Thursday, April 16, 2009

Hello Kitty Kitty Kitty

I never really considered myself a cat person. We had a few cats when I was growing up; one, in particular, was an albino. He was blind and deaf and subsequently called "corky". I think he was a stray. But because of his blindness and deafness he attacked you, out of pure fear, when you walked by. I didn't love him too much, but my mother did, which is why we kept him. So, I guess I became a cat person when I discovered that I most definitely, for surely, am not a mouse person. We had an infiltration of mice into our home in the fall of 2007. I don't know exactly what we can attribute it to; I can't remember if it was a cold fall or not, but it wasn't okay with me. They were not welcome in my home. I would come down to the kitchen in the morning to find one or two scurrying away into their small dark holes. And you can imagine my utter disgust (if this is what you want to call it) to see their droppings everywhere. And here's one worse...their f-ing teeth marks in my butter! I know, I know, this is gross. I had to do something about it. And this is what I did...and they were FREE! Look! Free kittens!!

My friend Mud once got some kittens at a shelter and ran them under the water in the sink to make them look like they had been left out in the rain. She lied to her roommates and said that she found them on the side of the road, abandoned by their mother, just so they would let her keep them. This is Mud's daughter holding "Daisy". While I was driving these two meowing brother and sister, flee and worm infested (yea, not so free), baby cats home, I picked "Hunter" and "Huntress" as perfect names. Claire, on the other hand, had other plans. She put up a big fight, so I let her name one of them and "Daisy" was born. Daisy looked a lot like a cat I had growing up and I, therefore, had a bit of a bond with her. But both Daisy and Hunter spent their first winter in the basement. They loved and cuddled and played very well together. In the Spring of 2008, they got their first mice. I praised and praised them both; I didn't know which one of them murdered which specific mouse, but I was always happy to find dead bodies at the bottom of the stairs. These cats were intended to be outdoor cats, so they were allowed to come and go out of their cat door whenever they pleased. This was fine with me, as I had all sorts of other animals to tend to. But one day in June, Hunter disappeared. He was gone; I was certain...dead. But, I put posters up around our small town, called the vets, etc. etc. etc. Three weeks (3!!) later I get a call from the old woman at the bottom of the hill. Hunter had been hanging around there for a few days. I couldn't believe he survived his little vacation...what with all the coyotes, fisher cats, owls, hawks in our woods, you get my drift. He was a little beat up, skinny, and needing love, but he was alive.

Daisy decided to risk the NOLS trip as well. On August 27th I watched her venture into our deep dark woods and never return. I haven't been the same since.

Here is, however, her big brother...alive and kicking. He has killed all the mice in the vicinity, all the moles, and has moved onto other things.

Here are the bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me last Christmas. Yes, the licence plates are from places we have lived. Aren't they wicked cool?

Here are the sweet innocent birds that love to eat from the wicked cool bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me last Christmas.

Here is the mean and rotten cat who eats the sweet innocent birds who eat from the wicked cool bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me.

Here are the ducks who return to the pond every year in the Spring, exactly on the day after the ice melts. I don't know if they are the same pair...but I have a feeling they are. It's like the couple that goes back to the same resort year after year after year. They're set in their ways.

Here are the geese that stop by every now and again on their way north, kinda like the ducks.

Here is the cat that has eaten all the mice, and moles, and voles, and birds, and thinks he might have something bigger and better to eat.

Here is the cat stalking the very big Canada geese who are just on a long layover.

I think he realizes that they are four times his size.

And that maybe he should just look at their reflections in the water, instead of trying to murder them.

BUT Sydney, she's lookin' for some goslings to throw around. Sorry Sydney, not yet, but I'm sure their tryin'.


  1. we arrived home late tuesday evening. no matter what kind of day it's been, you can always count on getting some kitty greetin lovin upon walking in the door. (unless of course you are less than 21 years old - the minimum age deemed respectable by my upidity, indoor-only boys).

    but alas on this night, only Razcal greeted our entry. No Wilson was cause for minor concern, but i was sure the sound of the kitty food jar would rise him - since that is the ONE thing in the world that he loves more than me (or so i tell myself). but alas, alas....the clanging of the kitty food jar did NOT magically cause Wilson to appear. NOW this was time for great concern.

    did one of us lock him - our CLAUSTROPHOPIC one none-the-less- in the clothes closet?!?!? he would never forgive us (and probably tore the crap out of everything in there......).

    i raced up and opened the door to save him. STILL NO WILSON.

    NO WILSON hiding under the bed (his hiding spot when people less than 21 years old enter said house). one last area to check.......the free-range basement.

    phew. there he was - in all his big glory, protecting a mouse that he had trapped behind a board. that's my boy - my GREAT MOUSE HUNTER.

  2. Wahoo....the great Wilson! King Wilson the Great, I praise you.