Category: Izzie and Purrl

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Adventures in a Cat-A-Tonic State

Well, it’s been one week since the addition of a kitten into our household and for the most part, the adjustment period is going well.  Like any other home where there is a young one present, our family room carpet is littered with a variety of toys and household items that have been found to be amusing.  Much of our daily routine revolves around the little one, answering its cries, feeding, cleaning and comforting as required.  Unlike the addition of a new little human or canine baby however, there are no late night events to interrupt my sleep.  This is a good thing

Our first order of business in our early days with our baby was to find the perfect name.  The papers we received from the SPCA referred to our baby as “Sterling”; a three month old male kitten.    We weren’t crazy about the name, a little pretentious in our opinion.  I also was beginning to have my doubts that we indeed had a male kitten.  Aside from the total lack of evidence of any male paraphernalia, there was an incision scar on the tummy.  Our first visit to our new vet at the Ruckersville Animal Hospital, confirmed my suspicions and our kitten was declared a very healthy female kitten.  I’ve heard people say that kittens are difficult to sex, but honestly, you’d think they would have noticed when they spayed her and corrected their mistake.  Not that gender really makes any difference to me, she’d be just as cute as a he.

After much deliberation, we decided on the name “Pearl” which I soon modified the spelling to “Purrl” – a triple entendre referencing her color, her wonderful “motor” skills and my love for knitting.  I believe Purrl is destined to become a knitting enthusiast as well, trying her hand at assisting me with a pair of socks I was working on last night.

So far Izzie is accepting Purrl with great kindness.  I was so concerned that she’d been an only cat so long that she wasn’t going to be happy sharing the love.  After all, Izzie is the Queen and Dave and I her subjects.  But, the other night as Izzie sat perched on the back of the couch, Purrl approached her, wailing her baby cry.  Izzie extended her front paw and laid it across Purrl’s shoulders and began to lick her head and face.  It was a such a sweet moment.

I don’t know why I need these fur balls in my home, but I do.  They fill my house with activity and sometimes even mayhem and most of all love.  Izzie may not want to be with me all day, but she had set times when my presence is required – and it’s not only at meal time.  Lately, she’s made it known that she would like me to come take naps with her on my bed.  The funny thing is that I’ve been trying to get her to curl up with me on the couch forever (in her life terms).   The compromise is acceptable.

Since our move here, Izzie has been spending most of her daytime hours in the back yard.  She becoming quite a hunter.  At first her prey were the house finches at the feeder which was not a happy things as far as I’m concerned but the other day she caught a mole and brought it up to the house to present it to us.  She was ever so proud, and rightly so.

I know that there are a great many dog people who believe that their relationship has taught them much about God due to the characteristic traits we’ve bred into those animals since the first tame wolf came closer to a fire for some warmth or a scrap of meat.  Dogs are known for their loyalty, obedience and most of all, unconditional affection.  Cats, however provide insight into relationship with God that dogs, by their nature, just can’t.

Did you ever hear the expression “It was like herding cats”?  Cats provide a good workable image of free will.  You can not make a cat obey you, the cat must choose to do so.  Furthermore, in choosing to do what you want, the cat has decided there is something in it for her.  How human is that?

I’m not trash talking dogs.  I love dogs.  I’m just saying that a cats can provide a glimpse of what is must be like to be God.   This first week with Purrl has given me a little more insight in just how frustrated and disappointed God must get sometimes.  Like God, my intentions are all good.  All I want to do is insure that Purrl eats properly and is safe at all times.  In return, it seems like not too much to ask for her to at least acknowledge that all the blessings of sustenance and entertainment flow from me.  What do I want in return?  Just a little love – is that so wrong?

Maybe instead I’ll try to be more God like and patiently wait for Purrl to come to me. In the meantime, I might try curling up on my heavenly father’s lap for a while.  I think he’d like that.

 

 

 

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Meet Little “What’s His Name”

After months of debating over whether or not to get a dog, we marched ourselves into the Charlottesville Albemarle SPCA yesterday afternoon and adopted a kitten!  Andy and I had stopped by there last Monday to look at the pups and were smitten by an adorable one-eyed white cat called Casper.  He was a feisty fellow with a penchant for dangling earrings.  His one blue eye was enormous and twinkled while his closed eyelid gave the illusion that he was winking.  I was surely tempted to bring him home with me but we were heading out of town Sunday afternoon for an overnight and didn’t want to leave a new cat home alone.  So, I captured a great picture of him on my phone and left Casper behind vowing to come back in the new week to bring him home.

Over the course of the weekend, I showed the photo of my new love to several people.  I was surprised by how many found his unique appearance disturbing and even revolting.  When they looked at his face, they saw a damaged animal, something to be pitied.   Each time I saw his bright eye and perky ears, I just fell for him harder.

So, yesterday afternoon, as soon as we’d eaten lunch and gotten things squared away at home following our return trip, Dave and I went to the SPCA to bring Casper home.  Sadly (for me), Casper was not there.  His bright blue eye and cheery disposition had charmed someone else and he’d been adopted over the weekend.

Since I’d already set my heart to adopt a kitty, Dave and I made the rounds of all the different cages.  There are so many cats there to adopt.  As we walked by, many of them jumped up on the side of the cage, just begging to come home with us.  With so many sweet faces and pleading mews, it was easy to imagine how  people are tempted to fill their homes with cats.  After walking around in there for a while, you really want to take them all home.  But, one was all we wanted.

After test driving several little to mid sized kittens, we eventually chose a three month old male kitten called Sterling.   We’re not crazy about the name but will find one that fits his personality as we get to know him.  For now, Dave calls him “Junior”.

Compared to Izzie, Junior is a tiny thing, weighing less than three pounds.  He is mostly white, with grey ears and tail and a blotch of grey over his right shoulder.  He was pretty dingy when we brought him home so a bath was the first order of business once he’d had some time to settle in.  He took the wash well but just the sight of a wet cat is pitiful.  Most of the remainder of his first evening was spent wrapped up and cuddling on our laps.

Izzie is both indifferent to and curious about our newest family member.  She comes up to his pen every so often to sniff him.  If the top is open, she helps herself to the yummy kitten chow and his litter box.  We’ve heard a few growls and hisses out of her but so far have only heard one peep from Junior.  He has excellent “motor” skills however and will purr endlessly when petted.

I haven’t figured out exactly why I felt it necessary to adopt another cat.  We did decide that we are definitely not ready for a dog.  I was also a bit discouraged by the price of the one puppy I  saw advertised in the paper.  When I called, I was informed the placement fee was $1,500!  Even though we could have afforded the price, I found the amount excessive for a family pet.

So, one cat, two cats, it’s really no big difference.  Selfishly I am hoping this new kitty will remain a lovey lap cat now that Izzie has decided the great outdoors is the place to be.  In the next few weeks his little personality will reveal itself to us and a real name will replace “Junior”.  Until then, we’re open for suggestions.

 

 

 

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From Tape to Eternity

I’m supposed to be painting the bathroom.  For the better part of the last hour I’ve been tediously taping off all the woodwork and tile in preparation.  All the painting “stuff” is in a mass outside the door on my bedroom floor.  With all systems “go”, why am I blogging?

Well, whenever I am faced with a mundain job like pre-paint taping, my mind begins to wander.  Anyone who knows me is familiar with my talent of linking seemingly unrelated topics.  Once I begin a voyage of the mind, only God knows where I’ll end up.

This morning I have been a bit preoccupied by my calico, Izzie, who seems to be spending more and more time outside.  So far, she hasn’t left the backyard, spending the majority of her time on the deck observing the birds and squirrels at the feeders.  I feel more comfortable letting her out here because there isn’t the danger of getting hit by a car or attacked by another cat like there was at our last house.  Besides, she makes such a racket at the back door, it’s a relief just to open it and let her go!  She never spends more than an hour or so out and then will come in to eat, use the box or nap.   When she’s out, I check on her as I would a child, just to make sure she’s in eyeshot.  Sometimes she’ll come to the door and cry like she wants to come in when what she really wants is for me to come out and be with her.  Cute.  Other times, when I come to the door, I can tell she’s been sitting there for a while, waiting.

So, there I was, crawling along the baseboards, taping away, thinking about Izzie and hoping she was alright in the backyard, when it occurred to me that this relationship we have is very similar to my relationship to God.  I have been “let out the back door” so to speak.  I trust God is checking out the door every once in a while to make sure I’m still in view.   I also believe that when I ask, God will be with me outside and when I am really in need, if I wait by the door, it will be opened to me.  Maybe the opportunity won’t come as quickly as I’d like, but God will open the door if I trust and stay close by.

I am by definition a “cradle Catholic”.  I was baptized prior to the Vatican II Council and was a small child during the transition to the Mass in the vernacular.  All through my teen and young adult years I was aware of the angst these changes caused.  So much so that even today, almost fifty years later, the changes are being debated.  This Advent season, the English speaking church will embark on more changes which to some appear to be a turning back to the “old ways”.

At first, I have to admit, the thought of a change had my fur rubbed the wrong way.   I even considered checking out other denominations, tired of the bickering between those who want the Mass to be more holy and those who are happy with the status quo.  Then I had an epiphany – so this is how the PeePs (People in Pews) felt in the Sixties and Seventies – maybe it’s not the change but the conflict that is so unsettling.

In my mind wandering this morning, I have decided that as long as I trust that God is watching over me and will answer me when I call and open the door, eventually, that is good enough for me.  I am weary of debating which words are the right words to say and whether it is more reverent to stand or kneel.  I know I don’t care whether Izzie meows in a special way or pats on the door in the appropriate manner.  That isn’t what relationship is about.

So there you go.  From taping the baseboards to a philosophical epiphany.

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Cattitude

Cats are weird creatures.  It is a fact that just can’t be disputed.  Izzie, our three year old calico is no exception.  Since moving here, she has made it clear that she approves of her change of abode and is thoroughly enjoying the new adventures as she explores the new sights and sounds both indoors and out.

Instead of a small, flat suburban yard surrounded by a stockade fence, Izzie now has free range of a quarter of an acre of gently rising back yard and woods.   There are birds to stalk, squirrels to harass and moths to pounce on.   The only downside to her outdoor experience is that I am unwilling to allow her our unescorted.  And, like all “teens”  she resents restrictions and expresses her contempt by insinuating herself in my activities, in case I may not have noticed her desires.  Usually this involves a walk on the counter, assisting me with my jig saw puzzle on the dining room table or in extreme instances, scratching the family room furniture.  Despite the cajoling, she carries on non-plussed as if to say, “whatever!”

A couple of days after we moved in I decided to give the jetted tub a cleaning after my first soak resulted in clumps of black gunk rising from the jets.  I filled the tub, added some Clorox, ran the jets and then let it soak for a few minutes.   When I returned to the bathroom, I noticed a large wet spot in front of the door.  Worried I might have a leak, I scanned the area and found Izzie on the floor at the end of my bed licking off her very wet legs.  Mystery solved, I gathered her up in a towel and took her down to the kitchen sink to hose her off.  She tolerated the re-bath pretty well can then allowed me to towel her off a bit before jumping down to retreat to some secret place to lick her fur and soothe her wounded pride.

For all her demands and tantrums, Izzie is good company.  My heart melts every time I hear her calling for me from another room, waiting for my answer.  I tell her where I am and soon she trots in, meows, rubs my ankles and then moves on.  Despite her lust for independence, she still needs to know I’m here for her.

She’s just like a kid, or for that matter me.  Maybe cats aren’t so weird afterall….