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.