Much as it pains a writer to admit it, sometimes you don’t need any words.
Much as it pains a writer to admit it, sometimes you don’t need any words.
As I’ve mentioned, it has been cooling off around here lately. Not to the ridiculous extremes everywhere else in the country, but enough to be noticeable.
Tuxie and MM have been evaluating different approaches to maximizing sunlight acquisition and retention.
Sharing body heat, in other words. MM has decided that Tuxie makes a darn good hot water bottle.
Though some positions work better than others.
We’re pretty sure she wound up with a stiff neck after trying to sleep this way.
But it’s nice to see how nature adapts to changing conditions.
We’re well into an ongoing project to clean out the garage because, well, reasons. It’s going well, and we’re finding some amazing stuff. Things we’d totally forgotten we owned or have been saying “where the heck did we put…” about.
To give us room to work, we’ve been moving the car out and leaving the door open. Which means we get some curious looks from the neighbors.
And an occasional supervisor.
Tuxie seems very interested in the process, no matter how often we point out that the garage is not and will not be his turf.
He’s not impressed with that argument.
His attitude seems to be “If I can see it, I ownz it.”
We’re bribing him with extra krunchiez to leave–we don’t want him settling down in a box and getting trapped, after all–and so far it’s working.
Continuing our irregular series of posts featuring feline body parts left behind…
Watanuki is still the leader in this category, but Tuxie can do a rather respectable job of it, too. The other day I spotted him just outside the fence. Well, except for his tail and one leg.
I was fairly sure something had distracted him as he was leaving. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually the distraction got far enough from the fence for me to see it.
One lonely turkey. Which is fairly unusual, actually. When not going about as a flock, they most often travel in pairs or pairs of pairs*.
* I’d say “quartets,” but the Turkey Trot doesn’t lend itself to arrangements for four.
I’ll admit I still don’t understand the relationships among our various neighbors. I’d have expected wary detente or restrained hunger between feline and foul, but both of them seemed no more than casually alert. I’ve seen MM and Tuxie show more hunger at the sight of deer, which they would have even less chance of bringing down. On the other hand, the deer seem more afraid of the turkeys than they do of humans.
Politics make strange bedfellows, indeed. And when the politics are inter-species, there’s no telling who’s going to wind up in your bed. Or which body parts the negotiations will cost you.
Our catio guest–see last week’s post–has departed, more or less on schedule.
I say “more or less” because we decided to give him a couple of extra days in the resort. It wasn’t that big a deal. Tuxie was an easy guest, unlike MM when she had her surgery. Not quite as mellow as GT/Rufus, perhaps, but then, nobody is.
The weather was hot after his operation. A couple of days toward the beginning of the week set or came close to setting high temperature records.
Didn’t faze Tuxie a bit. He spent most of the days sprawled on the cool foam pads.
He was much more active after dark.
Hang on, let me give you a closer look.
I think he was meditating, though I wouldn’t swear to that.
By the way, note the odd position of his left hind leg. That’s not a side effect of the surgery. He’s sat like that for years. It seems to be a neighborhood thing; we’ve seen Rufus and MM sitting with a similarly-extended leg as well.
MM couldn’t wait to leave. Tuxie was in rather less of a hurry. He strolled out of the catio and buried his nose in the bowl of food we had put out for him. When he finished eating, he moseyed his way down the desk stairs, sauntered across the yard, and ambled off on his rounds.
Nor has he been unsettled at dinner time.
MM is always in a hurry to make sure I fill the bowls. Tuxie figures I’ll get it done eventually, and there will be plenty of time for him to get on his feet–and he’s right.
We have a catio guest!
Involuntary and hopefully of strictly limited duration, I hasten to add.
Way, way back last July, when Rufus–called “GT” at the time–moved into our garage for what we expected would be a short visit, I said “Once everything settles down and they [Fix Our Ferals] reopen, Tuxie will be paying them a visit.”
“Settles down.” It is to laugh. But it has gotten a little quieter around here, and FOF is reopening, so…
Tuxie’s appointment is Sunday morning. We wanted to make sure he didn’t miss it, so we snagged him Tuesday afternoon and moved him into quarters on the deck.
I suggested he think of the time not as pre- and post-op, but as an extended vacation. He doesn’t seem convinced.
He spends most of his time lounging around and complaining.
Mind you, that’s basically how he spends every day. And to be fair, I should note that the previous photo shows him mid-yawn, not mid-yowl.
Tuxie is a bit skinnier than we’d like, but two meals a day should help with that.
And we really, really hope that he’s not FIV-positive, because that would really give us a difficult decision to make. Realistically, the Rufus solution is not on the table. Of course, it wasn’t on the table last August either.
But be that as it may, at least Tuxie will get to spend a week or so in a luxurious retreat with catered meals and plenty of attention.
He doesn’t seem too unhappy about that.
Whenever Maggie fills the bird feeders (affectionately known as the Cat Entertainment Devices), we get swarms of the feathered noisemakers.
I’m not a bird person, so I only recognize three types:
Little Twitter Birds
Life is even simpler for Sachiko.
She calls them all “ek-ek-ek-ek [tail swish]”. As best I can tell–and why doesn’t Google Translate handle Cat/English?–that means “Lemme outta here, Daddy! I’ll moidelize da bums!” Approximately.
You might think that MM and Tuxie would spend most of their time in the yard, watching and drooling. You would be half right.
To be fair, MM does spend time keeping an eye on the avian activity.
It’s not a very aggressive eye, but it is an eye.
Note the orange little twitter bird at the silver feeder and the gray one at the red feeder, which is almost directly above MM’s head.
Based on our observations of MM’s interactions with the birds, we’re fairly sure that she, like me, has three names for them. About three-quarters of them are “Meh. Too much work.” Two-thirds of the remainder are “Missed it by that much.” And the remaining eight percent?
“See? I don’t need hoomins to feed me.”
Thanksgiving is, or should be, among other things, a time to share with those less fortunate. This year, we elected to give something a little special to the Backyard Bunch. Several things, actually.
First, while preparing our turkey, we donated the bird’s liver to the gang. Surprisingly, the cats don’t seem to care much for liver. The raccoons and possums, however, appear quite fond of it. Enjoy!
We also saw that MM was after a bird of her own, though she is sensible enough not to try for a turkey. She had a couple of unsuccessful stalks, but did manage to bring down one unwary avian.
Apparently it was more feather than meat, as she gave up on the idea of eating it after partially plucking it.
So instead of the usual bowls of cheap kitty krunchies*, they got cans of gooshy fud. Turkey, of course.
* Costco’s house brand, actually. Unlike many of the low-priced foods, it actually has meat as the major ingredient. Obligate carnivores, remember. Their fuzzy little tummies don’t do well on a diet of rice or corn.
As usual, they queued up in an orderly fashion to enter the yard when we approached.
For local values of “orderly”.
MM was a bit skittish. She, even more than most cats, takes comfort in a set routine, and not only did we both go out with the food instead of just one of us, but we also went out somewhat earlier than usual.
But once the food was in the bowls and we left the yard, everyone settled in for their Thanksgiving turkey.
I’m particularly taken by the sight of MM and GT sitting butt-to-butt, tails almost entwined as they nommed away, so here’s a closer look.
And, in the interest of equal broadcast time, a closer look at Tuxie with his face buried in his bowl.
I hope your Thanksgiving was as peaceful and pleasant as ours.
It’s hardly an original observation that nobody relaxes like a cat.
But I have to say that Tuxie takes relaxation to levels I’ve never seen before.
It doesn’t matter where he is; when he wants to flop, he flops.
And so thoroughly! Take a close look at his face in that shade picture. Can you honestly tell me that’s not the ultimate in blissed-out felinity?