Joey And Me

Or rather, just one of them. Normally, this girl tries to grab me and pick me up. Now, for anyone that hasn’t seen me in person, this means picking up 15 pounds of orange cat, usually around the middle. Not fun. Not done. She comes in and I go out.

Until today, of course. She likes to clean up, this young girl does. She helped Cheryl straighten out the living room and the front hallway. The Goddess only knows why, but she’s developed a fondness for what Cheryl calls a ‘vacoom cleaner’. If ‘vacoom’ means noisy and prone to blasts of warm air, then yeah, that’s what this thing is.

Anyway, our young friend wanted to use the vacoom cleaner and my basket, loaded down with all manner of junk, was in the way. What does this kid do? She proceeds to take everything out of the basket and tell Cheryl that she, Cheryl, had better put the stuff right away. That got my attention. That was my basket she was playing with. Well, while the living room was being vacoomered, my basket was in the front hallway. I could still hear the noisy machine, so I went into the kitchen. I wasn’t going to go too far away from my basket, thank you. Not now that it had been found.

Then the vacoomer thingy went upstairs, doing the stairs while she was on her way up. My basket was still in the front hallway, right near the front door. I knew that there’d be no point in going into my basket there. Cheryl was bound to move it. Once the neighbour girl left, Cheryl moved the basket to in front of the television. I don’t care that the rug has a bit of cat hair on it. I don’t care that the floor isn’t quite swept as it should be. I don’t care that there’s a garbage bag still to go outside. I HAVE MY BASKET BACK!!!

It’s naptime. In my basket. I’ll write more about the comfort of my own basket once I’ve had a nap or three in it. Ah!! to stretch out without banging into another cat! Aaaaahh!

• Kibble - $20
• Wet food - $15
• Litter - $10
• Treats - $5
• Life Lessons - Priceless

That’s pretty much how a cat works. Cheryl tells me hoomins are different. Well, I knew that!

Take, for example, the subject of food. Sure, it’s nice to have wet food and treats, but I’m not above investigating the garbage can. Well, you may call it a garbage can, but it still smells like chicken to me. Cheryl tells me that’s not the done thing for hoomins. They don’t know what they’re missing.

It’s like sleeping areas. I’ll admit, I’ve grown rather fond of sleeping in a warm bed at night, but afternoon naps under the neighbour’s lilacs don’t hurt anyone. The neighbour only minds when she catches me which isn’t very often. Of course, this is the same one that can’t tell dog poop from cat poop, so I don’t know how much you can believe about anything else she says. But Cheryl minds. Another hoomin no-no.

Water’s another thing Cheryl and I disagree on. I don’t care how old I am. I still want to know where the water goes when you flush. And where does the water come from to fill up the bowl? I’d like to know that, too.

Some hoomin has been trying to teach Cheryl how to read Tail language. It’s not quite working out as well as Cheryl thinks. Of course my tail is erect when Cheryl follows me into the kitchen. I’m always glad to see her if she’s going to be feeding us wet food. Or treats. Treats are good.

The thing I get the biggest laugh out of, though, is Sari. Cheryl thinks Sari’s derisive tail bagging is aimed at something outside. Perish the thought that it might be aimed at Cheryl’s peering over our shoulders to see what we’re looking at! It’s embarrassing, you know. She’s not a cat. Why would a hoomin be interested in finding out if there’s a mouse under those blowing leaves? How would she know if a crow’s worth chasing? Most embarrassing, indeed.

Casey has Cheryl right where he wants her, of course. She sits down, he jumps in her lap or on the keyboard and demands to be petted. She obliges. I tried that once. She just about dropped me! Her shoulders are safer than her arms - and wider! Not that I go up very often any more. I’m getting a bit too big to manage heights comfortably, if you know what I mean.

We figure Smoky turned seven this year and she’s getting mellow in her old age. It used to be that she’d only sleep in Mem’s old room. Then she’d sleep in Cheryl’s room, on a box or the bookcase; never on the bed. Last night, not only did Smoky sleep on the bed, but she slept there while Cheryl was in the bed! A most drastic departure from her normal routine, but Cheryl thinks it’s cool. Cheryl figures it means Smoky finally accepts her as more than just food and the occasional pat. I haven’t had the courage to ask Smoky, to be honest. For all I know, it could mean that Smoky just hates getting slivers from the bookcase. They’re both female, Smoky and Cheryl. I’m not even going to try to second guess either one. I’m not masochistic.

We’ve had a succession of cats and kittens in for the last several years. Cuddles has found a new home with Paris and her hoomin. The kittens we found this time last year have all found homes, thanks to Sask Alley Cat Allies. Delores is a bit of a character some days, but she works hard for the cats and kittens in her care. We have one foundling left to find a home for. We haven’t named her yet, but hopefully Delores will be by next week and we’ll think of something by then.

It’ll feel strange not to have the foundling around, but it’ll be nice to have Smoky and Sari in better tempers again. It’s not that they actively hate the kitten, they just don’t like what the foundling likes and growls every time she comes near. The foundling likes playing with tails.

 And looked so cute.

Well, a bunch of guys and a girl. I’m not much fussed on the noise they’re making, but Cheryl says that the house will be warmer once they’re done. That’ll be nice. I like warm. Cheryl also thinks that we’ll be getting some new weatherstripping (whatever that is) and a new thermostat for the furnace. If it keeps the cold out, I’m all for it.

In the meantime, though, I don’t get to see what they’re doing. Sari and Smoky say that there’s lots of plastic down there. What a wonderful place to sharpen my claws! Only Cheryl closed the basement door on me. Not a nice thing to do before I’ve had a scratch at the new stuff.

Cheryl and Petra have done a whole bunch of cleaning up. Now they need to do the sorting out and putting away. The living room is a bit topsy turvy yet. They moved the computer upstairs, so I can snooze on the couch while I’m waiting for Cheryl to go to bed. Much more comfortable than waiting on a chair downstairs.

One nice thing about having all those strangers in today (and tomorrow morning) is that the back door is open. I can come and go as I please for a time. We spent most of the afternoon outside, with Smoky being silly enough to go out the back door and try to get in the front door. Good thing Cheryl heard her mewing or she’d be out there still.

Well, Cheryl looks like she’s getting ready to go upstairs. Time for me to go get under the covers and reasonably warm.

Cheryl’s ticked. Royally.

The woman a few doors down hates cats and doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of respect for her neighbours, or so Cheryl says. That dog that was here yesterday left a present on the lawn. Cheryl had told the kid to clean up the mess, but he didn’t. The woman a few doors down complained to the landlord that she (the woman) had to clean up the *cat* poop so her kids could play. Question is, what’s her kids doing playing near our front step?

Not only that, but there’s a world of difference between cat poop and dog poop and if this woman wasn’t so dead set against animals in general, she’d have known that. I mean, I know my butt is a bit on the big side, but not *that* big! Sheesh!!

Ah, it’ll all work out in the end, I suppose. We’re only out for a short while and the old bear needs to realize that we’re not the only cats on the block. Maybe she could make that a part of her Catmas wish list - a new set of brains.