University of Michigan Football OR Smells Like Punishment

My husband, Ray, is a fan of University of Michigan football. He bleeds maize and blue. So when football season starts he plots how to get me to a live game. This year we went to Crawfordsville, Indiana to watch Michigan v. Purdue. Sounds nice...driving up to Indiana to see a game during a fabulous fall day. Of course...with us...it's not that simple. Here's the bigger story.

Two days before we left for Indiana I was at the vet with Cookie, and it didn't look good. In fact, it looked like maybe I wouldn't be walking out with Cookie. He's been very sick for most of this year, from mold-related allergies plus a zillion other allergies I had no idea he had. He started taking allergy shots a few weeks ago and...well... Let's just say his will to live is strong.

My Morning Song

Please go outside

The air is fresh and clean.

Please go outside

I bet it'd be pretty keen.

The sun is shining

The sky is blue

The birds are singing

There's so much to do!

Please go outside

So I can have a cup of coffee

and sit down for awhile.

Jack's Rabbit

Under the category of, It's Always Something...

Jack Sparrow, the Bunny Hunter

Jack went hunting this afternoon and brought home his trophy. A baby rabbit! Ohhh yeah!

I'm writing at the kitchen table during this hot summer to avoid paying a Big Gulp-of-an electric bill. Thank goodness I saw the blur running around my yard. I went out to find Jack with the rabbit in his mouth. And it was alive. Jack is Peaches' son, and while tame he isn't touchy-feely with me, so I knew he'd bolt over the fence if I moved to grab him. Instead, I stood over him, hands on hips, and told him "NO!" It worked. He dropped it, and it zipped under the sweet potato vines. Jack went after it. Nick went after it. I went after it, all for different reasons. I'm sure we made quite a sight, the four of us running in circles around my tiny fenced yard with me shouting, "NO!"

Meanwhile, Chauncie did cartwheels on the sidelines like a cheerleader. I'm pretty sure she wasn't rooting for me.

Go ahead and laugh, but Nick still has
 what it takes

Eventually I told Jack to leave. That's when Nicholas executed a flying tackle. And caught the rabbit. I have to admit, for a 14 year old cat, he impressed me. But only for a second.  He stood with his mouthful of baby bunny, his eyes glittering as though he had surprised himself. I let him have his moment of glory. He's been with me long enough to know all I'd let him keep was the memory. I said drop it, and he did.

I think by now the rabbit understood if it moved, it was dead meat--literally. I was able to sweep it up and hold it. It could feel its heart pounding against my fingers. Poor baby! Such tiny ears! I stood there with visions of pet bunny dancing in my head. I've never held a rabbit, so of course I thought about keeping it. I'd want to adopt a wolverine if it let me hold it.

I took it inside, away from the cats. I felt it relax after a few minutes and it actually looked up at me. This was a new experience for both of us, holding and being held.  Finally, I put it in a cat carrier with a carrot, still kinda sorta thinking...maybe.... Too bad we had sold that fish aquarium. What kind of bedding would it need? Would I have to get it shots? What kind of food? Carrots of course, but what else? If it got out of its cage, there would be total mayhem with six cats in the house. Thank god we sold that old guinea pig cage at the last yard sale, otherwise...

Then I saw it gnawing, not the carrot, but the cage bars. It had teeth! Visions of Bunnicula!

 Yeah, it had to go. So, before I change my mind, I walked the carrier to my neighbor's property along the woods, tipped it and the bunny fell out. It was missing fur in the spot where it had been mauled, but otherwise appeared unhurt. And off it hopped.

Sigh! That was a close call!

The Art of Feline Manipulation: The Door Dance

After 2-3 days of constant storms, our yard is soggy beyond belief. This morning’s sunshine has promise, but still it’s cold and the ground is soaked. Nonetheless, my cats want out. Especially my indoor-outdoor princess, Peaches.

She uses my home like a grand hotel, coming and going as she pleases. Her pleasure shifts depending on whether she wants fresh air and relief from boy-drama inside our home, or whether the humidity and too-much-too-soon heat has her wanting air conditioning. I play the doorman, and I suspect she thinks I stand around with nothing else to do but wait on her beck and call. Yes, I am Princess Peaches’ beck and call girl.

Before I went upstairs to begin my day of edits on my novel I spied Peaches by the door, hovering. I opened, she left. Opie, her boyfriend, made to follow. I blocked him. I have enough issues without adding muddy paw prints to my freshly washed floors.

I make coffee and cereal, and answer Buddy’s shout from his bedroom: he needs his litter box cleaned. Yes, he does really call when it needs cleaning. I return to the kitchen and see Peaches by the door. She wants in. I shoo Opie and open. She dances away. She wants Opie to come out. Sorry. I close the door.

I run a few things upstairs in preparation of spending considerable time behind closed door. Already Herman is up there waiting for me. He’s my mews. He also has special dispensation. No one else is allowed inside my office.

I return to the kitchen for coffee and cereal. Nick and Cookie have joined Opie staring at Peaches, staring back at them through the door. She meets my gaze. She shivers. I shoo the boys and open. Nope. She wants them all to come out and play. Sorry. Not gonna happen.

I’m about to go upstairs. I know I shouldn’t look…but I do. She’s staring at me. This time there is something definite about her stare. She noses the corner where the door will open. With a sigh, I shoo the boys and open a crack. She pushes the crack and slithers inside…dragging it out considerably longer than necessary, as if to prove a point.

I’ve been manipulated by a cat every day of my life since my grandfather gave me my first kitten at age five. I’m resigned…and wouldn’t have it any other way.