suzanne, posts by tag: cats! - LiveJournal

Morgan puts box on floor and points.
"Meow, bahx, caarh, bop!" (Dearest cat, if you'll please ascend to the top of the box I'll pretend it's a car and push you around the foyer on it. Then I'll stop and bop you on the nose.)

Beatrice: "mrowr. Meow." (That sounds lovely dear small child, but you will promise not to bop my nose too hard, correct? For I have no desire to nip your delicate hand again, nor endure your tears.)

Morgan: "nose, bop, meow." (Like the touch of a feather on the surface of a still mountain lake, so I will bop your nose my dear.)

Beatrice, as she climbs the box: "meows mrowr." (Then let us begin.)

And where was Julie you may ask? In the closet. Quiet. (Is she gone yet?)



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After Morgan's nap and snack, we looked through the photos on my iPad and talked about babies and cats. I then asked if she wanted to go to the park.

Morgan said: Shoes! and so we put on her socks and shoes. But when we got to the door I said something about the park and she said: "No. Mrowr!" I explained that it was too far for her to walk to my house and if she wanted to visit the cats we'd have to take the car. At this point she ran back to her bedroom and started pulling on the door of her closet where her car seat is stored and said "Caaa. Mrowr."

So we went to visit the cats. What ensued, my friends, was an hour long game of hide and chase the cats around the house. Well mostly chasing Julie, Beatrice quite happily followed along once she realized that Morgan was in possession of the bag of kitty treats (called Doggie-Mrowr). We looked under beds and in closets until I managed to quickly shut the bedroom door sealing /both/ cats in with me and Morgan.

I thought this would be the end of the game, we had sucessfully corraled both cats, petted them, and celebrated with happy dances/stomps. (And gave them treats. Morgan taste tested one and claims that it's "Mmmm.") In the course of petting both the cats we also had the stunning realization that cats /also/ have noses. So we played a couple of rounds of my nose, your nose, cat's nose. Beatrice was tolerant, Julie was not.

However, somewhere in the pursuit Morgan had became convinced that there was actually a /third/ cat somewhere. So we had to go back through the house checking all of Julie's hiding places looking for it.

I distracted her from the invisible third cat with refridgerator magnets (which are awesome) and a short but passionate debate over whether two of the magnets depicted otters or doggies. It was then time to head back to her house, so we had to re-chase down the cats to say goodbye. After again looking for the invisible third cat, Morgan was finally convinced to call a general "Bye-bye Mrowr!" to the house and go outside.

Where she promptly was distracted by a neighbor's pumpkin.

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Things my dear readers should know before reading the following transcription. 1) Suzanne is terrified of spiders. 2) Beatrice is a cat. 3) Brooks, the resident spider catcher, is away in Canada. 4) Julie, who has a small cameo, is also a cat. 5) translations of cats and human sounds appear in italics.

Our story begins this evening around 11:15. The fan is broken, it is hot, and our heroine is watching a show on Hulu and quilting. Beatrice is sitting beside her half asleep and occasionally trying to eat the needle. Julie is batting an orange poof around the floor.


Beatrice: Mrowr. *freezes, jumps on suzanne's lap and stares at the ceiling.*
Suzanne: Ah, you are a cat. Have you found a spot? an ant?
Julie: *joins beatrice in staring at the ceiling*
Suzanne: Nope, not going to look. Not going to....
Suzanne: EEEEEEE! Spider! That's a Spider
Beatrice: *starts chittering her teeth* Food! That's Food!

(Freeze frame on tableau, human and cats sit perfectly still and stare at the spider. It is unknown if the spider stares back, but one suspects it does. Julie breaks first - losing interest in favor of the large orange poof.)

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And so our adventure ends. Suzanne is sitting on the couch, feeling proud and visibly shuddering. Beatrice is pawing at the front door and whining. Julie is still batting the poof. And the spider is presumably much happier in the front garden than sitting on the ceiling.

Beatrice has discovered my fish oil pre-natal supplements.

Beatrice: WANT! Smells so good.
Suzanne: Ooops. *grabs spilled pills and puts back in bottle*
Beatrice: No! Where did the fish go! Want fish!
Beatrice: Scratches at bottle and knocks it over, re-spilling pills.
Beatrice: Yay! Nom!
Suzanne: "No" *grabs spilled pills, puts back in bottle, makes sure bottle is sealed*

Beatrice: No! Want fish! Where did the fish go?
Beatrice: *rubs against bottle* *tries to chew on bottle* *scratches at bottle and knocks off table*
Beatrice: Yay! Wait, why didn't it open? Where's the fish. Suzanne! There are fish in there! Want the fish!

Suzanne: puts bottle on shelf in bathroom.

Beatrice: But... where are the fish?

Once upon a time there was a lovely and sleepy princess cat named Julie.




But alas, the Princess Julie lived with a human who had an odd sense of humor.







Huh? What?




Princess Julie was not amused





But her roommate was.

Meanwhile, Beatrice ignored the proceedings, being above such things and rather sleepy herself




And they lived happily ever after.

(disclaimer: One pea was fatally injured during the photo shoot.)

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*shudders*


I've been brought gifts by cats before. Mice, rats, baby possums, squirrels, birds, but lizard tail? Completely freaked me out.

Dear cats (specifically Beatrice Ann and Julie Moses),

I know you don't understand this whole "exercise" thing, and in general I have no problem with you sitting on the bed watching me contort and make funny noises. I must admit that sometimes your commentary isn't really appreciated, but most of the time I can pretend that you're my personal trainers.

However, I do have to inform you that what happened this afternoon was a bit beyond my tolerances. Little Dears, I am NOT A Salt Lick. When I'm doing my final breathing/balancing/meditation, it is not okay for you to come over and lick the salt off my temples.

Yes, Beatrice, I know that Julie started it. But that doesn't mean that you had to join in on the other side.

Thank you.

With much love,

Suzanne

As I went out the door this evening, Beatrice slipped by me and ran happily onto the grass.

Beatrice: MRRowwwR!
Suzanne: The grass is wet because it's been raining the past week.

Beatrice: *Startles* growls and hunches down, glares upwards.
Suzanne: It's called rain dear. It's when water falls from the sky.

Beatrice: glares, sneezes, yowls, and paws at her nose.
Suzanne: And if you look upward a raindrop may hit your nose.

Beatrice: Yowl! Yowl! Mrrroorw! (I know there's a dry spot out here!
Beatrice: Runs frantically around grass.
Suzanne: Dearheart, it's raining, come inside.

Beatrice: Mrorrw! Mrowr! (Ack, stop being wet, and drippy!)
Beatrice: *shakes then runs behind the house to the neighbors*
Suzanne: It's raining there too dear. *follows*

Beatrice: Mrowr! (You're dry!) *runs to me and Crawls up my jeans into my arms.
Suzanne: Ouch.

Beatrice: *hunkers down* Mrowrrrrrr. (I don't understand)
Suzanne carries her to the door.

Julie sits just inside the still open door. Smirking.
Julie: *purrs* (I know what /that/ is and I'm staying right here.

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When we adopted Beatrice we were told she was an indoor only cat. She's run outside before but has never gone too far. Given where we live this might have been her first experience with rain.

On the other hand, Julie was living outdoors for an unknown time before she was rescued and brought to the shelter. The one time I took her outside on her harness, she got loose and ran back to scratch at the door.

So. I'm culling my book collection and needed an empty box to store the reject books. To get an empty box, I had to unpack a box (presumably of books).

You know how you get to that last hour of packing and you lose all pretense of organization and just start throwing what's left in the drawers into available boxes? It was one of those. Among other random bits, it contained: (in random order of course)

* $3.47 in change
* 2 hair thingies
* 5 pens
* 2 candles
* 1 matchstick in a plastic bag (?)
* Six nails and 2 screws wrapped in muslin
* an orange cat (oh wait, that's a Beatrice**)
* a 1986 yearbook from the Cheshire Academy (!?)
* a spoon

I'm now sitting puzzled on the couch snapping green beans and occasionally looking over at the yearbook thinking, "?"

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**Beatrice has an internal radar for boxes. She was in the living room, I was in the bedroom. I turned to throw the match away, turned back around and she was sitting smugly in the box. She looked at me, tilted her head, and Meowed: "It's a box!" This repeated several times.

All of our cats so far have had a quirk. Eowyn liked to chew paper, she preferred tax forms, medical records, and voting information. Beatrice likes to wake me up at 4:30am and get cuddles.

Julie, our newest cat, creates sock art. She will carefully dig through the laundry (clean/dirty, she doesn't mind) pick out a sock and meow loudly in triumph. She then carries it through the house, still singing, until she finds the perfect place for it to be. Then she leaves it. It's.... profoundly adorable.

Last week, I came home to find the following art installation in our main room:


Beatrice seems amused by the entire thing and has taken to raising her head and carefully watching the ritual placing of the socks:


(Other cat owners have clued me in that Julie may see the socks as kittens. This makes sense to me as she was miscarrying a litter when she was dropped off at the shelter.)