Pussy-Kat Profiles

I was going to call this blog post "The Pussy Profiles", but upon proof reading it, I suspected this title might have been misunderstood, and many a happy reader might have avoided this post, not knowing exactly what they would find. (But I suppose there could be a fair share who might have had their curiosity twerked...er, twittered...er, tweaked, you know what I mean.)

Anyway, here's an update on our Kitty-Cats...It's Pussy Galore at our house. :)

(Bast)
Three owls and a pussycat,
or was it three pussycats and an owl?

Bast: Transitioned from Bitch to a post-menopausal Scary Calm State. She use to slap your face with extended claws if you picked her up and looked her in the eye. Now she's all purry and snuggly, can't get enough touching and attention. We think she's possessed.

(Duchess, aka Baby)
This cat fell off the roof of this treehouse. She was rolling around
being silly-- then, kerplunk! Don't worry, she was purrfectly okay.

Duchess (aka Baby): The Spook. She plays with things that no one can see, getting ruffled by them sometimes so that her hair stands on end and she jumps straight in the air to elude the Invisible Ones. She also sleeps on the grave of our beloved Mistress Pixie Paws, so we can only surmise that they are still in contact.

(Basil)

Basil: Use to be jock, now just Old Man. He's mellowed (like his mother, Bast). He use to snarl if you glanced at him, now he tolerates gentle head touching and very light scratching. We think his testosterone has toned down and he's discovered his feminine side.

(Fox)
This was before he was injured; he's a
little funkier looking now, but just as sweet.

Fox: He was born of a feral mother, but there isn't a feral bone in his body. He was born to be a housecat. Last year he was injured and he walks with a limp now, which is worse in cold weather. We're still working on House Cat Manners. He loves to pee in unusual places on un-peeable things.

(Pyewacket)
The morning after.

Pyewacket: He's a gentle head-bumper with a spacey I've-Just-Been-Smoking-a-Joint attitude about him. If he were a man, he'd be a laid back 1960s peace, love, hippie. He has allergies, so at certain times of the year, he's a little funky looking. He also tends to be a coward-- he's a lover, not a fighter.

(Salem)
My special boy!
He's like Cary Grant in a suit.

Salem: My boy! He can't get enough of me. He not only tolerates but encourages lots of squeezing and hugging, face rubbing, and belly scratching. He's also a coward, scared to death of the dog, so he stays downstairs. Visitors won't see him; he's a one-woman cat. My kinda' guy.

(Dolly)
Looking more Hung-Over than Super Model.
Catnip is legal, I swear.

Dolly: She's beautiful. She's an adornment. We think she knows this. If she were a woman, she'd be a Super Model, but the kind that is philanthropic. She is also a Downstairs-Cat and is Queen of her own domain. She's got pizzazz. She's a stronger more dominant version of Pyewacket-- Dolly got the balls.

(Bear)

Bear: (Fox's brother), born of a feral mother, he's a Semi-Wild-Maybe-Just-On-The-Weekend cat. He grudgingly admits affection for humans, but he's kind of like a parole on the run. He doesn't want to be confined, or think that his only path to escape may be blocked, and he's always looking over his shoulder. The dog makes him nervous.
 


(Marbles)
The Bat

Marbles: We think she's a reincarnation of the Egyptian Queen Nephertiti. She's elusive, and slightly spooky looking, like she's from another realm or something. She is Emma's cat, and Emma's room is her Royal Headquarters. She gives some of us the heebie-jeebies with her uncanny resemblance to a bat. She is the only female not spayed and PMS's regularly.



Old Houses Smell Funny

At least ours does.  Part of it is Sophie (the dog).  She has a malady called Black Skin Disease, and one of the results of this is not only an ugly mangy looking dog, but a dog that smells Really Bad.  The past few days I've put her doggy bed out on the back porch (it's plenty nice out there), and we've shampooed her with a new product, something that's suppose to cut this problem (it also claims to work on cats and horses).  My optimism far out weighed the actual results-- she still smells, though she might not scratch as much.

Then there's the house cats and their litter boxes, which is still better than the dog.  There's that Musty-Old-House-Basement smell; and there's the pungent good Old-Wood smell; and the Old-Insulation aroma; and probably Mice (though I'm not going to blame the one mouse we see on a regular basis (the House Mouse, who's getting tame!), but I will blame the mice we probably don't see in the walls.  Once there was something Really Heavy bumping along the floor, up in the attic, across the living room ceiling, but no one wanted to climb the ladder in the kitchen closet and stick their head up through the opening in the floor-- no one was brave enough.  We surmised that it was either 1)  a raccoon  2)  a big possum or 3)  some Paranormal Something that should just stay where it was.  (This was shortly after we watched the movie, The Grudge, for the first time, so imaginations were running on high-- remember the attic scene?)

I burn incense, buy lots of air freshener (Glade's "lavender/vanilla" being my favorite), burn scented candles, and go through lots and lots of Febreeze. 

Sometimes it seems to help, and sometimes-- not so much.



Don't let appearances fool you, this house smells funny.