The Cat In The Hat

Day 290: When a friend called my attention to a book of knitting patterns called "Cats In Hats," the temptation was too much to resist. Tip is such a tractable child that I was certain he wouldn't mind modelling a winter chapeau. After looking through all the designs, I settled on a standard "bobble hat" which took less than half an hour to knit up. I don't think the style quite suits him, but his look of discontent has more to do with the discomfort of a book behind him and the camera in his face than the bow tied under his chin. Maybe a top hat would be more suitable?

Christmas Portraits

Day 74: I try to capture my kids' portraits a couple of times a year, but neither of them is particularly fond of the camera, nor are they amused at my antics when I try to get them to look up and open their eyes. My success yesterday was thanks to a Christmas gift, a cute shelf-sitter costumed crow which provided the photographer with a genuine "Watch the birdie!" prop. Waving it around wasn't sufficient; it had to peck Tip in his pudgy ribs to keep him from going back to sleep. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. Photographing cats is second in difficult only to herding them. For those of you who haven't made their acquaintance yet, Skunk is my "old lady." She's 16. Tippy (aka Tip, short for Tipperary) is 10.

Selfies!

Day 299: Kitty selfies! As you can probably guess from the title of the book, the portraits were hand-felted from Tip's and Skunk's fur. A friend had sent me the book suggestion as a joke, but I took it seriously and ordered it almost immediately. I'm always interested in learning new crafts, and needle-felting was something I'd never tried. Special felting needles with barbed points are used to mingle wool (or cat hair) onto a base fabric or into its own fibers to form a matted fabric similar to the felt you'd purchase in a crafts store. Here, I used a commercial felt square for the background, shaping the cats with the aid of a plastic stencil. Stray hairs always linger around the edges, and these were trimmed away with embroidery scissors to give more defined outlines. I made Tip (the black kitty) first to get a feel for the process and then created Skunk, a more challenging subject because of her colouration. Each kitty took about fifteen minutes to complete. The same technique can be used with wool (sheep, llama, goat, etc.). To protect the felter's lap from inadvertent pokes, felting is done on a thick piece of foam, but mind your fingertips! Warning issued, rest assured that no cats or mamas were damaged in the making of these "self-portraits."

Family

Day 143: Time for spring portraits again, so let me introduce my family to those of you who don't already know them. Skunk (top) is my old grandma-girl. She's 15 and not in the best of health. I've had her since she was a six-week old kitten. She's deaf, very arthritic, scrawny as a rail, and has a number of other geriatric issues which I try to accommodate as best I can. Her care is almost a 24/7 job, as I am sure my own physical needs will be when I reach or pass the equivalent of her years. That's something we all need to consider in our companions.

Tippy (bottom, full name Tipperary, aka Tip) was a shelter kitten, six months old when I brought him home. Also known as the Spaghetti Monster for his penchant for opening the cupboard and creating a pile of jackstraws in which to play, or as the Tickle Monster because he loves to be chased and tickled, he is 9 and bouncy-rowdy when he's awake. He keeps me young, my Boy, wanting me to keep the game going even when I'm ready to retire to my chair.

Perhaps it's the difference in their ages, for although they are both affectionate toward me, my two kids don't interact with each other beyond the occasional approach from Tip which is rebuffed by a snarl and hiss from Skunk. He respects her boundaries most of the time, and if things do get a little out of hand, I have only to say "Tip..." in a menacing voice and he backs off. I'm sure he doesn't understand why she doesn't want to play. When Skunk has possession of my lap, he will not try to shove her out. His tactics are more subtle. He sits on my footstool and transfixes me with that golden-eyed stare, as if to say, "Is it my turn yet?" By bedtime, they're usually both satisfied with the amount of lap-time they've received.

They're all the family I have, these two (well, other than a Little Tree and a big old Boulder in a faraway place). Family is important. I love mine.

How Dare You!

Day 146: Today's interrogative is "How?" as in "How dare you put that camera in my face? You said you were going to take my picture. Are you going to give it back?" I'm convinced that cats regard cameras as soul-stealers. They will NOT look one in the eye if they have any say in the matter, and the simple act of lifting a camera up off a table will cause all heads to turn outward, denying the black box any opportunity of incursion. While not exactly Grumpy-Cat, there will be no smiles forthcoming despite the fact that both Tip and Skunk generally wear cheerful, even amused looks when the camera is hidden away. To add insult to injury, I was compelled to use flash for these portraits, something I normally eschew. None of us was happy with this session!

Merry Christmas!

Day 73: Merry Christmas and Season's Greetings from the residents of Lichenopolis! However you celebrate the holidays, our best wishes will follow you into the coming year.

Tippy Tippy

Day 63: It started as a tummy-tickle. Tip loves to be tickled on his tummy, and all it takes to start him purring is for me to slip a hand underneath. If he's on my lap, he wiggles until he's on his back and then sprawls in the classic "I trust you implicitly" pose, limp as a wet dishrag. In this particular instance, I was sitting on the footstool because he'd taken possession of the chair. We touched noses for a few minutes while I scratched behind his ears, and then I laid my face against his side and did my poor human imitation of a purr. As I did so, he started to roll over and following the cue, I began tickling his tummy. Once he was fully on his back, I buried my face in the soft, white fur and "purred" even louder and longer. He extended his hind legs and pushed against the arm of the chair, forcing his head and shoulders into the other corner until he was resting in the position you see here. Is that a contented cat, or what?

Pillow Provided

Day 43: There are only a few days left of Tippy's tenure in the Cone of Shame, so I feel compelled to explain that certain concessions to comfort have had to be provided at the expense of my trying to get anything else done. He has been such a good boy throughout the ordeal, first allowing doctor to perform surgery with only a local anaesthetic and then not protesting the Cone in the slightest. He's popped out of it twice accidentally, the first time when it caught the edge of the footstool as he leapt down to the floor and the second when he attempted to get onto the window sill behind the couch and fell between the couch and the wall. He did not resist or struggle when I reinstalled it. I suppose the least I can do is provide a soft pillow even if it means I'm not getting any needlework done. Sound asleep in this photo, he remained in this position for twenty minutes before shifting off my hand.

Never Laugh At A Cat

Day 35: Cats' people must understand one thing in feline psychology if they grasp nothing else: it is the height of rudeness to laugh at a cat, or even to allow the slightest inkling of a snicker to twitch the corners of your mouth. This is not to say that cats are humourless; quite the contrary! Many cats have a well-developed sense of humour, though perhaps on a level which eludes mere humans, manifesting most frequently as dry disdain. Ever have a cat give you "The Look?" That's cat humour. The indignity of the Cone of Shame is one thing and must be borne in good grace, but laughter? No. One must never laugh at a cat, no matter how strongly they resemble a vacuum device of some sort, designed for sucking up cat food on an industrial scale.

The Cone Of Shame

Day 33: We are home. I haven't spoken of this publicly, but when Tip went in for his annual exam last week, I asked his doctor to look at a lump beneath his ear. It had been there for a while, but he'd started fussing at it. She determined that it was more than just a "kitty bump" (cyst) via a punch biopsy which was then sent out for analysis. The return stated that it was a mast-cell tumor. This type of tumor in cats is described as "unpredictable, but usually benign," and due to the unpredictability factor, she recommended removal. However, Tip has a pronounced heart murmur which precludes using general anaesthesia. She thought she'd be able to do it under a local, but nevertheless I was worried. I took him in early this morning. Fifteen minutes later, doctor came out of the operating theater and announced that he had come through just fine. I waited another half hour to get the results of his blood tests - everything normal. Now we wait for the pathology, and meanwhile, good little Tippy who didn't bite or claw anybody has been consigned to the Cone of Shame for two weeks while the incision heals. I expected him to protest, but he seems to be accepting his circumstances with amazingly good grace.

Cat Day Kids

Day 300 (bonus): Skunk (left) and Tip (right) would like to wish my readers a Happy Cat Day!

Christmas Greetings!

Day 73: You might think that a Christmas tree decorated largely with birds would be more temptation than any two cats should be asked to endure, but although I caught Skunk patting one of the lower ornaments, Tip is content to observe politely. Both of them have been known to investigate bows and ribbons, dragging lightweight gifts out into the middle of the floor, but they've been very well behaved this year. My good kitties and I would like to wish you all the most merry Christmas!

Christmas Presence

Day 64: The presence is...are...is under the tree. Okay, he doesn't know about homophones, but Tippy is a pretty smart little (well, not so little) boy. He knows he's not supposed to play with the garland or remove any ornaments, and although ribbons on packages offer an even greater temptation, he mostly leaves them alone. That said, I have to treat the tips of the branches with a bitter-tasting spray to keep either cat from chewing them (an appeal I fail to understand, since the tree is artificial).

Christmas is a stressful time for the smaller members of the family. There are lots of comings and goings, dozens of new smells and things which look like they should be toys. It doesn't take a lot to make your holidays pet-friendly, so please keep them in mind when you're decorating.

National Cat Day

Day 16: Skunk and Tip would like to wish you a happy National Cat Day. We did not know it was National Cat Day when we got up this morning, or we would have been better prepared. After breakfasting, we snugged down for our customary postprandial nap, only to be disturbed by Mama running the vacuum cleaner and then moving our chairs and other furniture around so she could do a photo project. It was an exhausting morning for us, so when everything was put back to rights, we immediately settled in to finish the business of napping. Alas, that was when Mama discovered it was National Cat Day. You can imagine our frustration as once again she woke us up and made us pose for portraits. Hopefully, there will be no more disturbances between now and bedtime, when we'll both wake up, ready to bounce and pounce the whole night long. Humans just don't understand how hard it is to be a cat.

Possession Is Nine Points Of The Law

Day 333: Whether the old expression "possession is nine points of the law" would stand up in court is highly unlikely. Whether it stands up in my living room is inarguable. Whoever gets the back of the loveseat first owns it until they abdicate (or in this case, fall asleep and, subject to the older and undeniable law of gravity, slide off down behind).

It took Tip a while to warm up to the idea of having a large piece of furniture at his disposal after years of having only cat perches and chairs available. However, now that he's discovered the comforts of ample padding and a dip to accommodate his sizable tummy, he demands equal time with Skunk as sole possessor of the couch.

Tippy Tippy

Day 302: Every time I post a photo like this on one of the social media sites, I get a flurry of comments along the lines of, "If I tried that with my cat, she'd claw me to pieces." On the flip side of the coin, I am always surprised that people CAN'T do things like this with their cats. I guess the secret is in building a relationship of trust from the beginning.

Tip is a gentle and loving Boy, very easy-going and mellow. The hardest part here was getting him to look at the camera long enough for the 10-second timer to run down and trigger the lens. Don't go thinking I got this on the first try, either. I took at least a dozen, never once turning him rightside-up. I had to support his back with my knees to free up a hand to push the shutter button each time, but he knew I wasn't going to drop him. He trusts me.

On the other hand, Skunk is a crabby old gal. Still, when it's time for mama to do something wicked to her like brush her teeth or give her a bath, she doesn't fight me because we've established the parameters for how the job is done. She may not like what's going on, but she understands that I won't push her past her limits.

I treat my kitties like kids. I explain things to them, whether they can understand me or not. I have introduced them to scary concepts like bathing one slow step at a time. Those first baths weren't long or complete by any means, but now I can leave to get a towel with either cat standing in the sink, water up to tummy level, and not worry about them jumping out.

Y'know, it's like a relationship with another human: you get out of it what you put into it. If you play hard or tease meanly, you'll be repaid in kind. If you're patient and gentle, you'll be rewarded with trust. Tippy Tippy knows that.

Sunny Cats

Day 174: Just let the sun stream through the window, and Tip and Skunk both go bonelessly limp. What is it that makes cats such heat lovers? They'll lay beside the fireplace until their fur feels hot enough to ignite, and a sunny spot on the floor makes them spread out like too-warm pats of butter. I can't abide feeling melted, yet these two seek out the experience and revel in it. A sunny cat is a happy cat, "limp dishrag" look or no.

The Great Equalizer

Day 101: A windstorm blew my power away yesterday and brought the residents of the house as close together as they ever get. I see photos of other peoples' cats snuggled up together and often wonder why mine can't come to terms. There will be the occasional whisker contact, but it nearly always ends with a hiss from Skunk, as if she feels a need to reinforce that she is mistress of the household. Tip would cuddle if she would allow it, but Skunk came up the hard way, fighting off a pair of savage dogs when she was only six weeks old. It has only been in her later years that she will even accept physical contact with me. That said, the fire brings these two to an accord. They agree that warmth is a Good Thing. As truces go, it's a good beginning.

Christmas Portrait Time

Day 63: Pets of any sort are a challenge for the photographer, but cats are especially difficult. They don't like to be posed. They don't like to have the camera's eye staring at them. They don't hold still. And they especially don't like to be draped in fabric. Fortunately, I have two Very Good Kitties who know that their mama isn't going to do anything mean to them, all evidence to the contrary. Tip (left) was hard to convince. If I'd given any real thought to it, I would have trimmed his toenails after the photo session, but because I hadn't really been planning the shoot, I'd done it only seconds before. It took me five minutes to convince him that the fabric wasn't some new cat-torture device, and when I was finally satisfied with his comfort level, I backed away for a zoomed-in shot. Skunk (right) presented an entirely different problem. I'd waked her up from a sound sleep. While I arranged the cloth around her, she burrowed her head down in the folds and resumed her nap. Getting her to look up wasn't easy. She's deaf, so noise-making had no effect at all. I had to toss something just lightly enough to bump the chair but not so hard that it upset her, and once I'd got her to raise her eyes, I waved a second piece of fabric to keep her attention as I triggered the shutter with my free hand. Tip's portrait was taken at 0.4 sec shutter speed, Skunk's at 1/6 sec. That's a long time to hold still when you're a cat!

Young Master Tip

Day 364: I am convinced that the superstition which designates black cats as "bad luck" originated because they justifiably sunk their teeth and claws into people who stepped on them in the dark or sat on them when they were sleeping on dark upholstery, bad luck for the person who was clawed and bitten, but worse luck for the poor cat. Whatever the reason, the reputation is undeserved. I have shared my home with several black or black-and-white cats over the years, and Master Tip is certainly one of the sweetest and most loving kitties I've known. My Boy has been with me for five years now, and certainly qualifies as a stroke of good luck in my book.