what I'd do. Of course in my case I'd guard my beer. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 182

Things are back to normal at Casa Big Cat after the drama of the weekend. The boys remember the outrage of the home invasion and I still find them in the front hall trying to stare through the letter slot. Is he out there? I don't know I can't see him. Can you see him? "He" is the Furry Intruder who terrorized my 2 tender, weak-kneed charges. I think they may be also checking the lock on the front door to make sure the door wont blow open again. Came downstairs this morning to find that they had happily destroyed the roll of paper towels that Gorette had left on the counter. Rookie mistake! Paper towels are more of a challenge than toilet paper to shred so the results are not the boys best work. They can do in an unattended toilet paper roll so efficiently it looks like a light snow has fallen in the room overnight. Quite pretty, actually. But time-consuming to clean up. The fur-faces also pulled out 6 sponges from under the sink and deposited them in different hiding places around the house. So yes, we're back to normalcy at Casa Big Cat. That said, our normal is complete mayhem. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 181

Rooney is a sucker for a jingling bell. All I have to do is shake the bell and he runs into the "office" like one of Pavlov's dogs. Then I simply pick up Rufus and deposit him into the room and Casa Big Cat is ready for a visit from Gorette. Rooney's impulsiveness is at the heart of theory #2 in the great mystery of what happened when the door blew open. So here goes. The door blows open. Both the boys stare outside. We could go outside they think to themselves. They look at each other. Are you going outside? Me, no. You go first. No, you. No, you. Then the Furry Intruder walks onto the porch and strolls into the house. Both the boys stand with their jaws hanging open. The nerve of this fellow! Then the black cat addresses Rooney with the 5 most feared words in all catdom,
"I'm the new cat here". Rooney is terrified and runs out into the rain and finds a dry-ish place under the yew tree. Rufus shows the new boss where the food is and the litter box. Soon they're both telling jokes about Rooney and snickering in that disturbing cat way. Then Rooney strolls back in the house with the cavalry (the Big Cat) and the coup is thwarted. The new ruler is deposed and chucked onto the the front porch in the rain. Vive la revolution! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 180

What happened that fateful day I found the front door wide open and Rooney standing under a bush in the rain? There is no real
way of finding out- but here is Theory #1. First, the front door blows open. The boys gaze outside longingly - freedom beckons.
Rooney, the impetuous one walks outside. Rufus, the cautious, sensible one watches his brother from the dry, warm safety of the front hall. "Wow, it's wet out here and cold - I better find shelter", thinks Rooney as soon as he gets down the front steps. So he goes under the Yew tree and cowers mewling pitifully. This desperate mewling attracts the attention of a wandering neighbourhood cat- namely "Mr. Furry Black Interloper". He walks over, ignores the wimpy Rooney and walks in the open door to get out of the cold. Rufus is agast! Just like he predicted bad things have started to happen as soon as his brother ventured unwisely out into the cold, cruel world. The Interloper walks around like he owns the place. Even eating the boy's Hairball Preventing Weight Maintenance Indoor Cat kibble. (Delicious, by the way, even if it does look like rabbit droppings, the intruder notes, thoughtfully). Then, just as Rufus is about to pass out from the sheer outrage of this in walks the Big Cat with Rooney right beside him. Tomorrow, we will continue with Theory #2 of what happened. Stand by. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 179

This weekend the Casa Big Cat was subject to a home invasion. Wait, before you have visions of the Big Cat duct-taped to a chair let me say it was a home invasion of the furry kind - and entirely my fault. Yesterday I went out in the bitter April conditions to do a couple of quick errands. When I got back I was greeted by the terrifying sight of Rooney standing under a bush outside in the rain. This threw me into a blind panic - how did he get outside? did he sneak past me as I was heading out the door? Unlikely. Then I saw the front door wide open. Oh no! I must not have closed it all the way and the gale force wind blew it open. Rooney looked scared out of his mind. I called him and he ran back onto the porch and inside the house. He stood on the front mat with a look that said, "wait until you see what else has happened." I was worried that Rufus might be outside, too so I called inside the house to him. I heard a meow in response. And then I entered the living room. To my surprise there were 3 cats in there. My boys with their backed arched, all puffed up in defensive mode. And a big fluffy black cat with a blue collar. I asked him what he was doing in our house. He meowed in a deep voice (probably just showing off in front of the 2 terrified boys). So I scooped him up and tossed him out the front door into the rain. The boys looked at me like, "Thank God!" Then they spent the rest of the afternoon peering through the mail slot in the front door to see if he was still out there. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 178

When you're the leader of a family of cats people expect you to know things about cats. Frankly, when questioned I just make stuff up. So when I encounter legitimate cat expertise I am impressed. Like when Rosie, the kindly cat sitter, informed me cooly that cats don't like their water beside their food and that she puts out water for her cats in a variety of places throughout her house. Kind of mini water stations. Aha! This explains why the fur brains regularly knock their water bowl over. They've been sending me a message. As for what water they prefer- I'd have to say they like Crystal Springs from Caledon. How else do I account for their behaviour when I fill a glass for myself? The boys immediately come over and leap at the glass in my hand trying to knock it from my grasp. And if this doesn't succeed they then go over and suck on the Crystal Springs tap. Very unsanitary! I can just hear Joanie now -" Steve those cats have got to go they're contaminating the water supply!" Just as long as they stay away from the Big Cat's beer. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - pat 177

This just in. New hope for world peace! Yes, that's right if dogs and cats can get along together surely humans can. Last night the fur-faces were surprised and intrigued by the arrival of SweetPea a tiny creature that appears to be a dog. Initially the boys weren't sure. They arched their backs and puffed themselves up, all the while dangerously circling Steff's tiny weiner dog. What the heck is this? They weren't sure and kept patting Sweet Pea were their paws maybe to make sure that it was real and to see what it would do. So as Sam and Bee and I made macaroni the cats very slowly pursued the newcomer throughout the house. I can't say any really understanding was reached, but there were no hostilities to report. No scratching, clawing, or biting took place. In fact,
Sweet Pea did better with the boys then Jason did. Although both of them tried climbing on the couch to get away from wanted feline advances. And in the end last night the game was called on account of allergies. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 176

Last night the boys and I were enthralled by the latest Maple Leaf heroics. Both of them marveled at the plucky tenacity of the local team as they came back to tie the Bruins in the 3rd. And ended up winning the game in a shootout. This morning in the Star the winning goal by Kadri was described as" looking like a kitten playing with a ball of string." Of course this gave the fur-faces some
ideas. Could they help train the Leafs with their cat-like moves and assist them in their brave goal of making the playoffs at this very late date? Rooney volunteered to show how he catches individual drips from the basement sink tap with his laser-like front paw speed. Rufus offered to school the team in reflexes he employs in ducking just at the very last second before his insane brother leaps at his head. One problem. This would have to be dry land training. The boys would definitely dislike the feeling of
ice on their paws (they are indoor cats after all) So it would be better if the Leafs came to Casa Big Cat for their training. What the heck, anything to get the Leafs into the playoffs, right? Rooney has even said he will wear the blue cape he was given to prevent him from licking his former nuppins. O.K., he didn't say that, he hates that cape. But maybe we can work something out. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 175

Here's my impression of the first man to land on the sun. "Ooo aaah! OOOoo! Aaa! (accompanied by much jumping around) Well, it killed on the Gong Show as a gag. But it's also the perfect impression of the first of the boys to put his paws in snow. Rufus stepped outside yesterday during the big March blow and he didn't really like it that much. "What's that freezing cold stuff on my paws!??" Followed by many tiny dance steps and a sprint back into the cosy confines of Casa Big Cat. Told you lads, the great outdoors isn't all that great -particularly in late winter/early/false spring. No sane cat goes out in this. Except the feral cat.
Remember boys, "see the cat with the snow on his fur, you can see he's been crying..." Stop clawing me. OK, I'll stop singing if you
stop mauling me. Hey boys, what to see my impression of the first cat on the North Pole? Didn't think you would. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 174

Cats are known for their amazing reflexes. That's why we say, "Wow, that Pete has cat-like reflexes." We don't say," Pete has dog-like reflexes." The boys are constantly honing this innate ability. Every day there are harrowingly narrow misses that could seriously mess them up. One cat suddenly leaps and the other ducks averting a crash that would be like demolition derby. This happens in Casa Big Cat all the time and it doesn't seem to concern the fur-brains. Me, I'm like "that was close- you almost killed him." And the boys just shrug their feline shoulders in a Trudeau-like gesture of who cares. Well, I care for one. What happens when their famous reflexes dull just a little - say, with the added weight gain of too much soft food? Mayhem, that's what. Crashing cat bodies all over the place. And who will get hurt? The Big Cat. A lot of this jumping and ducking takes place in the air space just above my head. It's like the Snowbirds air show but with fur. I'm like a big America's Next Top Model- watching air controller in my tub chair. Except I don't clear anyone for take-off. In fact, I'm declaring a no-fly zone around the Big Cat. Frankly, my reflexes are definitely more dog-like. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 173

Rooney thinks he is Jean Claude Van Dam. He struts around the house rolling his muscles in a way that summons up "The Muscles from Brussels", Van Dam's famous nickname. Being a smaller cat he smartly decided not emulate Arnold or Sly. But his "look at me
I'm magnificent" walk has just the right JCVD note. He could become a famous celebrity impressionist with this act. Rufus thinks
his brother looks ridiculous with all this muscle-rolling stuff and secretly snickers when Rooney walks past. Somehow the notion of styling yourself after a D-list Belgian action hero is entirely laughable to the sensible ginger cat. "What's next, speaking Flemish?", Rufus thinks to himself and shakes his head. He is quiet about his criticism though, because frankly Rooney could pound him into schnitzel or whatever it is the Belgians eat. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 172

Bee remarked how big the boys are now during her visit last night. And it's true they are grownup medium-sized cats. They'll be one year old in April. With that one year they've learned a lot. Here are 10 things the boys have learned in the last year. #1 If you get inside the bathroom knock over the dried flowers as soon as possible because the Big Cat will find you and throw you out of there. #2 Pussywillows are delicious #3 Rubber gloves in the basement are tasty, too #4 Hot air vents are the best place for a nap
#5 Water tastes better from the tap than the bowl #6 Never attack a cat when he is in the litter box #7 If the Big Cat sings you must attack him or he will continue #8 Jumping on the Big Cat's head after he falls asleep watching Cake Boss is very funny!
#9 Run as fast as you can after jumping on the Big Cat's head after he has fallen asleep while watching Cake Boss #10 If you purr the Big Cat will forgive almost any breakage. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 171

We are all creatures of habit. The boys especially. So what happens after 2 weeks of scratching at the Big Cat's door to wake him up
with no response? Or 2 weeks of lying at the front door awaiting that very same Big Cat's return from work - that never came. It brings a tear to the Old Big Cat's eye thinking of his lonely spurned charges. Anyway, they're not scratching at the door - at least not this morning (or yesterday come to think of it.) My furry alarm clocks are off the job. Maybe it's daylight savings that has thrown them? But then how to explain that they no longer greet me at the front door when I return home after a hard day at the lab? Instead, I can only surmise their little kitty hearts have been broken. And they done changed their way of living. Oh, how I miss their tender greeting. I hereby vow to regain their trust with a campaign of vastly increased lovin'. Maybe 2 cans of soft food tonight, boys! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 170

The boys are in training. I'm getting them ready for the outside world. First, they need to bulk up. Weed still outweighs them by
20 pounds easy. The fur-brains are now constantly hungry, so weight gain should be no problem. I now give them hard food (cat chow) in the morning. And soft food where I arrive at night. But even as they effortlessly devour this they swarm me for more.
Feed us! Feed us! Big Cat, we are hungry!! Size I can help them with. But what about street smarts? Cars. Dogs. Hell, coyotes! It's a
dog eat dog world out there. And when the dogs aren't eating each other they eat small cats like the boys. I need to train them in
tree climbing and like-minded survival skills. Yet the Big Cat was never much at climbing - I failed climbing the rope in gym as
my mother painfully reminded me the other day. Maybe instinct will take over. After all I never taught them to meow - some things just come naturally to cats. One thing I don't need to concern myself with is the sharpness of their claws. They've been keeping them oh- so pointy and perfect at the expense of every chair in Casa Big Cat including both leather recliners. Thanks, boys keep up the good work, remember you're in training now. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 168

Do cats have a sense of humor? Maybe. Yesterday I turned on the water in the kitchen sink for the boys like usual. And Rufus has learned how to turn off the water by sitting on the handle. So Rooney is trying to drink from the tap and Rufus sits on the handle. No water. I swear Rufus smiled at his very pissed off brother staring at him. Cat pranks could accelerate from here. Now Rooney will dip his brother's paw in warm water while he's sleeping causing him to pee. Hilarious! Rufus will retaliate by placing a whoopee cushion on the pillow by the front window. Rooney's next step will be carefully putting a layer of Saran Wrap over the litter box. Rufus counters by offering his brother an exploding cigar. Rooney responds by inviting his brother to sniff the flower on his lapel- and then it sprays him with water! Rufus offers to shake and make up - but he has a buzzer hidden in his paw! This is all well and good just as long as they don't involve the Big Cat in their practical jokes. The day they put shaving cream in my tennis shoes will be their last day on earth. This I solemnly promise. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 167

Ever been given the cold shoulder by a feline? This is the Big Chill times two at Casa Big Cat. And who can blame the boys? Their leader, the self-proclaimed Big Cat, thoughtlessly abandoned them for a fortnight. Alone, but for occasional visits from the cat sitter and Bee, the boys eeked (Eek!) out a miserable existence in a house that was cold and under-lit. Then, that very same Big Cat struts back in and expects a royal greeting - I don't think so, mister. The fur-brains brush by me ignoring me willfully. No affection for you, Big Cat - "Big Betrayer" is more like it! Big Fink. Big Heartbreaker. We will show you. We will take a toilet paper roll and reduce it to tiny white snowflakes and spread it throughout the entire house to show our displeasure. And that's just for starters! Our wrath will be withering! We will stage a campaign that will make Shock and Awe look like a child's birthday party. Really. We're serious here. But first, could you rub our tummies? Please!!!!!! Boy, that was one short war. O.K., Rooney c'mon over here. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - resumes

The wandering Big Cat is back from his adventures in New Zealand and everyone is mighty relieved at Casa Big Cat. Apparently the only misadventures were that Rufus got trapped in the Muskoka room for a day and rearranged my sheet music. And of course left
a present on the floor. The lads had also managed to open the door to get inside the blue box and had strewn cat food lids all over the floor. Gorette comes today so everything will soon be ship-shape. Much purring throughout the entire house - the Big Cat is back! The Big Cat is back!! xxx dad

Notice of interruption

The Kitten Chronicles will be on hiatus for the next 17 days while the Big Cat combs New Zealand for a good home for two very destructive fur-brains. The Chronicles will return March 9th.

the kitten chronicles - part 164

When you spend endless hours in the same tiny jail cell anything new tends to leap right out at you. Not that the Casa Big Cat is a cell, mind you, but the boys know this world intimately. So when I brought in the beautiful long-stemmed single rose that arrived for my birthday the boys spotted in the vase on the hutch right away. They immediately jumped up for closer inspection. I've seen this before so I tried to think of where I could put the rose that it wouldn't be chewed or knocked over. The bedroom, I thought, perfect. So I took the delicate rose upstairs to the bedroom thinking I had outsmarted the fur-brains at last. Then, I heard a crash
of breaking glass. The boys had taken advantage of my absence in the room to knock over my water glass, Aye carrumba!!!
It's like living with evil elves. Or maybe an vindictive polterguist. Except furry and purring when they do something bad. I fear for
the house during my absence in New Zealand there is still so much left to break. Sigh... xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 163

Cats continue to dominate the news. Yesterday the dispatches were full of "Larry the cat", the new addition to 10 Downing Street.
He's been brought in to deal with the rat infestation in the PM's official residence. Naturally, the boys are terrifically interested in
any cat-related stories. Rufus beamed (in a cat-like way) when I read to him how" Larry the cat" got his post. Apparently he showed skills playing with mouse toys in the Humane Shelter. Damn, Rooney could have easily got the job, then. He's a furry zen master of juggling a fake mouse. He tosses them in the air, batting them effortlessly with his paws at lightning speed. Pity the poor Wedgewood collection, though. And any bone-china figurines, as well. Rooney would dispose of them. This would greatly amuse the PM's two young children - his wife, maybe not so much. One other problem. Rooney still doesn't even understand Canadian English - it baffles him. He tips his head at me when I give him simple instructions( like being on an angle will help him understand better?). Imagine if he had to deal with all that confusing English slang like "cuppa", "boot", "lory" and "lift". His furry head would be tipping back and forth so much he'd seriously injure his neck. And then he would have to wear a collar. He famously doesn't do well with clothing (the humiliating "cape" drove him bonkers). So Rufus and I will have to put up with him a
while longer. No going across the pond for him. Although, all that water! Wow! He'd love that. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 162

Yesterday I read a story about a cat burglar in California who is actually a cat. At night he roams the neighborhood and steals stuff from people's houses. He's taken shoes, clothing -basically anything he can carry in his mouth and drags it back to his house. Rooney was impressed. This cat was an overachiever. Rooney so far has only taken my pens (very difficult to do work as a writer when your pen is missing) glue sticks, anything he can knock off the dining room table. This unfortunately includes his eye cream from the kindly cat doctor. I brought the cream home from the vet with every intention of putting it in Rooney's eye twice a day starting that next morning. Rooney scuppered that plan by making off with the tube during the night. "No Big Cat, you're not smearing that in my eye." The cat burglar cat displays his trophies proudly for his owners. My fur-brain hides everything. Luckily, these missing objects can often be found under the buffet, the couch and the piano - possibly under the stove, too. But I haven't moved it yet. I'll be that's where he's stashed the eye cream. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 162

The boys love water this has been much discussed in previous entries. It fascinates them. Water from a tap, any tap is completely magical and never loses its appeal for them. Water in a bowl is a non-starter. They never drink the water I put in their gleaming stainless steel water bowl. And why would they when you can leap up into the kitchen sink and have all the cool fresh water you can drink right out of a tap? Sometimes they put their paws into the flowing stream and lick the water off the paws .Delicious! And only tastes just slightly of paw. But today I saw something that disturbed me. The fur-faces had moved the laundry basket (not that heavy, I'd just done the laundry) and pried the cover off the drain. A couple of months ago I wrote about how I discovered a bunch of their toys down the floor drain. I thought it was just an accident they had landed down there. But now I think it's a carefully crafted plan by the fur- brains to flood the basement. Damn, if they weren't shoving more toys down the drain. Deliberately. Eventually water will come up (they can see it down there) and voila - they'll have all the water they ever dreamed about right there on the floor. What they don't know, just being tiny-brained cats who can't possibly compete with the massive intellect of their leader, the Big Cat, is I plan to vastly increase the laundry in the basket so they won't be able to move it off the drain cover. I may even change my shirt 6 times a day like Bobby Kennedy is said to have done. That will show them. The Big Cat is clever. He's also clean smelling. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 160

I was typing in hitbyatrain the other day (the Old 97's website) and Google offered me some very interesting suggestions as it tried to guess what I was typing. One of them was" Cats who look like Hitler". Strange, I thought. Better go and check to see if Rooney is posted on the site. Luckily, no sign of my furface - but many disturbing felines with a bizarre arrangement of fur mustaches and combed bangs. They call them "Kitlers". I've decided Rooney looks more like Dizzy Gillespie with his soul patch. Still, when I was watching the Grammys last night and Muse came on with their song that sounds like the Chi national anthem ("they cannot control
us....we will be victorious" go the lyrics) the boys began march around the living room in circles. And I thought I detected a little bit of goosestep in Rooney's march. Particularly when the Muse lads sang the lyric about turfing the "fat cats" - he also glared at me during this part. Are they planning to overthrow the Big Cat? I wouldn't put it past them. But then who would run the can opener for them? Bet they haven't thought about that! Typically shortsighted these Chairmen Meows. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 158

"Is your house completely destroyed yet?", someone asked recently. Well, thanks for asking. I have to admit the firestorm of destruction that is living with 2 teenage male cats has slowed to a crawl. Yes, all the furniture in the house now looks weirdly like mohair with a fine winter coat of cat fur. And the carpets have been very efficiently shredded. So far so good. Pottery destruction has fallen dramatically (fallen dramatically, that's a good one!). Possibly because the fur-faces have broken pretty much anything not anchored down. Rooney still tests whether he can push an unsuspecting vase over with his paw. Picture smashing has been steady if unspectacular this month. Litter spreading is a growth industry, however. The boys are proud that you can find a few
grains of their eco-friendly corn-cob litter in every corner of the house - including, sadly the inside of my bed. The horror! The horror! Phone destruction is down but mainly because the goal has been achieved. Casa Big Cat now has only one working phone.
The boys have chewed through the cords on every phone- except the wall-mounted kitchen phone and they're working on a circus act where Rooney stands on the shoulders of Rufus so they can take out the last thing the Big Cat can use to call for help. Hello?...911?... cats are destroying my............static. Dial tone... xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 157

The classic deep male voice is a scary thing to young children. And apparently to cats. So like most cat owners I employ a higher sing-song register when communicating with my charges. They seem to like this. Occasionally I forget and go all basso profundo on them. If I have been "overserved" the night before a deep croaky "Good Morning Gentlemen" might greet the cats as I teeter downstairs. This seems to alarm them. Is the Big Cat suffering from Demonic possession? So I sing to them in falsetto and inquire if they're enjoying their dinner in the voice of a 6 year old girl. They find this extremely pleasant and purr. This morning however I could not be restrained. I was going to pick up the paper and as I rounded the corner I saw the palm tree knocked over, dirt spilled everywhere on the white carpet and the wrong tone just came out. "Who is responsible for this?", I roared in a very deep voice. When the boys hear this they instinctively flatten themselves on the floor like two furry pancakes to make their cat bodies as small as possible, so hopefully I don't notice them. Then they run. So I never did get an answer to my question. I should have used the high voice.
xxx dad

the kitten chronicles = part 157

Talking to your cats is OK. When it gets bad is when you begin to think you understand the cat language and think they're having
a conversation with you. At least that's the thin line of sanity I'm determined to preserve in Casa Big Cat. And right now, there's
no inkling at all of any comprehension of all the meowing going on at my place. The boys call each other (at least that's what I
think they're doing in some rudimentary sense) but I have yet to decipher it. No Margaret Mead in Casa Big Cat. When I imitate
the yowling the lads just give me dirty looks. And sometimes destroy a piece of pottery. I do need to get them to come to my call occasionally - like when I have to lock them up in your mother's study (AKA the kitty cooler) when Gorette comes over to clean. And they completely ignore conventional stuff like "Here kitty kitty." "What the hell does he want? So demanding that pathetic Big Cat."Then I yowl. Quite badly actually. And I'm sure it means nothing in cat. But it works. The boys obediently trot upstairs to investigate who or what is foully mangling their language. And possibly to inflict severe punishment on the perpetrator. Then before they can find a pot or a clay platter to reduce to shards, I quickly shut the door on them. Ha, the wily Big Cat has triumphed
again. Frankly. actually learning a second language is overrated. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 156

I enter the house singing. "What's new pussycats whoa oh whoa oh whoa!" And the boys don't seem to be at all irritated by my
Tom Jones .Rooney rolls around on the mat by my feet and Rufus rubs up against my snow filled pant cuffs. The Big Cat is home!
All is right with the world. Who cares if he mocks us with his singing? We will soon be gorging ourselves on delicious tuna pate with gravy. This sounds awful but the boys love it. They are freaks for soft food from a can and the soft-hearted leader is giving it to them more often .It makes them happy so why not? The forecasted weight gain by the kindly vet has not occurred. The boys stay lean and muscular with their incessant high speed chases. With the odd break for when one fur-face gets trapped in a room behind a closed door. Not surprisingly, the trapped one is always Rooney. He runs upstairs goes in a bedroom and leans on the door 'til it closes. Then he can't get out. Rufus must stand outside and mew for help from the Big Cat to free his clueless brother.
So far Rooney has succeeded in trapping himself in the office, my bedroom and the upstairs bathroom. Maybe this is a clever way the boys can exercise their leader by making him climb stairs. Stop watching "The Policewomen of Houston" and start climbing Big Cat! Good thinking, lads. I'll give you soft food as your reward! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 155

Rooney has turned the tables on the Big Cat. He is now training me. Very clever, this cat. He doesn't want to sit in my lap and get patted like his brother. If I pick him up and put him there he jumps off soon after. But he needs affection. So he has set up patting stations throughout the Casa Big Cat. For example, in the morning I sit on the wooden stool in the foyer to put on my winter boots. As soon as I do this Rooney quickly jumps up on the ledge where the mail is and rolls around to get patted. If I'm working at the table writing headlines he jumps into the Betty bowl and rolls around to get patted. At first I thought I was training him but it's pretty clear this isn't the case. He's in total control. He maintains his fierce sense of independence and still gets all the love he needs. My training is coming along nicely - just ask him. He's now working on getting me to pat him when he's in the kitchen sink - where Bee thinks I should be spraying him with water to stop him from jumping up on the kitchen counter. And like a big sucker I go ahead and pat him in the sink. What the heck. He's a very happy well-adjusted feline who often purrs just lying there on the floor in front of the hot air vent. He's probably thinking about how he's got me wrapped around his little finger -or make that paw. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 154

King of the Hill is currently very popular at Casa Big Cat. Not the Beavis and Buthead animated spin-off, the" who can get the highest?" game for house bragging rights. Rufus began this morning by perching ever-so delicately on top of the ironing board (while still folded and leaning up against the wall. Rooney countered by assuming a position on top of the leather chair (didn't really look too comfortable - but hey, this game isn't about comfort, it's about reaching for the sky.) Rufus then leaped to the top of the piano in retaliation (it's like the freakin' arms race at my house these days!) So Rooney leaped on the kitchen counter and knocked over the vase holding the chopsticks - smashing it on the floor. Basically this was conceding he couldn't get as high up as Rufus so what about a little meaningless destruction instead? Always a popular choice with the fur-faces. Frankly I could see the next couple of moves like a Grandmaster of Chess - Rufus climbs into the ceiling tile and Rooney knocks over the television. I fooled them both by going to work. Without an audience the game isn't nearly as fun. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 153

From what I understand UFC is very popular with the younger demographic. What they find appealing about it is the no-holds barred aspect of the fighting. Go ahead do your worst and winner take all. These people should see the boys go at it. George Saint Pierre has nothing on the lads. For one thing biting is perfectly legal in a fight between the two fur faces. So is scratching. And kicking the other guy in the nuppins (or where the nuppins formerly were located in this case) If you like your fights savage and as unencumbered by needless rules as possible by all means come to Casa Big Cat one night and see the boys go at it. The fury, the speed and the intensity are unrivaled and very entertaining (unless a flying cat knocks over your beer in which case it is very annoying.) There are still a few rules in cat fighting. 1) No fighting when a cat is trying to eat. 2) No fighting when a cat is trying to lick itself (cleanliness is sacrosanct to the boys). And lastly, no fighting when Rufus doesn't feel like horsing around. He's very strict about this. And he has to be or his brother would fight continually every minute of the day. If Rooney attacks when Rufus isn't in the mood there is hell to pay. Rufus exacts punishment that is terrifying for his brother to bear. After this is over. They both lick themselves to settle down and all is forgiven. And so when you hear people talk about a "cat fight" you now know what they're going on about. And yes, fur does literally fly. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 152

Wake up Big Cat! It's Snowmaggedon! The boys were very excited this morning and wisely started scratching at the bedroom door at 6:30. Plenty of time for their leader to shovel snow before going to work. Still for all their hysteria there wasn't much snow.
Boys you should have let the Ol' Big Cat sleep. The fur-faces are also rev'd up about the coming Super Bowl. Rooney is growing his fur in a gigantic 'fro in tribute to the Steeler's fearsome Troy Polomolu. Rufus is convinced he looks like the Pack's Clay Matthews.
They are practicing their tackling at high speed. And both Super Bowl teams would be impressed. The boys leap in the air and crash into each other, often biting. Of course,in the NFL biting is not allowed. Also hard to do when you have a helmet on. Helmets are for wimps, Big Cat. We are tough. We need no freakin' pads. We can leap twice our own body length. Try that Hines Ward! Then they snicker thinking about Hines Ward trying to attempt this. To demonstrate their skills they then leap over my bass in the living room like it's a set or tires and they're doing an agility drill. Careful boys, damage that instrument and you'll find yourself outside in Snowmaggedon. Hope you can see the Super Bowl on the TV from there. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 151

Winter boredom is a killer. And how do you combat it? If you're a cat stuck inside a house in East York day after day you may resort to wanton destruction. Actually "may" is too mild. Destruction is your mainstay in the fight against boredom. Looking for something to do? Quick knock a picture off the piano. Remove the leaves from a plant. T.P. every room in the house - it's fun!!!
So it was with satisfaction that I viewed the return of an old favourite game last night. It's called' kitten in a blanket' and it involves no destruction - imagine my relief. Here's how it works. One cat crawls up under the blanket over the couch in the TV room. He twitches provocatively. The other fur-face notices this twitching. What is it? Something's moving under the blanket! The cat on top then "tries to establish the identity of what's twitching". This involves biting the twitching lump through the blanket. And pouncing on it. Which of course results in even more frantic twitching from under the blanket. Eventually the twitching lump twitches so much it falls off the couch and onto the floor. And look! It was Rooney after all! What a surprise! The regular chasing resumes.
Nothing gets broken. The Big Cat smiles. He is pleased. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 150

Rufus sits in the laundry sink just the tips of his ears visible. Occasionally his head pops up as he looks for his brother. He is hiding. I step out of the laundry room and see just a few white whiskers from behind a box of Sam's stuff in the next room.
Rooney is hiding, too. Who will make the first move? Or will they stay in this stalemate for hours? Eventually one breaks out of his hiding to try and find the other one- and the game's back on. This is the life of a cat at Casa Big Cat. Endless games of hide and seek with the odd break for a 6 hour nap on a cushion. Not a bad life really. Oh there are fights over who get to lie right in front of the hot air vent in the front hall, but the loser simply slinks back to the TV room and lies in front of the vent under the stairs, There's plenty of hot air to go around for everyone. A third cat would be out of luck. Last night the boys watched the 4th Kind (a movie about alien abduction) with me - but all the screaming humans put them off and they soon fled the room for something quieter. The moaning of the Big Cat while he watches the Leafs or the Raptors is tolerable but the screaming of people being probed by aliens is really too much. These films should come with a warning "Not suitable for sensitive cats". xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 150

As self-appointed Big Cat of the Casa Big Cat household I have many responsibilities. Clean the litter box. Run the water in the sink. And keep Rooney from killing himself. No, it's not that the black and white fur-face is deliberately trying to off himself - at least I don't think so. It's that he now regularly tries to eat things that could damage his health. Last night I heard him busily chewing on something on the stairs - so I decided to take a look. It turned out to be a paper clip. OMG! What kind of insane feline
likes the taste of a plastic wrapped paper clip? Wait! Plastic wrap. That's it. This cat is more like a dog or maybe a goat. Could this be behavior he learned on the farm from observing goats as a young impressionable kitten? Whatever the cause, it is now my duty to keep said nutty cat from swallowing and/or choking on something. I'm sure if we could communicate he would tell me he was just trying to use it as a toothpick. After all, he had pate for dinner. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 149

Bad boys get all the press. And so to counter this I'm devoting this entire entry to Rufus. Let us sing his praises. He doesn't eat plastic. He walks obediently at the Big Cat's heel - quite dog-like actually - I could enter him in the dog show in New York and he'd easily mop the floor with those mutts. Rufus is also patient, he will lie in my lap through endless horrible Leaf and Raptor losses and the the terrible groaning and screaming from the Big Cat does not faze him one bit. He sleeps through it all blissfully.
Rufus maintains a remarkable standard of cleanliness. Unlike his brother, whose fur makes him a kind of four-legged Swiffer and is often covered in dust bunnies and other foreign objects. Rufus snickers at this. In fairness, he also benefits greatly from being the Alpha cat in the house. This means that Rooney licks his head to show his subservience - that's double the cleaning power.
Easier to stay perfectly groomed. Rufus is also a tremendously talented drummer pounding his paws in a wide variety of tasty riffs on 1) The glass on the back door to frighten squirrels away from the bird feeder 2) any glass shower door - he's still mad about being trapped in the shower 2 weeks ago. He's also very good at ducking, which is a vital skill if you live with an insane brother who's constantly planning sneak attacks. Quite noble, all in all. Long live the ginger cat! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 148

Rooney is sleeping on the job. His position as co-alarm clock at the Casa Big Cat is in serious jeopardy. Here's how a typical morning at the house should work. The Big Cat lies in bed in a heap moaning softly and regretting his birth and his activities from the night before. This ends abruptly at around 6:45 when there is scratching at the door. A clear signal that the day must begin now. Staggering to the door the Big Cat opens it and is immediately greeted by the boys who charge past him into the forbidden
bedroom. "Morning, gentlemen" the Big Cat moans to his young charges as he gingerly makes his way down the stairs. The lads quickly have a few nail-sharpening exercises on the carpet and then run down the stairs trying to beat the Big Cat to the living room. This is no contest. They win every time. But horrors! Rooney has been late to his morning duties for three days now. I open the door, Rufus is there. And hearing the door open, Rooney charges up the stairs playing catch-up. Late again. Is he up all night chewing stray plastic utensils? Partying with his stuffed squirrel? Maybe he's just all tuckered out from planning the endless sneak attacks on his brother? Clearly 23 hours of sleep a day isn't enough for our black and white friend. Rufus just shakes his head. "You can't soar with the eagles in the morning if you've been wallowing with the pigs all night, brother", purrs Rufus. A valuable lesson here, one even the Ol' Big Cat could profit from learning. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 147

Can pets have pets? Rooney has adopted Sam's stuffed squirrel. He carried it upstairs from the basement like carrying a kitten in his mouth. And now he goes over and licks it around the ears like he does with his brother. At first I thought he regarded the squirrel as an enemy (see Kitten Chronicles - part 82?). But now I see he's using it as a companion for the times Rufus won't play with him (Rufus, in his defense, wants to do sensible cat things like lie in front of the hot air vent and Rooney wants to chase and bite him constantly - this gets old fast) So now Rooney has his squirrel pal. Despite being severely cuffed around the squirrel won't chase him. This causes him to chase his tail instead. I'm beginning to think it's all the plastic he's been eating that is rapidly unhinging him. Yesterday I caught him on the kitchen counter gnawing on a spatula - so I've hidden all the spatulas in a drawer.
I don't want to contribute to his feline breakdown. The Big Cat ain't no enabler. Better he enjoy his stuffed squirrel. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 142

The boys are still very curious about going outside and they're not in the least bit concerned with snow and bitter cold. I've tried to explain to them that none of the other cats go out in this kind of weather - which is actually true. But they're not buying it. Luckily 905 has come to my rescue. In an extreme Rob Fordian tantrum Oakville, Caledon and Mississauga have banned cats from going outside. This is to prevent them from the mass killings of songbirds. According to the fanatic suburban crowd, cats kill 1.4 million birds a day in North America. The boys were pleased when I told them this. They murmured something like "the work is going well". So I have decided to tell the fur-faces (on the advice of my Mother) that we live in Oakville. I'm not sure if they're entirely buying it- for one thing we don't have a pool. Or a Lexus. But as long as there's snow all over the Fit maybe they won't notice. The fact that we live in Oakville also explains why I come home so darn late some nights. As long as I remember to keep complaining loudly about Toronto and the War on the Car when the boys are within earshot. But when winter's over they'll be wondering why they can't see Lake Ontario from the front window. Then...watch out songbirds! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 141

I've been watching the Australian Open with the two Roo's. Sometimes they will sit on the carpet and follow the ball back and forth moving their heads like true tennis buffs. Then the announcer will scream."Crikey!!!" or something like that and they'll be so startled that they'll run out of the room. It's not that they don't appreciate an amazing backhand winner, it's just they see no reason to yell about it. Other times the Roo's wil bounce around the room leaping high in the air lending a true Aussie feel to the whole experience. The boys like Marcus Bagdados because he looks like a cat. He's a slightly pudgy Cypriot who wears his hair in a tiny ponytail like Comic Book Guy in the Simpsons and sports some scruff that looks like whiskers. Nadal scares them. It could be the
muttering in Spanish or the sleeveless shirts, but they tend to go down to the basement when he comes on. They both started snickering in that disturbing cat way when they saw Venus Wiiliams' dress - to them it looked like a cat had clawed the material (at least that's what I thought they were laughing about- I don't completely get the fur-faces sense of humour) I plan to get some tennis balls out to see whether they could be ball boys. It looks simple enough to them on TV - just chase the ball. It's bringing the ball back that will be the challenge. Still, I'm fine if they just roll the ball back to me - no need to pick it up lads! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 140

"Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast" I'm not sure who wrote that but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a cat. My mission to introduce the boys to music is going dismally. Yet. I persist. On the weekend I pulled out my flute and gave the lads an impromptu concert. As soon as they heard the unfamiliar sounds they scampered down to the Muskoka room to find out what it was. They sat there on their haunches like a pair of stone lions. And I played "Serenade to a Cuckoo" and "Swingin' Shepherd Blues". Now I freely admit to having a lot of rust in my playing - but heck, cats can't tell wrong notes anyway. Or can they? They both were on their backs with their paws over there ears in obvious pain. Critics! And in my own house. If you're so smart you fur brains then why can't you learn the simple "meow" part to the song I wrote for you? Look at Stephanie, I said to them, she can sing. And then I pointed to the picture of Bee from her CD release party framed on the cupboard. Frustrated with their lack of effort I left the room.
Seconds later I heard a huge crash. I re-entered the living room to find the photo of Steph, glass shattered,on the floor. Well, this is just too much! First they attack the picture of the baby Samantha and now their other rival must be leveled, too. "Hell hath no fury like a cat scorned." I'm not sure who said that either. But I think it might have been Rooney. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 139

The theme to the Kitten Chronicles is: We pressured our Dad into getting kittens. Now the kittens pressure him to write about them. Which makes it sound like the Ol' Big Cat is the one under all the pressure. "But is this true?", asked Unk over dinner the other night."Aren't the boys under pressure to provide you with lively material for your blog every day?" I had never thought of it that way! And now I can see that the fur faces extremely bad behavior has a silver lining of a sort. They just want to generate juicy source material. Which totally explains why they turned an entire toilet paper roll into confetti yesterday. Normally they just unroll the whole thing and drape it all over the room - mundane stuff that can be found every day on You Tube videos of kittens. So they put a new spin on their destruction, the clever lads! They tore the roll into teeny tiny pieces that made it look like it had snowed in the basement. Now that's innovation! But you can see that coming up with these new ideas all the time is taking its toll. And probably explains their hair loss. They're not just shedding - it's falling out from the pressure. And at last the revenge of the Big Cat is complete. What compelling act of domestic terror will you come up with boys for tomorrow's blog? Wow, now that the pressure's on the boys I'm feeling a whole lot more relaxed. Maybe I'll stop shedding. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 138

I'm beginning to suspect Jingle Cats was a fake. All attempts so far to get the boys to sing on command have failed dismally. I even composed a song about the feral cat they saw outside shivering in the snow to the tune of Phil Collins' Another Day in Paradise. I sang it to them with great poignancy. "See the cat with the snow on his fur/ You can see he's been crying" (OK, I'm pretty sure cats
don't cry - but I wanted to reach the boys emotionally)"Seeking warmth in the cold and the night/ you can see he's been trying/
(Not the strongest lyric, I admit - but it reinforces the feral cat's plight to the fur-faces) Now comes the part they're supposed to help me with - the chorus. "Meow once" (They're supposed to meow here.) "Meow twice" (they go "meow, meow" here obviously)
"It's just another day for you and me in Paradise". You'd have to be a kitten with a heart of stone not to be moved. I tear up just writing about it right now. But do you think I could get a single meow in the right place when we rehearsed it? Just blinking. Maybe it's Phil Collins, he's definitely "out" right now and the boys know it. They're up on all the latest things. They'd probably prefer "If I was the only cat in the world" by Rihanna. I'll work up some lyrics later today. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 137

I now truly look like a Big Cat. My coat is covered in black and white fur, the very same fur that usually covers Rooney. I have worked hard as a cat owner to prevent this. I change regularly into cat handler clothes and guard my work clothes at all times behind closed closet doors. Until Friday, that is. Friday night I took out my ski jacket and hung my black wool work coat in the front closet. Mind you, it was dark when I undertook this. Next morning I open the bedroom door and only Rufus is there. Where's your devious, up-to-no-good brother?, I inquired of him. No response. I called Rooney. He might be sleeping in, after all it was the weekend. Still nothing. So we go to the front door to bring in the newspapers and Rufus starts pawing at the foyer closet door. So naturally, I open it. Out stumbles a very embarrassed Rooney who had been in there all night. Apparently he agrees with the Tiger Mom who wrote about sleepovers being bad- because he vigorously rolled his furry self all over my overcoat in protest.
Best Way Cleaners really love me these days. xxxdad

the kitten chronicles - part 136

If you were Rufus you would have a tough job. Rufus is the alpha male of the two fur faces - odd because his brother is the bigger of the two. Which makes his job more difficult. He must keep his deranged brother in line. His brother is Mr. Sneak Attack. Forever waiting, whiskers twitching madly just around the corner when you're entering the room. He lives to be ready to pounce. This is
a burden on his peace-loving brother. But justice must be meted out and no ambush can go un-repayed or it would upset the natural balance at Casa Big Cat. This calls for many wrestling matches on the top of the stairs where both cats holding each other in a death grip tumble helplessly down the staircase and land splat on the hardwood floor. This breaks the hammerlock and the chase starts again. Frankly, Rufus looks worn out from all of this. He'd vastly prefer to be semi-watching Ice Road Truckers from the comfort of my lap. "Big Cat, why don't the truckers wait until Spring when the ice has melted?" Wow, even a cat can figure out the plot in that reality show is pretty dim. But of course, the answer is - there's a job to be done. For the Ice Road Truckers and for the Uber cat in the house. If Rooney ever gets the idea he could wrest the mantle of control from his brother we're all in very serious trouble.
xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 136

New room equals new drama. That's the way we roll at Casa Big Cat. Last night I made the mistake of leaving the bedroom door open after I changed from my work clothes. As I sat eating my dim sum I heard a tremendous amount of clattering from the bedroom. Oops, forgot to close the door better get the boys out of there before they break something. Up I go and look around the bedroom. No fur faces anywhere. So I close the bathroom door. Turn out the light and close the bedroom door. They must be in the basement, I figure. I just get settled in watching The Hustler and there's more noise but now with added yowling of distress.
Back upstairs. No sign of cats in the bedroom. But when I open the bathroom door Rooney fires out like a heat seeking missile.
He's knocked over the vase with the dried flowers, taken out a full roll of toliet paper and removed all the towels. What fun! But where is his normally responsible brother. More yowling. It sounds like it's coming from the secret room? But Rufus can't have gotten in there? Another yowl!"Help, Big Cat!" Oh, there you are, Rufus. Somehow he was trapped in the shower. But how did in jump inside? The walls are over 6 feet. Was he trying to escape his brother? Anyhow, once inside he was trapped and couldn't get traction on the glass sides. I opened the shower door and he ran for his life downstairs. Maybe he was trying to wash off the sweet and sour sauce from the day before? xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 135

I do wonder what goes on at the Casa Big Cat when said Big Cat is away. Yesterday Bee found out. Mayhem, that's what goes on.
When she came into the house she was confronted by a very disturbed Rooney who appeared to be bleeding from a head wound.
After getting over this initial shock Bee examined him a little closer and found what appeared to be blood was in fact sweet and sour sauce. The fur-brains had found a plastic container of sticky orange sauce on the counter and had spread in everywhere including over themselves. I hope Rooney looked embarrassed to be found in this condition but I'm pretty sure he was appearing completely nonchalant about his appearance. "Red dye #6 in the fur? All the cool cats are doing it these days haven't you heard?"
That's the thing about Rooney he is shameless. His brother, much more dignified, just shakes his head in exasperation. "Some days I can't believe we came from the same mother", he mutters. So anyway Bee cleaned everything up and when I came in that night the boys did an excellent job of pretending nothing at all had happened. Bloody paw prints everywhere? Prove it, Big Cat, prove it.
xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 134

What do you do when your cat acquires a taste for plastic? It's very weird but something about the smell or texture of soft rubber or plastic is very attractive to the demented black and white cat in the house. Yesterday I found him gnawing on the plastic spatula in the container on the kitchen counter. This after decimating the plastic lizard collection at Christmas. I also caught him in the recycling container under the sink rummaging through the tin can and plastic containers. He thinks he knows how to get the cupboard doors open under the sink. Basically he just pounds them with his paws hoping this will spring them open and he can get into plastic-eating heaven. This doesn't always work though. Sometimes he just gets frustrated and stalks away muttering to himself. In other proud accomplishments - Rufus can now turn off the kitchen tap. I turn it on for them in the morning so that they can have a drink and Rufus sits on the handle and turns it off. He's done it a number times now and is very pleased with himself. One final mystery. Last week I came home to discover that the fridge door was wide open. And horror! The beer was warm. The boys had eaten some olives. But they haven't yet learned to open the pickle jar.Lucky they don't like mayo. The Big Cat is safe there. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 133

You have to wait one hour after eating before you can go in the water. Some rules are more hard and fast than others. In Rooney's case the rule should be don't eat your morning cat chow and then mere seconds later charge around the house trying to bite your brother. This will result in you losing your breakfast. Ah youth! And how to communicate this to a high strung impetuous teen cat.
They just won't listen. Anyway now I know that residual lizard tails aren't causing Rooney's tummy troubles. Lack of proper digestion time is more likely. Damn this strenuous cat training program! It's either feast or famine with the boys - high- speed break- neck racing - or lying around on the floor like boneless chicken breasts. Such is the life of a cat at Casa Big Cat. Middle
ground is so tedious. Live life on the edges lads - but know there will be a price to be paid! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 132

Being the Big Cat is a big responsibility and I worry. Rooney threw up again this morning. Could it be the after-effects of too many Christmas plastic lizard tails? Or just regulation fur-ball elimination? Who knows. The boys themselves are only momentarily distressed by the incident and quickly move on to their normal routine of lying on the floor in a particularly casual way and of course, drinking from the sink. I'm actually not sure why I continue to fill and clean their water bowl. They walk right by it and glance over their shoulders in distain." You expect me to drink from a bowl, Big Cat? How laughable. The sink is the only true source for water!" They've now taken to leaping up immediately after I pour the remnants of my drink down the drain. They find the remaining ice cubes delicious. Maybe that's what's giving Rooney the upset stomach - leftover eggnog. As I left for work both boys were standing on the table looking through the front window stretched out like abnormally tall meerkats. Rooney turned to Rufus and murmured something. I'm just guessing but I think he said, "The Big Cat looks worried - good." xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 131

The kittens are getting suspicious about their leader. They huddle together and murmur softly. I think they suspect the Big Cat is not a cat. They had no such doubts when they were small. They missed their mother and badly needed a substitute. So they followed me around endlessly mewing. And I tried to give them guidance. But now the rebellion is on. Here are the important clues that the Big Cat may not in fact be a cat at all as compiled by Rooney and Rufus. #1: The Big Cat is allowed on the kitchen counter and cats aren't allowed on the kitchen counter #2 The so-called Big Cat never laps up water from the tap like we do - he uses the Cedar Springs water cooler - very fancy! #3 The Big Cat goes outside and cats are not allowed outside. #4 Never uses litter box
#5 Breath doesn't smell like cat food #6 Cannot speak cat - in fact his meowing is a pathetic mockery of our dialect #7 Appears to have no tail! (he could be hiding it however) #8 Sleeps in a different room (although he has been seen to sleep in a chair like we do) #9 His whiskers are an embarrassment #10 Completely ignores the Nature channel and watches sports constantly on TV
We do not think he is a cat. But as long as the kibble keeps flowing we will continue our study. xxx Rooney & Rufus

the kitten chronicles - part 130

Do kittens make New Year's resolutions? Like" I resolve to stay off the kitchen counter this year." Or "I resolve not to chew on the brand new leaves on the Big Cat's house plants." Not bloody likely. But something's definitely up. The boys have recently taken on a new fitness plan that involves way more high speed chases. Did they notice they'd put on a few from all the special Wiska's Tuna Delight? Maybe. So now your life is at risk if you attempt crossing the room when the fur-faces are flying around. Their motto?" He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day." This results in an endless series of sneak attacks. Rooney will wait until Rufus is least expecting it and suddenly charge over and nip on his brother's back paw - and then run for it. Revenge is not served cold at Casa Big Cat, however. It is immediate and brutal with much rolling around and pawing to the head. Has the warm weather given them Spring Fever? Well, they're in for a long bout, winter's just started, boys - don't let the absence of snow in Toronto fool you.
If this is a resolution, I for one wish they could have picked "I resolve not to knock whatever the Big Cat have put on the dining room table under the buffet." Now that's a good one! Saves me from having to lie on my stomach and fish my car keys out from under furniture with a wooden spoon. Happy New Year, lads. xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 129

The other night I was coming home from dinner at Chuck and Sally's and as I came up the walk a big black cat yowled at me.
I gave him a quick pat and he followed me up onto the porch. I knew the boys would be waiting in the hallway to greet me on the other side of the front door so I carefully opened the door, stepped inside and scooped up both the lads. Then I opened the front door and held them within a foot of the black cat who was rolling around on the front step. You should have seen their expressions! They were completely gobsmacked!! What? There are more creatures like us outside! Amazing! In their universe there had been only 2 cats but this was a major discovery - intelligent furry life outside of their planet! They both looked at each other - did you just see that? Another cat! I closed the door and Rooney ran to the mail slot and tried to see his new pal meowing wildly. Just wait 'til Spring boys and we'll see about going outside and playing with other cats. Let us out, Big Cat! Let us out! xxx dad

the kitten chronicles - part 128

I'm pretty sure that destroying a nativity setting is a serious sin and if so Rooney is headed for kitty hell. I was worried about possible Christmas tree ornament mayhem but I never thought I'd catch a cat with the baby Jesus in his mouth! Let me explain. Each year the girls set up an extremely "original" depiction of the birth of the saviour featuring a host of lizards, horses, seals and other animals. This year the part of the baby Jesus was played by a baby tiger - O.K. that's bad enough! But it gets worse when a brain dead fur-face decides to attack the setting. On Christmas Eve Rooney figured that the plastic lizards tasted mighty good and ate the legs and tails off about eight of them. This had the predictable result. He threw up the next morning all over the buffet.
A learning experience you might think? Nope. The very next day I caught him with the baby tiger in his mouth he was gnawing on it. At that point I decided for his health I'd better put the whole thing away in the box for next year. Maybe he won't like the taste of plastic next year? If he starts chewing on the plaster- of- paris Wise men it could be even harder on his digestive system. That cat is just plain weird! xxx dad