Friday Catblogging - 03 August 2007

Good lawd it's hot. The cats and I have the same notion - stay inside where it's cool. And the less light, the better.

Charlie was quite pleased when the crisp, white linens came out for the bed this morning. He expressed his joy by getting in the middle of the bed and rolling around until he couldn't possibly enjoy himself further, then passed out for about three hours.


Buddy Impeachment, on the other hand, will never let an opportunity pass to screw with The Goddess of the Can-opener. I left for three minutes, to let the super in to do some work on my ceiling, and when I returned, he was in my chair and giving me a taunting look.

Friday Catblogging: I've learned my lesson and will get this out of the way early from now on edition

Honestly, on the two occasions when Charlie actually did something, I took pictures and posted the evidence that he is not a plush-toy. He has, since settling in, decided that he can sleep any damned where he sees fit. And he does.

Yesterday morning, he decided Zoe's bed would do nicely.

And the shutter of the camera annoyed him visibly.

And Buddy Impeachment has an infuriating habit of taking over my chair every time I get up. He has larceny in his heart, I just know it. I can feel it. So I heed the advice of wise men like Mark Twain when I move this creature.



And finally - The reason I am catblogging instead of sleeping at 1:00 a.m.

Zoe Anne - Age Three. Skippy, don't you think

she is the cutest t-shirt model ever?

And...Suddenly camera shy.

(Science) Friday Catblogging:Kevin is on vacation edition

Just in case you had any doubt (hope?) that you were the one in control of your relationship with your cat - you can toss that silly notion right now - the science is on the cats-picked-people side of that "debate."


It turns out that domesticated cats all over the world are genetically related to the wildcats found today on the Asian steppes. You know - where agriculture arose. (Using a loose definition of 'agriculture' I'm convinced.)


Here is the Cliffs Notes version...When human beings started harvesting and storing grain, rodents moved in and feasted. Cats, always willing to exploit an easy meal, came out of the woods and exploited this fantastic new niche in their habitat.


The gatherers/farmers benefited twofold from the cats keeping the rodents (and birds) out of the grain hoppers. They did not lose a substantial amount of their grain stores to the rodents, and the rodents didn't contaminate their grain with their droppings.


The cats that were willing to put aside their disgust with the hairless monkeys and get close to the humans found there were benefits to being able to tamp down their revulsion with the lesser beings who unfairly possessed thumbs. Benefits like sleeping on the hearth, the occasional saucer of milk, or perhaps bit of fish.


But always they were prone to the occasional night out tomcattin' - even when we "fix" 'em.

See what I mean? This is what my cats looked like yesterday morning, after getting out the back door when I went down the outside staircase to the laundry room the night before. (Buddy Impeachment is above, Charlie is below.)

Now. Lets go back to the interesting part. The fact that a domesticated feline anywhere in the world is related to those wild critters from the Mongolian Steppes more closely than they are to the wild critters that live in proximity to them is pretty amazing when you stop to think about it.


That is because cats, unlike all other domesticated animals, have only made the leap once. As agriculture evolved and spread, the cats that were tolerant of humans followed the grain as agriculture traversed the globe.


When your cat acts all high and mighty around the dog, and looks at you with disdain, maybe it's because he knows something the mutt doesn't. Remember that what you always suspected was true - they tolerate us - and if they could work the can opener and get at their own damned tuna, they would likely never speak to us again.

Because Washington Monthly Keeps Crashing Friday Catblogging

Charlie really is as lazy as he is beautiful.
Seriously - I have never seen a cat this color before. He looks like a plush-toy!

Buddy, on the other hand, could have written this. In fact, he might have...

Good Friday Catblogging

You can't see the string that Charlie is intent on doing battle with...

And Buddy is eyeing it too, ready to pounce.

Happy Easter, everyone.

Because Kevin Dropped the Ball Friday Catblogging

Over at Political Animal, Kevin Drum fell down on the job today and deprived his readers of Domino and Inkblot. Okay, fellow Animals, since most of you got here from there anyway, here is your Friday catblogging by proxy -

Buddy
Other cats settle for a pet bed.
Mine require their own damned futon.

Charlie, sacked out with Zoe

Phoebe has finally emerged from the closet.
We'll see what next week brings, but don't
hold your collective breath for a class photo.

And a shot of Charlie, just for you, Elmo.

Necessary Friday Cat-Blogging

It is going to be a hell of a day. That is my prediction. The blogs are restless and the cynically-timed release of the KSM confession did not knock Torture Boy off the front pages.

Of course, I lost faith in the confession when I got to the part about how he is the real father of Anna Nicoles baby, O.J. can stop looking for the real killers and he personally was behind the English crop circles and Barack Obama's parking tickets in Cambridge.

The trickle over the dam may well be a deluge by noon.

Have some Kitty Karma.

Buddy really likes the linen closet. After twice picking them up,
the sheets are no longer on that shelf.

Charlie. In his natural state - sprawled out on his back,

showing me where his bits and pieces used to be.

Phoebe still finds them wholly intolerable and refuses to be
in the same room with those other cats.

We had a few really nice spring days with the windows open.
The brothers have decided that the very best place to be in the entire house
is the window sill in my bedroom, right at bird-level.

Taking in Refugees Cat Blogging

I could not bear to see these beautiful brothers separated, and their owner, a friend of my daughters, was beside himself with worry when he could no longer keep them. My empathic daughter joined him in his affective agony and the emotional appeals were never ending. She may be 23 and 5'10, but when she gets that pleading look on her face...

So now I have three cats.

Brothers

Buddy

Charlie

Phoebe finds the presence of these two riff-raff
interlopers a thoroughly revolting development,
and has taken up residence in a closet.