Dreaming and Waking

When I tell people about my little cat Zoey (pictured in icon), I always describe her as sweet but not very bright. As Russ says, the light in her eyes is coming in through a hole in the back of her head... there's no brain to speak of. When people ask about what makes her seem so dumb, I tell different stories: the time she got stuck on top of the shower curtain rod, how she gets lost in the hallway and yells for help, how she will eat the houseplants sprayed with bitter orange over and over, shaking her head and sticking out her tongue in disgust after each bite, but always going back for more. However, fall and winter brings me the best silly Zoey story.

Zoey doesn't really understand windows. The first couple of years we had her, we lived in a basement suite. The windows were quite high, the window sills were inaccessible due to bars, and the few windows she could see out of looked out on the house next door, only a meter or two away. When we moved to this house, she was agoraphobic. If you carried her into the living room, which has a giant window overlooking the street, she would panic and scramble over you to jump down and flee. She was fine walking into the living room on her own, so she was obviously reacting to the huge amount of space beyond the window.

She has since overcome her fear and spends a lot of time on the window sill. She gets very excited when leaves fall off the tree outside or when it starts to snow with big fat flakes. Without fail, she will be in someone's lap when she'll see a leaf come down. Her thinking seems to then go as follows:

Moving thing! Get it! Jump! Run! Jump!

~Bonk! Nose first into the glass.~ Huh?

Moving thing! Get it!

~Bonk! Nose first into the glass again.~ Huh?

Moving thing! Look! ~Now realizing that the glass is solid, plants front paws on window to get a better look.~

Moving thing going down! ~Jumps down and stares at wall below window.~ Where is it?

~Jumps back on to window sill.~ Moving thing! ~Jumps down and stares at wall.~ Where did it go?

~Forgets what she was doing and wanders away. Glances back at window.~

Moving thing! Jump!

~Bonk~

Our back screen door doesn't close on its own. Unless deliberately closed, it hangs open and squeaks in the wind. Russ doesn't care, but it bugs me. It takes about ten seconds to close it: notice that the screen door's open, flip both locks (the bottom one sticks a little), open door, close screen until it latches, close door, flip both locks (wiggle the bottom one). Repeat about twice a day.

A couple of times a week, often on Clean Laundry Day, our abundance of socks or underwear will overflow, resulting in a gaping drawer. Open drawer, tuck offending item down, attempt to close drawer, find second offending item (or that first item hasn't been tucked enough), do more tucking, close drawer. It takes five seconds or so, about twice per week.

There are also the wardrobe doors, the kitchen cupboards, and the kitchen drawers; maybe two seconds a piece, which is mostly for crossing the room to close them after Russ hasn't; about once a week each.

Allow five seconds a week for closing the shower curtain after Russ' shower...

While I'm on the subject, I'd best mention straightening the living room throw rug (15 seconds, twice per week) and making sure the tie-backs on the living room curtains all line up (only once per week, after vacuuming the curtains, but it probably takes me 45 seconds to get them satisfactorily tidied).

I don't mention the basement door or the toilet lid because they absolutely must be closed. If the basement door isn't almost hermetically sealed, Puck, our big cat, will open it and descend into the basement, which he seems to think is one big litter box. If the toilet lid is left up, you get wet kitten cuddles courtesy of Zoey the Mini Kitty, who likes to sit in the toilet.

So, altogether, I spend about 236 seconds per week closing and straightening things that only I notice. That’s 3.41 hours per year.

This domestic math has been brought to you by a woman who is not going to leave the living room couch for the sole purpose of tucking away the strap that's peeking out from under the bedroom closet door... really, I'm not.

My mini-kitty (Zoey) likes to sleep in a cardboard box that we keep on our kitchen floor for our paper recycling. She prefers it to every perfectly soft and cozy location in the house. She'll sleep in it regardless of what's in it; apparently flattened tea boxes, flyers, and old grocery lists make for a nice bed. Our larger cat, Puck, has tried to sleep in it too, but he is twice Zoey’s size and doesn't fit.

Since Zoey spends a couple of hours a day in the recycling box, she sheds in it, and the fur collects in the corners and along the inside edges.

I took the recycling out today. I shook the empty box out, but only the few loose hairs came out. So I dug the rest of the fur out from the cracks and seams and let the clumps drift away on the breeze.

"Some bird will love using this fur to line its nest," I said to myself.

A nearby bird looked at me quizzically as if to ask the very reasonable question: "What kind of bird would want to nest in its predator’s fur?"

"Ah, silly little bird, you must be new to the big city! There are some rough birds in this urban jungle. They don't just make their home out of their enemies' cast-off fur. Ah no! They also hang out 'round the East End bars, breathing in the second hand smoke of all kinds of smokables and drinking the spilt alcohol indiscriminately. They don't get up at dawn – too hung over – and they are too cool to hunt for themselves. They bully their worms out of the early birds, the geeks of the bird kingdom. They're tough.

"I tell ya, my bird friend, they run – well, they fly, and the squirrels run – with the local squirrels, trading gossip for black market goods.* They taunt the local predators from their booty-lined nests. You can tell who's in the bird gangs by their caterpillar-leather jackets and the worm-skin boots.

"You'd be better to avoid getting in their way, little country bird. You seem sweet. If you don't want any of my kitten's fur because it reminds you of predators, you are too gentle for these birds. They're tough."

*Strathcona squirrels are thieves and thugs, much like the UBC squirrels, but a little smaller, but they are not very bright. They do like their gossip, though, and birds know all the best dirt.

I'm dizzy and the cat's got a sprained leg...

I've been getting dizzy spells for several weeks, off and on, now. I get these ear infections, about once a year, that knock me silly. Friday was a last straw for my poor ears, and I found myself on the couch, after leaving work early, unable to do much of anything, as the world spun if I moved my head. Then I slept for 11 hours.

I awoke Saturday morning, about 10:30, still pretty dizzy. I was (slowly) making coffee in the kitchen when Zoey hopped up on the kitchen counter, the part that's chest high. She's not allowed up there, and she knows it. When I scolded her, she took off down the length of the counter across a plate. On this plate was some paper towel and some pumpkin seeds, laid out to dry. Well, the paper towel, the pumpkin seeds and the cat all went air-borne. The plate stayed right where it was.

Zoey must have landed wrong or hit the wall or the baseboard heater, because she started howling. Russ, who was still sleeping, came running. She was not putting her back right leg down, and was making a fabulous fuss, so off we went to the vet.

Turns out to be just a sprain of Zoey's back right hip. She got a nice shot which had her dopey and feeling no pain, and 45 minutes and $60-ish later, we are all home again. Zoey and I spent most of the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch, dozing and watching movies on TV.

I'm still pretty dizzy right now, so I'm not really looking forward to working this way tomorrow. But you do what you have to do.

I'm home early -- Dave gave me a ride home. What a sweetie! He is another thing that makes Omega something better then hell.

I put the Gathering registrations for Russ, Jamey and I in the mail today.

It is so beautiful outside! Cool, blue and sunny. I wish I could have the door open, but Zoey is still an indoor only kitty, and it doesn't seem fair to shut her in the bedroom or bathroom so I can have the door open.

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Inspiration hit and I dropped everything. I put Zoey on a leash (the iguana's leash, actually) and took her out into the yard for the first time. She is so adorable, all big ears and twitching nose. Good thing for the leash: she immediately wanted to play with a gray squirrel almost as big as her little kitten self.

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I still haven't decided what Russ and I are doing tonight for my birthday, besides drinking tequila.

As I sit here at the computer, trying to get in my LJ fix before launching into my day, my kitten Zoey has crawled into my lap. She's purring and rolling on her back so I'll rub her tummy. I'm glad to see that the shaved areas from her spaying are starting to grow back. She's quiet now, and so is the most precious little thing.

It is hard to type and pet the kitten at the same time.