Cats hide in the darndest places or don't leave the pantry door ajar

The other day I was preparing dinner when I heard the weirdest sounds coming from the pantry. I wondered if there was a mouse in the house. That is always a humorous event, what with five cats lurking around, always anxious for something fun to play with. I don't like the idea, but I was ready for anything.

I opened the door wide, already ajar. I almost didn't see Junior, alias Boo, the Bug, Buggar, or whatever else comes up at the time, who was way back in the far corner, past the toaster, mixer, mini food processor, roasting pans, and mini tool kit, curled up among a stack of empty egg cartons. I was saving them for my friends who raise chickens. The noise I heard, a kind of squeaky sound, suddenly made sense as I watched her snuggle up to one of the styrofoam cartons. 

So much for the neatly stacked, bagged egg cartons. At least I don't have to deal with a dead mouse. 

And once discovered, out she came. She'll probably have to find a new hiding place, since this one has been found!

A day in my life with cats

One of my cats, Kasey, shown left, is sitting atop my computer tower, next to a model of a 747.

I've had that little airplane for years. I was at Chicago's O'Hare Airport when the first 747 landed there in the 1970's. It was a such sight to behold as that humongous plane inched its way toward the glass of the terminal building. I remember thinking the plane was going to come right through that huge window, but it stopped just short.

This little trinket commemorates that event for me, one of the coolest things I'd ever seen. 

Though in the picture, it looks like this plane is taking off, but I'm here to tell you, my little jet is about to crash. 

That is always what happens when little Kasey is around, whether it be near magazines on the coffee table, books on top of a book shelf, or the dining room table piled high with the morning mail. Eventually, it all ends up on the floor. She is like a two-year old that drives their Mother crazy by continually throwing things off their high chair. Here, every surface in our house is Kasey's high chair.

I'm not sure why she has taken to sitting on top of my computer. It must be warm there. Cats love anything that is warm. The other day she was dozing and very ungracefully, fell off. She managed to catch a front claw on the way down, in one of the holes of the cooling vents on the side of the case. As I was trying to free her, I managed to get the computer onto its side with one hand while holding her paw with the other. All the while she let me know she wasn't happy with me, even though I was trying to help her.

I got her to the proper angle to work her claw free. When I did, she ran away with no apology for all the hissing and no appreciable gratitude.

In the meantime, she knocked down everything that was on my desk. The worst part was a basket that contained a year's worth of stuff. There were bills to pay and items to be filed, income tax receipts, and general paperwork that needed attention, as well as some that had already been dealt with but had no place to go as of yet. On the way down the basket took out a CD holder, so about a couple dozen CDs added to the mess.

As I was picking it all up from the floor, I knew I had a pretty hefty task ahead of me. Being the problem solver that I am, I wondered if there was something I could do to prevent this from happening again. The simple solution was to keep my desk clean. Anyone who knows me though, knows that I am organized only in my head. It does not spill onto my desk or other surroundings, try as I might. I am creative; can't do everything. 

I reasoned that it might be a good idea to keep my computer tower on its side. Not only could Kasey not fall off, perhaps she wouldn't even be interested. If I was careful to not cover the vents, perhaps I could put my flat screen monitor on top of it. It isn't very heavy.

I spent the day on my project, making new file folders, putting things in 'their place.' I cleaned and organized my desk, put all my CD's back where they belonged. The floor was now empty. The desk was now clean.

I liked how the computer was now a much smaller footprint on my desk, which left room for all the other stuff I have on it, including four paper weights, a jar of ink for my favorite fountain pen, scratch pads for taking notes, the telephone, a desk lamp, stapler, tape holder, and a jar filled with pens. It really looked nice. 

It didn't take very long though before I realized I had to nix the idea of putting the monitor on top of the computer. The screen was much too high; my neck had to be in an awkward position to see. So, I put the monitor back where it was with the computer to the left of it. I cleaned the screen, polished the PC and scrubbed the keyboard with baby wipes and a tiny brush. It was sparkling clean and cat hair free. Alas, even the keys still worked. 

This morning I realized my computer was running slower than normal. And, the hard drive kept starting and stopping, starting and stopping. I looked up online "can I lay a vertical tower on its side?" The reaction was mixed. I already knew the answer. So, I ended up putting the computer back to where it had been before.

I was a little disappointed that this great fix didn't work. So I took out my frustration by emptying three of the drawers on the left side of my desk. It has seven altogether; three on each side and one in the middle. Each one is jammed full. There weren't enough hours in the day to clean out all the drawers, but I got a really good start. Sadly, I didn't find anything worth noting. Mostly I tossed a bunch of things that related to my former job. I no longer needed business cards of people I'd never call again, so lots of those got tossed. I found a nickle and six pennies. I did find some old pictures and old greeting cards. Mostly all I was hanging onto is now trash.

Kasey hasn't been back since all this began. Although my initial problem of her sitting on top of my computer wasn't solved, since I haven't seen her all day, perhaps getting her claw stuck in a hole taught her a lesson. Or perhaps she just had something else mischievous to do that I haven't yet discovered. At any rate, I had a nice, pleasant afternoon of cleaning. And now, I can even open the drawers without any trouble. 

The bottom line is, I'm sure glad I have cats to help encourage me to clean my work space.

How I came to love cats

Happy Birthday to my girls.

My four kittens have grown up

Seven years ago, was a day I will always remember--such a happy event--the birth of five kittens on the front porch. One of them, the runt of the litter and last one born didn't make it. Rusty, is buried in the cedar grove just west of the house along with my most beloved feline companion ever, Emily. Ironically, she died just three years ago on this very day, one of the worst days I've ever experienced. There was no celebration for the girls that year--just tears.

But today is about them. 

My love of cats started long ago, despite my family always having dogs; not cats.

When I was a youngster living on a dead-end street in a Chicago neighborhood, there was a lady down the street who we kids in the neighborhood mockingly called Crazy Annie.

Everyone knows someone like her, the quintessential old spinster who always had lots of cats and kittens. Annie was certainly a little quirky. I laugh a little, because I think I have become her.

My memories of Annie are pretty vague. The one thing I remember about her, other than the cats that followed her everywhere, was that Annie used to reward us neighborhood kids for retrieving seeds from her Four O’Clock plants. I suppose she saved them to plant the following year.

When we followed her inside to collect our pay--pennies for whole jars of seeds, her house was always dark – blinds were always drawn. There was a kind of glow in her living room as the sunshine tried to blaze its way through her heavy velvet drapes.



As an adult, I've almost always had a cat. My first experience was an old tom cat that wandered into the courtyard of my apartment complex. I used to put milk in a saucer for him, so he kept coming back. I was smitten with him. 

There have been many subsequent trips to the humane society.

About 8 years ago, it was a stray cat that appeared--my husband John and I named her Timi. 

Timi, who was a small, obviously young Calico with muted colors. She seemingly appeared out of nowhere one night. Apparently she chose us. It was almost like she was stalking us. She knew which room we occupied because she peered in the window at us, pacing back and forth on the brick ledge just outside the glass, always meowing. When we were outside, she followed us and was always affectionate. She showed up in the morning at whatever door we opened to let out our dog Sam. It was almost as if she knew. And, Timi was very vocal about her desire to become friends.

We put food out for her. It wasn’t long before she won our hearts. She never went too far from the house. Finally, it started getting colder outside, so we decided to let her come into the house. She even made friends with Emily, who was about 10 at the time.

In the spring, we noticed a change in Timi. She became restless, and wanted to go outside. While we debated about what to do, Timi made the decision for us. We awoke one morning to find the screen broken out of a back porch window. Timi was gone.

But she soon reappeared. Only this time, she wasn’t exactly alone. It was apparent that Timi was pregnant. She was always very affectionate, especially toward John. But he wasn’t as quick to embrace the idea of little kittens as I was. I couldn’t wait. Timi must have sensed that too, so during her pregnancy it was my lap she wanted to claim. I was more than happy to oblige. I can’t resist baby animals, but I am most fond of kittens.

I read all I could on the Internet about the feline birthing process. Timi was a very young cat and I hoped her instincts would guide her. But if not, I was ready to help. I sensed when she was very close to giving birth. I was afraid she might want to have her kittens in private, which is customary for cats. But, she actually came to get me when the time had come. I was at my computer when she jumped up high latching her claws into the window screen. She seemed frantic.

I played midwife to Timi’s five kittens who were born in a newspaper-lined box next to the swing on the front porch.

John wanted no part of this process, but was just inside the house. 

I was in awe as Timi knew exactly what to do. I gingerly moved the first kitten to another box, while Timi gave birth to the next one. This went on until there were finally five in the litter. I put them back into the box with their mother. I didn't know what I would do with seven cats in the house but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to part with any of them.

Since John and I had difficulty agreeing on the names for our own two children, I figured it would be really hard to come up with five more names. So, we decided to name them for NASCAR drivers.

The first born was Ryan, named for Ryan Newman, our favorite driver. The others were Kenni (Kenny Wallace); Junior, (Dale Earnhardt, Jr.); Kasey, (Kasey Kahne); and Rusty (Rusty Wallace).

The birth went well, taking about three hours. Timi did great. She was very attentive and caring – showing signs of being an excellent mother.

We were not without issues, however, as Junior was born with a deformed right front paw. Turns out, that although she is smaller than the others, she is also the toughest. Rusty, was probably the prettiest one--with markings not unlike her mother--lived only 11 days. The others are all variations of grey and white.

We guessed that Ryan was the only male in the bunch, but were surprised to learn that she too was a female. All of our NASCAR-named kittens are girls! Too late now, they know their names.

It has been an absolute joy to experience the development of these little critters. Kittens seem to develop on an accelerated schedule, with visible changes almost daily.

Each has a personality all her own. Ryan has stayed true to her early beginnings, as the sweet, cuddly one. She is also similar to her namesake, known as the Rocketman. Ryan is happiest when she is 'flying' around the house. She loves to roost in high places, like the top of the entertainment center, on top of the book case, or perched on the top of the bedroom door. Kasey is the scaredy-cat, who jumps at any unfamiliar sound, though jumps first and with all four feet. She seems to be taking on the characteristic of alpha cat, or top dog, which to me, is just another word for trouble-maker. Junior is the tough one, a fierce competitor with her siblings. She isn’t afraid of anything, despite her disability. Early on, she worked hard at keeping up with the others, doing what they did, even if it wasn’t always graceful. Kenni is the biggest cat who loves mealtime. She is the most mellow one, who goes along with whatever the others do, but would never consider doing it first.

It has been such a joy to watch these siblings interact with their mother and each other. Timi, who started this as a youngster herself, has grown into a mature and protective mother, using her instincts to teach. For a time, she played with them. Timi is content to stay outside now, except to eat. She is definitely an outside cat. The others are inside cats. 

She is friends with raccoons, runs with the deer and is a good mouse and snake hunter. 

We are comforted to know she won’t have more kittens, despite the affection we have for these. It just wouldn't be responsible to allow her to be outside without having first been spayed. They all went to the vet together to get spayed.

Because Timi was a stray cat, our local Humane Society helped with the cost of spaying. We will support them in the future, any way we can.

Had we not given Timi a home, she might be having a second litter. And since her four kittens are females, they would likely have had kittens of their own as well, had we not intervened. And on and on it goes. It is hard to imagine that so many unwanted cats are born each year. It is even harder to imagine how many of them have to be killed because there is no one to take them all in.

As I look around the house, a cat in nearly every view, I think back to my younger days, and of Annie, the neighbor with lots of cats.

This was a woman who was kind to young children. She paid us pennies to collect seeds from her perennials that would probably have reseeded themselves anyway. Her action taught us that work paid rewards and that we should be diligent in our endeavors. I remember carefully picking only the ripe, plump, black seeds and leaving the rest for another time.

Annie befriended us. She brought us into her home. Those were days of innocence when neighbors were not to be feared. And, she let us pet her cats. In doing so, she showed us she trusted us. They were obviously very important to her. That first feeling of silky fur on my hands must have made an impression.

I’ve thought of Annie from time to time, wondering what ever became of her. I never even knew her last name. Sadly, there was much I didn’t know about her. I think if I knew her now, I would like her. There is one thing I know for sure; Annie wasn’t crazy.

Springtime and Spider plants

Ah, Springtime! This has been a spectacular season so far. There has been a variety of weather--though more rain is always desired. What a joy to watch the green living things come to life, take shape, thrive, and fulfill their natural life cycles.

As is tradition, when the weather gets warm, I bring my indoor plants outside to their summer home on or near the shady front porch. I had one plant that was very eager to move outside.

It was my favorite spider plant. I don't even know how old it is, but it seems I have had it forever. It was one of the few plants we were able to bring with us to Arkansas eight years ago when we moved here from Beecher, Illinois. At that time, we only had one cat. Now we have five.

For some reason I just haven't been able to teach the kitties to respect my plants. Here Kenni is doing what she does best, relaxing. She is totally content lying on her bed of soft, cushy leaves. I suspect the dirt is warm from the sunshine. Cats love to be warm.

Kenni wasn't the only one that liked to lay on the plants. Now that I think about it, I believe I've caught all of them there at one time. When Kenni was really little she thought the dirt in the pot was a litter box. I'm not sure how I broke her of that nasty habit, but thank goodness she doesn't do that anymore.

Needless to say, she destroyed the middle section of the plant, so I had to trim the leaves back. The once beautiful full plant, was reduced to a mere ring of bent and broken leaves. I tried everything, including sticking cinnamon sticks in the dirt. Cats are supposed to be repelled by the scent. Didn't work. They just moved them out of the way or laid down on top of them.

When spring arrived and I could put my plants outside, it was a new day for my spider plant. Today, she thrives once again.

This is what she looks like perched on her traditional pedestal, a rusty milk can.

She is rejuvenated, making lots of spider babies, and loving life.

Kenni doesn't seem to miss the plant either. She just sits on the table where the plant used to be, looking out the window and enjoying the sunshine.

I guess all in all, life is good!

My quilt is finally done!

Mission accomplished! I finally finished the quilt I started more than four years ago. Pink is my favorite color and log cabin is my favorite block. It is just so traditional. 

When I began this project, I had lots of fabric strips cut out, sorted by size and color and placed into a huge basket. I had some squares completed. But that was before our cat had her kittens. The babies were so much more fun than sewing, so my basket of fabric strips just sat. 

When the girls (four of them) finally got old enough that I could resume my project, I found that they had spent some time sitting in the basket containing all my previously cut fabric strips. Before I could re-organize them, they had to be de-haired. It took even more time before I even wanted to take on that task. The funny thing about making a quilt is that there are so many steps. I never knew that de-hairing the fabric was one of them, but in a multi-cat household, I suppose that is to be expected.

One day, about a year ago, I decided to finally tackle the project. I've been at it ever since. By the way, that is Ryan, who has been my constant helper.

The other day it was raining. I was finally almost finished. I sat in the sunroom, quilt on my lap, and set out to complete the border, the final step before trimming and binding. I felt a little sad when the hand-quilting was done. There is nothing more relaxing than hand-quilting. The border is simple, but I like how it turned out with butterflies and leaves. 

 Yesterday, I set aside the entire day to finishing. In the picture at right, Ryan and Kasey were helping me pin the binding. 

It is finally finished. I've made a half a dozen or more quilts. I'm anxious to start on the next one. Perhaps it won't take four years this time.

Looks fascinating, doesn't it?

l. to r. Ryan, Kenni, Kasey, and John 

Sometimes I really have to wonder about my family.

This was the scene in the living room the other night, quite the distraction from a good night of television viewing. My husband John, that's him on the right, saw three of our four girls first. They were obviously enchanted by something on the ceiling. We couldn't see a thing, so we were really perplexed about what was so enticing up there.

Finally, I looked up again only to see a bug walking along the tiny craters of our popcorn ceiling. Gosh I hate that stuff, but it was here when we bought the house. I have no idea whatever happened to regular drywall.

At any rate, apparently this brave critter was hiding behind one of the popcorn kernals, probably aware that our kitties would make short work of any critter of the non-feline or canine variety. The poor thing was probably hanging on up there for dear life.

Finally, John rescued us all, paper towel in hand, as he squished the thing.

Alas, all the excitement was over, but not before I could grab the camera to capture the scene for all eternity.

By the way, there is one more cat in our household-- JR--and a dog named Shadow, although they were amusing themselves in other ways at the time.

I've lost my best friend.

At the risk of sounding like one of those crazy old cat ladies, I can honestly say that my heart is broken by the loss of my best friend--my cat named Emily.


Emily died of natural causes, at home, Monday, July 11.


I'm proud to be a crazy old cat lady. I have no shame in saying that Emily was my beloved pet and trusted companion for more than 16 years. Through thick and thin, she has always been a comfort. We seemed to simply understand one other. 


For the last couple years, Emily's health was failing. She no longer used the litter box, but instead, became paper-trained. It was difficult sometimes to care for a sick cat, especially since my husband and I have four others in our household--kittens whose birthday was the day Emily died. Their mother lives here too, but she lives both inside and outside.


Despite the extra work and mess, I refused to end Emily's life for my own convenience, especially when she was still able to find pleasure in living. She had good days and bad days, but I believe she remained a happy cat until the end.


I gladly did whatever I could to make her comfortable. 


Emily didn't just like to be held, she liked to cuddle. She would reach her paws around my neck, like a hug. She came when I called her. So many times she curled up on my lap as I read a book or watched television. When quilting, she always laid on the fabric. 


Emily came into our family many years ago to fill my heart after the loss of another beloved pet, our collie, Howard. Howard had a story too, but that is for another time.


A friend took me to the home of a woman who ran a shelter in her home in Kankakee, IL. She had many cats, but I felt indifferent; perhaps it was too soon. She said she had one more, but she was in quarantine. She was recovering from an eye infection, but was due to be introduced back into the 'population.'


One look at this beautiful, little, grey fur ball, and my heart melted. It really was love at first sight. She was the one. I named her Emily after a dear friend. 


Emily has always been there. When my daughter got her own apartment; when my son moved away; when we relocated from Illinois to Arkansas, Emily was always a comfort. I can't count how many times I cried into her fur. I recall the long drive when we moved--her cat carrier was buckled into the seat next to me. For most of the trip we held hands. I was so worried about her, but she did great. We had many conversations in those long hours. 


Emily is now buried at the edge of our cedar grove in a grave marked with a bouquet of pink, plastic carnations, in full view of the back deck. 


Rest in peace, my Emily.

Time to bring in plants

We still haven't had a frost--hurray--but it had to be pretty close last night. I brought in my plants yesterday anyway. I was cold outside, so I'm sure they were too. It stayed in the 40º's, but it was too close to comfort for me.

I always love bringing them in. If they were people they would have a glow about them. They seem happy to come inside where it is warmer, and there is no wind. They are obviously tired of the summer breezes which have begun to take on a blustery feel. My plants seem very relieved to be indoors. I've placed them all in the back porch, which isn't heated, but the south-facing windows and proximity to the rest of the house will keep it warm enough. But I can't help but think, wait til the plants meet the cats.

I know I have written about the girls before--all six of them--although Mama lives outside. And Emily, our senior member, rarely goes in that room nor does she bother with the plants. But then there are the terrible-two kittens--four of them. They love playing with the babies of my spider plant. They flick them with their paws and consider it great fun.

They have taken to sitting atop my grape ivy and in between the arms of my Christmas cactus. I have sprinkled cinnamon on all of the plants. I read somewhere that cats don't like the smell of cinnamon. I hope that works. So far, so good, but it will likely be a long winter. That means a good workout for the spray bottle. Just one look at the spray bottle and the girls freak out.

Anyway, I love the look of the porch, all decorated with too many plants. I go out there to read, draw, write on my laptop, or talk on the phone. It is always a joy to be around all of them again. It is like trying to trick myself into forgetting what time of year it really is.

The room had been so empty. Every time I step down into that room, I just want to take a deep breath. I'm glad to have my plants back. I just hope nothing slithery decided to take a ride into the house with them.

Summer in the Ozarks

This might just summarize my summer in the Ozarks.

This picture has all the elements
-- My beloved cat, Ryan who loves to peer out the window and watch the wildlife
-- The leaves of the oak tree that frames not just this picture, but so many beautiful scenes in the Ozarks
-- That thermometer tells the tale -- proof of the work of the strong, hot, sizzling Arkansas sun
-- A visiting fawn who stopped by with her mother and sister, who had already scampered off into the woods

This photo was taken from inside the sun porch where I like to wile away the hours, often with a glass of iced tea and my laptop. I am rarely without cats. There are six in all. One is an inside/outside cat. Timi was a stray who seemed to adopt us. We were so smitten by her that when she came home from one of her adventures in a family way, we also adopted her four kittens. They were all named after NASCAR drivers. Ryan is named for my favorite -- Ryan Newman. I already had a cat named Emily, who continues to adjust to the new kids on the block. Some days are better than others. The kittens were born on the front porch, but once Timi completed the event, I moved them all inside -- to the sun porch. Since it is the old neighborhood to them, I'm sure that is why they consider it theirs. On second thought, they think every room in the house is theirs. Hmm. I am grateful they share their room with me.

Life is good in the Ozarks.