MAUDE 2016

Maude, the tortoise-shell I was given when I moved into a friend's apartment so many moons ago, and who is now the loving step-cat of my friend Phil, sleeps atop his livingroom table. She would now be around nineteen years, darn good for a cat who almost didn't make it past eleven or so, due to feline diabetes and my dark passenger (nod to Dexter). The message there: Don't give up on your older pet, if you can. Phil deserves all the credit for helping Maude recuperate and thrive, albeit in the den of rascally canines and one kitty rival. Thanks Phil.

CAT DADDY

Despite my father's insistence that he was not fond of cats, I herewith present irrefutable proof that he in fact loved cats, from an early age. Dad is about three in these shots, from 1937. The cat's name is likely lost to eternity.

CURRENT CAT CRAZE

He sat there angry, and a bit unnerved,
his haughtiness had been rudely served;
fur flew furious, with a startling spring,
near six feet high---he nearly took wing!
I had never seen one levitate like that,
you could say he was a freaked out cat.
What made him flip almost out of his skin?
What feline demons lurked deep within?
What made him become a kitty tumbler?
Why it was only---one scary cucumber!


I love kitties and never wish them harm, but the current craze of setting a cucumber near a cat unawares, usually while they are eating, and recording their startled reaction makes em cry with laughter. I just can't help it.

MORE MAUDE

MAUDE

My old cat Maude (who is now about fourteen and currently lives with my friend Phil) is a crotchety old gal, always has been (even when she was young). She would accept a little loving when she felt like it, but only up to a point, and then she would let you know it was time to knock it off. She didn't like other cats, at all. She is persnickety about her food. She got really sick her last year with me, and wobbled around like she was near death, and then she couldn't walk or make it to the litter box, and I thought she had some fatal neurological condition, but it turned out to be severe feline diabetes. I was about to put her down, when Phil swooped in and took care of her, and remarkably she recovered, although she still battles diabetes and some other ailments. But she hangs in there, stubborn to the last. I get to see her every once in a while. I am sure she hates living with all those dogs (and another cat), but she is also a trooper. Here are a couple recent pictures.

CRUNCH

We heard her before we ever saw her, the grind of small lizard bones ground by a hungry wild cat, who soon emerged from the shrubbery and into our home on Sylvan. She was a sweet calico, friendly, calm. She eventually went to live with my exgf when we split (and would be, if still living, about 16 to 20), and I don't know what became of her. But when she became ours, she could only have one name: Crunch.

Here is a small pic of her eating in Chris's garden on Sylvan.

DUFFY DEAN’S PARTY SCENE
(short version, for cats who want to party on the sly)

I know how to party. Been doing it for years, right under Sarah’s nose. And she ain’t no dumb mistress. No. But there is a fine art to evading the draconian restrictions she attempts to place on my outgoing personality and squeeze time with Honey Boo Boo. She thinks I laze about all day cause I am a kitty. . . no, I am sleeping off my wild nights. Anyway, you want to keep all things copacetic on the homefront (continued catfood and comfy comforters are important) while still carving out personal space for your inner party animal. Cats can have it all. Just ask my friend Hef. You think he’d have all those chickies if it weren’t for me? Ha! My Dad was Hef’s favorite and Poppa got to rub more p**** at the mansion than any five of his playmates. I’m telling ya!
Cats have always partied. Owners think the things knocked off shelves and bureaus while they are away are their cats sending them a message, but really it is just laziness and not tidying up as completely as they should. I tend to leave the house spotless. I even have special incense to eliminate the cigar smoke and heated Honey. . .if you know what I mean!

Timing is everything. For me it is easier than with some of my colleagues. Sarah is easy. If there is a Heat game going on, I can practically throw a party right there in the house without her even noticing (unless LaBron is having a bad night, but you know that ain’t happening often). She gets so immersed in her football (Go Canes! And several pro teams) that she hardly pays any attention to me. It also makes it easy for me to score chips and dips surreptitiously. Ha, you didn’t think I knew words like that, did ya! Beer and booze is a little harder to purloin, cause you know how she is. She hardly lets it cool down before she is on to another. Plus she does all that comedy stuff, and acting too. Sweet! More time for plentiful pleasant partying. She also has tons of friends always willing to wine and dine her. Some necessary items are harder to obtain. Caviar. Alabama pecan-infused bbq (for Honey). Luckily I love Indian food. And Sarah has a pretty good and diverse palate, so takehome boxes can easily pilfered. She thinks she accidentally throws stuff away. She is sooooo easy.

One obstacle is if your owner locks up too tightly. It is always good to stock up whenever you can. Be prepared. I have mastered loosening a secret window pane that she doesn’t know about. Any rat who reveals this knowledge will be found facedown in the sewer. I like to have several different beers (easy as pie here). Catnip is plentiful (and she just thinks I am loopy). I have long fur, so it is easy to hide the track lines, but I am no addict. I only party that way socially. But many of my friends, especially the ladies, have a hankering for the illegal stuff, and it comes in handy with the ladies sometimes.
Sarah has never found my private study (and she isn’t likely to any time soon; she is so inattentive). Solid mahogany paneling, plush chairs, brass ashtrays. Once she thought she saw smoke coming out of one of the sockets, but I managed to excuse that away.

Ok, that is all for now, I’ll perhaps let you in later on some neat masking schemes.

CATS

Herewith a set of pictures of some of my cats over the years. Before I left home I had this korat names Genius, because he wasn't.

Then when living with a woman named Chris, into our yard one day wandered Crunch, so called because we discovered her from the crunching sound made in the hedges as she devoured her favorite meal, lizards. She was a really friendly calico.

And then there was Maude, adopted by me in exchange for having access to a classmate's apartment when she moved. I had her for a longtime,until she developed diabetes, whereupon she was adopted by a colleague who didn't want me to put her down. That was about five years ago, and she is still kicking, ornery as ever.