Category Archives: family

The worst kitten ever

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The very first day of summer vacation in 2007, I decided we needed a kitten to liven up the place. Tintin and Matty were in their middle age, and I felt like a kitten could keep them active.

The guys and I swung by PetSmart in East Greenbush, where we found a little gray kitten. I’d never had a gray one, so I decided she was the one. As luck would have it, the young guys fell for her sister, a little black kitten who would be called Mindy (short for Midnight).

This little gray kitten was a whirlwind of gray fluff. She ran around like a tornado. We called her Twister. Twister was into, and out of everything…including, but not limited to the cold air return vent whilst I was painting. Sigh. There wasn’t a thing that went on in our house that Twister didn’t find fascinating.

One day, not too long after she came to live with us, it became apparent Twister would need to be upgraded to a hurricane. Eight year old Phillip said, “Let’s call her Katrina!” Katrina was a perfect name for that curious, destructive little shit.

As usually happens, those feisty kittens do turn into fabulous cats! Katrina the Helper Cat…whenever there was work to be done, she was there. Katrina the Rally Cat during the 2016 World Series, wearing her rally towel in support of the Cleveland Indians. When anyone came to the house for repairs, or installations, she always offered a helpful paw.

Katrina died early this morning, with her humans by her side. She leaves behind Deezle, Boone, and her nemesis Jeff. They all came to see her one at a time after she passed.

We’ll see where this takes us…

A spa day for Cat

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Jefferson Cat, First of His Name, Duke of Puffington, Lord of the Glorious Tails, Earl of Floof

The morning began by trying to round up #thisiscat #alsoknownasjeff for a trip to the groomer. He had some quite significant mats on his back legs, and a few near his tail. He was not amenable to me removing them. At all. Anyway, on the first attempt at wrangling him, he escaped the holding room, ran under my bed (where he doesn’t really fit), resisted being pushed out from under, almost lost his voice from all the hissing, and held us off.

Phillip and I were very patient. He eventually emerged from under the bed, and made his way to the kitchen. “AH HA!” we said, “We can get hm now!” We had to move all of the chairs, and also the table, and then, the hilarity began.

Phillip (wearing the special cat grabbing gloves), was finally able to pick up Jefferson Cat. As he did, Jeff’s bladder let loose, and a very healthy, non-stop stream of pee accompanied poor Cat into the carrier. As we were already late, we kinda left Neal to deal with the clean-up. Upon arrival to the groomer, I explained what happened, and asked for the bedding to be tossed. Luckily, I had a spare little rug for the trip home.

Due to Cat’s nervousness, it was decided he would be sedated for his salon services. This was possible, because the groomer we chose works with our veterinarian’s office. For a cat who is not used to such things, I was happy to have that option for him.

Many hours later, I got the call he was ready to come home…yay!! He was trimmed (only the matted area), brushed, bathed, nails done, and ears cleaned. Soooo handsome! On the trip home, about half-way-ish, I started to notice something wasn’t quite right. There was a smell coming from the carrier… Ugh. Jefferson Cat shat himself whilst on the way home. Seriously.

We arrived at home, went directly into the bathroom, where Phillip (again wearing the special cat grabbing gloves) had to hold him, whilst I (wearing regular nitrile gloves), had to bathe him. Jefferson Cat, First of His Name, Duke of Puffington, Lord of the Glorious Tails, Earl of Floof, will not be speaking to us for a very long time.

#thisiscat #alsoknownasjeff

We’ll see where this takes us…

Feral kitten, you say? Sure, why not…?! Part 1

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The beginning of this story is not really mine to tell. A very compassionate friend of mine takes incredible care of the feral, and stray cats that find their way to her yard. They are so lucky she does. And, so are we.

On February 17, we brought our new kitten home. We knew she was no ordinary kitten. She was so small, and so frightened, and not at all accustomed to human interaction. We had installed a crate outfitted with everything a new kitten would need. As I spilled her from her carrier into her crate, we saw a tiny little lion (her fur had been shaved into a “lion” cut due to extreme matting) move quickly into her new sleeping box.

It would be an understatement to say this kitten was frightened. As one would expect, she cowered as far back as the sleeping cube would allow. When offered a small piece of chicken (on a skewer for safety!), she lashed out with lightning speed, and very sharp kitten claws. We wondered if we were in over our heads. Would ever be able to teach this tiny, two pound floof to trust us…maybe even…love us?

After some discussion, it was decided that all of our efforts would be “kitten led”. Due to the strategic placement of a trail cam, we knew that she came out at night to eat, drink, and use the litter box. For our part, we decided to just spend as much time near the crate as possible. We thought getting her used to our voices, and movements would be a positive first step. Also, she seemed to light up when Katrina the Helper Cat came into the room. After the first day, our version of “clicker training” began. And, our kitten had a name.

Deezle Abigail Powder-Puffington was still a frightened little kit-cat, but loved treats, and loved chicken more. Clicker training went something like this: Have chicken, make cat-attracting noise, attract cat, give chicken, repeat. We did this with chicken on a skewer, through the closed crate. We sometimes dropped treats in front of her hiding box, so she’d have to poke her head out to get them. Always making our cat-attracting sound. The idea was for her to associate the sound with tasty goodness. It wasn’t long before she began coming out of her cube when she heard the noise.

During this time, the trail cam caught Deezle playing with a her toys. We wondered if she might play with us…from a distance, of course. We decided to try a few “chase” type toys. She seemed to like feathers, so we tried jingling the fake bird through the crate’s wall. It took a bit of coaxing, but before long Deezle was enjoying playing with us! After the first week we wondered what would happen if we tried playing with the crate door open…

It was near the end of the first week when we tried to give Deezle chicken by hand. The cat-attracting noise was made, but this time instead of a skewer, I held the chicken in my hand. Uh oh! She was a little nervous, but (much to my relief!) she very gently took the piece of chicken from my fingers. Phew! After a few successful hand feedings, we decided all delicious treats would be given by hand. Again, the goal was for Deezle to associate the tasty goodness not only with the cat-attracting noise, but with us. And she did.

We were somewhat surprised when Deezle decided to venture out of the relative safety of her crate. She explored her room with more than a bit of caution. She enjoyed sleeping on a fuzzy blanket that was lying on the futon. We were thrilled she felt comfortable enough to sleep out in the open. She began meowing to get our attention. After the first couple weeks, she still didn’t want to accept pets, but she was really happy to enjoy the delicious chicken offered every day. Until…

Not quite 3 weeks after she came to us, Deezle made a huge leap. As usual, I sat of the floor to give Deezle her morning chicken. She came over to me with great anticipation, ate her treat, and then…AND THEN…she started rubbing her little kitty cat body up and down my leg! She circled me over, and over just purring, and rubbing. To say my heart was happy, oh boy! She didn’t want to be pet, but she sure wanted to love us. In her way, in her time.

I was so hoping this was not a fluke! It wasn’t. Every day after, Deezle would purr at full speed. It was almost too much for her. Being feral, she really didn’t know how to act when faced with this sort of excitement. Thus began our lessons in good manners for kittens.

Coming soon: Deezle learns the finer points of feline etiquette

We’ll see where this takes us…


For the last time

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treasure unearthed

 

This is a photo of a Tonka backhoe. It was left in the sand box one day by my boys many years ago. I found it today, after cutting away many overgrown vines, in the spot where they played with it for the last time.

It struck me as a kind of sad…one day this much loved toy, was never played with again. When was that exactly? I couldn’t say. I just blinked, and they were grown.

We’ll see where this takes us…

Tintin…aaaarrre youuuuu…?

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Tintin came to live with us 6018 days ago. That would be 16 years, 5 months, and 21 days, but who’s counting.

Phillip was not quite two, and Patrick just five when it was time to find a new companion. An already grown up, black tiger cat caught our eye and our hearts that day. She was estimated to be about a year old. When she came home with us that day, she sat on the sofa like she owned it. And she did.

Although she was an adult cat, Phillip called her a “kitten”…except…he couldn’t say, “kitten”. He said, “tintten”, which in very short order became, Tintin.

Tintin died today at almost 18 years old of kidney failure. She leaves behind Matty Cat, Katrina Greycat, and us.

 

 

…you will be the young man tending the garden…

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...the young man tending the garden...

…the young man tending the garden…

 

Nine years have passed since I last saw my dad alive. When I left his house that day, I knew I would never see him again. My soul actually hurt. My soul hurts again today. It’s raw, like it was that day. That’s when I did my mourning. When I knew I’d never see him again. I miss him everyday of course, but today…today, the feeling of loss is almost overwhelming. I know I won’t feel like this everyday, but for now the intensity of how much I miss him burns white hot.

We’ll see where this takes us…

 

 

“…but, we want the little black one…!”

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Mindy

Mindy

…said the excited 11 year old Patrick. I said, “If you guys want the little black one, you pay the adoption fee.” And so it happened. The “little black one”, named Mindy (short for Midnight) by a very proud, 8 year old Phillip, was ours.

Mindy died today. We became her humans 8 years ago last week. Her kidneys failed. Again. This time for good.

She leaves behind, Katrina Greycat, Tintin, and Matty Cat (her mentor and best friend). And us.

Easter corsage

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My granny's favorite flower.

My granny’s favorite flower.

Two gardenias. Two gardenias with blue ribbon. Two gardenias with blue ribbon were delivered. Two gardenias with blue ribbon were delivered the day before she died. Two gardenias with blue ribbon were delivered the day before she died, and now she wears them forever.

No steps here

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Granny & Gramps 1976ish

Granny & Gramps
1976ish

When my dad decided to remarry, his new wife of course, came with a family. No kids, but some parents, and a sibling, and a somewhat large extended family. Here’s the thing… These folks took me into their lives like I had always been there. All of them. And for that, I will always be grateful.

At the time, there were no other “grand children”. The woman who married us asked if I would call her parents some version of Grandma and Grandpa. I didn’t see why not, so in short order, Granny and Gramps they became…to almost everyone.

Gramps passed away when I was 15, so I didn’t get to have him too long. To say he possessed a quick wit, would be a gross understatement.

Granny was with us until 2005. She never thought she was anyone special, but she was so wrong. She was perfect.

Granny was a beautiful woman

Granny was a beautiful woman

I could never begin to express how special I was made to feel. I spent most weekends with Granny. That continued into my late teens until we moved away. Even as an adult, when I would visit my folks, I’d spend a night or two at Granny’s place. That ended when she moved in with my parents. I would try to make it a point to spend some one-on-one time whenever I visited. One of our favorite outings was Malley’s, where I would have a hot fudge pecan and Granny would have a marshmallow sundae. Not to mention the Woolworth’s lunch counter, where we would have grilled cheese and fries!

There is so much more I could try to say, but words would never do justice to how I feel about this woman. She was a profound influence in my life, and I will always treasure the time I was able to spend in her company. We’ll see where this takes us…