My Cat From Hell

Remember a few weeks back when I blogged about my cat, Tippi, who had a major personality change? (When a Cat Loves a Woman.) Being a tortie, she can be a bit of a bitch if you want to know the truth. Now don’t get me wrong; she’s a good bitch. Tippi holds her own among my 7 other pets and she’s the tiniest of them all, so it’s essential she not be a pushover.

Tippi2

Tippi probably weighs 7 lbs soaking wet, although she’s never soaking wet. Since I value my life, I’d never give a tortie a bath. Do you think I’m an idiot? That’s a rhetorical question but I suspect you were quick to answer. Still, my 7 lb. kitty has absolutely no fear and I just love that about her.

You should see Tippi in action. My cat, Fat Jack, who causes all kinds of mayhem by frequently pouncing on my other two felines, Savannah and Oliver, always gives a wide berth when strolling by Tippi. And he’s twice her size. She scares the bejeebers out of him…just another thing I love about her.

Jack eating 3

Why he’s called Fat Jack

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The Bitch is Back

As you may know if you’re a faithful reader of my blog, I became The Bitch at my tennis club a month or so ago. If this is news to you, check out my post, Don’t Mess With Me. Don’t worry, I’ll wait while you read it. tick tockOkay, all finished? Now that you’re all caught up, let’s proceed, shall we? Anyway, since my recent crowning, I’ve not had occasion to rinse and repeat. That is, not until last week.

Something I’ve learned during my years on earth is that there are double standards. When a woman stands up for herself, she’s a bitch. When a man does, he’s assertive. But now that I have a reputation of sorts, I’m branching out. I’m riding this bitch-thing like a surfer on a really rad wave. Is that the correct terminology? I’ve never surfed so I’m just guessing here.

Woman surfing in crest of wave

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All in a Day’s Work

Trapping feral cats for sterilization means encountering something different each day. It’s the fun aspect of this work. Now don’t get me wrong; that doesn’t mean it’s one big party. On the contrary. The list of unpleasantness is long, but I’ll refrain from boring you with most of that.

you are welcomeNeedless to say, working with Marin Friends of Ferals has its moments…I’ve broken my finger, been bitten through my knuckle by a kitten barely bigger than my hand, been saturated with poison oak and nearly lost the tip of my pinky from another bite. Scrapes and bruises come with the territory from efforts to spay and neuter feral community cats, yet I love what I do. But as it turns out, love hurts.

One joy of the job includes meeting new people and traveling to places in Marin County (and beyond) where I don’t often venture. For instance, last week a family in Sebastopol contacted us wanting 4 ferals for rodent control on their 5-acre spread. Continue reading

When a Cat Loves a Woman

My cat Tippi is in love with me. And I’m not talking puppy love either. This is full-fledged kitty passion. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not like she’s always been enamored with me. Quite the contrary. No, this love affair has taken years to blossom, which makes her recent adoration all the more perplexing.

tippi

If you know torties (tortoiseshell cats), you know they have what’s referred to as tortitude. And trust me here, that’s not an exaggeration. They’re often temperamental and unpredictable, facts I never knew back when I was mostly a dog person. Didn’t know much about felines at all, only that my cats were all different. Surprise, surprise; cats have personalities. Go figure.

I found my first feline, a calico kitten, on a ranch I jogged by one morning. She was barely alive so I scooped her up, took her to a vet, and was told she had pneumonia and probably wouldn’t make it. But Rudie was a survivor.

Rudy sleepinga

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The Joys of a Generous Catu

Previously posted in 2013

 

The gift giver The gift giver

My cat Oliver likes to bring me presents. But not the good kind like a bracelet or See’s milk chocolate Molasses Chips. No, he prefers gifts that are alive, such as the mouse he once brought to my bedroom.

It happened while I was drifting off to sleep. I felt something squirming in my pillowcase. Can you imagine? I’m sure the mouse was hiding from Oliver and I don’t blame him one bit. But talk about nightmares…

Oliver, wouldn’t you rather eat tuna?

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