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