summer_jackel

Of cats I have these, in order of aquisition:

Magic, who looks and acts pretty much exactly as she did when I adopted her as a putative 5 year old in 1999. Glossy black and opinionated, almost certainly a shape-changed witch;

Tiger, the house imp, aka "the Gay Choreographer Cat." He is a bengal, which means that he is feline, but not exactly a cat, in subtle ways;

Trucker, a shapeless kitten mill expatriate obtained some years ago;

Cyril, found beneath a bridge, now Tiger's "younger man" and glossy, strutting swain;

Tequila, feckless and ever-purring airhead of a ragdoll kitten, inherited from a recent family crisis;

Denial, Daughter of Trucker, the cat who gives no fucks. Inherited from a recent family crisis;

Accent, the awful feral tomcat who I had neutered and then released in my garden because I had nowhere else to let it go. A dark sealpoint with white paws, this is one of the most beautiful cats I've ever seen. He has, alas, not left, as I was hoping. Here's an agreement, you lean and desperate beast: Show me your attractive self occasionally, and I shall provide you with an evening's meal. Perhaps at some point we could work this up into touching your somewhat excessively tipped ears and applying a belled collar.

I'm looking forward to sending Tequila and Denial back home soon, but I'm afraid that there's no getting rid of this particular garden accent.

At least it's a pretty one?

(also hi LJ, I never know how to be present on the internet any more)

Captured by paparazzi.

( an affair filled with drama and glamor )

This is yesterday's NaPo installment; I wrote it last night but didn't want to boot the computer back up to post then. Today's will come later!

********
Two old cats, firewarmed, at rest
upon the hearth. Their soft purrings speak:
there have been many springs. We are
two old cats. We are content.

Life continues. Today is my day off; I am pedaling my bike trainer, which is what I am usually up to when I post. I just had to have the trainer serviced because use had worn the steel tube that attaches my bike's rear wheel to the trainer mechanism so that it was no longer flush and didn't hold the bike. The mechanic filed it down and added a washer, and then asked how much I rode it. I guess he isn't called upon much to repair trainers. I told him that I rode 20-30 hours a month, which is true, if less accurate and less personal than my first answer: enough to keep me centered, happy and sufficiently sane.

Comfort the Pictus cat died last night, and I am sad about it; there was perhaps a time when I felt a bit embarrassed about grieving a fish, but that's long past. I'd had him for seven years and got him as an adult; the outer observed age of the species seems to be about eight, so I think the little guy did ok with me. I got him on the way home from a really disastrous court appearance in my first year as an attorney; I'd made a bad newbie lawyer mistake and felt awful, thus "Comfort the catfish." He was a good little fish, and his active presence added a note of cheer and beauty to my home.

I'm in a place in life where a number of the animals that I obtained in my 20s are reaching their expected lifespans and passing, others who I have thought of as the babies are in their prime, and a younger generation is beginning to establish. It's a very bittersweet feeling, like thinking of who I was when I got that fish, how confused and trapped and not who I am now I was. How much happier I am now and how much more sorrowful. How much more myself I feel, how my life with these animals now feels smooth and harmonious, as the animals I used to have and don't anymore felt utterly right and perfect and different than these when I had them.

I walked my three sheepdogs this morning and then bathed Coba; I took Nikolai for a short walk and bathed him, too. Now I'm pedaling on the deck, hour 2.30, watching Tiger stalk around while Magic, 16, lounges on a cushion in what passes for midday sun around here. For Sysiphean boulders, you have to admit that they are awfully loveable and cuddly. I couldn't be happier.





( cats, dogs, bugs, slugs )

It rained today---a beautiful, warm rain that will keep everything green for some time now. The quality of light and color is just gorgeous, so many shades of green accented by occasional flowers, and I spent as much of my day outside in it getting as wet as I could---the morning in the garden and on the bike (inside), a beach trip in the afternoon and a bath on my deck in the evening. Photos won't capture it, but I had fun trying.



( rain on plants, shades of green. Also some dogs and cats. )

It's been a busy week in the best way. I'm now 35 (as of the 31st). I'm loved by some wonderful people, and am very happy and grateful for that.



Check out the cake that kynekh_amagire made me. It is a rainbow catfish cake! The woman has SKILLZ, ok?

( An assortment of various photos: cake, cats, beachdogs, alien dinosaur people and garden brags. )

My menagerie has some new arrivals.

You may remember back in October, Kyn and I rescued three feral kittens and the neutered male cat who was taking care of them. The lady who had been caring for them reclaimed the cat, but despite a great deal of effort to place them, two of the three kittens are still with us. Kitten season is upon us again, and the lovely Cyril is no longer at the "tiny and cute" stage. The sad truth is that the supply of black and white moggies is far in excess of demand. He came to join my household a couple of weeks ago.

This pretty face was the one that filled me with delight in the seconds before I realized that he was a feral and was less delighted. Kyn and her household (including Rooster) did a fabulous job of socializing him; he's growing up to be just gorgeous, and incredibly friendly. He loves dogs, and is courteous with my other cats. As he has gotten though his audition period with me, is great company and causes little trouble, I am permitting him to stay, but I have absolutely, positively NO room for any more cats. Do you hear that, universe? Please don't send me any more; it makes me sad to have to cast them into an uncertain universe and I'm at my limit.



Isn't he a cute little guy, though?

( More Cyril, dogs, a bird shot, spiders )

I have the day off and have spent the morning pedaling the trainer. Yesterday's ride was difficult and intense, but yielded ideal results in terms of mental space. This morning, as I pedal up, I alternate between 'ow! ow! legs hurt! Why are you on a bike now?!' and an overall sense of floating well being. There are animals here to distract me. They do things like this:



( Adventures of Tiger and jays )

Kittypix have been requested, and after all, how fair is it that the pack is so over-represented just because I can take them to picturesque places? Felines demand representation (and tuna). So I give you: Cats, cats and nothing but the cats!



Magic and Trucker say "ok fine, where's the tuna?"

( They who sayeth Meow )

I told a friend that I'd do what I can to spread the word about this dog:



She's a Husky/Aussie in Northern Cal. As I understand the situation, she was a foster who didn't get along with the host family's Miniature Pinscher (a 5-lb toy). While the people were away and the dogs being dogsit, the husky killed the minpin, and if this dog isn't gone by Sunday when they get home, the people are going to have her put down.

This is an unfortunate illustration of what happens when one does not integrate a pack carefully or have the dog-awareness needed to prevent this kind of incident. This huskyX is a friendly dog who gets along with males just fine and would probably do ok with other bitches of like size, if properly introduced and maintained. But bitches sometimes just won't get along, and when you throw a toy in the equation, things can get bad. I, for instance, trust that Jez is fond of the shelties, but I would never leave them locked in the kennel with her and I divert the shelties elsewhere if they get too playful with her. I don't leave Jez in the house unsupervised because I don't believe in asking for trouble, and I know the personalities and limitations of my dogs.

Dogkeeping isn't rocket science, but it can be subtle, and they are animals with their own social rules that don't always seem nice to people. It would be good if the dog didn't get in trouble for doing what made perfect sense to her, a thing that should have been prevented by her keepers. This incident isn't the animal's fault and I know that she probably doesn't have a whole lot of chance, but I'm throwing it out there because I can. As a cautionary tale if for no other reason.

In other animal-rescue news, Kyn and I both now have bathrooms full of extra cats---a stray mom and her three kittens that we found while strolling along a bike path, spiderwatching. We got 2 kittens a couple of weeks ago and lost the rest; Kyn was able to get mom and another kitten yesterday. They're nice and should be adoptable. I currently have the momcat, a sweet, beautiful big solid-black panterish looking beast, and we'll be spaying and re-homing the lot of them. I'm also catsitting my mom's 2 Siamese until she finds a more stable place to live, which I hope happens soon. There are worlds of drama with my mom that I'm really not going into here, but Lilac and Missy Vodka and Denial are nice cats.

All of this means that I am now hosting SIX felines...which is working, but it's a little catful. At least they all get along and are good going outside (well, all but the new one, who's confined until she's spayed and way more relaxed than she is now).

Still...four little black moggies off the streets before Halloween. That's happy news, right?