Stumpy Visits the Great Indoors

Stumpy is a sweet alley cat. He is all love and purrs. He comes and sits with Dee quite often and meets us at our cars. Occasionally he has come into the house and walked around with no harm to or from the other cats or the dog. Daisy has gotten a nice scratch out back from chasing Stumpy who has luxurious claws as weapons.

But as it has gotten colder here - in the teens and twenties, we've worried about stumpy and on the coldest nights let him sleep in the house. This is interesting, it causes Vegas and Laura Ingalls some consternation - hissing and big tails while stumpy just looks at them like, "huh? It's cool, it's cool..." Stumpy doesn't know how to use cat doors which is good really. In the early morning when we emerge from the bedroom he greets us and walks over to the door to be let out.

Last night it was quite cold and I went out to the front porch to check and see if he was in the box Dee has put out for him with an old towel. He wasn't. As I looked off across the street, here comes Stumpy - booking across the road towards me. He meowed and walked past me to the edge of the door and when I opened it, he hopped inside! I came in and he was all sweetness and affection and Laura and Vegas chewed him out and showed him their extra large tails. Margeaux just goes with the flow and doesn't seem to have a problem with the visiting gentleman. I actually held him last night in Dee's absence and he was just sweet showing me his daggers and wiggling all around.

Then, this morning - he went straight to the door. I'm sure if he had opposable thumbs he'd have let himself out - he isn't a man to stick around for breakfast and chit chat. Later he came back to the garage as I was coming and going and brought Pepperdine with him - the fluffy gray tabby who is skittish and more feral.

I looked for him outside tonight but no Stumpy. I'll peek out before going to bed but he must be out on the town.

Giving Up Dog Duty

Dog Duty is almost over - Dee is on her way home from her training camp.

She says she is happy to embrace dog duty and I am so glad. I have had a pretty successful couple of weeks with Daisy but she takes a lot of time. I got her to walk on the treadmill with no lead, she's learning "leave it" and "drop" better.

It's cold here and snowy and really a drag. When Dee's not here - certain things happen and don't happen. Making the bed does NOT happen so today - I'm changing the bed, washing the blankets, and making the bed as if this is how it has been the past two weeks.

I'm cleaning up everything. It isn't what some might call dirty but we keep a clean house... errrr.... when Dee is home it is cleaner!

I've seen most of the outdoor cats - Stumpy, Pepperdine, Berkeley, Mae West and the others who are so far not named. I stopped by a coffee hut - one of those drive through coffee kiosks with mediocre product last weekend and woman working there and I discussed the cats of Moberly (not this blog - the actual animals). She said their was a crazy old cat collecting lady who had more than 30 cats. She died. The guess was that many of the cats of Moberly just roaming the streets are hers or their offspring. I wouldn't doubt it.

I'm learning to use my camera better so there will be many more pictures of the cats of Moberly.

Enhancing Cats

I got a new camera!

I have to learn how to use it but it appears to take beautiful pictures. Here are some photos I uploaded to picasaweb - photos of cats of Moberly and more

I resized the photos on picnik.com.

It's bedtime so I have to quit with my photo romp!

The Angry Dome

I am having a stupid day. Mid-Missouri ices. I fell on the ice at the grocery this morning. And after a female store employee helped me get to my car and put the groceries in the trunk (including huge bag of cheap cat food for the feral cats) - she looked at the non-helping male employee and told him to get some salt out for the lot. (Stupid lazy man!) Why wasn't there salt out before? I think it had something to do with laziness...

So I fell. I'm dirty. I hit my knee - which is still sore from my previous fall.

Later I went back out to get less toxic ice melter for the home from because I, unlike certain lazy people, have been putting it out on the walkways. I ended up with similarly toxic ice melter (the fine print was too fine at the time).

I went to do laundry and there was a load of wet laundry IN the machine. Dee has been gone more than a week. So it had that not so fresh odor. I'm not angry about it but annoyed that after having an upset that I faced the stinky impediment to my own clean clothes.

THEN - Daisy, who had been outside for 20 minutes or so, came in and when she jumped up onto her spot on the sofa - she PEED! That was the straw that broke my back.

I remembered professor Farnsworth announcing, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the angry dome!" and later you see him shaking his fist and appearing to yell at the air. Futurama, so many lessons for life!

It does no good to yell at anyone so I sit here and shake my fist at the world.

To feel better I made myself some chocolate Malt-O-Meal (farina - like Professor Farnsworth is known to eat) and coffee.

This evening, I have to go back out into the snow and ice to a party organized by my office at work. It is a big deal with music, prizes, games, dinner. No alcohol, though - which is good and bad. Dressing nice is encouraged. I will dress nice but put on my spiky ice cleats and hope it doesn't spoil the look - HAHA I would be happiest if I could just stay here, with the cats (and no dog) and read a book but I will try to muster the good sport buried inside myself because nobody likes a raging whiner.

The Clock

Half hour until it's Daisy's bedtime. It's impossible not to watch the clock!

The Blame Game

By the way, I do believe that it is almost always the owner's fault when a dog fails, in case you were wondering whose fault I thought it was.

Now Whose Fault Is It?

Dee is at a training course for a couple weeks which means it's me and Daisy. All dog - all the time. So, as I've mentioned, my m.s. is rearing its ugly head and I'm not the best dog-walker right now. I was walking Daisy last night on the treadmill - which means I watch her walk herself and she started walking funny. She would quit walking and coast to the back of the treadmill and then hurry back up front. She seemed like she was overly anxious so I slowed the belt down. I commented to her about her stinky farts and then my eyes focused on a glistening pile of poo off the end of the treadmill. Needless to say, we evacuated the room and she went outside in case there was more where that came from.

The question remains - what happened?

I took her out twice before she got on the treadmill. Why didn't she go? It's cold out - maybe she didn't want to stand there on the cold concrete taking a dump but what am I supposed to do, carefully place a heating pad on the ground for her precious footsies? I waited this evening until she went. It took longer but I am not about to repeat last nights chore of poo removal. I definitely didn't pick up on the signals she gave me with her behavior - Dee probably would have shouted, "we have poop-sign!" and rushed her outside but I didn't catch it. So, thanks Daisy for the educational experience! Rigggggght...

Dog Days

Dee is at a training camp and I am now "stuck with the dog" for a little more than two weeks. I feel it is really stuck because she needs attention, exercise, and more attention. Add in the fact the weather has been awful - misty, icy, wet, cold - my feeling of the canine burden is complete.

Daisy is able to be out of her crate more now without danger of relieving herself on the floor. However, she chases the cats and Margeaux teases her which drives her nuts so it is unwise to just let her run wild. I limit her access to rooms by closing doors and using baby gates. I keep her on leash in the house. I say the word "no" a whole lot.

The command "down" gets her to sit and "lay" is the obvious. "Stay" is known but not necessarily respected. It depends on the context. If I say "down" and "stay" on the way into the house, she waits until the word "okay" to enter. So we need to work on down-stay in other locations. I think she anticipates that she's coming in so she obeys that command set. She thinks of stay as a temporary situation. When really - I'd like her to stay for a while.

My m.s. has been acting up this week so I'm not the able-bodied dog-walker. I have been putting her on the treadmill to get some exercise. And - right now - I have this break because she's outside in the fenced yard. Quiet - no rattling about in her kennel, no whining, no hopping all around in this room where I have to make sure she does not rob the litterbox. Yes, she is a turd-burglar. She is a dog and dogs do that kind of stuff. I am taking care of business, doing what needs to be done, and awaiting Dee's return. I'm glad SHE loves having a dog - I guess.

The Enemy Outside My Door

We feed the stray cats outside our kitchen door at the side of the house. The food was disappearing at an alarming rate. Was it the worms? I always imagine they are full of worms. I didn't know what to think about rate of consumption until one evening when I had daisy in the back yard looking through the fence at the side/kitchen door area and there was a very obese cat - that turned around - to be a raccoon! The bandit was eating the kitten food. It walked up to the fence with no fear. I took Daisy inside and went back out where it was again perched over the catfood bowl. I threw rocks at it until it went away. I'm not going to go hand to claw with a raccoon but I am going to try to keep it away. Dee has gotten a wrist rocket (slingshot) and we pelt the vermin when we can. It seems to have slowed it down.

It climbs the house next door and lives in an eve or attic or some part of the structure. These neighbors know they have raccoons. I'm not at all sure what to do about all that. I do not like these creatures though and do not want them hurting the cats or Daisy, who is outside sometimes too.

I do consider it an enemy though. I've been feeding the cats in the daylight hours and am contemplating the demise of the bandit.

Daisy Patrol

Daisy is doing something new.

She is barking a different kind of bark. She is barking an alert. Our neighbor popped up over the fence the other day and said hello. It's a six-foot fence so he was on a ladder. Daisy barked a sharp bark and was very serious. Dee later noted it - and we were glad to hear her bark for a legitimate reason - not a blowing leaf or cat. This evening, I heard someone dragging something in the driveway next door and Daisy barked an alert. She got up on her feet and looked in the direction of the noise. She then wanted to go outside. I took her out. She patrolled the parimeter of the yard and wanted to come back in. I put a leash on her (not unusual when she's in the house). She patrolled the parimeter of the interior as well. Stopping at the front door and waiting before coming back into the den and laying down to chew her bone.

I liked seeing this side of Daisy.

She is growing up and I'm liking her more. I still don't know if I'm cut out to give the amount of attention (and exercise) to an energetic dog, but I'm trying to do my part.

She is walking on the treadmill for about 10 minutes at a time and loves to go for rides. People all remark to us, "I saw you and Daisy..." People around town wave and say, "hi Daisy!" We are really trying to get her to be a good dog, to calm down and to pay attention.

It seems to be working. Our little girl is growing up. Thank goodness! Dee has done a great job with her and I fill in the blanks when Dee is not around.

I'm not going to look!

I heard Vegas squeaking on the window with her front paws (she's front declawed) so looked out the front door which has sections of glass so you see the world faceted. I opened that door to the glass door and I swear I gray kitten just ran away. I don't want to know there is a kitten out there - perhaps a hungry, cold, abandoned kitten. It breaks my heart. It ran around the corner and I'm not going to look for it. I can't. We can't take in every cat. There's food and water out there for them. There basic shelter. It infuriates me that people are so terrible - to let cats breed and just have kittens - no thought to the fact that they are going to need care... *shaking head* There's nothing to say... it's just sad.

Snakes in a Peanut Can

Dee lifted the blanket off the crate and let Daisy out. She jumped back, "Oh my god!" This isn't very Dee-like. She's a paramedic with years of military experience and doesn't rile easily. I'm immediately curious and anxious. I'm the jumpy one. Margeaux had just walked out of Daisy's crate. Daisy followed. I was incredulous. How did it happen? Was she okay? WHY?! Tell me WHY!???

Dee recounted how when she went to put Daisy in her crate that she stood in the doorway and didn't want to go in and it took a nudge to get her inside. She put the blanket down (like on a canary cage) and left for a little while. When the crate-front is open, the cats will taunt the dog and it just helps her to calm down. Dee peeked in later and Daisy was asleep. I suppose Margeaux was too. When the crate was opened, Margeaux dominantly sauntered out, her hair matted from dog-tongue in a little gray ridge down her back. She looked at Dee as if to say, "whatchoo lookin' at, meatbag?" She has no problems expressing her opinion.

I was glad Daisy hadn't killed the crazy cat. We laughed that they took a nap together and it further convinced me that Margeaux is the instigator. We know it's true.

Margeaux my love, Margeaux the worst cat ever

Margeaux is still young and kittenish in many ways. I love her so very much. She craves being held and often demands attention. When I'm at my computer she stands on the desk and paddypaws my clavicle or nudges me with her head. She purrs. She'll sit on me and rub against me. She sleeps by my head or belly. I want to be mad when she wakes me up paddypawing my face but she is so cute. I remember when she weighed 4 ounces, near death, and was a good little sport about it (except for the sulfur bath scrubs for ringworm). She sometimes still stands on her hind legs and does "jazz hands". She is hilarious.

She makes noises whenever she approaches and while running around the house. We talk to the cats and I've especially talked to Vegas and now Margeaux. It seems to encourage them to vocalize. Vegas yells her mews - "hey - meeee - I'm here - pay attention!" and she'll go on if I verbally respond. Margeaux's meow is still small, sometimes a silent opening of the mouth but she has a little whiny sound she makes quite often. She also demands attention with her words. Sometimes she'll whimper and cry in her sleep. It makes me want to weep for whatever sadness she is dreaming. She follows me around meowing and I adore her! But she has a dark side... the bully still exists!

She resembles but is legally distinct from Little Sparta in the Mean Kitty Song. If you go watch this catchy little ditty and are curious - when the song is at 38 seconds, 54 seconds and 1 minute 45 seconds there is Margeaux. We even call her "Little Sparta" sometimes. She's a bit of a biter. Always has been - little needle teeth when she was little and now bigger needle teeth! Daisy was sitting on the den sofa with us and Margeaux was running around near us but not close enough to be caught by the dog. She came prowling and bit my Achilles tendon from under the couch and withdrew. Shocking! She didn't break the skin - never does - just uses it for shock value I think.

She stalks the dinner table or any other food we might be eating. Breakfast of bacon and eggs is always a delight with Margeaux swaggering up to us confidently over and over again across the breakfast bar. Sometimes we lock her in the "cat apartment", the den. It doesn't have a cat door. If we do that, she cries loudly for release and doesn't stop until the door is opened. The cat apartment is also used for our escape. If we're going to watch a movie or video in the den, we set up the TV trays and bring in the things that cats don't want like salad or beer. Then we bring in our plates, walking quickly to get in the room and shut the door. Sometimes a cat gets through and then we have to pursue the uninvited guest and slip her out the door. Margeaux and Vegas are the ones who interrupt dinner. Vegas finds that a lap is more comfortable when one is having dinner and Margeaux wants that dinner!

She flirts with disaster with Daisy - taunting her. Daisy will pursue her and mouth her and Margeaux will hiss and whimper - ears back. But she turns belly up to the dog and makes sure she comes near enough to be caught. It worries us but she is the one tormenting Daisy - and Daisy is a DOG so she's dumb in that dog way. We watch them and sometimes pull the dog back so the cat can get away. Sometimes she leaves, but other times she stays. She bites Daisy on the face and paws. It generally creates chaos in the house.

Poor Laura Ingalls doesn't know how to play like other cats and Margeaux takes full advantage of her ignorance. She pursues Laura all over the house, displacing her from her normal spot on the bed and chasing her relentlessly. Laura will hiss and growl and swat at Margeaux who is unphased. Laura is normally content to lounge all day, maybe walk around a little and try to be held. She just doesn't play. Margeaux's goal is to teach Laura the fine art of playing like a cat.

I have to watch where I put things, Margeaux will rip up papers, book corners and wrappers. Yesterday, she tried to bite into the broccoli crowns. That cat doesn't want to eat broccoli! When my mom and dad visited, Dee prepared a charming little basket with mugs, tea and coffee, and a couple large Dove chocolate bars. Before the basket was assembled, Margeaux bit into the wrapper of the candy bar. We mended it the best we could but had to explain why the corner was exposed.

She gets into the dishwasher, far enough back that she's unreachable. Any cabinet opened might invite her in. Closets trap her. Then a a little while later we hear the "trapped cat cry". Indignant, she pops out of the offending incarceration but she hasn't learned yet.

I hope this is a phase and she will grow out of some of her craziness. Dee says Margeaux is the worst cat ever. She also says she really means it! This is something because Dee is a bit of a cat lady and has known many cats, both domestic and feral. I don't know if she really IS the worst cat but she is a nut.

Caulking with Cats

Today, although it is a bit too cool for excellent caulking, I finished the caulking that I started. We've moved the feral cats' bowls to the side of the house and their food bowl was empty. I filled it as I went outside to finish caulking. So here comes Stumpy, trying to get in the house every time I go in or out. Mae West isn't limping as badly but when she stands still, you can see that her front arm is healed poorly. It's sad. Berkely came through and actually almost sprung into the house once when I was going inside. That would be a mess! That cat is very feral and won't allow an approach - what in the world would she do once inside the house?!

So I caulked - I finished the unfinished and went over the finished to make it look better. Between the front porch tiles and sidewalk there is rubbery old caulk which I pulled up and NO MORE GREAT STUFF - it's sticky and unpredictable (and I'm a poor technician). I put backer rod in the gap. Now I don't have caulk for that area and will research low temperature caulk to see if I can finish the job. It's getting in the 60s in the day time but the 30s at night.

The cats worried me, walking close to the caulk but so far they didn't get any on them (or I guess I'll see big white footprints).

Caulk follow up

This handy thing just has worn me out. I'm so sore I can't move! I work out almost every day but I guess doing something new for such a spell is stressful. The worst thing is that I'm not done. I ran out of caulk and there are gaps with Great Stuff just sitting in there. I am not happy about this caulk thing or skillful. My caulk job looks ugly.

Working on the Manor

Today I'm removing caulk (with a painter's tool and rubber mallet) and re-caulking the house between an exterior wall and a sidewalk. There's a sort of large gap so I'm filling it first with foam. This is when home ownership is fatiguing. Remove caulk? ugh! We love living here though so I'll suffer for a little while.

Dee and I bought this house in January 2007. On January 25 we closed on the 27 we moved and on the 29 I turned 40. An auspicious week to be sure. We looked at pictures on the web before we even viewed the house and thought it was certainly out of our modest reach. I hate to be all caught up in a building but this house just blew us away. First of all it isn't full of little rooms. It's a house for grown ups with no kids. It has four big rooms and a big garage. The living room is what wow-ed us. At 20 x 20 (feet), it was just a tremendous room. It is a perfect setting for cocktail parties although we've refrained.

The kitchen had been remodeled into a sleek contemporary room. The construction was a bit amazing to us. All the closets but one are cedar lined. All the windowsills are marble. We did have to ditch the dripping chandelier.It looks like a brick ranch home on the outside and the surprise come after walking in. The hard wood floors had been refinished. All the stainless appliances were included. The guy who owned the house had some legal trouble and had to give it up. Drug addiction is no joke. But his loss couldn't have been a gain to two better people. But - I digress - I must get my mallet and tool and get to work.

Me - as a cartoon character

The front door has become my enemy. There is an inside door and and outside glass door. Then there is a small step down. Right now there is a large trash can sitting near it to avoid it blowing over in the wind we've been having. It impedes opening the outside door all the way. I'll move that in the morning.

Today as I was leaving for work I caught the small loop on my sling pack (bag that sits over one shoulder)on the outside door handle. The inside door was a little open and I couldn't reach it to close it. I was holding coffee which I couldn't sit down - unable to bend because I was tethered to the door. I debated throwing it into the yard - not precious coffee! The cats - oh the risk. Margeaux or Vegas may run out and Stumpy might run IN. I knew I had to close the access. I strained and got a finger on the inside door and got it at least mostly closed and I then began the struggle to free myself. I'm lucky I didn't have to wait for a passer by to free me. I felt like the "retard" in the movie Drop Dead Gorgeous when he gets his bib overalls stuck on a parking meter. Writhing around trying to contort out of the situation - looking like some type of comedy act.

This evening I went out to see if I left my ever-shrinking cell phone in my car. Remember the days when talking in a cell phone was like talking in your shoe? I am wistful. My car is currently parked out front while we await a replacement garage door. On my way back in, conscious Stumpy was advancing on my rear and Margeaux was approaching from the front, I started in the front door and stumbled in. I fell and my foot was caught in the outside door. It was a slow fall and I wasn't really hurt as much as I touched my wounded knee which is excruciating. I'm mad at that door. It better stop it's shenanigans or it's getting replaced with a CURTAIN!

Keeping up with things

The size of the town matters when it comes to eating out, driving places, doctors and businesses but it doesn't matter where you live, day-to-day existence is similar. When I lived in Chicago, I went to work, came home and had a couple hours in the day to keep up with things, cook, clean, read, watch movies, etc. The same goes for life in Moberly. My transit here is very short but in Chicago I listened to music and read on the el so transit wasn't really bad anyway.

Keeping up with things is always there. Our house - well - it needs caulked around the structure and I am afraid I've almost waited too long for it this season although it really needs it. UGH! I looked up the process and I need to REMOVE the old caulk - how tiresome. One gap is large so it will be filled before caulking so yet another step. My dad would be a little frustrated that I haven't gotten this chore done yet but we are committed to taking care of it before the end of the upcoming weekend. You hear that dad? We really really will take care of it!

Finally Fall

This summer was brutal. It seemed to hover in the sweaty zone for three months! It is finally cooling down but with that comes the winter worries - what will the stray cats do? Well, first we've built one house for them out of plastic tubs and straw. Stumpy really would like to be an indoor cat but we've limited ourselves to three cats - we can't be freaky cat ladies! So Dee built stumpy a little house on the front porch with a towel and a box. We may have to make that a bit more substantial but it's a start.

My concern is that we must get the females spayed. There are enough stray cats and we cannot be adding to the population. But without being overly dramatic, we are not made of money and food and shelter for alley cats is eating at us so we're going to try to find a vet to spay them a little cheaper. We can't even catch the females yet though.

These cats!

Carrie Ingalls and Puffy

New cats at the food this morning and afternoon - Carrie Ingalls (looks like Laura Ingalls - probably the child of Mae West) and Puffy - a gray tabby whose tail is always real fluffy. I surmise that Puffy's tail is big just to show Stumpy how having a fluffy tail can be glorious! The names of these cats will probably change when Dee, the catnamer, rules on what they shall be called. Puffy and Carrie are still afraid of us. That's okay - they can't follow us inside anyway.

Stumpy remains bold and now will enter the garage and fight the dog in the back yard. She gave Daisy a couple good scratches over the weekend but Daisy hasn't learned yet. She's a dog.

Stumpy and Mae West

Stumpy is who you might think he is. He's a cat with no tail. It was alarming the first time I saw him - I didn't have my glasses on and it was only half light. He was crying on my front porch and I opened the door to the glass door and saw his cat face. I thought at first it was Margeaux - outside! Then I saw Margeaux inside and went to get my glasses. I looked again and saw the most disturbing thing. The little cat had no tail. NONE. It is shocking to see a cat with no tail. He ran when I went around from the side of the house just to see him. We keep some cheap cat kibble (sorry - we can't feed all the cats in Moberly premium cat food) so I put some in a frisbee and sat it out. He still ran from me.

He kept coming around and eventually, Dee picked him up to take a good look at him. He's an intact (not neutered) male gray tabby (more gray than tabby). He's all love - writhing on the ground - constantly stretching his paws - with big claws. He wants to be held now. He's constantly yelling at us. I don't hold him because I'm a little shy about holding a stray outdoor cat. Daisy chaises him but he holds his own.

Mae West has been called "Laura Ingalls's sister", "Carrie Ingalls", "Susan" and now we've settled on Mae West. She does look like Laura Ingalls's sister. She has broken one of her front paws. She won't let us near her but she hides under the shed and eats the cat food we put out. We were going to catch her and put her in the basement to heal. She is elusive though.

Her paw seems to be healing and she is getting more relaxed. There is another unnamed cat - a long-tailed gray tabby. He comes around some too now - but he's very scared. These cats! I'll try to get pictures if they start coming closer.

Bingo!

Last night we attempted to play bingo. It was a frustrating and fruitless pursuit. There was supposed to be bingo at the American Legion hall but it was closed and no sign of gaming. We drove around town like drug-seekers trying to find a dealer. Dee mentioned that if we were this desperate to find bingo, that crackheads must be completely crazed. She described the process in a more complex way that had something to do with earning money first. We luckily had our bingo money already but the game eluded us. The Moose hall was having a reunion. the Eagles weren't in the bingo business and the VFW hall was dark. So we checked out the bowling alley. Too many kids plus we wanted bingo - we'd picked up red and blue daubers for the occasion and everything! Bowling just sounded loud. We debated taking our bingo playin' money to the gas station and spending it on Lotto scratchers but after we laughed about it, we never brought it up again.

Someone already has told us a tale of a local "bingo queen" who always sits in the same spot with her lucky stuffed animals arranged to cheer her on. We've been warned to be careful of her. She would be furious if some new person had beginner's luck. I didn't think I was really an insider but maybe I have good bingo intuition. Dee had the nerve to ask what might happen if she yelled "bingo!" and then "psych!". I blurted, "you can't do that! they'd mess you up! and then you'd not be allowed to play bingo - maybe in the whole town - ever again!" She has assured me she will not pull any shenanigans.

We ended up at Wal-Mart buying the game Mancala. We went home and ate Lofthouse sugar cookies, drank tea, and played Mancala. There is bingo around town on Monday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday so perhaps we'll play this week.

Saturday in Moberly

Dee and I had a horrible breakfast yesterday at the VFW hall. It was like being at the Mexican taqueria (in Chicago) near 18th and Damen because it has long cheap banquet tables and people just sit anywhere- like a giant indoor picnic. Mostly old people are there (different from taqueria). The food - typical breakfast fare - was CHEAP and the coffee cups were huge. The beverage passing as coffee was just awful. I'll drink some second-rate coffee, but, this stuff was dishwater. bleh! But going there was fun just because of the atmosphere.

How I got to Moberly

Why Moberly?

Long story short - we both lived our twenties in urban settings - Los Angeles and Chicago. Adversity led us away from our cities, eventually to Columbia, Missouri - a college town with inflated real estate prices, traffic, and opinion of itself. Dee's job in Moberly prompted us to investigate housing and find our dream house (another post). As if we were charmed, I found a job locally and for the first time in years, I am happy to be employed.

We joke that Moberly, Missouri is in France. Why? I fantasize that a French town has interesting honest character to it; that the French know what is worthy and have the right attitude. Truly, it is more about the fact that we could live better - like we imagine the French do!

We like many things about the place - from our own dwelling, to the parks, the alleys and the trains. We enjoy this town and our life here.

The Cats of the Manor

Okay - so we have three cats - Vegas, Laura Ingalls and Margeaux. Their names describe them really.

Vegas - she's confident, loves to play and demands attention. She wears a tuxedo and gets under covers. No problems with eye contact, she's an emotional cat. She has an agenda and an opinion. She is a reliable fly killer. She likes to lurk. One of her favorite spots is on the shelf in my clothes closet. Open the closet, turn on the light and look up - there she is, lurking, with her front paws dangling down over the edge, looking down on me. No, really, she looks down on everyone - she's a superior cat.


Laura Ingalls is full of love. She is the shoulder-holder and likes to be held. Mostly, she sleeps on the bed all day - want to find Laura? She's dependable. She has trouble with change and has adjusted slowly to Margeaux and Daisy. She growls at them still. She hisses. But we've also seen her clean Margeaux and she regularly lets her sleep near her now. She isn't as smart as Vegas but her emotions are simpler because of it. Her fur is very fine and can be found throughout the house, in our vehicles, and probably lining my lungs.


Margeaux is still bright with kittenhood (see my post on "Little Guido the Thug"). She prowls and pounces and taunts the puppy. We saved her country-ass life - and she will never appreciate it - instead, she tries to steal from our plates, drives Laura Ingalls to distraction and makes the dog cry. She's a player-chasing all moving objects. Yesterday, she jumped right into the toilet. She can be so sweet though and cuddles with us most every night.

Don't Forget Me - I'm a Puppy!

All this talk of beloved cats but there's more - Daisy - and raising a puppy isn't fun. I have been the #1 hater these past few months. She is a terrier mix - we call her a "pit russel" - but we're not really sure about her dad. She was a backyard throwaway dog and Dee, who wanted a dog very badly, brought her home.

We've been working with her and her behavior IS improving. She's a little over six months old and 25 pounds. She's going to be a perfect size. She has pit bull hair - no undercoat, hardly any shedding. She'll need a winter jacket. She has insane terrier jumping ability and we play endless hours of fetch and games with her. We've crate-trained her and she does really well in her little hut.

She's funny and just like the cats, she wants LOVE all the time. I'm trying to be more positive about Daisy - she isn't a bad dog really. She's just a puppy.

I'm so over Chore Wars!

I've been participating in a role playing game a game called Chore Wars. Chore Wars lets you claim experience points for household chores. The game suggests that a household play as a team so people can see who's really doing the work. I'm playing with Barbara, her sister Susan, and Susan's husband Patrick, and someone else I don't know. I started logging my chores and found that I do a hell of a lot of them! Susan and Barbara do a lot of chores too. The other two haven't logged that many - so I figure, they don't care to log chores, whether they do them or not.

I have advanced to Level 6 Shaman status. I don't know if I want to log my chores anymore. It is depressing. From seeing it, I wonder how to make it so I don't have so many chores. If I had logged last week's chores, I did some major cleaning and I would have probably advanced. The thought of it seemed to depressing - I see all these chores and what? clean stuff just gets dirty again. Fine meals get eaten. It's a truth of life.

So I'm not logging my chores anymore - I don't know if Barbara and Susan care so much either - they have slowed down. It might be different if one was tracking chores within a household. Then the accomplishments would be more meaningful. When the game becomes a chore, it's time to stop playing!

Little Guido the Thug

Margeaux had that stereotypical "Guido" look. Sparse hair that appeared slicked back. She had a swaggering demeanor and we surmised it was from her trying to overcome her humble roots. The ringworm left her looking rough - yellowed and scraggly. Guido had claws too! She could scamper up a human body as easily as jumping onto a sofa. We lost blood. Cutting her nails didn't do a thing, it was as if she instantly sent out a set of razor-sharp replacements.

When she roamed the house, she was a courageous little bully. She held her own with the puppy, hooking a lip and an eyelid "playing". She could get onto the counter where we ate (sometimes by scaling human flesh) and would confidently stride over to our plates repeatedly, with a more sense of entitlement than a spoiled child. "No human food for cats!" we'd tell her, but she kept trying.

So she spent a lot of time in the cat apartment. We counted the days until she would visit the vet for her front declaw. Each morning we'd awaken to Margeaux's voice crying out to join family. Sometimes she threw her voice loudly through walls. We were excited for the day when she'd be out for good. Laura Ingalls, however, was not.

Margeaux tries to play with Laura who still emits a low growl at the kitten. She is not amused by the antics of Little Guido the Thug. The day came and went and now that recovery is complete, Margeaux spends her time growing, sleeping, being cute, and trying to steal food off our plates.

Free isn't

Once we got the kitten home, we noticed she was tiny. In fact she was terribly thin. Hair that looked fluffy glinting in the sun looked spindly and sparse. She was ever so adorable though. She expressed affection freely and was so very playful.

We put a towel on the bed between our heads and she slept there all night. Little could we guess that she was incubating all manner of worms.

She had her vet visit and was diagnosed with roundworms and tapeworms. During the worming process we got to witness the evacuation of the worm kingdom first hand. The vet thought she might be six weeks old (instead of 8) and she might or might not live. I prepared mentally for kitten death - I heard the term "failure to thrive" which to me still smacks my face with kitten death. She continued to live - poorly but cutely. There was no diagnosis on the bare patches of skin. We applied a topical solution.

She didn't want to eat anything except the gravy of that cheap nasty catfood the "farm lady" (as we have dubbed her) had fed her. We were at wits end - she wouldn't eat kitten kibble - she wouldn't eat. We tried canned kitten food and she started to eat.

That didn't help the hair loss. One would have thought she'd have gotten healthier but no - she looked just terrible though she didn't complain and seeing her standing on her hind legs to do jazz hands revitalized our human will. We named her Margeaux because she deserved a fancy name.

We thought it must be mange (a parasitic infestation) and back to the vet she went. This time she "fluoresced", meaning that the light showed infection all over - ohhh it had to be ringWORM, a gift that gives to others.

To this day, I treat two spots and Dee treats a couple too. Little Margeaux was shut away in a room we called "the cat apartment". She had to be force-fed oral medicine and scrubbed (yes scrubbed) once a week with a sulfur treatment that turned the gray cat yellow and transformed her into a whirling frenzy of claws. She smelled like a rotten egg.

Meanwhile she was picky but fed and pathetic but lived. For free, she entertained - displaying amazing litterbox skills. While Laura Ingalls left "the captain's log" for us each day on top of the sand, Margeaux managed her litter with the grace of a Tasmanian devil. She bit and chased everything that caught her eye. We dabbed cream onto ourselves but we couldn't resist snuggling the kitten. Dee worked a few more shifts to cover Margeaux's expensive habit (the vet) and we were excited that at least the cat's ringworm was gone. As she started to grow real cat fur, we saw a lovely beautiful cat emerge.

The Third Cat

I am not a believer. I don't think that angels are watching over me, doing me favors - I try to live in the world of the real. But this gray tabby somehow called out specifically to me in the Wal-Mart parking lot. My outburst of, "did you see..." was followed by a dramatic expression of asceticism as I exclaimed through tears, "but we can't have ANOTHER cat!"

Dee laughed and said that three cats are just the same as two and we crossed the parking lot on foot, drawn by enigmatic feline magnetism.

Three FREE cats were being displayed outside of a middle-aged woman's car. She seemed as if she was being forced to give the cats away by someone old enough to be her mother, maybe she was. She said that the gray one was her favorite and Dee and I both held the little beauty. We decided if the kitten was there when we finished our errand, we'd take her. We crossed the hot sunny parking lot, but as we passed our car on the way into the store, we stopped and turned around. The woman got tears in her eyes when we came back and gave us some cheap cat food pouches, what she'd been feeding the kitten. We politely reassured her the cat would have a good life and great care (thinking with a bit of snobby scorn that we'd be upgrading to premium cat food right away). I don't remember what we planned to get there, but we drove home right then with the tiny cat, hoping her ears hadn't gotten burned from being out in that bright sun.

Dust bunnies are NOT pets!

I wonder what happened to all the cat hair and dirt when we had carpet. I think it just stayed there. We ran the vacuum constantly and even got the carpet cleaned but I don't think we touched the amount of dirt we now remove from the hard floors.

Normally - we use a broom and then a dust mop after that and then we wait a couple hours until the next cat hair tumbleweed comes driftin' along. Today I used the vacuum on the wood floor - normally I use the broom but wanted to cover more ground quickly and I just finished with the dust mop. I did it right, moving furniture and using vacuum attachments appropriately. I even vacuumed the cellular shades. What a rip-off those are! The previous owner of this house got custom cellular shades and they are virtually uncleanable. I took about 40 minutes and vacuumed relentlessly and some hair was removed. The idiot had already stained the custom white shades with nicotine (being a smoker). Love that yellow tinge.

Next I will lightly mop the wood with water. It is all for naught but oh well... My parents are visiting in a couple weeks and I want the house to be cleaner than usual. It isn't usually dirty but the dust bunnies (made from mostly cat hair) require constant attention.

In my welfare fantasy (where I don't work but live off the system), my house would sparkle. I would work out all the time and enjoy a simpler life (no ironing necessary.) It's the same as my lotto fantasy only I have an expensive sound system and exercise equipment in that one!

All that said, I don't miss having carpet. At least now, I can more easily see the enemy and its name is "Bunny".

Cat and a Half

Shannon died. This was the end of an era for Dee. Shannon had been to her what my old El Camino had been to me - a constant - though flawed (both were so very flawed), something that had been through the dark tunnel with us. Now it's a bit more admirable that a living creature and not a cartoon car/truck hybrid had accompanied Dee but we all hang on to what we can take comfort in. When Dee was going to move in with me - temporarily, we barely knew each other really, she dropped off Shannon in soft-sided kitty bag. Dee unzipped it and out popped this exotic-looking creature. She promptly disappeared. Dee had to return to Mississippi County to finish a 96 hour shift. Shannon gave me a bit of approval by the time Dee returned and I truly believe that helped Dee to decide to stay a while. She never found an apartment (a college town can have a lame rental scene) and Shannon had settled in anyway.

I'm encouraging Dee to write here about Shannon. She knew her from the weepy eyed absent kitten to a companion on her cross-country trip. I saw her as antisocial, strange, and she left the legs but ate the bugs. I heard her purr once. It was a big occasion. She perched like a catgoyle - the annoyed guardian. She eventually became sick and miserable and the decision was made. After Shannon died, we decided to wait a while for another cat. The mourning period commenced. Dee would sit and watch movies with tears in her eyes, missing Shannon. It was unbearable - we decided to do a window shopping visit to the Humane Society. We looked at the kitties - oh they were cute of course. We stayed true to our word and left empty handed.

A week or two later (Dee probably should be telling this story) we went back. We wanted to hold kitties this time - to pick a kitty that would be the "right" cat. Not a Mickey-man cat (former cat of Dee's who always wanted to be outside). Dee wanted one that craved human affection and resonated "hold me!". I wanted a player. We were told about the "cat and a half special". Choose one cat and get a second one at half price. Dee settled on a cat who fell asleep in her arms and I had to have the tuxedo cat who batted the ball relentlessly.

We named the sweet one Laura Ingalls, she had such an overbite we eventually had to get her bottom teeth filed. Vegas seemed like the perfect name for the conniving, clever tuxedo cat. I forget which one is the "half cat". Don't believe Dee if she says it's Vegas. Vegas is ALL cat!

Bug World Revisited

This week, there has been only one wheel bug seen at any given time. I don't know if it is the same one or not - it's too far away (so no, I haven't named it). There have been two praying mantises on opposite sides of the ceiling every day. I wonder if they jockey for position. I don't see them emerge or land or whatever it is they do. They sort of match the ceiling. This week there were some incredibly small moths on the window just to amuse me with their smallness. I thought only big bugs got ceiling rights - guess not!

The Original Cats

Okay, I started to call Vegas and Laura Ingalls the "original cats" but Shannon (Dee's cat) and Nina (my cat) were the original cats. Maybe I can talk Dee into guest-blogging about Shannon, who really earned the title "original". Nina was just a gray tabby - she was the runt of her litter, a giveaway when Jim and Griselle broke up. She became Thaddaeus (who I was married to) and my cat and she bonded with Thad right away. I'd never had a cat. He had cats - his mom always had a real dumb yellow cat around. Nina held a rat at bay in one low rent apartment and chased a mouse up into our bed which was a futon platform we built ourselves out of 2x4s. Thaddaeus ended up with the unpleasant duty of finishing off the vermin. We played rat hockey with brooms - finally batting the thing out the front door, then the first security door - then he caught its leg in the front door and beat it to death with - yes, a piece of 2x4. The mouse... well the mouse was beaten to death by an Isaac Hayes Groove-A-Thon record album after Nina chased it up onto the futon and ripped through covers and humans trying to capture the rodent. I remember Thaddaeus quickly selecting an album we didn't play. Groove-A-Thon wasn't a bad album really but we picked it up at the thrift store mostly because Mr. Hayes was wearing a very cool 70's look indeed in his turban. It was an unforgettable moment. I couldn't invent something like that.

Our next low rent apartment had waterbugs and roaches. Nina ingested her share of pesticide with those bugs I'm sure. We moved a few more times and then bought a ramshackle house. She gleefully scratched up the corner trim and sat in front of the "box of fire" (old fashioned space heater). Her kidneys began to fail and the vet said we COULD have kitty dialysis done, but we decided a kitty neither understands nor wants dialysis and we let her go.

So that's the story of Nina, one original cat.

The Animal Kingdom

Three cats - well, two cats and a kitten, one dog - well, puppy and various other animals seem to be drawing my focus. I'm sure I'll get to the pets but first, let's talk bugs. I work in the local community college and outside my office is a big window-wall. Outside I can see the ceiling of the entrance to the college. On that ceiling is the bug world.

Most fascinating of all has been the wheel bug. It turns out it is a beneficial insect but one that will give a mean bite with that red beak! But look at it - it's like a dinosaur bug. I found it fascinating and went looking for this bug with a spiky ridge on its back and found. That is some bug! It makes the mantis and very large moth I saw not even worth talking about and forget about the huge horsefly - it's still a FLY. The best thing on the web about the wheel bug was found at this site:
http://www.hiltonpond.org/ThisWeek030901.html