As you can see, Grendel has the right idea. I’m pretty tired. I just don’t have it in me to offer more than this. And I still have to configure my work laptop and test VPN… if I can find the will, which I’m not betting on. And that on top of several other to-do items I would like to get done, and several to-do items I must get done.
So I’m taking Grendel’s queue and calling it a night for blogging. Let’s try this again tomorrow.
Who needs television when you have cats?
— Lori Spigelmyer
A few weeks ago I said, “I’ve already given up television in its entirety. Cable is gone. I’ve not watched programming of that nature for more than a month. The only thing that has caused me to turn on the boob tube is the rare desire to put a movie in and enjoy some DVD entertainment.”
That statement is still true, yet I never realized until after I’d stopped watching TV that The Kids draw from a reservoir of entertainment that constantly baffles and amazes me—not to mention tickles me.
That’s not to say I’ve been oblivious to them. Ha! That’s laughable at best.
One need only view the overwhelming number of photos and read the prodigious number of stories I’ve posted about them to realize how closely I pay attention to their activities, how much of their everyday lives I experience vicariously, and how little of our interaction goes unnoticed by me.
Yet not being distracted by the boob tube has offered a newfound venue of time in which their mayhem and nonsense becomes irrepressibly blatant. Now the smallest of things catches my attention. It has offered me a plethora of opportunities in which to take special notice of something quirky, something stunning, something beautiful, something amazing, or something that gives rise to uproarious laughter time and again. And this happens as long as I’m awake and at home.
I find myself thankful for giving up the nonsense broadcasts that fill too many homes. What little I want and wanted to see can be seen on DVD. I’ll simply wait for them to be released.
Otherwise, my home is already full of the best entertainment options available. So who needs television?
[Grendel, and that’s Vazra lying on the bed behind him; since you can’t see much of him, I don’t think it warrants including this as a photo of him]
The Boys, Grendel and Loki, are old money. They never knew hardship when they were growing up; instead, they were graced with pleasant childhoods stemming from a litter of kittens borne “into the system” as it were. Raised in a foster home until they could be adopted out, neither of them has ever known desperate need or hunger.
The Twins, Kako and Kazon, are new money. Apparently the unwanted offspring of someone’s cat, they and their siblings were placed in a box and left on the porch of the local Humane Society, where they were discovered the next morning. It was cold and rainy, and it’s unknown how long the box was sitting there before it was discovered. All of the kittens were sick, weak, underfed, and in poor condition overall (ear mites, upper respiratory infections, fleas and ticks, etc.). Until I adopted them, they knew only the shelter, minimum care, and affection spread across hundreds of animals. Treatment for their ailments and parasitic infections had only just started when I stumbled upon them and decided to adopt.
It amazes me constantly how apparent the differences are between the old money and new money upbringings. Part of this, I’m sure, comes from Grendel and Loki being in perfect health when they came to live with me, yet Kako and Kazon required veterinary care, antibiotics, and all manner of treatment for their ills. That alone changed the dynamics of the bonding that took place between them and me.
To expand on the disparities, here are a few examples.
Kako and Kazon will eat from my hands. In fact, they both will lick my hands to ensure they get every last bit of whatever it is they’re after. Also, since everyone in the house likes yogurt, they too will lick yogurt smoothie from my fingers. Grendel and Loki, quite dissimilarly, will rarely eat anything from my hands. No matter how much they want something, neither will hardly touch it. Once in a while one of them will take something from my fingers or lick a bit of goodness from my hand, but it’s infrequent and always a surprise when they do it.
Note that all five of The Kids will eat from a spoon or fork or other instrument (although chopsticks are the most entertaining given the inherent struggle between the predator’s desire to eat the food and the predator’s desire to hunt/play with the chopsticks).
They’re all lap kitties. Because there’s only one lap in which to sleep, this can be entertaining insomuch as it’s a first-come-first-served system, yet neither Loki nor Kako is opposed to inserting themselves into the tiniest of available space in an attempt to crowd out whoever is already there. But in the sense of having them be on me somewhere, my lap and my chest (when we’re in bed) are as far as The Boys will go. The Twins, however, take it much further. Both enjoy jumping onto my shoulders and hanging out, although both also have different versions of this. Kazon will sleep on my shoulders, his head wrapped around one side and his feet the other, and there he will rest and purr and sleep as long as I don’t jostle him too much or too often. Kako also enjoys climbing up there, but for her it is an active event rather than passive. She wants to play, to be petted, to be talked to, and to move around as much as possible. Overactive would best describe her style in this regard.
While Kako and Kazon love just about every food offered to them, Grendel and Loki are more finicky. I’ve only seen Kako turn her nose up at one or two things; Kazon has yet to turn down anything I proffer. The Boys, on the other hand, both have a large selection of things they won’t touch. Whether it’s Loki’s dislike of shrimp or Grendel’s abhorrence of certain cat treats, I have to be selective about what I bring home for them since I know those two have picky tastes when it comes to what’s acceptable and what’s not. Vazra, so far at least, has eaten everything I’ve offered to him.
And speaking of Vazra… If I knew more about him, I could make some relative observations about him as well, yet I only know of his existence outside until I rescued him, and that only spanning the last few years. I can safely assume he was raised in a home with people. He’s talkative and responsive, he loves being with me, and he follows me around half the time. But was it a good life before being kicked to the curb? And what happened when he was a kitten? I just don’t have those answers, so all I know is that he had a home before finding himself evicted to the street.
About a month ago I had been out running errands and returned home to unmitigated excitement amongst The Kids. All five of them huddled together near the patio doors and windows in the living room. As I watched from the kitchen, I realized they were hunting something. Each time it moved, five feline heads turned in unison. And once in a while, one of them would reach out and swat at it.
Then I heard something like buzzing. It was fleeting, a weak rattle against the glass and blinds from wings too fatigued to carry their owner to safety.
Whatever it was, it had endured constant badgering by superior hunters protecting their territory from interlopers.
So I went to investigate. Keep in mind it only took me a few seconds to put my keys and wallet down before heading in their direction. Nevertheless, the buzzing ended abruptly as I approached. Because most of the action was taking place behind the end of my desk, I couldn’t see who delivered the final blow—but I saw the aftermath.
A queen eastern yellowjacket (Vespula maculifrons) had somehow gotten into the house. That was a major mistake. And only the first.
After gaining entry, it caught the attention of my home security system—hunters the lot of them, of course. That was the second mistake… and another big one.
After realizing—I assume—that it couldn’t get out the way it got in, the poor female critter made her way to the windows and tried her best to break through. That was the final mistake and likely the biggest one. It put her within easy reach of killer kitties who don’t appreciate any invaders. They especially deal tremendous harm to little flying things that make funny sounds and flit about in random and quick movements. As predators go, they’re designed to hunt just such prey.
When I finally reached their position, all five of them stood in silence as they stared at the unmoving, limp, probably lifeless body. At that point, it looked a little battered and wasn’t moving—and it was being sniffed and investigated with great interest by everyone.
I fetched a paper towel from the kitchen so I could retrieve and dispose of the beast without having to touch it (even an accidental sting after its death could send me to the hospital, so I take no chances).
You can bet The Kids followed me with great interest as I picked up the wasp. It never moved. Despite nearly tripping over the cats as they scurried and scampered about my feet, I grabbed my camera and headed to the patio to snap a few photos.
Rest assured I’d never take photos this close of any ant, wasp, or bee. They’re simply too dangerous to me for such foolishness. Take that as a guarantee that this little lady was quite deceased, having been dispatched with cunning agility by one or more of the family members best suited to such tasks.
And amazingly, none of them had been stung! I was somewhat surprised by that, although it didn’t shock me.
Anyway, here are a few photos of the unfortunate visitor who didn’t survive the social call.
[Grendel]