We interrupt this regular programming for an urgent news flash from KITT-FM and our meteorologist, Chance O. Showers:
PITTSBURGH - Good evening, folks!
Previously, KITT-FM reported partly cloudy weather, with a chance of kitten showers soon to come as spring rolls in. But according to our sources, a massive wet front now is headed our way, and we can expect to see kitten thunderstorms striking as soon as tomorrow at Mother Catresa's Pittsburgh sanctuary.
"Just look at that sky - man, isn't that forbidding?" remarks Mother Catresa, KITT-FM's popular hostess who also goes by Kellie Gormly. "Gosh, it's been gray all week. But now, it's almost black out there, and those clouds are swelling. Don't even get me started about the humidity, too; it's making my naturally curly hair all frizzy. What is this, the 'Wizard of Oz?' "
Catresa, 36, reportedly received a message from Animal Friends today that several kitten litters need prompt shelter. And as kitten season goes, this torrential monsoon is expected to last several months.
"So maybe it gets muddy and messy, but oh, I can't wait!" she says. "I start seriously jonesing for kittens after those dreary winter months!"
Stay tuned for frequent weather updates from Chance O. Showers, right here on KITT-FM.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I Know They Miss Me Buh-LIND ... Don't They?
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia, heeeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
That odd title, for most of my peers, will ring a bell in its reference to one of the early '80s hits, "Miss Me Blind," by Culture Club (you know, the band fronted by Boy George with that bizarre clown makeup). May I say, for the record, that I think that song was one of the more annoying ditties of my childhood decade?
Anyway, what's the feline connection here? I just returned from a lovely four-day trip to El Paso, Texas, to visit my grandmother and mother for Easter. We had a great time. Truthfully, though, when I'm traveling, I miss my kitty-cats. As much as I love the thrill and experience of going places and experiencing different things - a'la "Karma Chameleon," I suppose - going to bed sans furry, vibrating companions (no double entendre intended, seriously) makes a bed feel extra strange. I slept four nights in a cat-free bed, and it felt weird. I could almost hear a phantom purr, see a phantom sphynx shadow lurking above me, and feel a phantom wad of fur brushing against my arm. Then, when I awoke in the mornings, my initial reaction was wondering, "Why aren't my cats loving all over me, and pestering me for their breakfast?" Oh, right, I thought. I'm at my grandma's.
Yes, it is nice to get a break from even the best things in life - especially if they involve work, like pets. But still, when you're a cat lover - especially a Mother Catresa type who is surrounded by felines - catless days have a certain odd feeling about them.
I can't help but wonder: do my cats miss me as much as I miss them when I'm gone? Although cats aren't nearly as needy as dogs, and pet-sitters will take care of the cats' basic needs once a day, my kitties seem to be happy to see me every day when I come home from work. When I've been gone a few nights, then, they seem all the more eager. I can almost hear them yelling, "Mommy! Mommy!" as they run toward me after I open the door. They usually follow me back to my bedroom, where I'll plop down on the bed, and they all leap up and join me, one by one, for petting.
Of course, as anti-cat folks accuse, maybe they're just eager for food, and the cats are only pretending to like me to get some. But, I testify, their food dishes were full. Take that, dog people!
Sure, my cats miss me. In fact, as Boy George would say, I think they just might even "tumble" for me, just like I'd "tumble" for them. But I most certainly do the lion's share of the tumbling - out of bed, to shut their hungry and demanding mouths up in the morning.
Then, there is the tripping and Figure-8 routine in the kitchen. But that's another story. Read about it in my last post.
Happy Easter, everyone!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
That odd title, for most of my peers, will ring a bell in its reference to one of the early '80s hits, "Miss Me Blind," by Culture Club (you know, the band fronted by Boy George with that bizarre clown makeup). May I say, for the record, that I think that song was one of the more annoying ditties of my childhood decade?
Anyway, what's the feline connection here? I just returned from a lovely four-day trip to El Paso, Texas, to visit my grandmother and mother for Easter. We had a great time. Truthfully, though, when I'm traveling, I miss my kitty-cats. As much as I love the thrill and experience of going places and experiencing different things - a'la "Karma Chameleon," I suppose - going to bed sans furry, vibrating companions (no double entendre intended, seriously) makes a bed feel extra strange. I slept four nights in a cat-free bed, and it felt weird. I could almost hear a phantom purr, see a phantom sphynx shadow lurking above me, and feel a phantom wad of fur brushing against my arm. Then, when I awoke in the mornings, my initial reaction was wondering, "Why aren't my cats loving all over me, and pestering me for their breakfast?" Oh, right, I thought. I'm at my grandma's.
Yes, it is nice to get a break from even the best things in life - especially if they involve work, like pets. But still, when you're a cat lover - especially a Mother Catresa type who is surrounded by felines - catless days have a certain odd feeling about them.
I can't help but wonder: do my cats miss me as much as I miss them when I'm gone? Although cats aren't nearly as needy as dogs, and pet-sitters will take care of the cats' basic needs once a day, my kitties seem to be happy to see me every day when I come home from work. When I've been gone a few nights, then, they seem all the more eager. I can almost hear them yelling, "Mommy! Mommy!" as they run toward me after I open the door. They usually follow me back to my bedroom, where I'll plop down on the bed, and they all leap up and join me, one by one, for petting.
Of course, as anti-cat folks accuse, maybe they're just eager for food, and the cats are only pretending to like me to get some. But, I testify, their food dishes were full. Take that, dog people!
Sure, my cats miss me. In fact, as Boy George would say, I think they just might even "tumble" for me, just like I'd "tumble" for them. But I most certainly do the lion's share of the tumbling - out of bed, to shut their hungry and demanding mouths up in the morning.
Then, there is the tripping and Figure-8 routine in the kitchen. But that's another story. Read about it in my last post.
Happy Easter, everyone!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Monday, March 30, 2009
Mea Cat-Culpa - Well, Sort Of
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - heeeeere's your hostess, Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
As a journalist, I learn so much about the world and its people - and, alas, about myself - through the stories I write. Since I write a lot of human-interest features about relationship issues, I often conduct interviews where I can honestly say, "Yeah, really. I hear you, sister! Don't you hate it when that happens? I know, guys like that are schmucks, aren't they?"
(Yes, there's a feline angle to this post; I'm getting there. Promise!)
Recently, I wrote a story about a topic on which I am passionate: the importance of apologizing sincerely and effectively, and how to teach your children how to do this, so that they can have successful relationships in the future. I was interviewing an author about this topic, and we discussed the non-apology: the charming "I'm sorry you got so upset," or "I'm sorry you thought I was a jerk." (In other words, an actual blame wrapped in hot pink, fake apology tissue). I am all too familiar with it, and it's hurtful.
When the author gave me tips on how to model the art of apologizing with kids, one of the things he suggested was setting an example with the family pets. "What do you mean?" I said. "Well," he replied, "like when you step on the dog's paw, tell Fido, 'I'm sorry.' "
Now, I definitely could relate to that one, and I told him so: just that very morning, in fact, I had stepped on my cat Dharma's paw. And I, the noble one, apologized loudly to her as she shrieked in discomfort!
And then, as I silently patted myself on the back while talking to my subject, it dawned on me: The hypocritical Mother Catresa, ever so disdainful of non-apologies, actually gave one to Dharma!
The grey and white tuxedo cat, see, was doing the feline Figure-8 routine in the kitchen; y'all who have cats surely are familiar with it. I had stepped into the kitchen for my morning Diet Coke, and the ravenous Dharma started encircling my moving legs in Figure-8 patterns, while she meowed and demanded that I feed her breakfast. Combine a drowsy head with walking legs and marathoning paws, and what happens? You step on the poor pet's foot. Ouch!
"Oh Dharma!" I said. "I'm so sorry I hurt you! Poor baby."
And then, came the disqualifying "But":
"But, darn it, will you quit running over my feet and between my legs when I'm walking?"
The translation, let's face it, is: "I'm so sorry you got hurt, but it was your own damn fault."
It's like saying the following to the pedestrian you've just hit: "My God, I am so sorry. Really, I am. I feel horrible! But geesh, nucklehead, what the hell were you thinking running in front of a moving car doing 70 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike?"
A sincere apology, the experts say, never includes a "but."
OK, so I did it. I felt bad for hurting Dharma's paw, but I gave her a lame non-apology. I admit my error, and I am truly sorry.
But ... Dharma, quit tripping your mom-mom, already!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
As a journalist, I learn so much about the world and its people - and, alas, about myself - through the stories I write. Since I write a lot of human-interest features about relationship issues, I often conduct interviews where I can honestly say, "Yeah, really. I hear you, sister! Don't you hate it when that happens? I know, guys like that are schmucks, aren't they?"
(Yes, there's a feline angle to this post; I'm getting there. Promise!)
Recently, I wrote a story about a topic on which I am passionate: the importance of apologizing sincerely and effectively, and how to teach your children how to do this, so that they can have successful relationships in the future. I was interviewing an author about this topic, and we discussed the non-apology: the charming "I'm sorry you got so upset," or "I'm sorry you thought I was a jerk." (In other words, an actual blame wrapped in hot pink, fake apology tissue). I am all too familiar with it, and it's hurtful.
When the author gave me tips on how to model the art of apologizing with kids, one of the things he suggested was setting an example with the family pets. "What do you mean?" I said. "Well," he replied, "like when you step on the dog's paw, tell Fido, 'I'm sorry.' "
Now, I definitely could relate to that one, and I told him so: just that very morning, in fact, I had stepped on my cat Dharma's paw. And I, the noble one, apologized loudly to her as she shrieked in discomfort!
And then, as I silently patted myself on the back while talking to my subject, it dawned on me: The hypocritical Mother Catresa, ever so disdainful of non-apologies, actually gave one to Dharma!
The grey and white tuxedo cat, see, was doing the feline Figure-8 routine in the kitchen; y'all who have cats surely are familiar with it. I had stepped into the kitchen for my morning Diet Coke, and the ravenous Dharma started encircling my moving legs in Figure-8 patterns, while she meowed and demanded that I feed her breakfast. Combine a drowsy head with walking legs and marathoning paws, and what happens? You step on the poor pet's foot. Ouch!
"Oh Dharma!" I said. "I'm so sorry I hurt you! Poor baby."
And then, came the disqualifying "But":
"But, darn it, will you quit running over my feet and between my legs when I'm walking?"
The translation, let's face it, is: "I'm so sorry you got hurt, but it was your own damn fault."
It's like saying the following to the pedestrian you've just hit: "My God, I am so sorry. Really, I am. I feel horrible! But geesh, nucklehead, what the hell were you thinking running in front of a moving car doing 70 on the Pennsylvania Turnpike?"
A sincere apology, the experts say, never includes a "but."
OK, so I did it. I felt bad for hurting Dharma's paw, but I gave her a lame non-apology. I admit my error, and I am truly sorry.
But ... Dharma, quit tripping your mom-mom, already!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tinsel, Tooting and Chicken Looting
We finally return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Catifornia - Mother Catresa!
Hi folks,
Long time, no meow, huh? This is Mother Catresa's downtime, because it's the winter, and female cats aren't popping out kittens like gumballs; kitten season will begin in the spring. But I was hoping that maybe y'all missed me, even just a little, and that you would love a winter dose of MC cheer humor. (And if you don't - hey, that's OK. I don't need to know.)
And besides, I do have a kitten. Yes, a kitten! Not a real little one, but about a six-month-old teenager. She's a little redhead named Tinsel, and she's a welcome extension of Yuletide cheer during the dreary winter months. I got the orange tabby just before Christmas (hence the cute Yuletide name) and she's been staying in my kittens' room all by her lonesome ever since then. Tinsel, bless her heart, came into Animal Friends with some sort of unknown animal bite. So the poor dear, as a safety precaution, has to be quarantined until early March, to make sure she doesn't develop any disease. Her littermates got adopted a few months ago.
So anyway ... Tinsel! Get off my desk! (Push ... plop!)
Ahem, as I was saying ... Hey! Tinsel! Get off my keyboard! (Push ... plop!)
Can't you tell I'm now in the kittens' room - which, by the way, doubles as my office? Luckily, my computer is old, because the cord-loving kittens, who also love using my stuff as bowling pins, have banged it up a bit. It's hard to get any typing done up here, because ... Tinsel!! Little stinker, you're really being annoying now! (Push ... plop!)
Tinsel is a little sweetheart, affectionate and sweet, yet also quite impish and playful. I feel so bad for her having to be isolated up here, but I try to spend as much time with her as I can. And when she knows I'm home and downstairs, that loud one makes sure of it with her caterwauling. It's like she's bellowing, "What about me??? Get your bald ass up here this instant, mom!"
Aaah, the fiery, vocal, spirited redhead. Hey, does that sound like someone else you know? I'm just saying.
Well now ... eeew, pew. I smell kitten gas! At least she's on the lower level of my desk, and not by the keyboard, right in my face. Incidentally, for no particular reason, I have been calling her "Tinsel Toot." I think it's cute. (Hey, that rhymes!)
It looks like Tinsel has ... er, pooped out now; she's lying down on the other side of the room, purring. Ok, now I can have some peace and quiet, and type uninterrupted. Too bad this blog entry is almost done.
Tinsel isn't the only mischievous cat around here. I took a break from writing and went downstairs a few minutes ago, because I realized that I had left on the couch a bag with leftovers from my chicken dinner. I panicked; biiiig mistake! See, one of my cats, Rum Tum, is the feline world's most notorious chicken bandit. He has been known to dig chicken bones out from the bottom of the kitchen trash if there remains even a fraction of a scrap of meat. Sure enough, after just a few minutes home, I found shredded chicken and tinfoil all over the floor. Ugh! There goes tomorrow's dinner.
I'd better sign off and go back downstairs. MC has some cleaning up to do. But I'll take chicken scraps over the litter box any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks,
Long time, no meow, huh? This is Mother Catresa's downtime, because it's the winter, and female cats aren't popping out kittens like gumballs; kitten season will begin in the spring. But I was hoping that maybe y'all missed me, even just a little, and that you would love a winter dose of MC cheer humor. (And if you don't - hey, that's OK. I don't need to know.)
And besides, I do have a kitten. Yes, a kitten! Not a real little one, but about a six-month-old teenager. She's a little redhead named Tinsel, and she's a welcome extension of Yuletide cheer during the dreary winter months. I got the orange tabby just before Christmas (hence the cute Yuletide name) and she's been staying in my kittens' room all by her lonesome ever since then. Tinsel, bless her heart, came into Animal Friends with some sort of unknown animal bite. So the poor dear, as a safety precaution, has to be quarantined until early March, to make sure she doesn't develop any disease. Her littermates got adopted a few months ago.
So anyway ... Tinsel! Get off my desk! (Push ... plop!)
Ahem, as I was saying ... Hey! Tinsel! Get off my keyboard! (Push ... plop!)
Can't you tell I'm now in the kittens' room - which, by the way, doubles as my office? Luckily, my computer is old, because the cord-loving kittens, who also love using my stuff as bowling pins, have banged it up a bit. It's hard to get any typing done up here, because ... Tinsel!! Little stinker, you're really being annoying now! (Push ... plop!)
Tinsel is a little sweetheart, affectionate and sweet, yet also quite impish and playful. I feel so bad for her having to be isolated up here, but I try to spend as much time with her as I can. And when she knows I'm home and downstairs, that loud one makes sure of it with her caterwauling. It's like she's bellowing, "What about me??? Get your bald ass up here this instant, mom!"
Aaah, the fiery, vocal, spirited redhead. Hey, does that sound like someone else you know? I'm just saying.
Well now ... eeew, pew. I smell kitten gas! At least she's on the lower level of my desk, and not by the keyboard, right in my face. Incidentally, for no particular reason, I have been calling her "Tinsel Toot." I think it's cute. (Hey, that rhymes!)
It looks like Tinsel has ... er, pooped out now; she's lying down on the other side of the room, purring. Ok, now I can have some peace and quiet, and type uninterrupted. Too bad this blog entry is almost done.
Tinsel isn't the only mischievous cat around here. I took a break from writing and went downstairs a few minutes ago, because I realized that I had left on the couch a bag with leftovers from my chicken dinner. I panicked; biiiig mistake! See, one of my cats, Rum Tum, is the feline world's most notorious chicken bandit. He has been known to dig chicken bones out from the bottom of the kitchen trash if there remains even a fraction of a scrap of meat. Sure enough, after just a few minutes home, I found shredded chicken and tinfoil all over the floor. Ugh! There goes tomorrow's dinner.
I'd better sign off and go back downstairs. MC has some cleaning up to do. But I'll take chicken scraps over the litter box any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
UC-Pittsburgh, Class of 2008
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeere's your hostess, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Catifornia - Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
I'm Mother Catresa. And I approve this message.
Here's the news flash from our anchor, Anita Kittykiss:
"In the year 2008, Mother Catresa, otherwise known as the Patron Saint of Homeless Felines, rescued a total of 29 felines at her sanctuary, the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh. And what did her opponents, the irresponsible cat owners, do? They dumped them for convenience, or were otherwise negligent or abusive. Shame, shame, shame. Vote Mother Catresa for secretary of animal welfare!"
Alright, just sort of kidding. You can tell we're wrapping up an election year, huh?
But seriously, 29 is the grand total I counted. Following is the roster of UC-Pittsburgh's graduating class of 2008:
The Texas kittens: Dallas, Sue Ellen, Austin and Elise
The EMMM kittens: Eeenie, Meenie, Minie and Moe
The serial killers: Jeffrey, Ted, Hanny and Lizzy
The game kittens: Uno, Clue, Boggle and Scrabble (though, they were so antisocial that it wasn't exactly a successful full rescue)
The ice cream kittens: Spumoni, Neopalitan, Rocky Road, Cookie Dough and Butter Pecan
The "R" kittens: Rebecca and Radcliffe
The "L"/Peanuts kittens: Linus, Lucy and Lori (what happened with them? I'll tell you later).
The lone Christmas kitten: Tinsel, an orange tabby girl currently with me and staying awhile (again, more later).
Plus, the two returning adult alumni: Darius, who got adopted recently, and Rachael Ray, whose shmucky owner just returned her to the shelter for a frivolous reason. Poor baby! More later.
Hey, did you hear that? I think it's that anthem called "Pomp and Circumstance!"
Mother Catresa wishes her departing graduates all the best and happiness in life, and sends them off with oodles of love. And, should their homes not work out, Mama C will be there to care for them again. UC-Pittsburgh has a wonderful, devoted alumni club!
Here's to a happy 2009 for all of us, including you and yours. These are tough times we're in, but I saw the Broadway play "Annie" last week, and I am reminded by the adorable orphan's optimism: "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're always a day away."
And for those kitties who will live the hard-knock life in 2009, Mother Catresa looks forward to rescuing them and caring for them in a loving "orphanage," where she cares a lot more than a smidge. No Miss Hannigans here!
Happy New Year, everyone!
Yours,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
I'm Mother Catresa. And I approve this message.
Here's the news flash from our anchor, Anita Kittykiss:
"In the year 2008, Mother Catresa, otherwise known as the Patron Saint of Homeless Felines, rescued a total of 29 felines at her sanctuary, the University of Catsylvania at Pittsburgh. And what did her opponents, the irresponsible cat owners, do? They dumped them for convenience, or were otherwise negligent or abusive. Shame, shame, shame. Vote Mother Catresa for secretary of animal welfare!"
Alright, just sort of kidding. You can tell we're wrapping up an election year, huh?
But seriously, 29 is the grand total I counted. Following is the roster of UC-Pittsburgh's graduating class of 2008:
The Texas kittens: Dallas, Sue Ellen, Austin and Elise
The EMMM kittens: Eeenie, Meenie, Minie and Moe
The serial killers: Jeffrey, Ted, Hanny and Lizzy
The game kittens: Uno, Clue, Boggle and Scrabble (though, they were so antisocial that it wasn't exactly a successful full rescue)
The ice cream kittens: Spumoni, Neopalitan, Rocky Road, Cookie Dough and Butter Pecan
The "R" kittens: Rebecca and Radcliffe
The "L"/Peanuts kittens: Linus, Lucy and Lori (what happened with them? I'll tell you later).
The lone Christmas kitten: Tinsel, an orange tabby girl currently with me and staying awhile (again, more later).
Plus, the two returning adult alumni: Darius, who got adopted recently, and Rachael Ray, whose shmucky owner just returned her to the shelter for a frivolous reason. Poor baby! More later.
Hey, did you hear that? I think it's that anthem called "Pomp and Circumstance!"
Mother Catresa wishes her departing graduates all the best and happiness in life, and sends them off with oodles of love. And, should their homes not work out, Mama C will be there to care for them again. UC-Pittsburgh has a wonderful, devoted alumni club!
Here's to a happy 2009 for all of us, including you and yours. These are tough times we're in, but I saw the Broadway play "Annie" last week, and I am reminded by the adorable orphan's optimism: "Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow, you're always a day away."
And for those kitties who will live the hard-knock life in 2009, Mother Catresa looks forward to rescuing them and caring for them in a loving "orphanage," where she cares a lot more than a smidge. No Miss Hannigans here!
Happy New Year, everyone!
Yours,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
A Charlie Brown Cats-mas
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess - broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
I just returned from a lovely Thanksgiving visit with my dearest friends - all of whom, incidentally, are dog people but devoted MC fans - in my old stomping grounds, Dallas. Before I left, I returned kitten siblings Rebecca and Radcliff, who were snatched up like discounted plasma TVs at Wal-Mart on Black Friday. I thought I would be returning to a quiet, kittenless winter at home with my own three cats. But no - the kitten fairy has visited Mother Catresa for another encore, and apparently, she likes the Peanuts!
I contacted the shelter today, and said I'd be ready for kittens, if by chance there are any, or an adult foster cat by this weekend. Wouldn't you know it, they have three babies waiting just for me, and their names are Linus, Lucy and Lori. I don't know where the Lori came from, but Linus and Lucy - ah, some of my favorite cartoon characters! I have that Peanuts tune running through my head, along with that hilarious "Wah-WAH-Wah-Wah" sound that the cartoon uses whenever an adult speaks.
It's perfect timing for a Peanuts litter, since we're in the midst of the holiday classic specials. Actually, I'll probably be watching "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving," belatedly, and "A Charlie Brown Christmas" this week, and it will be all the more fun with these new furry kids around. I say this litter begs for a sequel, even if it has to wait until spring, with these kittens: Charlie Brown, Sally, Pigpen, Schroeder, Snoopy, Woodstock, Peppermint Patty and Marcie.
Meanwhile, Butter "Butthead" Pecan from the ice cream litter finally has been adopted, as have Darius and Rachael Ray (my two alumni who returned to me as adult fosters). I was on the verge of adopting Darius, whom I had nicknamed "Spider-Cat" for his manic, fly-through-the-room ways, and "King Darius of Purrsia." He is, after all, the kitten of my very own Dharma, one of my cats. But a sentimental reunion it was not; Dharma, either oblivious or unconcerned that this was her son, gave that precocious stinker a good butt-whipping whenever he approached her. And Rum Tum Tugger, bless his elderly heart, spent much of his time hiding under my bed during Darius' reign of terror. It took my senior Rum Tum awhile to fully come out from his shell once Darius had left. It's like he was tip-toeing around, wondering whether the coast was clear and free from Hurricane Darius.
I miss that handsome tuxedoed cat, but I know it's for the best that he be in another home. Rum Tum deserves to spend his golden years in peace. That laid-back, sweet little orange tabby has been such a trooper. First, he loses his lifelong companion, Buster, last Halloween. Then, within a few months, two sassy young females move in. When the hyperactive Darius - who spent a few hours each day with the run of the house - came along, poor old Rum Tum had had enough.
"Oh, Mooooom," I could hear him plead. "Say it ain't so!"
When, Rum Tum thought, are you going to stop doing this to me?
Consider it over, my furry friend. You are safe now, except for those bossy females who might bug you sometimes.
I will write again soon about the Peanuts kittens. I pick up those blockheads on Saturday, and oh, I can't wait!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
I just returned from a lovely Thanksgiving visit with my dearest friends - all of whom, incidentally, are dog people but devoted MC fans - in my old stomping grounds, Dallas. Before I left, I returned kitten siblings Rebecca and Radcliff, who were snatched up like discounted plasma TVs at Wal-Mart on Black Friday. I thought I would be returning to a quiet, kittenless winter at home with my own three cats. But no - the kitten fairy has visited Mother Catresa for another encore, and apparently, she likes the Peanuts!
I contacted the shelter today, and said I'd be ready for kittens, if by chance there are any, or an adult foster cat by this weekend. Wouldn't you know it, they have three babies waiting just for me, and their names are Linus, Lucy and Lori. I don't know where the Lori came from, but Linus and Lucy - ah, some of my favorite cartoon characters! I have that Peanuts tune running through my head, along with that hilarious "Wah-WAH-Wah-Wah" sound that the cartoon uses whenever an adult speaks.
It's perfect timing for a Peanuts litter, since we're in the midst of the holiday classic specials. Actually, I'll probably be watching "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving," belatedly, and "A Charlie Brown Christmas" this week, and it will be all the more fun with these new furry kids around. I say this litter begs for a sequel, even if it has to wait until spring, with these kittens: Charlie Brown, Sally, Pigpen, Schroeder, Snoopy, Woodstock, Peppermint Patty and Marcie.
Meanwhile, Butter "Butthead" Pecan from the ice cream litter finally has been adopted, as have Darius and Rachael Ray (my two alumni who returned to me as adult fosters). I was on the verge of adopting Darius, whom I had nicknamed "Spider-Cat" for his manic, fly-through-the-room ways, and "King Darius of Purrsia." He is, after all, the kitten of my very own Dharma, one of my cats. But a sentimental reunion it was not; Dharma, either oblivious or unconcerned that this was her son, gave that precocious stinker a good butt-whipping whenever he approached her. And Rum Tum Tugger, bless his elderly heart, spent much of his time hiding under my bed during Darius' reign of terror. It took my senior Rum Tum awhile to fully come out from his shell once Darius had left. It's like he was tip-toeing around, wondering whether the coast was clear and free from Hurricane Darius.
I miss that handsome tuxedoed cat, but I know it's for the best that he be in another home. Rum Tum deserves to spend his golden years in peace. That laid-back, sweet little orange tabby has been such a trooper. First, he loses his lifelong companion, Buster, last Halloween. Then, within a few months, two sassy young females move in. When the hyperactive Darius - who spent a few hours each day with the run of the house - came along, poor old Rum Tum had had enough.
"Oh, Mooooom," I could hear him plead. "Say it ain't so!"
When, Rum Tum thought, are you going to stop doing this to me?
Consider it over, my furry friend. You are safe now, except for those bossy females who might bug you sometimes.
I will write again soon about the Peanuts kittens. I pick up those blockheads on Saturday, and oh, I can't wait!
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Monday, November 10, 2008
Catch me, I'm falling (off the wagon)!
We now return to KITT-FM, where it's all kittens, all the time. And now, heeeeere's your hostess, broadcasting live from our studios in Purrbank, Cat-ifornia - Mother Catresa!
Hi folks!
My name is Kellie. And I'm still a kitten-aholic. And this weekend, I relapsed.
OK, now you really need to say it: "Hi Kellie!"
No, don't worry, I'm not hitting the booze or the cigarettes again. But I have fallen off the cat-caine wagon, since I brought home two new, adorable, sweet kittens on Friday! It was a delightful encore after what I thought was my kitten season finale. These beautiful babies - Rebecca and Radcliff, a sister-and-brother, black-and-grey-tabby combo - needed a place to go as they recover from an upper respiratory infection, though they have recovered from most of it. They also need to gain some weight as they await their spay-neuter surgery. Their old foster mother didn't want them back, because they were so lovable that she thought she was getting too attached. I definitely can see why.
Rebecca has the standard mackerel tabby pattern, which has small stripes all over. Radcliff has a classic pattern, which is peculiarly named because the coloring is more rare. He has black and grey swirls around his body, like a marble cake. It's as if someone took a spatula, stuck it in two batters of fur colors, and twirled it around. Both kittens are very affectionate, eager for attention, playful and full of energy. Yes, I am a smitten kitten already.
Radcliff and Rebecca are just the fix I need before I enter the long, dreary period of kitten-less winter sobriety. So, I'm going to love them to pieces, and enjoy every minute of it.
Regarding the title of this post - "Catch me, I'm falling (off the wagon)!" - on second thought, don't. I'm doing just fine, thanks. :)
Meanwhile, Darius - my long-term, boomerang, manic adult foster whom I started calling "King Darius of Purrsia" - and Rachael Ray, another sweet boomerang from last year, have returned to the shelter and are on the adoption floor. I really miss them, especially Darius, since I had him for a few months. But I know it's for the best. G.G. may miss the big oaf, but Rum Tum and Dharma certainly don't. Grandpa Rum Tum, my senior cat, is just now starting to come out from hiding under my bed, where he spent most of his time whenever Hurricane Darius was on the loose. I think R.T. is now confident that the coast is clear.
I am praying for all of my kids at the shelter - including Butter "Butthead" Pecan, the buff-colored kitten from my last litter - that the purrfect home soon comes along. Believing friends, won't you join me please?
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
Hi folks!
My name is Kellie. And I'm still a kitten-aholic. And this weekend, I relapsed.
OK, now you really need to say it: "Hi Kellie!"
No, don't worry, I'm not hitting the booze or the cigarettes again. But I have fallen off the cat-caine wagon, since I brought home two new, adorable, sweet kittens on Friday! It was a delightful encore after what I thought was my kitten season finale. These beautiful babies - Rebecca and Radcliff, a sister-and-brother, black-and-grey-tabby combo - needed a place to go as they recover from an upper respiratory infection, though they have recovered from most of it. They also need to gain some weight as they await their spay-neuter surgery. Their old foster mother didn't want them back, because they were so lovable that she thought she was getting too attached. I definitely can see why.
Rebecca has the standard mackerel tabby pattern, which has small stripes all over. Radcliff has a classic pattern, which is peculiarly named because the coloring is more rare. He has black and grey swirls around his body, like a marble cake. It's as if someone took a spatula, stuck it in two batters of fur colors, and twirled it around. Both kittens are very affectionate, eager for attention, playful and full of energy. Yes, I am a smitten kitten already.
Radcliff and Rebecca are just the fix I need before I enter the long, dreary period of kitten-less winter sobriety. So, I'm going to love them to pieces, and enjoy every minute of it.
Regarding the title of this post - "Catch me, I'm falling (off the wagon)!" - on second thought, don't. I'm doing just fine, thanks. :)
Meanwhile, Darius - my long-term, boomerang, manic adult foster whom I started calling "King Darius of Purrsia" - and Rachael Ray, another sweet boomerang from last year, have returned to the shelter and are on the adoption floor. I really miss them, especially Darius, since I had him for a few months. But I know it's for the best. G.G. may miss the big oaf, but Rum Tum and Dharma certainly don't. Grandpa Rum Tum, my senior cat, is just now starting to come out from hiding under my bed, where he spent most of his time whenever Hurricane Darius was on the loose. I think R.T. is now confident that the coast is clear.
I am praying for all of my kids at the shelter - including Butter "Butthead" Pecan, the buff-colored kitten from my last litter - that the purrfect home soon comes along. Believing friends, won't you join me please?
Until next time, I remain,
Mother Catresa
Patron Saint of Homeless Felines
(and the "smitten kitten")
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