Merry's First Birthday

Day 171: No foolin', today is Merry's first birthday! It's hard to believe that he was just a little "teacup cat" not so long ago. In fact, when I brought him home last June, he was still so small, I could hold him in my two cupped hands. I put him on the scale this morning...15.2 pounds, and still not into his full growth. And such a silly he is! Every day, he makes me laugh, sleeping on his back with all four legs out to the points of the compass, coming at me all sideways-walkin'-Hallowe'en-cat, insisting on toothbrushing and face-washing, cuddling in my arms, getting tickled. And he is very much his own person, and quite a character at that! He's still an early teen in human years, still testing the limits and boundaries, still inquisitive and anxious to learn about anything and everything. What a dear companion you are, my little Merry-cat! Happy birthday!

Moving Parts

 

Day 152: Merry is a very lucky little kitty-cat! He has friends from all over the country and world, thanks to the internet. Annother birthday present arrived yesterday, and as I carried the box into the kitchen to open, he got excited, twining himself around my legs and running back and forth, as if he had understood when I said, "This is something for YOU!" The Meowtain came fully assembled, and as soon as I set it down on the floor, he began playing with it. So many moving parts! Sometimes he runs in circles around it in hot pursuit of the most active ball, but it is small enough that he can get his arms around it to bash the balls back and forth when he gets lazy and lays down beside it. It kept him busy right up until bedtime (well, with a little time out for food and a nap), and he went straight to it this morning when I opened the bedroom door. Yes, my living room is an obstacle course of cat toys, but sometimes I cycle them out, only to reintroduce them at a later point when he will think they're something new. Gotta keep that little mind active!

Tippy At Fourteen

 

Day 280: "We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you this announcement of a Special Event. It's Tippy's birthday!" Today his age matches his weight, but we wouldn't want to call him stout because he carries it well. That said, other than a tiny bit of extra canned food for his breakfast, he won't be getting any special treats in honour of the day. What he will be getting is concentrated Mama-time, either on my lap or playing games. Oh, he loves to play games! He's even invented a few, like trap-the-foot. When I'm down on my knees with him, he circles me, making head-butts, running his tail under my nose and making me sneeze, and then as he moves past, he trails one foot behind, sometimes holding it suspended an inch or two off the floor until I grab it gently and allow it to slip through my fingers. Then I'm expected to trap the other foot before he makes his next pass. And almost without fail, when he's tired of this game, he steps to one side and flops, at which point I put one arm under his head and the other curls around his back so that I can pet him as he kneads my bicep. He developed the routine himself and patiently schooled me in it until I had it down pat. Smart little Boy! They say that in a relationship, you get out what you put in. There's a lot of love here, going both ways.

Birthday Girl

Day 337 (Part B): Bonus post today because she deserves it. Skunk is celebrating her 16th birthday today. The bottom photo was taken the night I brought her home, still blue-eyed and bare-tailed, and her right wrist showing a healing wound inflicted by two kitten-killing dachshunds who tried their damndest to make a meal of her. Even then, she was a scrappy, feisty little thing, and seven years elapsed before she'd sit on my lap. Now, she demands her lap-time, shoving aside whatever project I may have in my hands and taking forever to settle her poor arthritic bones into a reasonably comfortable position. Her health is not good, but we go on, taking each day as it comes, because that's the way it works when you promise someone a "forever home." Happy Birthday, Skunk!

Birthday Girl

Day 337 (bonus post): Today is Skunk's 15th birthday! She came to me at about six weeks old, a wild little thing who had been born outdoors and stolen from her mother by another barn-cat who was nursing kittens several weeks older. Smaller but much feistier than the other kittens, she withstood an attack by two savage dachshunds which almost cost her a paw. It was a hard beginning, and it took many years before she would consent to being touched, even longer before she would sit on my lap. At seven years old, she developed an ear infection which failed to respond to the standard treatment. A stronger antibiotic administered in her ear canals rendered her deaf. She fell into a deep depression with the sudden and total loss of her hearing, and lost over half her body weight in a matter of days. A different vet gave her subcutaneous fluids and a bad prognosis, but I force-fed her for several weeks and brought her back to moderate health. Since then, she has become very affectionate toward me and often pushes aside my projects to insert herself on my lap. She still has health issues and is developing geriatric problems as well, but she's my good old girl. Happy birthday, Skunk!

It's Our Birthday!

Day 140: Mount Rainier National Park was established on March 2, 1899, and today marks MORA's 118th "birthday." It might surprise you to learn that I have been associated with the Park in some capacity or another for well over half that span of years, starting with visits as a babe in the arms of my parents, followed by hiking with an uncle who served as a ranger in the 50s, and later by hiking, climbing and working in the Mountain's dominion as an adult. We have grown old together, the Park and I, although to the Mountain we are but glints on the river of Time. It is a relationship which I hope endures for many years to come. Happy Birthday, MORA!

Took The Leap

Day 78: When I turned sixteen, there was only one thing I wanted for my birthday: a telescope. Money was tight in those days, but when a long, skinny box showed up shortly after Christmas, I knew my request had been met. On the morning of my birthday, I tore into the wrappings with great excitement and spent the rest of the day peering through the limited optics of a $29 Tasco. I was thrilled, and spent much of my young adulthood looking at the moon and trying to make out the faint rings of Saturn.

As the years progressed, I moved across the country and the Tasco went into storage, forgotten until more than forty years later when I bought my present home. Like the Bubble Tree whose story was told earlier this month, my precious telescope had spent too much time in an unheated outbuilding, and the mirrors were damaged by moisture and cold, beyond any reasonable hope of repair. I told myself I'd get another one some day, but by then, I had learned enough about the subject to know I didn't want to waste my money on a cheap department-store model.

There were some stellar events which almost pushed me to a purchase. I'd seen the naked-eye spectacle of Comet West in 1976, and when Hale-Bopp came around in 1997, I observed it through binoculars, still reluctant to make the leap into serious astronomy, even at the entry level. But with Lovejoy on the horizon (literally, at this latitude), that old desire for a 'scope resurfaced.

It's easy to Clint-Eastwood yourself out of your price range when you're considering a telescope. "For a few dollars more," you can get clearer optics, a wider field of view, finer adjustments, etc. and so forth until you find yourself talking in four figures instead of three. At that point, you have to step back and ask yourself what you really need. Are you going to be searching for heretofore undiscovered deep-sky objects? Not likely! But do you really want to look for nebulae and galaxies, or would you be content to see a few double stars? Since my primary interests are comets, planets, lunar features and sunspots, I looked for a telescope which would give me the best possible viewing of those objects on a limited budget. After reading dozens of reviews and conferring with my "pet astronomers," I settled on the Orion StarBlast 4.5 reflector, present-to-self for a reprise of the occasion of that first acquisition.

Tippy Turns Five

Day 289: Somebody's a Birthday Boy! At six months old, Tip had just been brought in from his temporary foster family to be put up for adoption, and I was looking specifically for a black kitty. I didn't know it at the time, but black and "tuxedo" cats (black and white) are the least likely to be adopted from shelters. Why? Some say it's the superstition, but how did that superstition evolve? Well, if you've ever fallen over a black cat in the dark of night, you might be inclined to say they were unlucky. Even if you haven't tripped on a cat, you may have stepped on a midnight-colored tail and seen a sudden flash of white just before the teeth were embedded in your leg. Yeah, I can see why people think black cats are unlucky.

But not Tippy. Tippy was one of the luckiest finds of my life. I'd just lost a little black genius of a kitten during routine surgery, and friends who had seen the zest come back into my life with Harry Dickens' presence were pushing me hard to take on another kitty. A search of local shelters and pet stores yielded nothing, and I wound up travelling several hours north only to discover that the last kitten at one shelter had been taken just before I arrived. A friend who had accompanied me pulled out his phone and started calling around. He found one shelter with mostly adult cats and a few juveniles, but to my dismay, no little baby kitties. However, when we arrived, they showed me a pair of six-month old "tuxedo" brothers. I picked out the one with the least white and spent an hour getting to know him before deciding to take him home.

A few days later when I took him in for his first physical, the veterinarian told me he had a heart murmur. With my emotions raw from the loss of little Harry, I was rocked hard by the news. The shelter footed the bill for a full cardiological exam, and Tip was given a better prognosis than I had feared. His current doctor monitors his condition carefully and so far has not been concerned. "He's just noisy," she said, but she wants me to watch his weight and be sure he gets good exercise.

Exercise? He's a mile-a-minute fellow! He runs and leaps, and keeps up a sweet, soft commentary as he passes things by. "Mirrl?" he asks his toys. "Mirrl-mirrl!" he tells me as he races around my legs to encourage me to chase him. He plays ever so gently when I tickle him; never a bite, never a scratch, and he's always ready with a nose-rub or a paw on my cheek. For all the love he gives me, my Boy was a very lucky find indeed!