11:03 a.m. - 2003-04-04
Cats!!
The cats were all lined up at the kitchen door this morning. I thought they were having an anti-war protest, or perhaps a particularly zesty food riot, but then I noticed Zesto was holding a little sign. In his crude handwriting was the slogan: "Ekwel time for Kats on Dairyland!!"
"Good Gawd!" I thought. "Who taught that cat to spell? And Dairyland? Is that the tourist trap farm up in Tennessee that lets people milk the cows and see how cheese is made?"
And then it dawned on me. He meant Diaryland!! The cats were protesting how much time I've given the rabbits in my entries!! They want equal time!!
But of course! I have been sadly neglectful of the little maowsers! We must rectify this immediately!
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We'll go in order of age. Burroughs first! This here is the number one reason why, if we happen to invite you to dinner, you should politely but firmly refuse:
Yup, it's Burroughs in a frypan. When we first adopted Burr, he had a real thing for frypans. I think it was because we had a gas stove, and the heat of the pilot light was just enough to warm the pan to a toasty temperature. Bear in mind that he came to us with a broken leg and smashed hip, not to mention his dislocated tail, and I think the heat on his broken parts must have felt really good.
Actually you no longer have to turn down a dinner invite at our house. First of all, we now have a screen door to the kitchen and the cats are not allowed in. We just can't handle the fact that they are totally out of control food hogs, and besides, cat hair is not on my list of preferred condiments.
Even if they were allowed in, Burroughs is no longer of the size where he could fit in a frypan. At twenty pounds I doubt we could even jam him into a Dutch oven.
I must say, I am actually somewhat unhappy with Mr. Burr this morning. While I was picking out the pictures for this entry he walked over and started gnawing on my elbow. My elbow. Where do I get these cats?
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And here is Athena, aka "Miss Weena", in an uncharacteristically tame moment:
Doesn't she look peaceful and happy? She's probably having peaceful, happy thoughts about peeing in our laundry. Or beating up her brothers. I really love Miss Weena, and I have to forgive her for her crankiness because she had a terrible childhood. When we found her she was about six months old, starving, flea ridden, full of worms and pregnant with dead kittens. Charming! She was also totally feral. Yeah, you know me, I like a challenge!
Sadly, although she's crazy about Bruce, she has never forgiven me for rescueing her from a life of juvenile delinquency. Although the other day she did let me scritch her stomach without biting my arm off. Maybe she's mellowing in her old age!
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Not only is this cat addled, he's deaf, too!! This is classic Zesto:
I think of Zesto as my souvenir of Alabama. He somehow personifies the wacky spirit that pervades this part of the country.
It's very frustrating that I haven't been able to get a picture that captures his goatee! Seriously, he has a little tiny pointy bit of hair under his chin that is a perfect goatee. He's very reminiscent of a Beat poet. I swear when we found him he was wearing a little black beret and was yowling out a poem that went something like: "I have seen the best felines of my generation..."
And here he is during the five minutes a day when he's sitting still:
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And here is something very exciting. Our first photo of Burma!
She's camouflaged in with all the black cats in my Halloween collection. I know, it's a terrible photo. She was afraid of the flash.
And how is Miss Burma? Why, she's doing just fine, thank you for asking! Just a few weeks ago I was thinking that perhaps I had finally met a feral cat I couldn't tame, but suddenly in the last couple of weeks she has made some amazing strides towards trusting us. In fact, I actually think she likes us!
She is still very shy about being touched, but she now comes when she's called, sits on the bed at night, and obsessively follows us around from a distance of about four feet. She's developed into quite a conversationalist as well. We have long discussions in the morning that go something like this:
Me: "Miss Burmie! Are you a fabulous cat?!"
Burma: "Mah! Mah!!"
Me: "Are you just plain fabulous or really, really fabulous?!!"
Burma: "MAH!! MAH MAH!!!"
Me: "Are you fabulously hungry?"
Burma: "Mah!"
Me: "Oh, not tooooo hungry! Would you like some stinky mouseys?"
Burma: "Mah! Mer! MAH!"
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