Twisted

How my cat slept in this position, I will never know. Reminds me of Jim Croce lyrics from "The Hard Way Every Time":

I've learned at times, it's best to bend

'cause if you don't, well, those are the breaks

            ~ Jim Croce

May you be flexible enough that you never break. ~GH

Alan Watts: Cats

"A cat sits alone until it is done sitting, and then gets up, 

stretches, and walks away." ~~ Alan Watts


[Tomorrow: Sometimes I Do]

Still on the Job

Day 749: Still faithfully restraining that unruly back foot. It's a thankless job, but someone has to do it.

[Tomorrow: Clan Gathering July 2013]

Momma Update

Momma is doing fine, just hanging out avoiding the summer heat. She discovered the seat of the chair is cooler than sitting in the window. Hope you're all keeping comfortable. ~~GH
[Tomorrow: Need]

Wake-up Call

Had a rare glimpse into an alternate reality first thing recently. Woke up to an insistent Timmy's-in-the-well caliber concert of caterwauling and wondered if the place was on fire. Turns out the last time I closed the door, I must have somehow neglected to engage the catch. 

Momma had pushed it open, and weaved around at the side of my bed, screaming that my presence was required. Neow. 

I was relieved the "worst" had not happened (Momma used to piss on the ex's pillow, and I feared she would repeat the behavior if allowed in my bedroom. Cats have long memories). I was surprised that she hadn't jumped up on the bed. 

But yeah, dragging myself out of a deep sleep to the sound of a shrieking, insistent feline is not my wake-up call of choice, so the door shall remain closed with her on the other side per usual from now on. ~~GH

With A Little Help from Our Friends

We get by with a little help from our friends. ~~ Lennon and McCartney

1. Momma gets her claw caught in the curtain.

2. Time passes. Claw remains caught.

3. Momma nonchalantly acts as if she

intended to sit in this awkward position.

4. It's been awhile now, and she's still there.

I try to set her free, and she objects.

5. She still refuses to allow me to unhook her claw from the curtain.

6. After several minutes, she relents and signals for me to save her.

What They Don't Know

They don’t know our little routines.

They don’t know I feed you as soon as I wake up,

And at 9:30 every night.

They don’t know I pet you when I sit on the commode

They won’t know that was our special time.

They won’t know to sit on the couch

And spread their legs so you can nestle in just so.

They won’t know the little games we played,

And I won’t tell them – they were our games.

They will see you at the window, gazing for endless hours,

And think you’re waiting for me to come home.

You won’t be, but they won’t know.

They will think you're mourning and say it's sad,

How a cat grieves for her mistress, when we've

Already said goodbye.

The View From Behind

The view from my place on the couch doesn't change much. Momma keeps her back to me most of the time.

Normal Sleeping Position

Here is the "Profile From Behind" pose. Note the straight spine, the extended tail, the noble Roman profile. She is preparing to explore the kitchen to see if the food bowl has been replenished.

Here, Momma feigns preparing to jump behind the couch. She won't. She never has, never will. It's just another excuse to display the View From Behind.

Here is the "Straight-On From Behind" pose. Almost perfect alignment from tail tip to ear tip, but not quite. I'll give this one a 9.7. She contemplates completion of the last leg of the 15-foot-long journey from chair to kitchen . . . to examine the food bowl.

Initiating "Cheshire Cat" sequence

Phase II "Cheshire Cat" sequence

Cheshire Cat sequence complete

And that, Dear Reader, is the view from behind.~~GH

The Secret Cats Don't Want You to Know

I finally figured out the laser beam eyes thing. It's the kitty equivalent of the neuralyzer (flashy thing) from "Men in Black." The neuralyzer removes the memory of a target or witness, then puts them under a hypnotic state, making them susceptible to suggestion and implantation of false memories. A new memory is then substituted for the old one.

Here, I accidentally caught her studying (I'm not supposed to know she can read), and she neuralyzed me. Luckily, the iPhone blocked the beam or the world would never know the truth.~~GH

Open Letter to My Cat

An Open Letter to my Cat,

Thank you for the coughed-up hairball on the stairs this morning. You provided me with some early-morning aerobic exercise as I reacted in horror to the cold squishy sensation on the bottom of my right foot. 

Your surprise woke me up like no caffeine could possibly do. I had figured on stumbling around blindly for an hour since I only got four hours’ sleep last night, but oh no! Your generous gift brought me immediate alertness!

You in your kitty wisdom knew I would have wasted literally minutes of valuable early morning time sitting in a semi-comatose state in front of the laptop, reading emails. Instead, I got to apply problem-solving skills such as how to hobble to the kitchen on one foot and a heel. And in all fairness, the stairs needed wiped down anyway. 

We do need to talk about this whole missing-the-litter-box thing. I’d much rather scoop than sweep, if you know what I mean. But I’m willing to turn a blind eye to whatever’s happening behind the entertainment center, until next spring. 

Sincerely,

Ginger

See the Light

There is a decorative rod on my living room wall from which a quilt once hung. For the December holidays, I draped a string of large, old-fashioned multi-colored lights like these across the length of the rod:

Both because they're a PITA to take down, and because I like how they look, I decided to leave them up. For some reason during the last couple of weeks, Momma has begun to get as close as possible and sit staring at the lights. 

Here she is studying a red bulb (the colors refuse to photograph properly).

And here she is, studying a white bulb.

What secret information is she gleaning? I am not privy at this juncture. Maybe she is trying to burn out her retinas because of something she saw on Facebook. 

I can relate to that feeling. 

I am routinely disappointed to see images posted on social media showing results of graphic violence and abuse under the guise of calling folks to take action. I feel subjecting others to those images is in itself a form of abuse. 

This isn't a matter of squeamishness; I have seen horrific graphic situations in real life. I am not squeamish, nor weak-stomached. I actually have been accused by peers in the nursing profession of being cold-hearted and unfeeling as far as my reactions to disturbing scenarios go. Let's just say I did my job, and did it well, come-what-may. I left the freaking out for later, once the event was over.

I believe it unnecessary to post images of aborted fetuses, abused animals, and victims of violence in order to trigger empathy. 

Unfortunately, the disconnect between our society's tolerance of violence and our capacity for sympathy has grown to epic proportions. Maybe some people do have to literally see the results in order to condemn the actions that lead to them. If this is the case, I hope the paradigm shifts quickly and tips in a positive direction.

Momma, resting her overworked eyes

Until then, Momma and I are going to invest in eye bleach.~~GH

Cats Sleep A Lot

Momma Sleeps Left

Momma Sleeps Right

Momma Sleeps Up

Momma Wonders What the Hell I'm Doing

Beautiful Momma Asleep

Momma Dreams of Mickey D's

Snug as a Bug in a Rug

It's So Hard to Stay Awake

Yes, this blog post is just photos of my cat sleeping. It's a slow news day. :) ~~GH

Momma 4, Me 1

I often give thanks that cats are not the size of lions. ~~GH

                  Check out the length and sharpness of those claws!

"You are mine. Give yourself to me willingly, or suffer the consequences."~~Momma Kitty

Twist the Night Away

Cats are not of this earth. You know this, I know this, most thinking individuals realize it, as well.

Usually felines present a reasonable facsimile of an earth life form (although if examined closely, reality dissolves the facade, cracks form, the whole thing goes to hell in a hand basket and their alien origin is exposed), but their true nature is often revealed once they slip into slumber.

Here, Momma reverts to her more natural, twisted form. In this pose, she can move both forward and backward, up and down, side to side, etc. She can perambulate on all fours, front two, back two, or any combination she desires. She is limited only by her imagination and -- thankfully, the one built-in limitation that cats are subject to -- the need for up to twenty hours of sleep a day. ~~GH

Momma 1, BBQ 0

What is it about certain kinds of bread that changes the entire experience of eating a sandwich? I love bread. I'm a total carboholic. Put me in a room with a slab of bread and a tub of butter, something to wash it down with, add a heat source, and I'm pretty much set for life. Oh, and thou of course. ;)

The other day, I decided to use up some Italian sub rolls I'd bought, and put BBQ on one. BBQ on a hamburger bun? Wonderful. BBQ on regular slice of bread? Eatable. BBQ on an Italian sub roll? Meh. I could not force myself to finish it.

Here's Momma oh-so-closely inspecting the leftovers. She couldn't have sniffed them from a shorter distance if she'd used an electron microscope to measure it. 

Final determination: Momma found BBQ on an Italian sub roll inedible, as well.

Conclusion: BBQ on an Italian sub roll is inedible. ~~GH