Teethmarks and Tantrums

I’ve not heard any updates today, but yesterday the mother was ready to return Taz to the yard. Apparently, the baby is going through some feline form of the terrible twos.

He can be so perfectly sweet one minute. And the next? Think Linda Blair in the Exorcist.

And almost quickly as the flashes of evil go off, little Mr. Sweetness and Light returns. Just look at that “Who, me?” expression. See what I mean?

What’s In a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

-- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet


While the kitten is still largely referred to as “the baby” by both the mother and I, there has been a virtual tug of war going on for weeks now as to what to name him. And I beg to differ with Juliet. There's a lot in a name.

I like my name. I didn't when I was little. Kids used to make fun of it. Then, when every other female child on the planet starting being named "Nicole," the teasing ceased. So, I have always taken naming seriously. And I was feeling bad that our newest little guy has been around for weeks with no clear identity.

Part of the delay has been that his gender was unclear. That’s no longer an issue. He is clearly on his way to male catdom! The other part has been the mother’s insistence on giving him a “T” name. Tigger (1992-2009) was our original T-man, followed by Toby in 2006. “All our cats have T names,” quoth the mother.

We went through a list of names ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime before squaring off with our personal favorites. The mother was stuck on Todd/Toddy. (Immediately made me think of Robert Preston’s character of the same name in Victor/Victoria. I’m sorry. This little guy is not a gay showcat. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just not him.) Also, my mother had an aunt who went by Toddy. “My aunt was not gay or a showgirl,” insisted the mother. "I like that name."

Still, I would not give up on Taz. I think Taz is a perfectly adorable name and to me, it brings to mind images of the Tazmanian Devil of Bugs Bunny fame. This seems to fit our little resident ankle-biter to a T. (Pun intended.)

I was even more encouraged by Vicki over at NotSoSAHM who reported that she and her hubby’s first kitty was dubbed Taz as a unisex name. And Why from the House on Red Hill pointed out that Ozzie, Toby and Toddy just did not have the proper ring to it. How right you are!

Even so, the battle waged on. I have been defiantly calling the kitten Taz and he has even started to respond to it. Meanwhile, the mother has been decrying the name as stupid. But finally, last night, I heard for the first time, the mother call him Taz! “It’s like the Tazmanian Devil. He kind of is like that,” says the mother. (Seriously, he is. Don't be fooled for a second by that cute face.)

Yes! The V in NV today stands for victory …

Feelin' Catty

Cats. They are EVERYWHERE. Or at least it seems so to me in the last 36 hours.

First, it was Tal over at Renovation Therapy. JeanMartha regularly reports on Tal’s exploits which always seem to center – or be right in the center – of whatever she’s doing. We love Tal!

Then there’s Buddy and Finn, the stars of Satan’s Fur Puppets. Buddy seems to forever be hangin’ around his mistress’ keyboard. He and his brother are adorable.

Of course, Gene at DIY Insanity, can give you some great tips on building special places for your constant cat companion(s).

And last night, I nearly choked reading a post of Jayne’s over at The Kelly House. Maybe it’s because a friend of her son’s gave a description of her resident feline with issues, Marie Antoinette, that struck way too close to home for me: "That cat is a demon who wants me dead."

The description reminded me ever so much of our mentally unhinged Toby the Cat. But he’s just so damned cute, isn’t he? If we aren't playing peekabo, during which his eyes get as big as silver dollars, he always seems to have this disdainful scowl pasted on his face.

Here, he's using his brother's loofa toy as a footrest ...

Hmmm ... I wonder what bit of orneriness I can cause today ...
He did, of course, wake me up at 4 a.m. -- after I'd gone back to sleep from the gazillion mile an hour winds that woke me up an hour earlier. (Yeah it's a whopping 10 degrees this morning.)

He's cute, to be sure. Don’t be deceived though. He really IS a little demon.

Yards Are Nice ... Sometimes

I b*tch pretty mightily about yard work. And why not? I hate it. My grandfather always said that yards were useless. They would have a purpose only if they were "blacktopped and parked on."

The older I get, the more that old man's point makes sense and sounds good to me. But ... then are times like this evening.

Toby the Cat, desperate for friendship of creatures of any kind, was thrilled to at least for a brief moment have not one, but TWO bunnies in his front yard. He likes to sit in the front door or in the kitchen window and chatter at whomever or in some cases whatever (once, a plastic bag that happened to blow into the yard) will sit in his visual range.

I had just enough time to fire off a single shot before both bunnies darted over to the neighbors. Clearly, they came for the clover. The blacktop? That probably wouldn't attract too many.

This is what I got, shooting right through the full-view storm door.

T to the Power of 2

I talk a lot about Ozzie, my almost 11-year-old Yorkie. He is definitely Top Dog. In fact, he's the only dog. This D*mn House, however, is also inhabited by two other boys, both cats. The incomparable Tigger and Toby.

Tigger is the eldest. I call him the "grand old gentleman." He's been hanging around for almost 16 years. There's a tree that separates the lot we divide with the neighboring property. Tigger was the proverbial kitten stuckin the tree in June 1992.

My mom, recuperating from a car accident, kept hearing a kitten cry. I was running back and forth from a work assignment to check on her and, during one of my stops, heard the cries. I thought it was a bird at first. But, it was Tigger. Once out of the tree, he walked across the porch and through the door like he owned the place. I tried to get him a home, then tried to get a shelter group to do it. They almost succeeded. Almost. So, after an unsuccessful adoption attempt, I just took him home.

In July 2006, just a few weeks ahead of the monster storm that took most of the shingles off the roof and left us without power for a week, the cries of a kitten were heard once again. Oddly enough, they came from almost the same spot where Tigger had been found 14 years earlier. But Toby was not in the tree. He was about 10 feet from it though. I'm convinced that our lot is a staging area for stray cats.

Tigger has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen on an animal except for maybe a Siamese or a Husky. They are this unbelievable deep green. Just gorgeous.

And Toby is just "pretty." There's no other way to put it, even though he's a boy. We've always found him a little on the effeminate side which is why Mom commonly refers to him as Toby Marie. He is bunny soft and he keeps changing colors, varying between a slate gray and a light gray. His eyes, which were once a bright gold, have now changed to green.

At the moment, he appears to be all boy though, waking me with his yowling every day between 3 and 5 a.m. (He’s desperate for a girlfriend. I would gladly provide him with one – or with a trip to the vet – just to shut him up.)

Toby and Ozzie get along fairly well but Tigger hates them both. That’s why he is the Lord of the Lower Level. If he ever got within a breath of either of them, it would be a forensic file waiting to happen.

Tigger does like people, just not other animals. In fact, he likes both Lawrence the handyman and Carl the HVAC guy. These days, he spends most of his time sleeping or otherwise basking in the sun of his window perch. Occasionally though he will surprise me by attacking one of his toys and running through the basement with the vigor of a kitten.

I hope that vigor sticks around for a long time to come.