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

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

Fog

 Fog
BY CARL SANDBURG

THE fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

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

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

The Meanings We Make: Momma Howls

I put Momma's requisite “dose” of chow in her bowl at the prescribed time this morning. She investigated it. Froze in her tracks. Ran as if demon-possessed across the first level of the apartment and dashed up the stairs. Stood at the top and howled for almost a full minute. Then she trotted down the steps, went into the kitchen, and began to eat.

If I were to think of her as a cat, this would be a funny situation. She saw what I'd put in her bowl, went upstairs to rant and rave for a bit, cursing in kitty language, then returned, resigned to a fate beyond her control, and ate. But seeing her as someone I love, I felt sadness at her disappointment, or distress. At the very least, she was distressed.

[**For those who haven't been following the saga, Momma ate dry chow. albeit good dry chow, her entire life until the middle of December when I ran out and didn't want to brave the mall crowd to go to PetSmart. So for a week, Momma got wet (canned) food. She reacted quite violently to being put back on dry chow. Check out the story here.]

Or maybe I'm making the wrong meaning from it. Perhaps she ran upstairs to give thanks and sing praises to her kitty gods for another full bowl of food?

My cousin Terri suggested Momma went upstairs to celebrate how well she had me trained to fill the bowl on schedule.

I do not know what the “truth” is in this situation. I do not even know what my own truth is. What I do know is, it's all about the meanings we make.

~~GH

Momma 3, Me 0

Scratching post which functions as pointless, odd kitchen decor: $24

Catnip spray intended to entice Momma to use scratching post: $6

Various cat toys purchased and ignored over four years' time: ~$200+/-

Children's gloves she actually plays with: $1

Bonus ironies include: 

1. These may well be the only pair of matching gloves in the house. 

2. They are at least ten years old. 

3. If I happened to decide to wear these gloves, one of them would immediately become invisible.~~GH

Momma 2, Me 0

(Representational photograph - not my actual papers)

So for maybe the first time ever, my kitty Momma had residual food in her bowl when it was feeding time. Surprised, I plopped her portion in with my cheerful "There ya go!" 

With a baleful glance, she did a 180 and flounced (yes, cats are capable of flouncing) into the living room where she proceeded to, one by one, push all the papers off the arm of the couch into the floor.

Then she returned to the kitchen and began to eat.

Momma 1, Me 0

Last week, I ran out of Momma's usual cat food (Blue Buffalo brand weight control) and for about four days had to feed her canned regular food. This morning, I slept in and was late feeding her; she was very anxious to be fed. 

I scooped out her portion and dropped it into her bowl with my usual "There ya go." She looked at the chow. She looked up at me in disbelief. Turned and practically stomped away, ran up the stairs, and went to sit and pout in the tub.

Guest Poet - Kahlil Gibran on Love (and Cats)

Guest poet today on ChickenScratches: Kahlil Gibran. In case you've never read it, it is not sweet, romantic, positive fare. Gibran acknowledges the very real aspects of sacrifice and submission when it comes to love. We can only hope to achieve full maturity through learning to give ourselves over to love. 

JUST FOR FUN: Like "Fractured Fairy Tales" from "Rocky and Bulwinkle," here is an experiment I dreamed up. Although this verse is profoundly deep and meaningful, I invite you to consider entertaining yourself by replacing love with the word cat throughout. Yeah, I'm weird like that. Enjoy. ~~GHC

Kahlil Gibran on Love 

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.