Category Archives: Vazra

It’s surreal and other mental spillage

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The news began with breaking coverage of a fatal 18-wheeler accident involving a wandering donkey.  They rushed to live helicopter coverage of the ongoing attempt to apprehend the killer equine.  It was like watching cannibals prepare dinner: surreal, bizarre, and completely engaging.  I am embarrassed to say that live coverage shamefully displayed real Texas cowboys failing to rope and stop this terrorist.  With murderous hooves clopping along freely through local fields and back roads, one could actually make out blood dripping from the ravenously mad smile gleaming with too many intimidating teeth.  My eyes blurred at the sight of the thing.  It was horrific to witness the ghastly creature expending little energy evading horseback riders from the Lone Star State.  My cheeks flush with embarrassment, I had to turn away from the grotesque carnage.  Only after several minutes and other news items did they interrupt again to proclaim victory.  The evil beast was apprehended and already en route to detention facilities!  I spilled my drink and lost my crack pipe as I leaped to my feet and applauded through tears of joy.  We again would be safe…

Ants seem intent on treating my patio as free-range territory ripe for plundering.  This presents a quandary: How do I stop them without endangering all the other wildlife?  Raccoons, opossums, armadillos, cats, birds of many feathers, badgers, most other bugs, and basically anything else not specifically an ant.  You know, the good stuff.  Is there some manner of control that is ecologically sound yet unrelenting when it comes to ants?  The shadows in my mind desire to fill their eyes with mass Formicidae murder.  I must clarify that those voices only wish to stop interlopers with an unmistakable impasse.  To wit: the insect version of an electric fence and strategic Keep Out signs.  Just askin’.

Chira and Vazra are both MIA.  I have not seen Chira since May 28.  I have not seen Vazra since May 31.  There are many cats in this area — I have pictures of some of them that I will be posting — and there certainly is reason to believe that feline interference is at play.  But there are certainly a lot of options including foxes, some measure of the previous wildlife list, dogs, people, cars, disease, parasites, and a great many other dangers.  Chira was a bit thinner the last time I saw him.  Vazra’s painful knots were increasing their assault.  Now, I can do nothing about either problem.  I find the situation frustrating and a bit worrisome.  This is precisely why The Kids stay inside except when absolutely necessary (e.g., going to the vet).  There are too many threats and dangerous distractions in that world; they need not be subjected to it.

I have a somewhat cluttered week taking shape.  Rick and Alice are going out of town Wednesday morning on business and will not be back until early next week, so I will be dog- and house-sitting for him.  Presently, there is construction work taking place at his house at least through Friday, so I will also be monitoring that and standing in as the second-shift manager.  You no doubt comprehend what a thrill that prospect represents.

All things considered and being equal, Wylie and I will go to Plano this weekend to visit my godson (which, incidentally, would equate to a visit with xocobra and LD).  Friday night, perhaps, all things…

My quest for experiences has proposed a road trip to Austin — tomorrow! — to see the Congress Avenue Bridge bat colony.  This measure has been taken up by the board and is being given serious consideration.  That means the voices within are discussing it.  I have found this a reasonable approach to decisions where opinions may vary, and these mental inhabitants are amicable to the practice.  If I do journey to our state’s capital, I would leave in the afternoon and, all things, would be back around midnight.  All of this assumes, of course, that the world really isn’t coming to a grinding halt tomorrow.  We shall see about that and the board’s final decision on the idea.

I will likely go out to East Texas the weekend of June 10-11.  This also is being considered by the board.

As I type this, Loki is asleep on the desk with his back legs resting on my arm.  There is something about the way he has thrown himself into position that resembles a lifeless rag doll.  He powernaps.  It is a word created many years ago for the way he survives with significantly less sleep than other cats.  When he sleeps, however, he sleeps deeply.  I once mistook it for death and began crying.  His head dangled over the edge of a piece of cat furniture.  I lifted his head.  He did not move.  I lowered his head before lifting it again.  He still did not move.  I repeatedly raised and lowered his head as the volume increased in my repeating interrogatory of “Loki?”  It took 15 or 20 seconds for him to wake up.  I was in tears and practically screaming by then.  Very slowly, eyes only partially open and already showing disinterest and annoyance, he looked at me.  I learned then the depth of the place to which he goes.  It seems a fun place despite abyssal reaches for he runs, talks, twitches, chases, fights, and otherwise experiences the fullness of life while he is there.  His dreams, from the outside anyway, are vivid and vast.  They all dream, of course, and each in their own way.  Despite the commonality, Loki’s dreams always intrigue me the most due to his very non-feline sleeping habits.  I believe they spring from the trust he has of this environment and its inhabitants; consequently, there is great comfort in watching him sleep.

I need to contact Wayne and schedule a shindig of some kind.  Perhaps he and the wife would like to go to dinner, or just get together and hang like the badasses we are, or run naked through fields of thorny bushes, or whatever it is that might give us pause to visit.  Alright, I admit I have no interest in the thorny bush idea.  That was submitted by the board and not checked for content before publication.  The point stands amended.  We apologize for any confusion.

After posting the video of Kazon, I perused what I have online already and realized it favors Kazon.  This is not indicative of playing favorites or lack of content.  I have several dozen videos yet to review.  They have just worked out the way they have worked out through no intentional design.  Allow me to offer that I have videos on many subjects besides The Kids.  As I get time…  Regarding that video of Kazon taken today, he pulled a double-whammy on me and later used the other kind of asking: the begging, pleading, almost mournful asking that also can not be refused.  It repeatedly declares “Oh Daddy woe is me I’m the poor pitiful Puppy who is starving and hasn’t eaten for a very long time and I’m already too weak to make it back to the food and water bowls and you can’t count that snack earlier because it was a treat and isn’t really a meal and golly since I’m in the kitchen and you’re in the kitchen too do you think you could find something else for us oh thank you very much Daddy do you know how much I love you Daddy ooh was that my stomach growling…”  It is a purely selfish moment as he plays me like a master violinist might play a Stradivarius.

This post has been cathartic in unexpected ways.  You know, like an enema for the synapses.

That didn’t take very long

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It was about quarter of six this morning when I heard the mockingbirds outside trumpeting the approach of a cat by way of their normal belligerence.  As I was already awake and just lying in bed visiting with the four rulers of my universe, I went ahead and got up.  I walked to the patio doors in the bedroom and glanced out to see if it was Vazra.  It was indeed him, and the moment he saw me peek through the blinds he leaped onto the fence and began talking.

I certainly comprehend orders when they’re directed at me, so I fetched some bowls from the kitchen, filled one with food and the other with water, and went out to the patio.  He was not immediately interested in eating or drinking but did have his sights set on some lovin’.  I spent several minutes petting him and talking to him while he soaked it up like a sponge.  Eventually, however, he made his way to the bowls and enjoyed some breakfast and a drink of fresh water.  Then it was back to the lovin’ part of his morning.

Perhaps ten minutes passed as he alternately ate and demanded attention.  As he was beginning to consider what he might do next, he again leaped on top of the fence and soaked up some more petting as he talked and groomed and talked some more.  Finally, once he’d had his fill, he jumped down off the fence and headed off to find an adventure or two — or at least some trouble to get into.

It’s important that I note the sun is not quite up at that time of the morning, but it is close enough to the horizon to be relatively light outside.  It certainly is not dark enough to hide anything or anyone.

Well, Vazra sauntered off around the building and I decided to start my day, so I went inside and brushed my teeth.  Consider that it only takes about five minutes for me to complete that process, after which I gargle some Listerine.  Needless to say, I started my mouthwash rinse and walked back out to the patio to enjoy the morning before it got away from me.  It could not have been more than six or seven minutes since I was last out there with the cat.

I opened the door and stepped outside.  Much to my surprise, I was not alone on the patio, but I also was not sharing it with a cat.  There was an opossum sitting with the food bowl flipped up on its side as he nibbled away.  We were no more than three feet (a meter) apart.  For a brief moment, I was actually frightened because I had not expected any of the local wildlife to be out and about this early, nor did I think there had been sufficient time for anyone other than Vazra to realize the buffet was now open on the patio.  I was basically startled by the little fella as I’d expected him to have gone home by now.

The opossum turned and looked at me as I burst into his personal space.  One of his front paws held the food bowl in place on its side while he turned in my direction and stared.

“Hey, what are you doing out at this time of the morning?  And didn’t you get enough last night when I fed you?”  Of course, I didn’t expect an answer.

The little critter immediately let go of the bowl and headed away from me to the opposite end of the patio.  Once there, he made his best effort to get through the fence, but panic has a way of interfering with our best plans.  He couldn’t get out.

I rushed inside to grab the camera and hastily made my way back to the patio.  Glancing through the windows as I went, it occurred to me that he was no longer where he had just been.  Perhaps he already got out.

With camera in hand, I stepped out to the patio and froze.  He was still there.  In fact, standing just outside the bedroom door placed us within two feet (less than a meter) of each other.  Again he froze just as I did, and we stayed in that position for only a few brief seconds.  I could almost hear the cogs of his mind as they churned over and over trying to determine what the next best step would be: flee or pass out?

We both acted simultaneously.  I turned the camera on as he turned and ran to the fence.  I changed the camera settings as he began struggling to get through the tiny spaces he seems so capable of traversing.  I lifted the camera to my face as he squeezed through.  By the time I was ready to snap a photo, he was already outside the fence and dashing around the corner.

Oh well.  It was fun while it lasted, and it certainly clarifies the schedule for these little visits.  They can happen anytime.

And here’s Vazra

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As promised, here are some photos of Vazra.  What you’ll notice throughout is the condition of his fur: terrible.  While I can honestly say he looks better now than he did just a week or so ago, the knots are still there, not all of which are obvious, and what they’ve done to him is horrific.  There are places where a knot has rolled back through his coat and ripped out all the hair in the process, essentially leaving a racing stripe of bare skin in its wake.  Those spots are now starting to grow back in, but the knots remain intact — and I mean several of them spread over his entire body, as well as what I can’t see on his tummy and under his legs.  This is why it’s imperative for me to get him to the vet for grooming.  Knots like this are extremely painful.  Imagine having your hair pulled 24 hours per day every day as it slowly rips itself out of your head; imagine those knots tracking across your body as they slowly entangle every bit of hair around them; imagine anything that touches those knots causes the pain to increase manyfold; imagine losing your protection from the elements as your hair rips itself out of your body in more than half-a-dozen places simultaneously.  That is Vazra’s current existence.

The first one is of him sitting on the fence after enjoying some dinner and a whole lotta lovin’.  If you click on the photo, you’ll see a high resolution version that makes it easier to see one of the large knots in his fur.  It’s on his right side just in front of his tail (in this picture, that would be just above his tail).  That’s the knot that literally stripped all of the fur off of his right side.  That’s why it looks so ragged and disheveled; the fur is just beginning to grow back in, but the bald spot (literally his entire side) is still quite visible.

Vazra sitting on the fence (144_4452)

There’s always time for a bit of something to eat, right?

Vazra having some dinner on the patio (144_4445)

Here’s another one of him eating that was taken from the other side.  Again, click on it for a hi-res version that better shows the enormous knot and stripped fur on that side of his body.  What you see is the knot there at his ass end and the nearly exposed skin along his entire side.  The knot apparently started just behind his neck and has worked its way to the opposite end of his body by ripping out all the hair along the way.  Major ouch.

Vazra grabbing a bit to eat on the patio (144_4446)

Here’s one that shows one of the knots on his neck (the black ball in the center of the picture).  Again, click on it for a closer look.

Vazra looking out from the patio (144_4450)

And one more of him sitting on the fence.  A mockingbird saw him and flew into the tree to taunt Vazra and, should an opportunity present itself, attack him as well.  That’s why Vazra’s looking up into the tree, a position he held for some time after this photo was taken while he and the bird decided just how far they wanted to take this.  Eventually, even though the bird continued mocking him from the tree, my new feline friend lost interest, jumped down, and went on about his business.  The mockingbird chased him as you’d expect; Vazra just ignored it and continued on his way.

Vazra sitting on the fence watching a mockingbird in the tree (144_4451)

That’ll teach those raccoons

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It was time to go to bed, so I put out some food for the opossums and raccoons before slipping between the sheets and settling in for a restful sleep.  Within minutes, I heard a bit of noise outside and glanced through the window.  It was a small opossum, certainly not the momma possum I’ve been looking for but haven’t seen in quite some time, and he was making his way around the patio fence.  By small, I mean he was about 2 feet (slightly more than half a meter) in length and weighed perhaps 7 pounds (3 kilograms).  He was a tyke compared to the pregnant female and about the same size as the other opossum who sat in the tree out back and with whom I shared a staring contest late one night.

I watched the little fella as he made his way to the cache of fruit outside the fence I’d left for him and his kind.  He sat quietly enjoying the meal.  Once he’d finished the food, I anticipated he would leave.  Oh, but not so.  He obviously could smell the food inside the fence left for the raccoons.  He walked back and forth several times trying to figure out how to get to it.  I watched him as he poked his head through the fence, stood up against it as if he might climb over, and probed it in several places looking for a way in.  This went on for three or four minutes.

“He’ll leave soon,” I mumbled to no one in particular, “considering he can’t get to the rest of the food.  Unless he really could climb the fence…”  Watching his antics seemed to indicate there was no way he could get to the raccoon stash unless he could either fly or scale the fence.  I was quite certain he could do neither.

Much to my surprise, and despite his inability to perform miracles, he had another trick up his sleeve.  I was exceptionally astonished watching him squeeze through the fence with what appeared to be very little effort.  Keep in mind it’s not exactly a wide-open latticework.  On the contrary, the slats crisscross in an exacting pattern that creates perfect squares 2.75 inches (~7 centimeters) on all sides.  These holes are upended in a diamond pattern of spaces 7.6 square inches (49 square centimeters) in size.  That’s not a lot of room.

He was definitely bigger than could fit through the fence, or so I thought.  I watched as the opossum pushed his way through with no room to spare.  In fact, even in the dark it was obvious he was really squeezing through the hole, squishing his body as much as possible as he forced his way to the inner sanctum of my wildlife sanctuary.  I was amazed and a bit shocked that he actually got through without becoming stuck.

Once on the inside of the fence, of course, he roamed around a bit until he found the raccoon stash (remember opossums have weak eyesight, so he could smell it but had a hard time seeing it).  With the food readily available, he sat quietly and ate all of it — and I mean all of it.  At least I knew this opossum would not need to look for food elsewhere that evening.  Having consumed all that was left for him and his kind as well as what was left for the raccoons (which is always a larger stash since there are more of them), surely this little guy was full.

It took him approximately 10 minutes to finish the entire meal.  Once that was accomplished, he again roamed around the patio for another 15 minutes at least.  He groomed, he walked around, he groomed again, walked more, and continually repeated this for much longer than I thought he would be comfortable doing, and likewise I was surprised the raccoons didn’t stop by while he was there.  I could not imagine what mayhem would ensue should they scale the fence and find no food, but instead would find the gluttonous opossum who’d really screwed them over that evening.  Luckily, that didn’t happen.

After much wandering about the patio interspersed with much grooming, apparently it was time to leave and the opossum made his way back to the same place where he’d originally pierced the barrier between patio and world.

He probed the fence with his nose looking for that just right spot where he could get through.  Having discovered his ingress point, he again stuck his head through and started to make his way off the patio.  The first thing that crossed my mind as I watched this was a concern that, having consumed so much food, he would be unable to get back through the hole through which he barely fit the first time.  No sooner had the thought occurred to me when he stopped halfway through the fence.  I could see his little back legs working all they could and imagined the same was going on with his front legs (which I could not see because his plump body was in the way).  There he sat for 10 or 15 seconds trying to get out.  Eventually, he reversed and pulled himself back through the fence where he stood on the patio sniffing at his escape as though it had changed sizes.

Oh how I laughed.  “Gosh, we didn’t see that one coming, did we, you little piglet?”

Using the same methodology he’d used in trying to find a way onto the patio, he now explored the fence with front feet and nose as he tried to find a way out.  He made several attempts to get through, and each of them ended the same way: his big belly was simply too large and would stop him halfway to the oustide.  While my laughter was heartfelt and sincere, it suddenly occurred to me that he was in danger.  If the raccoons came, someone could get hurt despite my thinking that they would smell him and avoid the patio (I made that assumption but couldn’t be certain it was true).  As I considered what to do, I immediately stopped laughing because of a very simple realization: if that opossum can’t get off the patio by morning, he’ll be stuck there when Vazra comes to eat and when I go out to feed and water him, an event that normally occurs quite early.

“Oh boy.”

I immediately began rooting for him somehow to get through the fence before I was forced to deal with him directly.  Opossums are not generally violent creatures if left to their own devices, and they certainly are not badgers when it comes to dealing with other creatures, but they are still very dangerous and not at all pleasant when cornered — and he was definitely cornered.  The best I could hope for was to scare him without warning.  This would cause his “playing possum” genetic programming to kick in.

You see, opossums pass out from fear, hence the “playing possum” adage.  It’s not that they intentionally and intelligently play dead in the face of predators or other threats; they simply are overcome by their own fear and are therefore rendered unconscious.  If they’re dead, as they appear to be, generally those animals who would otherwise attack them will lose interest.  The problem stems from trying to scare him into abject fear sans prior warning in the hopes of getting him to pass out.  Imagine the difficulty incurred because they have poor eyesight and hearing with excellent tactile and olfactory senses.  What do I do?  Wear really bad cologne and let him feel my muscles so he’s certain I pose a significant threat?  Since I didn’t want him hurt in any way, I would have to address this issue on my own and was not looking forward to it.

I began contemplating and considering how best to address this little problem: the poor little suddenly-fat opossum who ate too much and couldn’t get out the same way he got in.  Again, oh boy.

After deciding he actually would not get back through the fence, he halted his attempts and went back to his original after dinner activities: roaming around the patio and grooming, followed by more of the same.  He did investigate a bit, something I thought was a search for more food — which he apparently didn’t need.  I was pleased to see him finally go back to the place in the fence where he’d first entered.

“So, you’re going to try this again, huh?” I asked, an action that immediately made me laugh as I wondered about my own sanity sitting here naked in the dark at the window speaking to an opossum trapped on my patio.  “Oh boy.”

With a bit more standing up against the fence, more sticking of his head through various holes, more trying to get through, he finally found the gold: either a hole with enough space to pass through, or the energy to push his fat little belly through the same space he more easily passed through before.  In either case, I saw him cross over that hump as his little feet pushed and pushed and pushed.  Suddenly: Pop!  His whole mass tumbled through the fence and out to the other side.  He paused, an action betrayed by his long tail resting limply on the patio while he undoubtedly thanked his lucky stars from the other side.  After a brief moment’s pause, his tail disappeared through the fence and I watched him wander off around the corner of the building.  I bet he was relieved.

In the meantime, I wondered what the raccoons would think about all this.  They certainly have no qualms with eating the food I leave for the opossums before consuming their own.  This was the first time I knew of where it worked the other way around.  My giggles helped me settle back into bed.

The Persian kitty

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First, I am assuming he is a male given his personality and demeanor.  If and when I get him to the vet, I’ll know for certain either way.  I’m forced to make this assumption until and unless I find out otherwise because Persians have such long hair and I do not know him well enough to go poking around his business end.

Second, I’ve named him Vazra.  In Old Persian, vazraka means “great” and was often used as part of the Old Persian name for Cyrus the Great: Khorvash Vazraka (Kourosh-e Bozorg in modern Persian).

By the way, that’s pronounced just like Basra except — and obviously — with a V instead of a B.  To wit: väs’ rə or vaaz’ ruh.

Why did I name him Vazra?  As you may have guessed already, it’s a reference to Cyrus the Great (a.k.a. Cyrus II of Persia and Cyrus the Elder) who founded the Persian Empire and subsequently conquered Babylon.  I was looking for a name to represent both his being a Persian cat as well as his proclivity for excessive talking.  Since Babylon played into that (think “babble on”), I wanted to integrate both ideas into a single name.

Cyrus the Great would be the best reference point to both Persia and Babylon since he founded one and conquered the other.  Therefore, his name was my starting point.  That left me with the following options:

  • Cyrus (Latin)
  • Kyros (Greek)
  • Kourosh-e Bozorg (modern Persian-derived)
  • Koresh (Hebrew)
  • Khorvash Vazraka (Old Persian)
  • Kabir (modern Persian for “great”)

My logic went thusly:

LD has a son named Cyrus (xocobra’s stepson), so that name automatically was dropped from consideration.

Anything beginning with the letter K also was dropped since I already have Kako and Kazon, an intentional use of similar names since they are The Twins.

Koresh not only lost because of the K issue, but it also lost because of David Koresh and the Branch Davidians (a.k.a. Waco Davidians).  That name never had a chance.

Bozorg was dropped since it looks and sounds too much like the Borg from Star Trek.

Vash (a derivative of Khorvash), which technically means “like” in Old Persian, is the name of a character from Star Trek who in no way represents the kitty.

That left vazraka, but I didn’t particularly like the way it sounded — until I dropped the “ka” at the end.  Suddenly I had Vazra, a name pleasing to the ears, easy on the tongue, and it still means something specific to the cat.

And yes, I am quite anal about naming pets.  Names should mean something in my opinion.  Each of The Kids was named after careful consideration.  I already explained Kako and Kazon, and you can see the explanation for Chira’s name in this post.  Grendel and Loki are explained on their respective pages found at those links.

As for my burgeoning relationship with Vazra, that is going quite well.  In fact, I believe I will be able to get him to the vet in the next one or two weeks.  That is making some large assumptions, of course, but things are going quite well with my attempts.  He’s an extremely friendly cat; that’s why I suspect he was dumped (he’s not feral).  He loves attention, he tells you what’s on his mind, he’s very affectionate, and he is drawn to people rather than fearful of them.  I can’t make any guesses as to how he might react to the rest of The Kids since I have only observed their interaction through the windows.  He’s never tried to attack them, so that’s a good sign.

Anyhow, as long as he does not pose a health risk to the rest of the fur people, I will try to adopt him.  It’ll require time and will be ugly now and again.  Of that I’m sure given it’s an introduction of one adult feline into a home of four adult felines.  Kittens are easier under such circumstances since they don’t represent a challenge to the existing group.  In addition, they are not set in their ways, so they adapt to the household.  Adult cats, however, already have habits that may or may not fit into the existing family.  Such circumstances tend to mean more fights and animosity.  It will be important to ensure Vazra does not become miserable because the other four are ganging up on him.  It’s equally important to make sure the other four do not feel threatened or jealous should he come inside as that would increase the tension between them and toward him.  It’s a balancing act.

I will keep you posted since I have much hope that he can become a member of the family barring health issues.  If he does pose a risk to the rest of The Kids, however, I will still adopt him as my outside cat.

As David and Libby mentioned this morning, my description of all of this makes it sound as though he already is my cat.  I suspect that’s true.  He’s already adopted me to a great degree, so perhaps I’m the only one who didn’t realize the adoption already had taken place.  I can be slow sometimes…

Please note I’ve not forgotten I need to grab some photos of him.  I will try to do that in the next few days.  If nothing else, it will demonstrate how terrible the hair knots are and the kind of damage they’ve done to him.  It’s painful to even look at it.  Still, a good grooming should solve all of that, and I intend to make that happen as soon as possible.

Last but not least…  I still have not seen Chira.  It’s now been 10 days since his last visit.  From the first day I started to befriend him he’s never been gone longer than two days, and even at that I can not be certain he was gone since he may well have visited while I was out, busy, not paying attention, or otherwise occupied.  Regardless of the circumstances, no more than two days would go by before I would see him again, and there is always food available on the patio to make sure he knew he could come here for a meal and safety.  I am very — VERY — concerned about him.  I want desperately to believe he’s been adopted and is being cared for by someone; I fear the worst.