New Orange scarf

Good morning to all my non-hung over miscreants

Wait, is there any such thing?  A debate for another day.   Today is yet another cat tale – both amusing and proof I need to get out more.   In truth my new job has a strict communication policy, so several of the events I see and would love to share would come with a likely pink slip.  Of course this policy only applies as long as I work here, so should the day come that my contract is not renewed, you will see a burst of blog posts. 

But that’s the future, and in order to see that far forward, I would have to be able to get my head off my desk. 

Yes I am exhausted, and no I am not hung over, it’s more a cat hang over.  You see I have 2 furry beasts,  one is almost a year old, she is KC.  KC is everything you would expect a cat to be, calm, cool, and in control.  She is the ruler of the house, and I am but the humble being that she allows to feed her and change her litter box.  
Ivan,(my 4 month orange tabby) is… unique.  Okay if I am going to be perfectly honest, he should be riding the short litter box.  He is as cute as anything, but not exactly a rocket scientist. His excess spunk and the fact I have had to rescue him several times from the same predicament only re-enforce this belief.

A couple of weeks ago, he started to sleep under the blankets with me.  It was odd, I have never had a cat do that before but it was not a problem either, he would come running in with great glee and jump on the bed, running up my leg and settling in by my stomach.  Ms. KC would sometimes come in as well, but not under the blankets.  She has far too much pride to lower herself to sleeping with sasquatches such as myself.   

Last night I discovered the truth.  Ivan came bounding in – curling up to his spot and started to purr. It was strange his feet and stomach were wet, strange enough I woke up.   I believed the purring to be for me until KC came in to the room dripping wet.  From what I can gather, Ivan was lying in wait until KC went to get something to drink.  And as I have seen him do in the past, he dove on KC’s head.  This time however, the dive resulted in his dunking KC’s head into the water dish, and then he ran to my room and used me as a safe refuge for the night. 

Too bad Ivan doesn’t understand that women never forget.  I am sure one day this week I will come one and KC will be wearing a new orange scarf.

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Orange Tabby is Evil

Hello my fellow miscreants,

As many of you read from last week, My Orange Tabby kitten Ivan has been ill, and I have been giving him first aid.  It’s been traumatic for both of us, he ends up wet with Peroxide & water mixture – I end up wet in blood from the vicious clawing he does.  The good news is his stitches are out so our daily dance is done, no more squirting.

He has been trying to stalk me to exact his revenge for the indignities of his care. I arrogantly thought the issue had passed, after all he is a young kitten, and lacks the stealth of an older cat,  in fact I almost worry about how clumsy he is, his tail and limbs being longer than his body, and out of proportion.  But the Vet said that’s typical, he is essentially a teenager,  although there are more than a few days I wished I could have neutered my own teenagers, and let them have back their bits after they turned 21 – but that’s a different post altogether.

Last night, after work I was in the shower when I heard little Ivan ‘sneak’ into the bathroom.  He ended up tripping and slamming his head into the door, making much more noise than a 2.5 lb kitten should.  I got out and checked him, and he was fine, with no more brain damage than normal for a cat.  Of course I was wet as I held him and as I turned him and checked his head, so he ended up wet as well.

After trying in vain to use my shower to warm myself I came out to see Ivan sitting on the counter, smiling.  It was when I grabbed my towel, and wrapped it around me, and noticed something warm and squishy that I realized why he was smiling.
Needless to say, despite the city’s call to conserve water, I ended up taking 2 showers that day, and drying off with paper towels.

He may not be stealthy, but is has obnoxious down flat.

First Aid Advice – Miscreant style

Greeting my fellow miscreants,

            For those of you interested in animal care and effective ways to treat wounded beings, I submit to you the following.  I should take a second to say How/why little Ivan is now wearing a cone of shame.   I took in a cat that was outside freezing (it was far below zero) and while she loves me without question, she hates other cats, hates them with a passion.  Ivan is about 4 months old now, and he is small orange tabby, and folds up whenever anyone furry tells him to.  The boy has no fight, and with his latest surgery, if you want to accuse him of having no balls, you’d be spot on. 

            Last week, Ivan was attacked by her. Not a playful wrestling match, but a full-out attempt to kill him.  She ended up gouging his neck & stomach.  Both of which became infected.

            A quick and costly surgery later, he is not wandering around with a cone and a shaved stomach & neck.   The issue is I have to clean these wounds daily.

            My first method:

  • Wrap Ivan in a towel.
  • Pour a small amount of peroxide on the wounds.
  • Apologize
  • Have him freak out, have him squirm, have him knock over the peroxide and let it threaten my laptop. 
  • Use the only towel that is close enough to save the laptop, IE the one Ivan is wrapped in.
  • Realize someone is bleeding
  • Realize it’s you. 
  • Have cat earn its freedom after being essentially dipped in peroxide.
  • See the cute orange tabby glare at you promising revenge for this assault and indignity.

Needless to say I only used that method a couple of times before I tried the “Dip in a sink full of water/peroxide” – which surprisingly was even less effective. 

In the end, I found the way. Be sure you are dressed in a tee-shirt or short sleeve shirt.  

  • Pick up the victim, I mean cat and hold it by its arm pits, reducing his use of the front claws. 
  • Hold it at arm’s length, keeping the rear claws from anything useful. 
  • Use spray bottle filled with water/peroxide solution, clean the wounds.
  • Sleep with one eye open for the next few years.

This method is very effective at both cleaning out the kittens wounds, and at encouraging the homicidal tendencies that all cats seem to have. 

Oh and on a related subject, anyone want to adopt a stray?

Little Rakasha

Hello my fellow Miscreants

Those that know me in real life know I am going through a very rough time. It has affected my blogging and I promise to be back to ‘normal’ as soon as I can.

Last night, my daughter went and got me a rescue kitten. He is small, cute and needs me, a very good combination.  He reminded me of my other cat Buster (the one born in the wrong body). I have decided to name it Rakasha after my book, even though in truth, the adoption fees were more then my book has made.

Last night he was on guard – watching and protecting me as I slept. At some point, he saw something evil crawling on my head. Being that he is a natural hunter, he moved into position, found his high grou

nd and leapt in and attacked. He used his kitten sized teeth and his baby claws, to tear and scratch and drive this intruder off of me.  It was three am on his first night and he saved me.

On another related note, I need to teach him the meaning of the word “Ear” and what one looks like, I would bet after last night he has the taste down.

(and yes I did post this on both blogs – an error caused by Sleep derivation – brought on by waking up at 3 am with a furry ear ring, and not having pierced ears)

Image

wet random thoughts.

Hello my Fellow Miscreants,

Today, as I sit in my car surrounded by the beautiful sound of rain drops, I can’t help but let my mind wander to new events of the last couple of days.

Of course I say that because the rain drops are coming an a horrendous rate and the water surrounding my car is creeping up the door while I pray the car in front of me is able to get started before I find myself swimming for the bus stop.

I also have had to deal with the wee one going to a new and scary place.  It’s tough. I want to go with them, to protect them and keep them safe. To punch the bullies, and beat down the people running the place so they don’t mistreat them.  It is nerve wracking.

But wife sized unit said ‘No’ to that. Both because she doesn’t want me arrested (such a dear) and because it’s her new job!

Thanks to the last of the children moving out recently, we are now an official double income no kids type of couple.  This means improved beverage choices (not just what’s on sale, but what we want to drink) and that we can go out and eat more and have more fun.

Of course that would be easier if we weren’t so freaking tired from work.   Why can’t the bosses just give us the pay checks and not make us do that work stuff?

Flea Dip & Chips

Hello all. Taking a page from past experiences and sharing with all of you today. There is a right way to give a cat (or cats) a flea bath – this is not it.

Due to a long string of sorry mistakes, I had 8 cats at this moment (2 were mine, one was an adult street cat my daughter adopted and 5 were the kittens we didn’t know the street cat had when we brought her in [her last litter I will point out]

Shortly after we got tags for the street cat and a few weeks after she delivered her kittens (ugg) we noticed that the cats were all itching all the time. Granted it’s hard to spot psychotic behavior in a cat, after all they are cats! but the itching we were finally able to figure out.

A quick trip to the Vet confirmed my worse fear. One of the cats had brought fleas into the house, and like the mice Momma cat so diligently caught and tortured, one of the cats had shared the fleas with the house.

So I put flea collars on them. This was several years ago, and the collars said they needed to be worn a week for full effect.
The momma cat, hated collars, and tags and humans in general (other than my daughter for some reason) and refused to wear hers. I would find her collars hanging in trees, hanging on wrought iron furniture, any place she could snag it and pull her head free.

My oldest cat started to lose hair, and I rushed her to the vet to discover she was allergic to the flea collar.

The vet gave her a flea dip for free, and told me I needed to do the same to the others (at 45.00 a pop). I couldn’t afford this, so I instead decided that I would use the flea shampoo and give them a DIY flea bath.

The plan: when I got home, I gathered all of the cats (other than the old one that had been ‘dipped’ and put them into the bathtub. Being that I am 6’2 I can stand on the toilet and use the shower sprayer, get them all wet, then spray them with the shampoo, then one at a time I can bring them out rub it in and get them cleaned, use the comb thing and put them back in the tub. Then a final rinse and everyone is going to be happy, or should I say I will be happy, they will be flea free and I can deal with the ‘how to make momma cat wear a collar’

The plan started out just fine, all the furies in the tub together, momma looking for an escape (she knew something was going to happen) but no problems, till I turned on the water, Momma cat got wet, then got mad. As I poured down the flea shampoo, I knew when I went to grab Momma I was going to get an arm full of claws.

She had better plans, in a show of athleticism that I still am impressed by she launched up and caught towel bar with her front paws, pulled herself up soaking wet and put her back paws on it, then launched off of the towel bar straight at my face – claws extended.

Of course being that I don’t want to get killed by a psycho flying furball I dodged, lost my balance and started to fall. Grabbing the other towel bar (the one on the outside of the sliding doors) and while it slowed my fall from fatal to “<explitive deleted> Ouch” if also released all of the now soaked and semi soaped cats from their watery prison

So on the floor, covered in pissed off semi soaped Cats. I thought the ordeal was over, Momma cat sitting on top of the sink glaring at me for making such an attempt and promising death and further destruction should I even consider getting up. The stalemate ended when the kids opened the door apparently all of the loud crashes and expletives piqued their curiosity) and all the furies bolted from the room. It took me several hours to gather them all up, one at a time, and to complete the ‘dipping’ process.

While all but Momma cat got their flee baths, as it turned out Momma cat didn’t have fleas, she wasn’t the source. It had to have been the other cat I had (the only other one that was allowed outside.)

And as a final insult, during my ‘fall’ and pull on the door I ruined it, so I ended up having to replace it, for 500.

I am just glad I didn’t save money this all the time, I couldn’t have afforded it.