Category Archives: Catblogging

Friday Catblogging: Tongue In The Mail

I actually got this picture of Paul Drake via text from our catsitter, Christy of Petit Pet Care fame:

The post title refers to the opening line of a classic Crowded House song, which became the name of the Crowded House fan email list in which I was an active participant when it was active. Here’s the tune:

 

Sunday Catblogging: Tube Kitten Edition

Slade:

Like a seal sunning himself on the beach.

A.

Friday Catblogging: Basket Case

Paul Drake is a large cat who is an expert at squeezing into small spaces.

 

Tuesday Catblogging

The cats continue to just be the best, even if they destroy shit (Ada and my wineglasses) and refuse the expensive food we buy them in favor of trash-ass Fancy Feast (Slade). They play with each other pretty aggressively, not so much that I have to break it up, but Ada will sit underneath Slade and bat at and chew his tail until he’s forced to discipline her, and he’ll lie in wait and jump her as she wanders by.

Then ten seconds later I find them like this. Silly kiddens.

A.

Friday Catblogging: Born Again Lap Cat

Della Street was an aloof cat for the first 9 years of her life. Our running joke was that she was Oscar’s cat and he was all she needed. Slowly but surely she became a lap cat: first with Dr. A and then with me last fall. Here she is on my lap in our messy living room.

Tuesday Catblogging

Ada peeks out from under the afghan my great-aunt Marie made for me 40 years or so ago. My parents brought the thing with on their last visit and Ada has become completely enamored of it. She’ll sit outside the bedroom and yowl until allowed to come inside and snuggle up in it.

A.

Friday Catblogging: Porcelain Paul

Paul Drake is the first of our cats to spend much time in the bathroom. I guess it’s the whole shamus thing or is that shameless? Beats the hell outta me.

Friday Guest Catblogging: Laser Cat

I like to complain about social media but I enjoy some aspects of it, especially the chance to get to know my readers. Today’s catblogging features a cat who rooms with two of my favorite internet people, Lex and Carroll. I’m omitting the last name to protect the guilty: Lex who is a Crack Van regular and blogger on the run.

I’ve enjoyed following the exploits of their tabby Tracy Lee Kelly. I call him the Many Named Cat for obvious reasons. When I first saw the picture below, my first reaction was DEVIL EYES. I was swiftly corrected and told that they call them LASER EYES. Hey, it’s their cat. I’ve got my hands full with the krewe of cats named for Perry Mason characters.

 

Friday Catblogging: Paul Drake Meets Luna

Paul Drake is a remarkably tolerant boy. He’s the first cat we’ve ever had who doesn’t immediately hide from small children. My little buddy Ryan came over to help me with some stereo issues not long ago. He brought his almost 3-year-old daughter Luna along to hang out with Dr. A , PD, and a Krewe D’Etat bone.

It’s a two-part series that begins with a toddler/giant kitten stare down followed by Luna posing for Dr. A. Nice tutu, kiddo.

Thanks to Ryan and Jennifer for okaying Luna’s First Draft debut.

The whole plastic bone thing has given me an earworm:

Friday Catblogging: Armoire Boy

Paul Drake is what is known in the kitty vernacular as a tree-top cat. He likes to get up high. Since he’s so friendly, one could call him a sociable climber.

Here are two pictures of PD on an armoire in our guest bedroom. It’s actually an old English wardrobe but Armoire Boy sounds better. Besides, what does he care?

Speaking of wardrobes:

 

 

Friday Catblogging: Alarm Kitties

Like most cats, Della and Paul expect to be fed on their schedule, not ours. Here they are outraged the Dr. A wanted to sleep in. The nerve.

Tuesday Catblogging

Fierce predator Slade:

These cats have been the best decision we’ve ever made. They’re cozy warm nap-buddies who like to snuggle up and watch TV with us and then run off to chase each other up and down the stairs every night at 10:42 p.m. on the dot.¬†Ada is incredibly patient with Kick, who wants to carry her around like a big fuzzy stuffy and spent a solid hour on Sunday trying to “put Ada down for her nap,” as in lay the cat down in her bed and cover her up and read stories to her.

“If she claws your face off, I won’t feel sorry for you,” I told Kick.

“She would NEVER, Mama.”

And she did not, though she did give me a few looks I’ve only seen in hostage videos. She chats away all day long, mewing for snacks or her box to be cleaned or her water to be changed, alerting us to birds and squirrels and dust bunnies, and she loves being brushed, will roll around and slut it up for a grooming session.

Slade is a butthead. He cheerily disobeys my every attempt to keep him off the kitchen counter, out of the sinks, or from hoovering up any dropped food under the dinner table. He’s territorial about his toys and absolutely merciless about taunting the neighbor’s dog. He sits in the window, and when the dog comes over to the fence Slade paws at the glass like, NEENER NEENER NEENER, YOU CAN’T GET ME.

The dog barks and gets disciplined for barking and Slade saunters away all, my work here is done.

They warm up pretty quickly to new people and have that animal instinct for when someone is predisposed to dislike them. My father-in-law visited this past weekend and I noticed Slade making an extra effort to be adorable and score some (reluctant, but granted nonetheless) lap time. Ada positively doted, meowing and kneading and headbutting until an admission was made that the cats “really were very nice.”

The other night Kick woke up screaming from a bad dream and when I asked her what was wrong she said she dreamed that we had to take the cats back to the shelter. Horror. We crept downstairs to pet the sleeping furballs and assure her and them that they were ours for keeps.

A.

Friday Catblogging: Mugshot

Paul Drake is going through his surly teenager phase. Trouble thy name is Paul. I’ve started calling him Paulie, after you know who, when he’s bad. The good news is that he’s still cute and lovable but he’s the opposite of low maintenance.

It’s not really a mugshot but I’m sure he was guilty of something when Dr. A took that picture.

Here’s PD’s new theme song. It used to be Della’s:

Friday Guest Catblogging: The Kitten & The Peacock

My pal Lisa found a kitten and raised her from a puppy. She’d never had a cat before but took Rocky everywhere the first few months of her life. I met her at the Spank function.

Rocky is now 6 months old and recently had a close encounter with Mr. P, the neighborhood peacock. As you can see it went well.

Friday Catblogging: Floored

It’s time for a meeting of the kitty courts update. Della and Paul get along quite well for the most part. There’s still the occasional altercation because he’s a giant kitten and always wants to play whereas she’s entering her dowager countess phase in her 11th year.

Friday Catblogging: The Inevitable Paul Drake Closeup

It’s PD’s turn in the closeup barrel.

Friday Catblogging: Boxers

There was a bit of “my box, my box” jostling between Della and Paul before settling down on Dr. A’s “donate to Goodwill” box. Enjoy it while it lasts, y’all.

Friday Catblogging: Stretching

Paul Drake is a long cat who likes to stretch out, especially when food is involved,

 

Friday Catblogging: Doorman

Like any good private eye, Paul Drake likes windows. In this picture, he’s peering out a pane on our front door. I think he’d make a helluva good doorman. Imagine him with a red jacket with epaulets to go along with what Athenae has called his fur beret. It would be a fashion sensation, y’all.

Catblogging tends to expose us as lousy housekeepers. We’re not big on washing windows. In our defense, the interior pane is smudged with feline nose prints and the doorman is there every day. Window washing is futile.

Van Morrison gets the last word with this tidy tune:

 

Friday Catblogging: On The Case

The original Della Street and Paul Drake worked a different kind of case. A case of water was all we had.