I'll get the bad news over with first: Matt's mom called today with the very sad news that two of Bella's kittens have died. Which is horrible but not entirely unexpected. I was astounded that she managed to even fit four babies inside her to begin with, and while of course hoping they would all live once they were born, I was not optimistic that they would all make it past the critical 2-week period. I never really know what to say about this sort of thing other than reporting the facts and acknowledging how sad those facts are, but believe me, despite their short lives I will not ever forget those tiny cats. I am glad they at least got to smell the dirt and the leaves under the blackberry bramble and to know the warmth of nestling with their siblings.
Okay before I start crying my eyes out here...I'll get to the good news. Which is that Matt's mom has managed to coax Bella into the house! She is there in the same fostering crate that Jack used when he was a baby -- with her two remaining offspring. Who by all accounts are doing well and "nursing constantly". I will get to go see them tomorrow evening and provided nothing changes between now and then, there will hopefully be more pictures of adorableness to behold. I am really, really rooting for this little family, and quite relieved that despite RRRRRR-ing at all approaching humans, Bella is reportedly eating a lot and starting to relax. We will let her nurse the babies and otherwise care for them without being bothered for at least a few weeks, and then bring her in for spaying. Then will come the task of finding adoptive homes for the babies -- the person who originally expressed interest has backed out, but I am determined that we will find the right person or people to take on these little ones.
Showing posts with label humans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humans. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Termite Termination...without evacuation!
Yep, the termites have been thwarted...without any need for humans or cats to vacate the premises! There was a bit of a miscommunication at the pest control company -- the only reason we'd initially been asked to leave for the duration of the treatment was because someone at the firm had been under the impression they needed to spray aerosol stuff in the crawlspace (under the house). But since they were just injecting insecticide into the dirt under the garage, there was really no conceivable way for any of it to get on or near any of the resident mammals. Which meant we got to stay in the house -- I shut everyone (myself included) into the computer room while the exterminator did his work, but even that was mainly to avoid getting underfoot.
I am sure the cats were NOT disappointed by this turn of events -- I mean really, they got to do exactly the same thing they usually do on a Friday afternoon (which is to say, sleep), no need for anyone to be shut up in a carrier and carted across town. Hooray! But by the same token, the experience of trying to plan a short evacuation has led me to figure it might be a good idea to have a "drill" once in a while, just in case we all ever DO need to get out of the house for any length of time.
I am sure the cats were NOT disappointed by this turn of events -- I mean really, they got to do exactly the same thing they usually do on a Friday afternoon (which is to say, sleep), no need for anyone to be shut up in a carrier and carted across town. Hooray! But by the same token, the experience of trying to plan a short evacuation has led me to figure it might be a good idea to have a "drill" once in a while, just in case we all ever DO need to get out of the house for any length of time.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Communication Crossover: Canine Edition
This past weekend I visited some longtime friends (a couple) who have no cats, but who do have a dog. His name is named Skip, and he is about eight years old.
Skip and I have somewhat of a turbulent history, in the sense that when my friends first adopted him (at about a year old) he was so intimidatingly hyperkinetic and gregarious that I frankly had no idea how to handle his presence. I spent many a visit following his arrival in my friends' household trying to avoid Skip and silently attempting to will him away from sticking his nose in my food (or my butt, for that matter).
My instincts were also apparently more than a little bit "off" because somehow at one point I got it into my head that if I gave him my pizza crust he would leave me alone. As you can probably imagine, this is NOT what ended up happening. What ended up happening was that Skip determined I had to be the world's biggest pushover, and thus for as long as he's lived with my friends he's had a tendency to follow me around, well, like a puppy dog.
Now, of course I don't literally believe humans can be divided into "cat people" and "dog people" in a strictly binary sense. I've known plenty of folks who've lived happily with both species (and also with rabbits, goats, chickens, and even llamas in the case of my grandparents!). But in general I am quite comfortable describing myself as, by and large, a Cat Person. Cats have always just seemed a lot more respectful of others' personal space, "oh hai, here's my butt in your face!" moments notwithstanding.
They also generally smell better than dogs (superficial, I know, but it's true...most dogs I've met smell disconcertingly like stale cheese, whereas cats smell like lavender and autumn leaves and fresh earth to my admittedly atypical olfactory system) and they're (generally speaking) a lot more inclined toward the "parallel play" type of interaction I tend to prefer with most living creatures, at least when I'm expected to remain in the presence of said creatures for any length of time.
With cats, you can just be in a room doing your thing and they'll be doing their thing, and even without constantly being in each other's business, there's this wonderful ongoing invisible-reciprocity thing at work. Of course there are exceptions to this (I actually just sat down again after a brief but intense game of "run madly around the house" with Nikki, who had been pestering me with her most emphatic "I AM BORED, COME ENTERTAIN ME, HUMAN!" door-scratching routine) but on balance I meet far more "parallel-inclined" cats and far more dogs who seem to want and need a heck of a lot of "face time" and very direct forms of acknowledgment.
Dogs, by and large, tend to put me into the same vaguely-agitated state that small children (of the age when kids tend to be yelling "LOOKATME! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT THIS! WATCH!" about everything) or human extroverts (of any age) do. As if they're constantly breathing down my neck going "Why are you so quiet? Are you upset? Are you bored? Are you lonely?? Are you okay? Are you SURE you aren't sad???", and then basically proceeding to repeatedly hassle me for some intangible response that I have no idea how to give.
That said, I've known a handful of truly excellent canines, such as my grandparents' old Australian Cattle Dog, Matilda. Matilda was outgoing to be sure, but she was so polite, and I remain indebted to her to this day for helping me find my way back to the house after I got lost in the snow as a youngster one winter. But overall at this point in my life I see dogs the same way I see children: fine, as long as they're other people's, and as long as they're not constantly jumping up in my face.
Which brings us back to Mr. Skip. At eight years old he's far from being a sedate dog but he's definitely mellower, and he's gotten a whole lot more thoughtful and patient. He still follows me around and gives me every manner of piteous begging-face, but his manners have improved tremendously and he is long past the age when he would actively stick his snout into my plate (or worse).
Anyhow, this last time I visited my friends and Skip, one really interesting thing I discovered was that there is actually some amount of crossover between relating to cats and relating to (at least some) dogs. Or at least there seems to be.
My guess is that it's something to do with practice -- as in, when you live with several nonhuman creatures day in and day out, you sort of end up shifting into a mode where you very readily and automatically start seeing them as "stakeholders" in the environment you share with them.
And when you experience that perspective-shift, suddenly you stop being as annoyed by whatever actions of theirs you don't quite understand.
Or something like that, at least.
In any event, during this past visit I actually managed to have a lot of fun interacting with Skip. The coolest part was where he approached me and taught me how to play a game he liked (one which mainly involved him running around the dining table playing a variant of "keep-away" with one of his toys). His humans had no part in showing me what to do; I just followed Skip's lead and found him to be a wonderfully clear communicator.
Again, partly I suspect much of this is due to the fact that he's older now than when I first met him, and I'm a lot more comfortable with mellow(er) older dogs than with hyperactive puppies and young dogs. But I am quite sure that something else -- something on my end -- has also changed, and I would wager my cats (especially Nikki, who is probably the most regally demanding cat I've ever met) are largely to thank for it!
Skip and I have somewhat of a turbulent history, in the sense that when my friends first adopted him (at about a year old) he was so intimidatingly hyperkinetic and gregarious that I frankly had no idea how to handle his presence. I spent many a visit following his arrival in my friends' household trying to avoid Skip and silently attempting to will him away from sticking his nose in my food (or my butt, for that matter).
My instincts were also apparently more than a little bit "off" because somehow at one point I got it into my head that if I gave him my pizza crust he would leave me alone. As you can probably imagine, this is NOT what ended up happening. What ended up happening was that Skip determined I had to be the world's biggest pushover, and thus for as long as he's lived with my friends he's had a tendency to follow me around, well, like a puppy dog.
Now, of course I don't literally believe humans can be divided into "cat people" and "dog people" in a strictly binary sense. I've known plenty of folks who've lived happily with both species (and also with rabbits, goats, chickens, and even llamas in the case of my grandparents!). But in general I am quite comfortable describing myself as, by and large, a Cat Person. Cats have always just seemed a lot more respectful of others' personal space, "oh hai, here's my butt in your face!" moments notwithstanding.
They also generally smell better than dogs (superficial, I know, but it's true...most dogs I've met smell disconcertingly like stale cheese, whereas cats smell like lavender and autumn leaves and fresh earth to my admittedly atypical olfactory system) and they're (generally speaking) a lot more inclined toward the "parallel play" type of interaction I tend to prefer with most living creatures, at least when I'm expected to remain in the presence of said creatures for any length of time.
With cats, you can just be in a room doing your thing and they'll be doing their thing, and even without constantly being in each other's business, there's this wonderful ongoing invisible-reciprocity thing at work. Of course there are exceptions to this (I actually just sat down again after a brief but intense game of "run madly around the house" with Nikki, who had been pestering me with her most emphatic "I AM BORED, COME ENTERTAIN ME, HUMAN!" door-scratching routine) but on balance I meet far more "parallel-inclined" cats and far more dogs who seem to want and need a heck of a lot of "face time" and very direct forms of acknowledgment.
Dogs, by and large, tend to put me into the same vaguely-agitated state that small children (of the age when kids tend to be yelling "LOOKATME! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT THIS! WATCH!" about everything) or human extroverts (of any age) do. As if they're constantly breathing down my neck going "Why are you so quiet? Are you upset? Are you bored? Are you lonely?? Are you okay? Are you SURE you aren't sad???", and then basically proceeding to repeatedly hassle me for some intangible response that I have no idea how to give.
That said, I've known a handful of truly excellent canines, such as my grandparents' old Australian Cattle Dog, Matilda. Matilda was outgoing to be sure, but she was so polite, and I remain indebted to her to this day for helping me find my way back to the house after I got lost in the snow as a youngster one winter. But overall at this point in my life I see dogs the same way I see children: fine, as long as they're other people's, and as long as they're not constantly jumping up in my face.
Which brings us back to Mr. Skip. At eight years old he's far from being a sedate dog but he's definitely mellower, and he's gotten a whole lot more thoughtful and patient. He still follows me around and gives me every manner of piteous begging-face, but his manners have improved tremendously and he is long past the age when he would actively stick his snout into my plate (or worse).
Anyhow, this last time I visited my friends and Skip, one really interesting thing I discovered was that there is actually some amount of crossover between relating to cats and relating to (at least some) dogs. Or at least there seems to be.
My guess is that it's something to do with practice -- as in, when you live with several nonhuman creatures day in and day out, you sort of end up shifting into a mode where you very readily and automatically start seeing them as "stakeholders" in the environment you share with them.
And when you experience that perspective-shift, suddenly you stop being as annoyed by whatever actions of theirs you don't quite understand.
Or something like that, at least.
In any event, during this past visit I actually managed to have a lot of fun interacting with Skip. The coolest part was where he approached me and taught me how to play a game he liked (one which mainly involved him running around the dining table playing a variant of "keep-away" with one of his toys). His humans had no part in showing me what to do; I just followed Skip's lead and found him to be a wonderfully clear communicator.
Again, partly I suspect much of this is due to the fact that he's older now than when I first met him, and I'm a lot more comfortable with mellow(er) older dogs than with hyperactive puppies and young dogs. But I am quite sure that something else -- something on my end -- has also changed, and I would wager my cats (especially Nikki, who is probably the most regally demanding cat I've ever met) are largely to thank for it!
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Office Closet Desk Shelf Cat-Climbing-Gym Project
Well technically this project is not actually "done" yet -- I've still plenty of organizing to do, and probably some more wall shelves to put up, but as the main cat-relevant parts of it are now functional I figured I'd blog about it.
It all started with two realizations: (1) the fact that the closet in the room Matt and I call the "office" (basically the computer room where we do work, filing, and hobby stuff) was really not being very well utilized, and (2) my corner-style desk (purchased about six years ago to fit a particular niche in my old apartment) was bugging the crap out of me.
Unfortunately I can't seem to find a picture of how awful the closet looked before, but trust me, it was bad. Bad as in "there's a bunch of random stuff crammed in here that has nothing to do with the functionality of the room". [UPDATE: I found a "before" picture I'd forgotten I'd taken; see below. The doors are off, but the random crap and old saggy shelves and meaningless clothes-bar-holder-thing are still there, and there's so much wasted space!]
Taking off the closet doors (which were GIGANTIC and MIRRORED) helped make said random stuff more immediately accessible, but there was still just a ton of useless/wasted space. Not to mention the fact that every time I so much as ventured near the closet I risked having a roll of wrapping paper or a piece of old inherited photography equipment fall on my head (and that was on a good day.
As for my desk...while the corner design had worked okay in my old place, it was really cramping the potential of the new office (at least my corner thereof). Plus in the chaos of moving in last year I hadn't thought very well through the orientation and location of my primary home work-area and had managed to put the desk so that my back faced the door into the room. This sort of arrangement is invariably bad for me due to the fact that my peripheral vision is both very sensitive and seemingly wired directly into my "fight or flight" brain-circuits. It had gotten to the point (in around November 2010) where I was actively avoiding sitting at my own desk to use my own computer because of the constant on-edge sensation I got from sitting with my back to the door (and seeing little flickers of shadow at the edges of my visual field constantly from Matt and the cats moving around).
(Picture shows my old desk, sitting in the corner. Sure, it looked "nice enough" but I couldn't stand sitting there. Also, that nifty vintage power supply on the top shelf? Managed to fall down and almost crush my hand one night when one of the cats jumped on it. Bad news all around...)
Anyway, though, to make a long story slightly less long (and pull it back to the subject of cats where it belongs!) after gleefully getting rid of my old desk via Craigslist and pulling all the crap out of the closet and painting the walls inside a lovely-to-me shade of grey, it occurred to me: why not build feline-friendly functionality right into the new office layout? I mean, the cats already habitually climbed my desk and leaped about in the closet at night (which had me springing out of bed to see what that terrific crash had been on multiple frantic occasions), so at the very least I needed to fortify the room to be cat-safe.
(Picture shows the office closet when it was basically emptied out, post-painting)
One cool thing about making an environment cat-safe is that in doing so you've often laid the groundwork for also making it fun for your feline housemates. Cats, after all, revel in freedom, particularly freedom in three dimensions...and emptying out the office closet revealed quite a bit of vertical space that might be able to provide Cora, Brodie, Shadow, and Nikki with a fair amount more of this valued cat-commodity.
All that said, I didn't want to go out and buy some sort of expensive closet-organization or desk system. Even when I've got decent income coming in I tend toward the "cheapskate" end of the frugal spectrum, and my unemployment last year had me even more embedded in the "how can I kludge this?" mindset than usual. And in the end, I only ended up buying two more Ikea shelves (GORM units, which are inexpensive untreated pine), a few shelf brackets, a wood panel (also from Ikea) modular desktop and legs, and some miscellaneous small hardware-store items (wood stain, rope, etc.).
The rest was all scrap wood from the garage or IKEA shelves we already had (but that were not being efficiently used; basically I stripped them down and re-purposed them. Which is one thing cheaper Ikea stuff is great for...it's like parts of a big wooden Erector set.) And I have to say that wood stain is now my new best friend when it comes to projects like this. While I suffer no illusions that my new office arrangement would win any design awards, it does look significantly nicer and less patchwork-y than it would have if I'd left all the wood I used untreated.
The photo above shows the closet roughly as it appears now. The shelves still aren't really organized and the cabinet in the middle -- just an Ikea IVAR cabinet I stained and added legs to -- is actually still empty, but the basic structure is there. Note as well the orange mesh "curtains" in the lower left...these now help contain scatter from the litter box without blocking the cats' view of the surrounding area or creating a nasty "stagnant air" environment as many covered litter boxes do.
Now for the cat-friendly aspects of the closet: observe this photo, taken at a slightly different angle than the previous one...you should spot two tabby tails seemingly hanging out of the ceiling!
Moving in closer (flashlight in hand), lo and behold...
...it's Coraline! Unsurprisingly, she was the first to explore the new "catwalk" attached to the inside of that little overhanging bit of wall above the closet opening.
...but Brodie eventually got curious too!
This angle better shows how the "catwalk" is attached. Brodie demonstrates how to get down from the little cat-nap platform at the end of the catwalk:
As for my desk area, it now looks like this:
...and it is SO much more functional and comfortable now than the corner desk was! Not to mention sturdier. I think I've managed to find every wall stud in this room as a result of this project, because this thing is SOLID. When it comes to fortifying against the forces of both feline and earthquake origin, I tend to apply the Mythbusters' philosophy: "anything worth doing is worth overdoing". So yeah. The cats can run up the sides of this thing, climb the shelves, scale the walls, etc., to their hearts' content now.
(I still need to clean up the wire mess under the desk and organize some more of my work and hobby and craft materials onto the shelves, but again, the basic structure and cat-relevant bits are in place here.)
Finally, here is another view of the desk area, showing one of several possible routes for the kitties to get up to the top shelves, while also serving an important function as a scratching post (which all four felines here now use regularly):
Oh and for those curious about such things, the desk uses legs only on one side...the other side is attached to the IVAR shelf unit adjacent to the wall, which is firmly bolted to studs. Also, since the IVAR units tend to be a bit wobbly even with those metal X-things installed on the back, I used a piece of oak floorboard (stained to match the shelves) and some metal angle brackets (which you can't see at all unless you look up inside the shelf) to maintain the shelving unit's rectangularity even in the event of enthusiastic kittyclimbing.
So yeah...so far I am very happy with how this new office layout is improving my own productivity and cheerfulness levels in this room, and the cats seem extremely pleased with their new climbing/play/sleeping structure. I've still got a fair mount of work to do organizing the human stuff, and will perhaps be able to get some nicer pictures when that happens, but the cat components are pretty well in place, at least until I think of something else to add!
It all started with two realizations: (1) the fact that the closet in the room Matt and I call the "office" (basically the computer room where we do work, filing, and hobby stuff) was really not being very well utilized, and (2) my corner-style desk (purchased about six years ago to fit a particular niche in my old apartment) was bugging the crap out of me.
Taking off the closet doors (which were GIGANTIC and MIRRORED) helped make said random stuff more immediately accessible, but there was still just a ton of useless/wasted space. Not to mention the fact that every time I so much as ventured near the closet I risked having a roll of wrapping paper or a piece of old inherited photography equipment fall on my head (and that was on a good day.
As for my desk...while the corner design had worked okay in my old place, it was really cramping the potential of the new office (at least my corner thereof). Plus in the chaos of moving in last year I hadn't thought very well through the orientation and location of my primary home work-area and had managed to put the desk so that my back faced the door into the room. This sort of arrangement is invariably bad for me due to the fact that my peripheral vision is both very sensitive and seemingly wired directly into my "fight or flight" brain-circuits. It had gotten to the point (in around November 2010) where I was actively avoiding sitting at my own desk to use my own computer because of the constant on-edge sensation I got from sitting with my back to the door (and seeing little flickers of shadow at the edges of my visual field constantly from Matt and the cats moving around).
(Picture shows my old desk, sitting in the corner. Sure, it looked "nice enough" but I couldn't stand sitting there. Also, that nifty vintage power supply on the top shelf? Managed to fall down and almost crush my hand one night when one of the cats jumped on it. Bad news all around...)
Anyway, though, to make a long story slightly less long (and pull it back to the subject of cats where it belongs!) after gleefully getting rid of my old desk via Craigslist and pulling all the crap out of the closet and painting the walls inside a lovely-to-me shade of grey, it occurred to me: why not build feline-friendly functionality right into the new office layout? I mean, the cats already habitually climbed my desk and leaped about in the closet at night (which had me springing out of bed to see what that terrific crash had been on multiple frantic occasions), so at the very least I needed to fortify the room to be cat-safe.
(Picture shows the office closet when it was basically emptied out, post-painting)
One cool thing about making an environment cat-safe is that in doing so you've often laid the groundwork for also making it fun for your feline housemates. Cats, after all, revel in freedom, particularly freedom in three dimensions...and emptying out the office closet revealed quite a bit of vertical space that might be able to provide Cora, Brodie, Shadow, and Nikki with a fair amount more of this valued cat-commodity.
All that said, I didn't want to go out and buy some sort of expensive closet-organization or desk system. Even when I've got decent income coming in I tend toward the "cheapskate" end of the frugal spectrum, and my unemployment last year had me even more embedded in the "how can I kludge this?" mindset than usual. And in the end, I only ended up buying two more Ikea shelves (GORM units, which are inexpensive untreated pine), a few shelf brackets, a wood panel (also from Ikea) modular desktop and legs, and some miscellaneous small hardware-store items (wood stain, rope, etc.).
The rest was all scrap wood from the garage or IKEA shelves we already had (but that were not being efficiently used; basically I stripped them down and re-purposed them. Which is one thing cheaper Ikea stuff is great for...it's like parts of a big wooden Erector set.) And I have to say that wood stain is now my new best friend when it comes to projects like this. While I suffer no illusions that my new office arrangement would win any design awards, it does look significantly nicer and less patchwork-y than it would have if I'd left all the wood I used untreated.
The photo above shows the closet roughly as it appears now. The shelves still aren't really organized and the cabinet in the middle -- just an Ikea IVAR cabinet I stained and added legs to -- is actually still empty, but the basic structure is there. Note as well the orange mesh "curtains" in the lower left...these now help contain scatter from the litter box without blocking the cats' view of the surrounding area or creating a nasty "stagnant air" environment as many covered litter boxes do.
Now for the cat-friendly aspects of the closet: observe this photo, taken at a slightly different angle than the previous one...you should spot two tabby tails seemingly hanging out of the ceiling!
Moving in closer (flashlight in hand), lo and behold...
...it's Coraline! Unsurprisingly, she was the first to explore the new "catwalk" attached to the inside of that little overhanging bit of wall above the closet opening.
...but Brodie eventually got curious too!
This angle better shows how the "catwalk" is attached. Brodie demonstrates how to get down from the little cat-nap platform at the end of the catwalk:
As for my desk area, it now looks like this:
...and it is SO much more functional and comfortable now than the corner desk was! Not to mention sturdier. I think I've managed to find every wall stud in this room as a result of this project, because this thing is SOLID. When it comes to fortifying against the forces of both feline and earthquake origin, I tend to apply the Mythbusters' philosophy: "anything worth doing is worth overdoing". So yeah. The cats can run up the sides of this thing, climb the shelves, scale the walls, etc., to their hearts' content now.
(I still need to clean up the wire mess under the desk and organize some more of my work and hobby and craft materials onto the shelves, but again, the basic structure and cat-relevant bits are in place here.)
Finally, here is another view of the desk area, showing one of several possible routes for the kitties to get up to the top shelves, while also serving an important function as a scratching post (which all four felines here now use regularly):
Oh and for those curious about such things, the desk uses legs only on one side...the other side is attached to the IVAR shelf unit adjacent to the wall, which is firmly bolted to studs. Also, since the IVAR units tend to be a bit wobbly even with those metal X-things installed on the back, I used a piece of oak floorboard (stained to match the shelves) and some metal angle brackets (which you can't see at all unless you look up inside the shelf) to maintain the shelving unit's rectangularity even in the event of enthusiastic kittyclimbing.
So yeah...so far I am very happy with how this new office layout is improving my own productivity and cheerfulness levels in this room, and the cats seem extremely pleased with their new climbing/play/sleeping structure. I've still got a fair mount of work to do organizing the human stuff, and will perhaps be able to get some nicer pictures when that happens, but the cat components are pretty well in place, at least until I think of something else to add!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Holiday Miscellany
Well, the holidays ended up being far too hectic to allow much time (or brain-bandwidth) for blogging, but now the bustle has somewhat subsided I figured it was about time for some more photos!
First we have Cora here eyeing the pile of presents (for two sets of extended families, and yes, there were a few for the felines!) near my and Matt's little tree.
Speaking of which, the cats did great with the tree this year. Not only have they matured considerably, I think it helped that we got a smaller one and clamped it (in the back, invisibly) to an end table unlike last year when we had a 6 foot tree just standing in the middle of the living room.
Considering 2009's antics included all three youngsters taking flying leaps INTO the tree I was not about to risk a repeat of that, not with everyone at least twice the size they were last year. But the table-mounting thing worked out wonderfully for both humans and kitties...I put one of their beds under the end table with the tree-blanket draped over it and that became one of the most coveted spots throughout the holidays.
I'm not perfect about this but I always try and make sure the cats get regular interactive play with toys like this feather-on-a-string thing even when chaos (such as that induced by holidays) is monopolizing the majority of human attention. Here is Shadow waiting for the feather thingy to enter pouncing range.
These cardboard scratchy-pad things are HUGELY popular around here. Seriously, they are probably one of the best random bits of Cat Accessory in existence. They're just basic corrugated cardboard but apparently the texture of that material is wonderful for running one's claws across. I've usually got three or four of them around the house at any given time and each one generally lasts at least two months before being shredded enough to pop into the recycle bin.
Nikki is very possessive of the "double wide" scratcher on the sofa and can often be found sitting on it just as she is doing in the above photo.
And of course rest is important for everyone (human and feline alike) during the year's busiest bits. I am actively grateful to all the cats but Brodie in particular for his quiet but insistent reminders to take a break already once in a while.
(Here is Brodie snuggling in my hair on the couch after a very long day!)
Oh yes. And in addition to all the usual holiday-heightened activities around here, the kitties managed to endure what was a major first for me and for them: an overnight houseguest. My youngest brother stayed over for nearly four days over his Christmas break from college, which meant major routine deviations for everyone and lots of activity nobody was used to.
Of course it was great to see my brother (he and I have always gotten along really well despite the 13 year age gap) but since the younger cats hid most of the time he was here I kept finding myself missing them! Cora and Shadow also spent a lot more time in hiding than I had expected but then again, overnight guest is a very different thing from a visitor who just comes and stays a few hours. Brodie hid about the usual amount but I did expect that from him seeing as he's generally the shyest around guests.
That said, I was quite relieved to note that while the youngsters wouldn't eat dinner at their normal time, they had no problem eating at night when my brother was asleep in the guest room, which is awesome considering in the past they've sometimes not wanted to eat until they've been able to ascertain that a visitor is good and gone. Nobody had any litterbox issues either, and by the last day Cora even sat with my brother on the couch for a bit.
And all that said, Nikki had a great time during Ryan's visit, by which she was utterly and completely unfazed (after all, she already knew him from when she lived with my parents and siblings). With the youngsters holed up in their various favorite secluded spots Nikki got her pick of laps and could play with toys, etc., without being bothered by rambunctious youngsters. So in a weird sort of way us having a houseguest that was familiar to her seemed like kind of a "vacation" for Nikki. So I am happy on her behalf about that I suppose!
Anyway, as much as the holidays can be fun I am very happy things are already settling down into their usual, somewhat quieter state. I look forward to seeing what 2011 brings for human and feline alike!
First we have Cora here eyeing the pile of presents (for two sets of extended families, and yes, there were a few for the felines!) near my and Matt's little tree.
Speaking of which, the cats did great with the tree this year. Not only have they matured considerably, I think it helped that we got a smaller one and clamped it (in the back, invisibly) to an end table unlike last year when we had a 6 foot tree just standing in the middle of the living room.
Considering 2009's antics included all three youngsters taking flying leaps INTO the tree I was not about to risk a repeat of that, not with everyone at least twice the size they were last year. But the table-mounting thing worked out wonderfully for both humans and kitties...I put one of their beds under the end table with the tree-blanket draped over it and that became one of the most coveted spots throughout the holidays.
I'm not perfect about this but I always try and make sure the cats get regular interactive play with toys like this feather-on-a-string thing even when chaos (such as that induced by holidays) is monopolizing the majority of human attention. Here is Shadow waiting for the feather thingy to enter pouncing range.
These cardboard scratchy-pad things are HUGELY popular around here. Seriously, they are probably one of the best random bits of Cat Accessory in existence. They're just basic corrugated cardboard but apparently the texture of that material is wonderful for running one's claws across. I've usually got three or four of them around the house at any given time and each one generally lasts at least two months before being shredded enough to pop into the recycle bin.
Nikki is very possessive of the "double wide" scratcher on the sofa and can often be found sitting on it just as she is doing in the above photo.
And of course rest is important for everyone (human and feline alike) during the year's busiest bits. I am actively grateful to all the cats but Brodie in particular for his quiet but insistent reminders to take a break already once in a while.
(Here is Brodie snuggling in my hair on the couch after a very long day!)
Oh yes. And in addition to all the usual holiday-heightened activities around here, the kitties managed to endure what was a major first for me and for them: an overnight houseguest. My youngest brother stayed over for nearly four days over his Christmas break from college, which meant major routine deviations for everyone and lots of activity nobody was used to.
Of course it was great to see my brother (he and I have always gotten along really well despite the 13 year age gap) but since the younger cats hid most of the time he was here I kept finding myself missing them! Cora and Shadow also spent a lot more time in hiding than I had expected but then again, overnight guest is a very different thing from a visitor who just comes and stays a few hours. Brodie hid about the usual amount but I did expect that from him seeing as he's generally the shyest around guests.
That said, I was quite relieved to note that while the youngsters wouldn't eat dinner at their normal time, they had no problem eating at night when my brother was asleep in the guest room, which is awesome considering in the past they've sometimes not wanted to eat until they've been able to ascertain that a visitor is good and gone. Nobody had any litterbox issues either, and by the last day Cora even sat with my brother on the couch for a bit.
And all that said, Nikki had a great time during Ryan's visit, by which she was utterly and completely unfazed (after all, she already knew him from when she lived with my parents and siblings). With the youngsters holed up in their various favorite secluded spots Nikki got her pick of laps and could play with toys, etc., without being bothered by rambunctious youngsters. So in a weird sort of way us having a houseguest that was familiar to her seemed like kind of a "vacation" for Nikki. So I am happy on her behalf about that I suppose!
Anyway, as much as the holidays can be fun I am very happy things are already settling down into their usual, somewhat quieter state. I look forward to seeing what 2011 brings for human and feline alike!
Friday, September 3, 2010
"Sorry, A Cat Is Biting My Elbows"
For those who aren't aware of this, my previous employer (I'm an electrical engineer) shut down the plant I'd worked in since 2002 a while back. Hence, 2010 has thus far been the Year of the Job Search.
So, what does this have to do with cats, you may ask? Well, today I had my first-ever phone screening interview. And at one point during the conversation, Nikki jumped up on my lap and proceeded to bite my elbows. Repeatedly. Not enough to be really painful (no blood was drawn), but enough to be surprising.
So there I am, trying to keep up with the interviewer's questions about analog design and decibel conversions (a feat in itself, given my auditory processing difficulties, which the phone really tends to exacerbate), but also having to pause and apologize for being distracted because one of my cats has decided to chew on my arms.
Thankfully the interviewer seemed unfazed by this. I have an in-person interview scheduled for next week!
But what was Nikki trying to tell me with the elbow-biting? She has never, ever done that before. Did she just want attention? Was she trying to get me to stop doing whatever I was doing, as it was clearly making me agitated? (Again, it was my first phone interview and I was straining to parse the interviewer's words the whole time, so I probably looked pretty tense).
Honestly, while I don't like to over-interpret in light of only minimal data, I would lean toward the latter. Nikki is one of the most empathic cats I've ever met.
She and I sometimes get into these "loops" wherein I'm stressed about something (but don't entirely realize it), and then Nikki starts getting agitated, and I'm all focused on trying to figure out what is going on with her, until finally I realize that the agitation started with me. And so I calm down. And then she calms down. It's very interesting when this happens and it definitely suggests to me that cats can be really adept at "reading" and responding to human affective states.
So, while again I don't know FOR SURE what Nikki meant with the elbow-biting, I'm darn certain she meant something. I mean, it's not like I'd been dousing my arms in salmon juice!
So, what does this have to do with cats, you may ask? Well, today I had my first-ever phone screening interview. And at one point during the conversation, Nikki jumped up on my lap and proceeded to bite my elbows. Repeatedly. Not enough to be really painful (no blood was drawn), but enough to be surprising.
So there I am, trying to keep up with the interviewer's questions about analog design and decibel conversions (a feat in itself, given my auditory processing difficulties, which the phone really tends to exacerbate), but also having to pause and apologize for being distracted because one of my cats has decided to chew on my arms.
Thankfully the interviewer seemed unfazed by this. I have an in-person interview scheduled for next week!
But what was Nikki trying to tell me with the elbow-biting? She has never, ever done that before. Did she just want attention? Was she trying to get me to stop doing whatever I was doing, as it was clearly making me agitated? (Again, it was my first phone interview and I was straining to parse the interviewer's words the whole time, so I probably looked pretty tense).
Honestly, while I don't like to over-interpret in light of only minimal data, I would lean toward the latter. Nikki is one of the most empathic cats I've ever met.
She and I sometimes get into these "loops" wherein I'm stressed about something (but don't entirely realize it), and then Nikki starts getting agitated, and I'm all focused on trying to figure out what is going on with her, until finally I realize that the agitation started with me. And so I calm down. And then she calms down. It's very interesting when this happens and it definitely suggests to me that cats can be really adept at "reading" and responding to human affective states.
So, while again I don't know FOR SURE what Nikki meant with the elbow-biting, I'm darn certain she meant something. I mean, it's not like I'd been dousing my arms in salmon juice!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
With Sideways Mind: On Listening To Cats
Scene: computer room, my house, around 7:30 PM this evening
Shadow (from the floor behind my chair): "YAAAAAAOW! YAAAAOW! MYOOOOOUUUU! MRRREW!"
Anne: "What?"
Shadow: "YAAAAAOW! REEEE! MIEW! MMMMM!"
Anne: "What, little guy?"
Shadow: "Nrrrrrrr. Miew. YAAAO!"
Anne (gets up from chair): "Okay, fine, Lassie, show me what you want."
Shadow: *gets up, trots into the hallway*
Anne: *follows, waits to see which direction Shadow seems to be going in*
Shadow: *heads toward kitchen*
Anne: *follows*
Shadow: *plunks self down on linoleum, looks at Anne, looks out window*
Anne: "You want me to sit down?"
Shadow: *motions in the affirmative*
***
So, I sit down, right on the linoleum (which is actually linoleum and not vinyl). Shadow proceeds to snuggle up against my leg. I hear the purr motor start going.
Seated there, I notice that there's quite a lovely breeze coming through the back screen door. The air smells fresh and carries little notes of back-yard with it: tomato leaves, pepper, dry grass. Then I look out the large window overlooking the patio.
Through the trellised semi-roof over the concrete surface next to the garden I see a huge flock of birds making their way across the sky. They're too far away for me to tell what type of bird they are; all I can see is that they're dark-colored, too small to be crows, too large to be sparrows.
Shadow and I both sit there for a while. I don't keep track of exactly how long. The birds pass in waves: one group, then another, then another. The breeze continues to blow. Shadow climbs into my lap, still purring.
Eventually, of course, I have to get up, so I do. But not before thanking Shadow.
***
Cats communicate. They may not speak (in English or any other human language) but they certainly have plenty to say. I do not claim to understand cats in general, or any specific cat, perfectly, and I find it unnerving (and often a sign of bad ethics) when any human makes such a claim.
However, in living with cats and noting the patterns of how they interact with me, with other cats, with objects in their environment, etc., I have definitely come to realize certain things about listening. Not listening with ears, per se. -- more like (and readers of Michael Ende will know what I mean here) Momo-listening.
What cats have to say can be very subtle. Shadow meows loudly and often but that is only a miniscule part of what he says. Yes, he often wants a snack, and sometimes it's clear he wants me to get one of those wand-type toys he loves and wiggle the string so he can chase the feather-tailed mouse or whatever happen to be attached. But other times he just plain surprises me.
***
The incident related above is foremost in my mind as I write this, yet it is far from isolated. I have been astounded more times than I can count at the complexity and delicacy of what my cats tell me, how their actions illustrate what they're noticing and paying attention to in the world around them.
There is just not much in the human culture with which I am most familiar (or its common vocabularies) that prepares someone for this kind of thing.
For listening to cats involves a lot of what I would call "the cognitive equivalent of peripheral vision".
It involves a lot of not as well: as in, not immediately assuming the cat just wants food, or even play, or generalized "attention". It involves not placing fixed, arbitrary limits on your idea of what cats are capable of thinking, experiencing, and doing.
This is, in part, because cats are so good at being cats, they don't actively require our approval or permission to continue doing so throughout their lives. In other words, their catness is not dependent on being judged proper or sufficent by humans; catness simply is, and cats are surely cats even when no-one is looking.
This means that a human might "keep" a cat, feed her, change her litter, pat her head and call her a good cat on occasion -- presuming the whole while that their human view of their coexistence encompasses the whole of the cat's existence and experience. When in fact nothing could be further from the truth. The truth is that only cats have subjective knowledge of what being a cat feels like, and the truth is also that cattish priorities very often differ from typical human ones.
As for me, while certainly I am not a cat, I am very interested in what they have to say. I want very much for them to feel like they can show me where to sit to let a nice breeze wash over one, and where one might get to witness a dazzling display of avian migration. I want them to know that I see their priorities and interests as valid and genuine. I do not know the degree to which this will ultimately be possible, but I am sure as heck willing to keep trying my darndest to listen.
Shadow (from the floor behind my chair): "YAAAAAAOW! YAAAAOW! MYOOOOOUUUU! MRRREW!"
Anne: "What?"
Shadow: "YAAAAAOW! REEEE! MIEW! MMMMM!"
Anne: "What, little guy?"
Shadow: "Nrrrrrrr. Miew. YAAAO!"
Anne (gets up from chair): "Okay, fine, Lassie, show me what you want."
Shadow: *gets up, trots into the hallway*
Anne: *follows, waits to see which direction Shadow seems to be going in*
Shadow: *heads toward kitchen*
Anne: *follows*
Shadow: *plunks self down on linoleum, looks at Anne, looks out window*
Anne: "You want me to sit down?"
Shadow: *motions in the affirmative*
***
So, I sit down, right on the linoleum (which is actually linoleum and not vinyl). Shadow proceeds to snuggle up against my leg. I hear the purr motor start going.
Seated there, I notice that there's quite a lovely breeze coming through the back screen door. The air smells fresh and carries little notes of back-yard with it: tomato leaves, pepper, dry grass. Then I look out the large window overlooking the patio.
Through the trellised semi-roof over the concrete surface next to the garden I see a huge flock of birds making their way across the sky. They're too far away for me to tell what type of bird they are; all I can see is that they're dark-colored, too small to be crows, too large to be sparrows.
Shadow and I both sit there for a while. I don't keep track of exactly how long. The birds pass in waves: one group, then another, then another. The breeze continues to blow. Shadow climbs into my lap, still purring.
Eventually, of course, I have to get up, so I do. But not before thanking Shadow.
***
Cats communicate. They may not speak (in English or any other human language) but they certainly have plenty to say. I do not claim to understand cats in general, or any specific cat, perfectly, and I find it unnerving (and often a sign of bad ethics) when any human makes such a claim.
However, in living with cats and noting the patterns of how they interact with me, with other cats, with objects in their environment, etc., I have definitely come to realize certain things about listening. Not listening with ears, per se. -- more like (and readers of Michael Ende will know what I mean here) Momo-listening.
What cats have to say can be very subtle. Shadow meows loudly and often but that is only a miniscule part of what he says. Yes, he often wants a snack, and sometimes it's clear he wants me to get one of those wand-type toys he loves and wiggle the string so he can chase the feather-tailed mouse or whatever happen to be attached. But other times he just plain surprises me.
***
The incident related above is foremost in my mind as I write this, yet it is far from isolated. I have been astounded more times than I can count at the complexity and delicacy of what my cats tell me, how their actions illustrate what they're noticing and paying attention to in the world around them.
There is just not much in the human culture with which I am most familiar (or its common vocabularies) that prepares someone for this kind of thing.
For listening to cats involves a lot of what I would call "the cognitive equivalent of peripheral vision".
It involves a lot of not as well: as in, not immediately assuming the cat just wants food, or even play, or generalized "attention". It involves not placing fixed, arbitrary limits on your idea of what cats are capable of thinking, experiencing, and doing.
This is, in part, because cats are so good at being cats, they don't actively require our approval or permission to continue doing so throughout their lives. In other words, their catness is not dependent on being judged proper or sufficent by humans; catness simply is, and cats are surely cats even when no-one is looking.
This means that a human might "keep" a cat, feed her, change her litter, pat her head and call her a good cat on occasion -- presuming the whole while that their human view of their coexistence encompasses the whole of the cat's existence and experience. When in fact nothing could be further from the truth. The truth is that only cats have subjective knowledge of what being a cat feels like, and the truth is also that cattish priorities very often differ from typical human ones.
As for me, while certainly I am not a cat, I am very interested in what they have to say. I want very much for them to feel like they can show me where to sit to let a nice breeze wash over one, and where one might get to witness a dazzling display of avian migration. I want them to know that I see their priorities and interests as valid and genuine. I do not know the degree to which this will ultimately be possible, but I am sure as heck willing to keep trying my darndest to listen.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Carnivorous By Nature
Felis Cattus, is your taxonomic nomenclature,
an endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature?
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
a singular development of cat communications
that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.
- From "Ode to Spot", a poem read by the android Data in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, 'Schisms'
A few years ago, while visiting Matt's parents (Matt being my Significant Other; his parents live locally to us) I witnessed a scene that probably plays out all the time in nature, but which I don't see all that often when I click links entitled "cute kitten video!!" In the back yard, a tiny (probably 7 weeks old at most) feral kitten was gleefully flinging an object around. Initially my reaction was typical: along the lines of "aww, how adorable!" But then I got a closer look at the object...and saw that it was a partly-eaten dead bird (most likely a house sparrow). Which I have to admit gave me a bit of a jolt. But that jolt was only momentary because I remembered, hey, this is a cat. Cuteness does not equal vegetarianism, after all!
So yeah. Personally I tend toward a vegetarian diet and prefer plant-based foods for myself whenever feasible. However this does not mean I would ever be tempted to impose my preferences and choices in this regard on my cats. Moreover, while I certainly disagree with factory farming practices and don't think I could stand hanging around in a slaughterhouse, I do accept that nature includes carnivores, herbivores, and omnivores, and somehow I doubt things would go well for life on Earth if all the carnivores suddenly disappeared!
But on to the main point of this post, which is to discuss a weird thing I've noticed looking around in the "pet" sections of grocery stores and the like. And that is the way products (especially food) for dogs and cats are marketed, formulated, and made available. I don't want to take the time right now to go around photographing display shelves and ingredients labels, so take this for what it's worth, but I suspect most people who've looked at these items will be familiar with what I am describing here.
Basically it looks to me like there's this perception of cats as being these dainty little creatures whose sensibilities might even be described as "delicate". Whereas dogs (with the exception of the "toy" breeds) are associated with a sort of rough-and-tumble "outdoorsiness" (or something along those lines). Dog food cans and bags tend to employ "strong"-looking or blocky lettering and dark or bold colors; cat food packaging is heavy on the pastels and the flowery script. Dogs and cats can of course be either male or female, but in many cases it seems like cat products look stereotypically "feminine" whereas dog products look stereotypically "masculine".
Now of course I am not claiming that the observations above are universally or 100% true for all foods and other products. For instance, foods marketed as being "natural" or "holistic" tend to use similar (frequently neutral or "artsy"-looking) packaging colors and designs for both cats and dogs. And there are certainly exceptions to the "all dogs are boys, all cats are girls" imagery; i.e., the archetypically masculine tomcat and the fluffy pink-beribboned poodle both show up repeatedly in popular culture. But I still think the overall trends otherwise I am describing here are at least prevalent enough to be worth mentioning.
All that said, I want to specifically focus on food here. Biologically speaking, cats are obligate carnivores (meaning they must consume the particular nutrients found in the flesh of other animals in order to survive). Dogs, while also technically carnivores, can eat a more omnivorous diet and tend to have less digestive trouble with grains than cats do. Yet the marketing and available selection of cat and dog foods and treats in many of the stores I've visited would suggest the exact opposite!
To illustrate what I mean, I was in one store recently (a local hardware store that is really more of a "general household goods" emporium, i.e., they carry lots of gardening equipment and rugs in addition to nuts, bolts, and tools) and in their "pet" aisle I noticed several things. One was that the selection of dog food was about twice as large as the selection of cat food. Another was that the dog food selection included at least one of the "natural" brands, noted as being high meat/low grain. The cat section included no such option; if I'd been restricted to buying food there, I'd have been completely out of luck as there was nothing Brodie (who gets severe stomach upset from corn and probably barley as well) could safely eat.
I have noticed the same trend in most grocery stores as far as treats are concerned. Treats of course are not a necessity, but as long as one isn't over-feeding one's cats or dogs, they can be a nice little mid-day surprise or supplement. But ye gads. Dogs get all this nice jerky stuff -- essentially pure meat -- while cats get these little "Fun Shaped" crunchy or chewy things that are, of course, predominantly corn. What. The. Heck.
So yeah. I am not sitting here fuming in outrage over all this -- there are, after all, multiple local pet supply stores where I can easily find reasonably species-appropriate cat food -- but this sort of thing does confuse and annoy me. It just seems like there's this bizarre cultural stereotype of cats being dainty, girlish...salad-eaters, or something, that is totally incongruous with their carnivorous reality*. And I don't think it does anyone, much less cats themselves, any service to misrepresent or disregard this reality.
* Not that there is anything wrong with being girlish, my point is more that there seems to be a conflation of cats with feminine with needing-less-meat, etc., which makes no sense at all, and wouldn't if applied to dogs or humans either!
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