Posts Tagged ‘cats’

Does anyone else believe in ghosts? I don’t want to start a huge debate, but I actually do, and I have one here.

A ghost cat, actually.

Or maybe I have proof that cats do have 9 lives.

We had two cats born a while back, one solid black with unusually green (grass green, not typical eye-color green) and one white with very light gray markings and blue eyes.

I named them The Ghost and The Darkness. Good movie, better book, and it fit in with my unique pet-naming habits.

They grew up into beautiful cats, both very sweet. Unfortunately, life in rural West Texas can be tough for domestic felines…the bigger ones (bobcats, mountain lions) seem to do just fine.

The Darkness had a difference of opinion with a badger one night, and didn’t win the argument. He was hurt badly.

I don’t want to freak anyone out, so I’ll be vague. The poor things injuries were not something that he could possibly survive, and were concentrated on his chest and right front leg.

I cried over him for a while, and then let the Guru take him away to end his suffering. I couldn’t let him hurt anymore.

Come on PETA, give me your best.

So three months have passed by, and I walked outside onto the back porch  few days ago to our cats hanging out as usual. The normal view includes the two loopy cowdogs, two white cats, a gray tabby, and one black cat with white hairs on his chest.

In case you’re curious, they are (in the same order): Schatzie, Scamper, Sassy, the Ghost, Flint, and Lite (yes, the black one).

This day everyone was in attendance…along with an extra black cat.

An extra black cat with no markings of any other color, grass-green eyes, and a noticeable limp on his right front leg…

Just for the skeptics:

  • No, he couldn’t have survived the injuries. I know injuries, and I have owned animals my entire life. It was not possible.
  • That aside, he could not have survived the “ending of the suffering.” Again, for those with delicate sensibilities, please just trust me. My husband checked, because he couldn’t stand the idea of him possibly surviving and hurting anymore.
  • If he was injured out there somewhere, he could not have survived three months on his own. A healthy cat has little chance out there with badgers, coyotes, wild hogs, and bigger cats.

He has a single scar on the inside of his leg.

So yeah…I have no good reasonable explanation.

Except that The Darkness is back.

 

Advertisements

http://somespecieseattheiryoung.com/

If anyone needs a laugh, this guy is really really funny.

…and makes me want a gecco. Maybe a gecco would eat the scorpions that the Minion’s cat doesn’t get to first?

Which reminds me, later today when I have more that 2 minutes at a stretch, I will tell you all about our New Oldish Ghost Cat and what might have become of the Darkness.

Yes. I typed that right. And no, it isn’t supposed to make sense. 😉

You’ll see.

WOW…

My kids have a LOT of crap. I knew this, but it didn’t really sink in until I waded in there yesterday armed with a box marked “garage sale” and a trash bag.

I came out four hours later with 5 garage sale boxes, 4 FULL trashbags, and a box of the dishes that I’ve been searching for.

I found treasure, trash, and things that made me go “hmmm…”

Best in Treasures:

  • 6 HotWheels that we thought were gone for good
  • 2 Barbies…sans clothing
  • A Barbie leg…that did not match the above-mentioned Barbies
  • My favorite coffee mug
  • 9 socks
  • A tennis shoe, a houseshoe, and a flip flop
  • A cat (seriously…he snuck in while I was working…with the help of the Climber)
  • 2 sheets of stickers that had never been stuck on anything
  • My slate grey eyeliner
  • Lots of batteries
  • Goodnight Moon
  • 4 Littlest Pet Shop critters

Best in Trash:

  • Lots and lots of discarded papers and tissues…of course
  • 2 half-licked-clean suckers
  • What I think was once a Tootsie Roll (I hope)
  • My son’s cracker stash
  • My daughter’s rock stash
  • A bundle of dead dandelions
  • A lock of my daughter’s hair…that we thankfully had (apparently) never missed

Best of the Things that made me go Hmmm:

  • What “Flart” goo apparently does when it dries to a bedpost
  • Play-Doh rocks
  • Lots of little animals wearing clothing from the naked Barbies
  • My son’s suitcase…packed and ready to go courtesy of the Diva
  • Roughly 57 movies in the wrong cases
  • Chapstick stash IN the CD player
  • Something green and glittery in a teacup
  • Something pink and sticky in the oven of the play kitchen
  • Something fuzzy under the bed (later identified as the wayward cat)

The garage sale boxes were full of outgrown clothes and unused toys.

The biggest treasure of all…

THERE WAS CARPET UNDER ALL THAT CRAP!!!!

I am a terrible mom, apparently. If you look at some of the most popular and highly rated parenting websites, you will find oodles of articles and blogs about how to be the BEST parent you can be!

There are thousands of dollars worth of gadgets you HAVE TO HAVE to raise children safely. Every single cabinet and drawer must be locked down so tight that your husbands cannot get into them. The toilet must be so sealed shut that you have to decide to go to the bathroom BEFORE you really have to go, so that you have time to get into it. Cleaners must be organic and all natural, and there mustn’t be a single germ in the house anywhere! There are even articles that tell you how to sanitize sand for a sandbox!

Here are the reasons I am a BAD MOMMY:

  • My kids play outside in the dirt. I am sure that they have both eaten at least a couple of handfuls. Sure, I try to stop them…but have you ever seen those little shits move!?!
  • I call them little shits. Occasionally, I forget and call them that within earshot of their tiny ears.
  • The toilet lid is down, but not locked. My son has (more than once) came up and wiped suspiciously wet hands on my jeans. I cleaned his little hands off with a baby wipe, but I didn’t exactly freak out.
  • The kids know the best way to dry off hands is to wipe them off on jeans.
  • There is not a single cabinet lock in my house unless you count the one that was painted shut when I moved in…not sure what is back there.
  • My son kisses the cats. The cats live outside, and don’t take regular baths with antibacterial soap.
  • When my daughter was little and had a pacifier, she would occasionally drop it of the floor. In a pinch, when I was in a hurry, I popped it into my own mouth and then back into hers.
  • They have both had tea, soda, and tasted coffee.
  • They have both eaten a cracker that had been forgotten on the floor for a couple days.
  • They both fall down and get told “brush it off, you’re fine.”
  • They watch Spongebob Squarepants, Nick at Nite, and House MD.
  • My son has tried to open a bottle of Dos Equis…with a screwdriver.
  • My daughter knows that when we cross our own cattle-guard, that I don’t mind if she unbuckles her seat belt and sits up to look for animals.
  • They have both seen and heard a gun being fired.

Here are the reasons being a BAD MOMMY makes me a GOOD MOMMY:

  • Because of the dirt they play in…they have been exposed to germs. Meaning that yes, they have caught colds and the flu, but they won’t be hospitalized because their little bodies never developed an immune system.
  • They might pop out with the occasional s-word and get told that is a grown-up word…but they also hear and say “I love you.” every single day of their lives.
  • Because the cabinets and toilets aren’t locked, I don’t have to help them with every little thing they might need to get (or go)…and when we inevitably visit a place without cabinet locks, they won’t go crazy with newfound forbidden freedom.
  • My son is happy kissing the cats…and it hasn’t hurt him yet.
  • Because I don’t freak out and coddle them for every scraped knee…they are tough kids that can take a spill and get right back up. Don’t freak out…if there is blood, I fix it. I even kiss the boo-boo. Neither kid freaks out at a little blood, though…unlike those who watch their mother’s freak out at a little blood.
  • They know there are things on TV they cannot watch, and things they watch that they cannot repeat. My daughter also knows she wants to be a cop and a doctor when she grows up, instead of a fairy.
  • My son never did get that bottle open, but I was so proud of the fact that he knew to go get a tool out of the toolbox for a job he couldn’t handle. And yes…I stopped him before the bottle could hurt him in any way.
  • They will both grow up knowing gun safety, and never accidentally shoot themselves because they don’t know which end of the gun might fire.
  • My kids get hugs and kisses every day…from people, dogs, cats, and each other. The germs are probably spreading like wildfire…but so is the love.

Even though I am not a perfect parent…both my kids think I’m pretty damn cool for a mom (in fact my daughter told me that the other day…verbatim). Their sometimes snotty or drooly little kisses might have germs in them…but they’re the germs of some happy, well-rounded little kids who will grow up knowing how to take care of themselves.

I need to find someone who makes signs…someone who cuts them out of metal with the silhouettes of animals and other cool things, or maybe someone who can make a rustic wooden one. It needs to have “F-Stop Menagerie” on it, because if I rescue or adopt many more strays I’ll need to name the place as an animal shelter.

The loopy cowdog has made friends with, and brought home, a “greyote hound” who wiggled into our hearts, made a bed out of a lawn chair, and adopted us all. We call her Scamp (she scampers around like a puppy), and she looks like an interesting mix of some kind of cur, a greyhound, and a coyote. We aren’t sure where she came from, but she was someone’s abandoned or lost pet, she’s too tame not to be…

She is sweet to the cats, great with the kids, and doesn’t lick you in the face…all the requirements of setting up permanent residence out here. Any animal that is hostile to the kids or cats has to hit the road.

I have my eye on fish again…my daughter used to have a fishtank, and I love them. So we will probably venture back into that hobby again sometime soon. Anything but a beta…those depress me, in their tiny cage-like tanks with no company. They seem so lonely…

For brief moments, I think about getting a hamster again, that was fun…until he became a cage-escaping expert. There were no cages that Wal-Mart, K-Mart, PetSmart, or any other ‘Mart offered that could keep Rascal contained. He once chewed right through the wall of a plastic cage, and scaled a comforter to wake me up screaming in the middle of the night. He was a tough little guy…that night we tested the theory that hamsters might have the hidden ability to fly.

What I really want, though, is a ferret. I begged my parents for one, once upon a time, but I think it might have been too soon after the screaming hissy fit in the night with the wayward creeping hamster. That is one whim that I never really let go of, and it’s been brought back to the forefront of my mind by a quick video I saw on TV of a ferret stealing socks out of a dresser drawer. Hey, I already have sock gremlins that steal them on a regular basis…at least a klepto-ferret would be a more entertaining way to lose them.

My ultimate goal is to someday own a tiny giraffe (a la DirecTV commercials)…I’m pretty sure that science will create them one of these days. I want the tiny treadmill and the velvet pillow, too.

I really do need to start looking into that sign, though…

I have known and owned cow-dogs before, and have had friends with Blue and Red Heelers and Australian Shepherds. They are typically smart, trainable, and courageous dogs…all but one.

I happen to have the loopiest freaking cow-dog in Texas.

She barks at noises, at plastic bags flying by on the West Texas wind, and at a beetle that happened across her path one day.

When I drive up, especially after a long day away from home, she is happy to see the truck like any other dog would be. Most dogs bound out to meet the truck, maybe even run alongside it for a bit…not this one. She leaps off the porch, crashes and burns in a tumbling pile of fur and grass, makes two circles around the yard, then rushes to get in front of the truck and precede it into the driveway.

Her favorite game is cat-toss. She doesn’t use her mouth…she uses her snout, rooting under a cats belly until she gets under there, then tossing the cat out in front of her. She has some battle scars from trying this out on Racer the tomcat, but it hasn’t deterred her.

She eats cat food. Which works out well, most of the cats eat her dog food. Another quirk of the loopy cow-dog is an aversion to meats, especially if it isn’t cooked well. She will, however, eat vegetables and Chex mix. My favorite tomcat prefers cinnamon rolls.

Guess if a person insists on only adopting strays, she can’t be too picky about her quirky menagerie, huh?