Published June 30, 2015
Tags: cats, city life, Leia, Malkin
Poor Malkin. Below is from the days of leisure, when he was able to fend off the other cat for hours of time on the sun porch. Now, he’s the innocent bystander/hapless pony (or gazelle) being ridden by the kitten/cowboy/small tiger. It’s most undignified for a 14 year old cat.
His Most Serene Fluffybutt enjoying the sun porch
Meanwhile, Leia is having none of it (she wasn’t named after a princess for nothing).
As for us, we’re protecting cheese sandwiches as best we can, intervening between cat and kitten when we must, and considering a run to the store for more bactine. We keep reminding ourselves that for Malkin, this is a little bit of payback after he tortured the older cat when he was introduced 14 years ago (when the elder one was in an Elizabethan collar after a procedure). So, has anyone had great success introducing a new blissful bundle of tooth and claw into your house?
Have you noticed that the older cat that’s getting the worst of it will go out and seek his small oppressor when he feels a little dull?
One of my favorite museums in the Midwest had their Misommar festival this weekend. And I’m stuck in hot, uncomfortable Maryland. Although I did get to perform in church, and do some knitting today — so gently festive.
I need to plan these things better. Maybe next year, I should try to organize a family trip over to Sweden itself…. Or at least manage to get up to Philadelphia for August’s crayfish festival? I’d take a day off from work for that. So how are you planning your summertime?
Happy longest day of the year.
6 days ago, on our evening walk, we saw lightning bugs. The other night I saw a bat out of the corner of my eye.
The official start of summer hasn’t happened yet, but summer seems to be sneaking in with heat, humidity, and shore traffic. And my thoughts skitter off to remember the delights:
- Sitting on gnarled rhododendron branches that stretched over the edge of the lake at Girl Scout camp.
- Or lazing in a hammock on the wrap around porch at my great aunt’s house, reading an Agatha Christie novel.
- Walking to get popsicles with my father near the lake.
- Fish boils at family reunions.
(And now because of my search, I’ve started watching a very gentle public tv show about Northern Door County… yes, it shows fall weather, but beautiful shots of the lake).
So, anyone else have summer vacation memory triggers?
Between older cats that are acting displaced, and a kitten that’s bonkers, I’ve been busy managing feline expectations. Not a great deal of fancy knitting has been going on — in fact, with the rehearsals for the chorus over the past few weeks, I didn’t pick up my needles more than half an hour at a time.
I can’t figure out how I made this shawl while Malkin was a teen kitten (although it did get unraveled at least once by him). The Leaf Lace shawl was my Winter challenge during the 2006 Olympics. How did I complete it in 3 months, even if you factor in a half hour commute back and forth to work instead of my current one, and no choral practice to take up my free time?
I’ve got one shawl to work on next, after my lace socks (Nancy Bush’s Child’s French Socks, code named Pinkie). The new shawl is color work instead of lace. Hopefully that yarn will hold up better than sock yarn when confronted by little kitten grabby claws and teeth. In the meantime, I’m knitting the socks (found in this knitting pattern book) when the kitten is in “jail” for being naughty. And when I work on them, they go speedily.
It’s the last formal concert of the spring season tonight. We’re excited to be singing this repertoire of American standards, and hope that anyone who swings by to listen enjoys them too. Shenandoah sounds amazing from the risers (hopefully the same for anyone in the audience). It’s always interesting what pieces I’ve managed to memorize, and which ones demand a quick glance at the music binder during the concert, just to make sure I’m on track with the rest of the altos. (Last night, after the concert, someone broke the exciting news about the triple crown winner. We were up singing during the races, with no aspirations beyond not dying under the heat of the lights.)
“We have a runner…” This is almost always said with amusement, partly because the kitten (Ember) is so small. Not so funny when the little screaming mimi is hanging from the back of the needlepoint rocker from my grandmother, or hurtling her tiny 6-week old body towards the staircase and the elder cats (who are very much not amused). Right now we have the door closed and a box blocking the base of the door, because she’s so very small that she can squeeze out of spaces like something from a sci-fi movie.
Yesterday the first visitors came over to look at the kitten (and be cautioned that we don’t want her to think of fingers as “prey”). The older cats have needed a lot of reassurance, and quiet time away from all the fuss.
Mostly the kitten has the zoomies, and is unable to stay still. But today I enjoyed a rare second when she wanted to sit on a lap and take the briefest of cat naps.