My ape has been very busy lately. To earn my Purina I volunteered to write this week’s article. I wanted to show some of the sights around the compound, so I asked to borrow his camera phone. I sure hope he doesn’t mind the tooth marks I left on the iPhone case. How else was I supposed to carry it? Continue reading “A Pet’s Point of View”
A couple days ago my ape went to the pet store to get food for me and my cell mate Roswell. He has to go to a pet store with an onsite vet because Roswell is overweight and needs special food – sort of Weight Watchers for cats. So sad for him, but anyway I digress.
After my ape returned he told me the tale of watching customers bringing their pets, mostly dogs, into the store with them. Now this is a very Good Thing. It helps the bond between animal and ape. But there is something that bothered us both as he told me this story. When people drag their animals with them they need to consider among other things that the animals are barefoot!!
While standing in the check out line, my ape watched two dog owners standing outside in front of the store and talking while holding their dog’s leash. It was a hot day and the concrete was sizzling. The dogs were literally dancing trying to keep their paws cool. One dog was even trying to stand in the shadow of his master’s friend but kept being pulled back because his actions were misinterpreted as an annoyance to other ape. The spectacle was over by the time my ape was leaving the store or he probably would have said something to the inconsiderate owners.
There are always plenty of warnings in the summer about remembering to not leave animals or even children in hot cars. There was an actual incident a week ago at a grocery store near our compound where animals trapped in a hot car were released by heroic passersby. But remember to be considerate to all of the conditions you inflict on to your animals. Not just hot cars but any man-made environment, like hot concrete, can be harmful to an animal if left there too long. And always provide fresh water.
The most protected possession a cat has is their dignity. Take that away and we’re just another house pet. Hell, a dog can go roll in fish at the lake then all he has to do is suck up and the apes still think he’s their best friend. But we cats have pride. We always make sure we look good even when we miss a jump or get caught behind a closed door. But sometimes you make a small mistake and the apes over react. There’s no easy way back from that.
My cell mate Roswell is a long hair Maine Coon. He’s a large fellow and the apes suspect he has some wild cat in him since he has behavior problems and he is of dubious origin(feral). He’s not the brightest star in the heavens and his long hair get tangled and hot in the summer.
Two days ago one of the apes caught him cooling off in front of the air conditioning vent. It’s been getting hot outside so this was pretty normal for a cat with a lot of fur. The ape even got a picture of him.
Then, first thing yesterday the ape brought up a carry cage and we knew someone was going on a trip. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me since I’d been to the vet recently. Sure enough they shoved Roswell butt first into the cage and took him away. He was gone for most of the day.
That afternoon the ape brought the cage back with a growling, extremely pissed off Roswell inside. When the door was opened, out stomps Roswell with no fur except for his head feet and tail. They called it a ‘Lion Cut”. I call it embarrassing and the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. You can be sure I’m staying away from any A/C vents this summer.
It’s early morning and I am released from my nightly captivity of the house, I leap onto the deck railing with the smooth viscosity of crude oil flowing uphill.
From my vantage point I survey the garden for the slightest movement.
My constantly twitching ears catch the faint rustling sound of a trespassing rodent looking for food in the undergrowth.
Like a shadow on the moon, a black form with no substance, I jump down and make my way along the hedgerow. The siren song of the starlings announces my presence.
Oblivious to the screaming birds my prey continues to forage in the grass for its morning grain. The breeze brings his blood scent to my nostrils. It sets my hunting instincts on fire.
I bend low, moving silently, closer to the rodent. Then I stop, still without sound. I deepen my crouch, the sinews of my rear haunches tightening with a need to strike like an over-wound clock.
With a single leap I dispense feline justice. My prey has no time to cry out.
The temptation to devour my victory is a strong one. But the apes have been good to me recently. I will leave this one for them on their living room carpet. Their screams of delight are reward enough.
We knew last night someone was in trouble when the ape brought that carrier cage from the basement. I looked at Roswell and he looked at me, both of us hoping it was the other one’s turn to go to the vet. Its too bad neither of us can read because there’s a name tag on the side of the carrier with a name on it. I was pretty sure it was my turn because it looked like the smaller cage that didn’t fit Roswell.
It got worse this morning when no one was letting us outside. What did we do to deserve this? After the ape with the high voice left we thought maybe they forgot. But the other one began wiping out the inside of the cage and put in a clean towel. I tried to look innocent in my cat bed but finally he picked me up and before I knew it shoved me, butt first, into the cage and carried me out to the car.
All the way to the vet I prayed to Bast that we weren’t really going there. Then I started thinking of much worse places to go so I just kept quiet and hoped he’d forget I was back there…no such luck.
What is it about apes that at the same time they say what a beautiful animal you are, they treat you so bad? The entire time they were cutting my claws they were saying what a good boy I am. If they think I’m so good why are they doing this in the first place? Again I realize it could be worse, some clown cut Roswell’s entire finger tips off years ago so he doesn’t have claws. At least mine will grow back and believe me I know just how I’m going to use them.
Then the real torture started when they started shoving pills down my throat. Well this wasn’t my first rodeo and I was able to give up quite a fight. These pills are totally unnecessary. I don’t eat worms! I eat birds and mice. Why do I need a dewormer?
One more needle in the butt and I was more than ready to go back in the cage. I think I’ll go take a nice long nap this afternoon and when I wake up I’ll be ready to make my ape let me chase the red dot.
Snowball spent Sunday making crystals for a line of jewelry she will be selling soon. While setting up her stuff in the kitchen, she unplugged a carbon-monoxide sensor. It has a battery backup so not a big deal. Until three in the morning when it started that infernal high pitched beeping. The detector never got plugged back in and the battery died. Continue reading “I’d Rather Die In My Sleep”
The curmudgeon asked me to write something this week since he’s taking some time off to celebrate his birthday. We talked about some possible subjects. I finally came up with my pet peeve (pun intended) which is cat food flavors.
What cat food flavor do you feed your cat? Maybe something like beef or chicken. Really? When was the last time you saw a house cat take down a cow? A chicken maybe, but it would take someone like my roommate Roswell who’s a 20 pound Maine Coon to make the kill. And don’t get me started about tuna. Ya can’t chase tuna! Try goldfish. At least you can chase goldfish, sorta, but you get your paws all wet. And I know from experience how pissed apes get when the aquarium gets knocked over.
Why don’t cat food makers come up with some good flavors? Last week I brought in two mice and a sparrow which I managed to share with Roswell before the apes saw us. Then I finished a full sized rabbit in the back yard. I didn’t bring that one in ’cause I didn’t wanna share it. Get the hint? Do we see minced mice or spiced sparrow in the pet food aisle? No! If ya really wanna go gourmet how ’bout let’s have some rabbit? Just please don’t cook it first.
And another thing! What ape came up with those damn dry nuggets in a bag they call treats. The best treat a cat could get is anything with six legs. Has to be alive though. We love how they scurry across the floor and some even jump up and fly. The biggest advantage is they have more legs to idly pull off during play. Yet there’s usually still something to eat when we’re done.
They accused poor Morris (Bastet rest his soul) of being a finicky eater. That’s total B.S. They just refused to feed him his natural diet. I’ll bet that if they would’ve laid a gerbil out in front of him, he wouldn’t be finicky, He’d jump that morsel in a New York second even if gerbil’s are known as a tough dry meat. The flavor’s still good.
That’s it! I’m gonna go out to change.org and make a petition for more realistic cat food flavors. And I’ll have everyone who reads this blog sign it. Let’s see, if I need ten thousand signers then I’ll only need nine thousand nine hundred and ninety five more signatures.
This is the sequel to The Tracker from Tales of the Wild Rose. There is gore and adult content. Parental guidance suggested.
Every wait person knows that there are good things and bad things about quiet nights behind the bar. The good is not much stress. The bad is not much tips. Tonight had been a quiet night. I’ll take it for what it was worth. The stress didn’t start till after closing.
Just as I finally got the last regular out the door, I see a guy limping up the sidewalk. As he passed under a streetlight I saw he was bare headed, his old military fatigues were torn and bloody. That’s when I recognized my old friend Mike that I had talked to earlier this evening. Continue reading “The Tracker Returns”
This is a short story from my series, Tales of the Wild Rose. This particular selection has some gore and adult language. Parental guidance is suggested.
It’s always a surprise to run into an old friend after many years. Especially one you haven’t seen since high school. That moment of confused familiarity followed by surprised recognition can leave you unbalanced. Then when you find out the strange life they’ve lead in the intervening years, it can warp your reality. Continue reading “The Tracker”