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The last twenty-four hours have been a lot more cat-centered than I really want life to be.
7 PM: I'm trying to write. Enter Mop (large tortie/part Wegie or Maine Coon), meowing frantically. I know that sound--it means "I have a bird! Me! I got one!" I try to save the bird, she dashes upstairs and dumps it in the bedroom. I grab her and close the door. She continues the bird meow, with pawing at the door added in. She has almost no teeth and I think no idea that she should kill a bird, but she knows she wants it. I go back to writing.
2 AM: I'm sleeping. Wakened by sound of Mop hissing from where she's cuddled by my knees. I know that sound, too--"Brutus (large tomcat, not ours, who thinks all houses are his) is in the house! Brutus is in the ROOM!") I get up, chase Brutus downstairs, open door, and BC (former outside cat also inclined to fight with Mop in the bedroom) comes in. I put BC back outside, look under furniture for Brutus, finally find him by back cat door. I invite him to go out and he yowls, so I open the door and give him a very gentle but firm shove. I go back to trying to sleep (taking along a cup of hot chocolate--well, I'm up anyhow).
5:30 AM: I'm sleeping. Wakened by sound of Mop yurking on floor by bed. I know that sound--"Hairball coming! On the rug!" I get up, clean up hairball. Notice Mop is sitting outside closed door of room where bird was stashed, but couldn't be found earlier, when we went back in to try to rescue it. I check that door is still securely shut, in case bird has reappeared. I go back to sleep.
6:45 AM: I'm sleeping. Bill starts calling "I've found the bird!" We move the speakers and tuner, drag various books away, and find the bird. I open the window and Bill puts it out, where it flies away. I give up on sleep and go down to eat breakfast.
8 AM: I'm eating breakfast, as are Mop and BC (Brutus is not invited to meals). I hear low growling rising to yowl. Sound of imminent cat fight. I remove all cats, through various catdoors) and go back to breakfast.
I wonder if it's like this for the Pope?
7 PM: I'm trying to write. Enter Mop (large tortie/part Wegie or Maine Coon), meowing frantically. I know that sound--it means "I have a bird! Me! I got one!" I try to save the bird, she dashes upstairs and dumps it in the bedroom. I grab her and close the door. She continues the bird meow, with pawing at the door added in. She has almost no teeth and I think no idea that she should kill a bird, but she knows she wants it. I go back to writing.
2 AM: I'm sleeping. Wakened by sound of Mop hissing from where she's cuddled by my knees. I know that sound, too--"Brutus (large tomcat, not ours, who thinks all houses are his) is in the house! Brutus is in the ROOM!") I get up, chase Brutus downstairs, open door, and BC (former outside cat also inclined to fight with Mop in the bedroom) comes in. I put BC back outside, look under furniture for Brutus, finally find him by back cat door. I invite him to go out and he yowls, so I open the door and give him a very gentle but firm shove. I go back to trying to sleep (taking along a cup of hot chocolate--well, I'm up anyhow).
5:30 AM: I'm sleeping. Wakened by sound of Mop yurking on floor by bed. I know that sound--"Hairball coming! On the rug!" I get up, clean up hairball. Notice Mop is sitting outside closed door of room where bird was stashed, but couldn't be found earlier, when we went back in to try to rescue it. I check that door is still securely shut, in case bird has reappeared. I go back to sleep.
6:45 AM: I'm sleeping. Bill starts calling "I've found the bird!" We move the speakers and tuner, drag various books away, and find the bird. I open the window and Bill puts it out, where it flies away. I give up on sleep and go down to eat breakfast.
8 AM: I'm eating breakfast, as are Mop and BC (Brutus is not invited to meals). I hear low growling rising to yowl. Sound of imminent cat fight. I remove all cats, through various catdoors) and go back to breakfast.
I wonder if it's like this for the Pope?
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Also, "Mop" is a great name for a cat.
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(I hear this in an announcer's voice, heavy with reverb)...
[hugs and a happier Cat Day]
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But when they purr and look silly, it's worth the sleepless nights...most of the time...
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Saturday night, for instance: Mango and Mattie not once, but twice, caught a mouse and brought it into our bedroom. (two different mice)
We don't currently have any yurkers, though. (Knock on wood.)
Hope you get a nap!
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However, I think the yurking is easier to deal with than the lack of harmony among them. Sounds like yours cooperate, at least.
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cat cooperation
And we disabled our cat door long ago. I'm not sure I could deal with an extra cat visiting and picking fights.
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Re: cat cooperation
Strangely, too, BC, who more or less lives here, can't bring herself to come in through the cat door, and still likes me to open it for her--she always growls when she goes through, I suppose just in case something is waiting on the other side. But neither of them likes to use a cat box, and I'd rather have the occasional midnight call from Brutus than deal with the other possibilities...
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Cat box use (or not)
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(very odd mental image of cardinals yurking up hairballs and the Pope having to clean up...)
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The score keeping appeals to me, but I suspect catching birds for Mop is a skill-perfecting exercise, sort of a cat yoga (though evidently lacking in yamas and niyamas).
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A gentler cat in that general direction is the Burmese (http://www.cfainc.org/breeds/profiles/burmese.html)--I think. I haven't known a lot of them. They may have softer voices, at least. But the intelligence and humor of the Siamese, as well as their elegant grace, would make it worth the effort to keep up with their energy! Especially if you feel a kinship.
Are they more common in Thailand? I never know if those breeds really relate to the countries they are named for.
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He then had to come back and report what she'd barfed up to me! To share, I guess.
And I think the Pope gets his Cardinals (geddit? Geddit? I slay me!) to herd the cats. *grins*
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I can never move my cats before the barf happens without being on the receiving end--and better the rug than me. With Mop, it's always a furball, not too horrible, but horrible enough.
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(But, sadly, it made me laugh a little...)
Rudi is so confused lately by the remodeling chaos. He really is not sure what to do, except to meow at us constantly.
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Poor Rudi! A disturbance in a cat's house is a difficult thing. Mop likes new people so enjoys workmen, but BC gets very terrified if even a plumber comes by.
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It works so well, too.
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