Happy Birthday, Dear Wylla!
6 years ago
Monday, February 23, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Why wasn't Lassie a Cat ?
(Post by Matt) I'm not old really, except in gay years. Still the world has changed considerably in the last 4 or so decades. Growing up was a process quite a bit more, let's say, less structured. Kids like me had a lot of time on our hands. So unlike kids today we didn't waste it texting or playing video games. We were much more imaginative. We watched television. When remotes first came around my Dad couldn't see the need. "That's why I had kids" he'd say. Frankly it was the first time he offered a plausible explanation for why he kept us around...and the last.
One show in particular aroused my interest. And my ire. Lassie was a dog who weekly performed amazing rescues. "What's the matter girl?" someone would say. Invariably the message being conveyed was that Timmy was down a well. Or maybe trapped in the old abandoned mine. Timmy was a lot of things but risk averse wasn't one of them. Everyone marveled at Lassie's predictably heroic actions and welcomed Timmy back like the Prodigal Son. Where were the social workers for pete's sake! I mean who let's a dog babysit a kid! After the first mine cave-in, didn't anyone think it wise to keep a closer eye on the little daredevil!? I guess not. ONE WEEK later he was down the well! One question gnawed at me. Why didn't they get a cat? That dog was terrible at keeping the kid in line and brought bushels of bad luck. Maybe a cat could've turned this mess around. "For crying out loud" the cat would implore-"fill in that well and board up that mine before somebody breaks their ever lovin' neck!" Tragically, necks were risked because of the inability to recognize the wisdom of cats.
It bears mentioning that since I have kept company with cats I haven't fallen down a well or been trapped in a mine. Case closed collie!
One show in particular aroused my interest. And my ire. Lassie was a dog who weekly performed amazing rescues. "What's the matter girl?" someone would say. Invariably the message being conveyed was that Timmy was down a well. Or maybe trapped in the old abandoned mine. Timmy was a lot of things but risk averse wasn't one of them. Everyone marveled at Lassie's predictably heroic actions and welcomed Timmy back like the Prodigal Son. Where were the social workers for pete's sake! I mean who let's a dog babysit a kid! After the first mine cave-in, didn't anyone think it wise to keep a closer eye on the little daredevil!? I guess not. ONE WEEK later he was down the well! One question gnawed at me. Why didn't they get a cat? That dog was terrible at keeping the kid in line and brought bushels of bad luck. Maybe a cat could've turned this mess around. "For crying out loud" the cat would implore-"fill in that well and board up that mine before somebody breaks their ever lovin' neck!" Tragically, necks were risked because of the inability to recognize the wisdom of cats.
It bears mentioning that since I have kept company with cats I haven't fallen down a well or been trapped in a mine. Case closed collie!
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
FOLLOW-UP: One bed for 5
So, at 3AM this morning, guess who is yowling outside the door? Ms. Renatta! You guessed it! So, Matt goes to the door and says, "Hi Renatta. What's going? You wanna come in?" She looks up at him quietly, turns and walks away. Then Phyllis and Rosalie come buzzing right on in!
Matt was really mad! LOL hehe
Matt was really mad! LOL hehe
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Kitty Voodoo!
After spending a couple nights in Seattle with Matt and our ill friend Jim (who is starting to recover from his broken arms and ribs), I came hope to this little stack of socks on my bed.
When I told Matt about this strange finding he told me to be scared... be very scared. He suspected that at least one of the girls was now a student of voodoo! Apparently it took the culprit a few days to gather up all the supplies to build a voodoo doll in my liking. Fortunately I was able to get home in time to foil my ultimate demise, before the completion of the doll!
(We suspect Renatta is the guilty Voodoo mistress since she LOVES our sock baskets)
When I told Matt about this strange finding he told me to be scared... be very scared. He suspected that at least one of the girls was now a student of voodoo! Apparently it took the culprit a few days to gather up all the supplies to build a voodoo doll in my liking. Fortunately I was able to get home in time to foil my ultimate demise, before the completion of the doll!
(We suspect Renatta is the guilty Voodoo mistress since she LOVES our sock baskets)
One bed for 5
Sleeping is a bit of a challenge in our household these days. The girls have a strong habit of making sure everyone knows (aka Me and Matt) that we're to be up at or before 5AM. This doesn't go over well with me. I'm a sleeper. I like to sleep. NOT for a long time, but just a sufficient amount of time until, let's say, my back aches from my bladder pressing on every other organ so hard that I can't stand it any more.
My desired bedtime is about 10PM with me waking up to go to work around 5:45-6AM (Matt hates my "snooze" button!!).
Of recent, Phyllis has decided that the best time to play with her dads and get some quiet alone time is around... 2AM. This is miserable! Not because she's forceful (which she is), but because she's SO darned cute! She wants to go into the "kitty cave" (sperlunking kitty that she is). Phyllis isn't one for sleeping under the blankets but she sure LOVES going under them and exploring, then coming back out, making a tour around the bed, then back in, and so on and so forth.
It's usually after about 15-20 minutes of this that I finally wake up and have to lock them out of the bedroom. Then at about 5AM, when Matt's bladder gives in, back in they all come!
When they return at 5AM it's usually Rosalie who's the most persistent. She LOVES to purr (as we all know). So, she's ALL over us, sitting on heads, nudging noses, wanting to peek under the covers (not a true sperlunker like Phyllis), and nose in the ears. This all the while purring with her adorable little rhythmic purr-squeek-purr-purr-squeek. Again, you can't even be annoyed by it. She's too darned cute to be anoying!
So, on the upside, when Renatta is in the bedroom, she's the angel of the entire bunch! She wants to lay at the foot of the bed, never wants to cuddle, never wants to rub noses, never had an interest in sperlunking, she just likes to sleep and be close to where all the action is. HOWEVER, when she (and the others) have been locked out of the bedroom, this is where Renatta comes into their plan. I'm sure the others put her up to it! She is by far the loudest and most persistent in meowing! When she wants in, she will NOT be ignored. She will sit outside the door pretending someone has cut off her leg until someone lets her in. I have to say, it's quite effective. Works every time with me.
(All of the above photos were taken with the BlackBerry devices Matt and I own, not "normal" cameras)
My desired bedtime is about 10PM with me waking up to go to work around 5:45-6AM (Matt hates my "snooze" button!!).Of recent, Phyllis has decided that the best time to play with her dads and get some quiet alone time is around... 2AM. This is miserable! Not because she's forceful (which she is), but because she's SO darned cute! She wants to go into the "kitty cave" (sperlunking kitty that she is). Phyllis isn't one for sleeping under the blankets but she sure LOVES going under them and exploring, then coming back out, making a tour around the bed, then back in, and so on and so forth.
It's usually after about 15-20 minutes of this that I finally wake up and have to lock them out of the bedroom. Then at about 5AM, when Matt's bladder gives in, back in they all come!
When they return at 5AM it's usually Rosalie who's the most persistent. She LOVES to purr (as we all know). So, she's ALL over us, sitting on heads, nudging noses, wanting to peek under the covers (not a true sperlunker like Phyllis), and nose in the ears. This all the while purring with her adorable little rhythmic purr-squeek-purr-purr-squeek. Again, you can't even be annoyed by it. She's too darned cute to be anoying!
So, on the upside, when Renatta is in the bedroom, she's the angel of the entire bunch! She wants to lay at the foot of the bed, never wants to cuddle, never wants to rub noses, never had an interest in sperlunking, she just likes to sleep and be close to where all the action is. HOWEVER, when she (and the others) have been locked out of the bedroom, this is where Renatta comes into their plan. I'm sure the others put her up to it! She is by far the loudest and most persistent in meowing! When she wants in, she will NOT be ignored. She will sit outside the door pretending someone has cut off her leg until someone lets her in. I have to say, it's quite effective. Works every time with me.(All of the above photos were taken with the BlackBerry devices Matt and I own, not "normal" cameras)
Saturday, February 14, 2009
How Howard Became Harold?
(Post by Matt) Before I get back to what I was saying it might shed some light on things to talk about Harold. There is no Harold really, not now. But once Harold mustered his men in the Battle of Hastings. The year-1066. He was ultimately defeated by William the You Know What. But ever since then I have liked that name. A lot. Since my everyday life at home with the cats looked as if it would never afford me the chance to meet an actual Harold I had to create one. He works with Rich at the firm. "How's Harold?" I 'll ask. "How's who?" he replies. "You know the fellow you work with-Harold!" "Do you mean Howard?" "Of course not-I don't even like the the name Howard! Now quit the Abbott and Costello routine and tell me how Harold is!" You need to make your own fun-and sometimes your own Harold.
What I am getting to, and I am getting to it I assure you, is the sacredness of naming names. It's a theme that runs through history. Let's run alongside for a moment. Moses had a lot on his plate. We know for sure it wasn't meat and milk-not at the same time anyway. We also know he had to deliver his people out of Egypt. Naturally he needed inspiration and back-up to convince Pharaoh. So he went to YOUCANTEVENSAYIT. That's right-BUTDONTSAYIT. When it came to the most dreaded part of any meeting-the question and answer-he spout's off by asking "So what's your name? You know in case anyone asks. Personally I'm not the curious type but it might give me a little more clout if I drop your name." You know from Sunday school how YOUCANTEVENSAYIT felt about that. It isn't even necessary to point out how the Egyptians loved cats. Or how Mother Arlene would sometimes say, "I wouldn't know him from Moses housecat" or was that Adam's? Not important since I am not going to point that out either.
Which brings me to Baby Whiskers, Sister Whiskers, and Auntie Whiskers. Or if you prefer Bullet, Dingo and Bandit. Alternately, Catfish, Goldeneye and Frittatta. I could go on and on-but you already knew that. The power of names is not to be taken lightly. I have found in life that it is easier to create an imaginary Harold than to pin down the true spirit names of cats.
What I am getting to, and I am getting to it I assure you, is the sacredness of naming names. It's a theme that runs through history. Let's run alongside for a moment. Moses had a lot on his plate. We know for sure it wasn't meat and milk-not at the same time anyway. We also know he had to deliver his people out of Egypt. Naturally he needed inspiration and back-up to convince Pharaoh. So he went to YOUCANTEVENSAYIT. That's right-BUTDONTSAYIT. When it came to the most dreaded part of any meeting-the question and answer-he spout's off by asking "So what's your name? You know in case anyone asks. Personally I'm not the curious type but it might give me a little more clout if I drop your name." You know from Sunday school how YOUCANTEVENSAYIT felt about that. It isn't even necessary to point out how the Egyptians loved cats. Or how Mother Arlene would sometimes say, "I wouldn't know him from Moses housecat" or was that Adam's? Not important since I am not going to point that out either.
Which brings me to Baby Whiskers, Sister Whiskers, and Auntie Whiskers. Or if you prefer Bullet, Dingo and Bandit. Alternately, Catfish, Goldeneye and Frittatta. I could go on and on-but you already knew that. The power of names is not to be taken lightly. I have found in life that it is easier to create an imaginary Harold than to pin down the true spirit names of cats.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
If you didn't want cats then how did you end up with three of them?
(Post by Matt) Good question. A lot of things happened over a long period of time. It didn't seem that they were connected. You see I am 46 years old. But I used to be younger-a lot younger. The whole story starts in the mid 60's with my father. I might get back to that. Since a cat knocks over a Christmas tree and shatters dozens of glass ornaments in that part of the story I probably will. I kept getting older but not really growing and I met Joe Tomlinson. No time really to explain Joe. It's too bad really. No smarter, funnier man has ever crossed my path. He introduced me to St. Francis of Assissi, not in person of course. He also challenged me with Socrates, Buddha, Confucius and Jesus. And they all ended up having a hand in me ending up with three cats. But it probably was St. Francis who clinched the deal. Of course I didn't know it at the time. But you probably guessed that.
I think friendship is important. If a friend needs a favor I will do my best to help out. It really is one of my worst qualities now that I reflect on it. Because I DIDN'T want any cats. It wasn't in my plan. O.K. I didn't have much of a plan but what I did have certainly didn't include a litter box. Or something that shed hair as big as tumbleweeds. But I ended up with both by doing a favor for my friend Keith. Just cat sit for my friend he said. She is staying with me but I am allergic. She will find a place of her own in a week or so and then the litter box and the bales of hay-I mean hair- will be out of your life forever. It didn't work out that way. But you probably guessed that.
I think friendship is important. If a friend needs a favor I will do my best to help out. It really is one of my worst qualities now that I reflect on it. Because I DIDN'T want any cats. It wasn't in my plan. O.K. I didn't have much of a plan but what I did have certainly didn't include a litter box. Or something that shed hair as big as tumbleweeds. But I ended up with both by doing a favor for my friend Keith. Just cat sit for my friend he said. She is staying with me but I am allergic. She will find a place of her own in a week or so and then the litter box and the bales of hay-I mean hair- will be out of your life forever. It didn't work out that way. But you probably guessed that.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Yes, this is where I prefer to sleep...
Phyllis is so soft and cuddly! Plus she throws off some good heat! Personally I think Phyllis likes it too because when Rosalie purrs it's like a full body massage!!
Monday, February 2, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Did you miss us?
Hi gang! Thank you so much for your patience during January! We've been really lax on posting these lovely gals lately, but I'll just share with you a bit of what's happing in our lives.
First and foremost, our good friend Jim (mid-60's) back in November had a seizure and fell outside his house and broke three ribs. Matt took him for several doctor appointments and treatments. Well, about mid December Jim fell inside his house and broke his arm in 4 places!! So, for 4 weeks he was in a nursing home while Matt and I ran errands for him and went to visit every few days. So, he finally go out of the nursing home (forced actually by Group Health, given the choice of paying $219 a day or leaving) about Jan 6. Matt has basically had to move in with him since then and I, on occasion, have been staying with them, or giving Matt a break and I'll stay while Matt goes home to visit the girls.
Although we really love our friend Jim we really miss our family and our "patterns" of behavior. The girls have NOT been happy about us being away this much. And although we're still staying with Jim, one of us comes home every night. This weekend we all get to spend the week together as Jim asked another friend to give us a break. WOO HOO!
So, below is a relieved photo of Ms. Rosalie. She's VERY happy today that we're all napping and relaxing today (waiting for the Super Bowl!!)
First and foremost, our good friend Jim (mid-60's) back in November had a seizure and fell outside his house and broke three ribs. Matt took him for several doctor appointments and treatments. Well, about mid December Jim fell inside his house and broke his arm in 4 places!! So, for 4 weeks he was in a nursing home while Matt and I ran errands for him and went to visit every few days. So, he finally go out of the nursing home (forced actually by Group Health, given the choice of paying $219 a day or leaving) about Jan 6. Matt has basically had to move in with him since then and I, on occasion, have been staying with them, or giving Matt a break and I'll stay while Matt goes home to visit the girls.
Although we really love our friend Jim we really miss our family and our "patterns" of behavior. The girls have NOT been happy about us being away this much. And although we're still staying with Jim, one of us comes home every night. This weekend we all get to spend the week together as Jim asked another friend to give us a break. WOO HOO!
So, below is a relieved photo of Ms. Rosalie. She's VERY happy today that we're all napping and relaxing today (waiting for the Super Bowl!!)
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