Saturday Caturday

It’s wicked cold & windy here in Buffalo today & the cats & I have been sleeping off & on most of the day. Bobby has been napping here on the couch with me. I took some pics but for some reason, they won’t upload to my laptop. Mercury retrograde starts in 7 days; perhaps that’s the reason.

Anyway, here’s a old picture of Bobby, all cozy in the afghan. It’s from several years ago, but he hasn’t changed. Perhaps there’s a few grey hairs in his ears now.

Bobby hates the cold more than the other cats. He will always be by the heating vent or under a warm blanket or on my comfy lap. He loves to be held. Unlike many cats, he loves to be hugged & kissed & he is free with his kisses. When James was home, he used to “groom” James – lick his buzzed head until it was quite wet!

Bobby is my black beauty. He’s a sweet kitty, one of the sweetest ones I’ve ever had.

Saturday Caturday

My cats love the bathroom; they particularly love the bathtub & drinking from the dripping tap. I’ve never had cats who didn’t like playing in the bathroom & who weren’t fascinated with water; that adage about cats not liking water never seemed to apply to my cats.

In the mornings, I take either a shower or a hot bath, depending on how I am feeling, arthritis-wise. Usually this is after I have had my coffee & my bowl of oatmeal & blueberries. Radar is my current bathroom buddy when I’m doing my morning toilette. He waits for me, sitting on the sink vanity, & if I take too long getting into the bathroom, he knocks something to the floor … the plastic bottle of Listerine or the tube of toothpaste. Radar likes to keep to a schedule, ya know!

Naturally, Radar doesn’t like the full spray of the shower but he does sit on the side of the tub when I am taking a bath. He hangs out with me the entire time I’m soaking & he even drinks the water! Because of this, I no longer use any kind of additive to the water. No bath oils, salts or foaming bubbles whatsoever. Just clear, clean water. He also plays with the water with his paw & sometimes splashes me in the face! & of course, the whole time, he’s purring.

Because I don’t like electronics in the bathroom, I don’t have any pictures of Radar playing with my bathwater. I did get a picture of him sitting on the vanity the other day & yes, that’s me you see in the mirror!

photograph © polly macdavid

To My Readers

I want to apologize for being MIA lately. My son James came home from Army basic training later Friday night & we were up past midnight, having sandwiches & pasta salad & libations, as he told me all about his adventures at Fort Benning. I really don’t know where Saturday & Sunday got to. The Bills beat the Broncos & are on top of the AFC East for the first time in twenty-plus years. We had a crisis which involved flooding in the basement of the house in which I live; luckily, that was arrested before I lost my washer & dryer (I rent, so I have to deal with landlords who would rather party than maintain their properties).

Yesterday we watched M*A*S*H all day & I think I took no less than three naps. I planned a fine dinner for the Winter Solstice but instead I made hamburger gravy & served it over french fries. All I needed was cheese curds to make it into poutine! Grated Romano cheese would have to suffice. It was a comfort food kind of day.

I woke up this morning & the feeling of utter exhaustion that I’ve had for at least a week was finally gone. Is it the dawning of the Age of Aquarius? I don’t know. But I’m ready to get back to work.

Here’s Radar in his new box that Amazon sent him, fast asleep & snoring!

photograph © polly macdavid

Saturday Caturday

I put my Yule Tree up early this year. I guess lots of us are decorating earlier than usual this year.

Jack & Bobby could care less about the tree but Radar is still kitten enough to want to play with the ornaments. I have the breakable ones near the top, but I purposely put hanging round metal bells so that he can play with something.

Seconds after I took that picture, he had that bell on the floor & was playing with it.

Of course, he likes to just lie under the tree.

But I have to keep an eye on him because suddenly he’s doing this . . .

. . . going after an ornament he’s not supposed to play with. It’s going to be a long holiday season!

all photographs © polly macdavid

Saturday Caturday

I was going through a box of pictures the other day & found this:

This is Max. Jet was his brother. I got them from a girl I worked with. Her cat had kittens & I was happy to take two of them. This is when I lived in Cleveland in 1991.

Jet lived a long life but Max died when he was six months old. He & Jet had just been neutered. My boyfriend smoked Camel cigarettes & he used to take the cellophane wrapper off of the packs of cigarettes & roll them up into small balls & throw them for the kitten to chase. Jet was never very interested but Max loved those little balls.

I worked nights at a downtown nightclub & when I got home, I would take a hot bath & go right to bed. When I got up, it would be mid-morning & the first thing I would do was call for the kitties. They always came running. But this morning, only Jet came. I called for Max but I couldn’t find him. I was in our small kitchen & I heard this small cry … this terrible sound. Max was behind the stove. I managed to move it. He was curled up in this tiny ball, crying, moaning, this sound I had never heard from any animal. He was clearly in distress.

I had made good money the night before but my boyfriend had raided my purse before he left for his job & I was flat broke. I knew that I could take Max to the vet & be billed but I didn’t have any money for a cab to get there. I got on the phone … after two hours, I finally found a ride. I didn’t put Max into a cat carrier, I held him in my arms.

I don’t need tell to you that when I dropped him off at the vet’s, that was the last time I saw him.

The vet called me just before I left for work. Apparently, he ate one of those little cellophane balls & it tore up his little insides & he bled to death.

I never allowed anyone to throw one of those balls to any of my cats ever again.

August, 1991, with Max & Jet. Picture taken by Scott Lemen.

That little heart picture of Max I had on my fridge for years & years. I don’t know how it got into the particular box it was in. But it’s on my fridge again. He was one sweet kitty.

except where otherwise noted, all photographs © polly macdavid

Sunday Sonnet … on Monday Morning

I was so busy doing other things yesterday that I completely forgot about the Sunday Sonnet. My apologies!

This week’s sonnet is by Geraldine Monk. I know little about her except that she is from Britain. The only work I have by her is in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets, a selection from her book Ghost & Other Sonnets.

None of the poems are titled. I like that there’s always a couplet at the end & I really love the internal rhyming. I plan to find more of her poems. She’s on my list as of right now.

I was attracted to this poem because of the Patsy Cline reference & because I knew what song she was talking about.

References

Monk, Geraldine. Sonnet from “Ghosts & Other Sonnets”. The Reality Street Book of Sonnets. edited by Jeff Hilson. Hastings, East Sussex: Reality Street Editions, 2008. page 204.

Saturday Caturday

It’s gotten colder these last few days & the kitties are hanging out in front of the forced air vents. The vent underneath my desk is a fought-over area. This morning, Bobby was enjoying it.

photograph © polly macdavid

Saturday Caturday

I had a terrible migraine last weekend, so I missed Saturday Caturday! I’m sorry to have missed writing about my buddies!

I have been wanting to clean out my linen closet, and yesterday I decided to get to it. Well … things didn’t quite work out as planned. I started going through all the mess of material scraps and old clothes that were stuffed in there when I had to stop to take a phone call. When I came back, guess who had made a nice bed for himself? You guessed it! Radar the cat!

Well, that was a job that never got done. Another day …

Saturday Caturday

I knew as soon as I took the large screen off of the front door & put up the heavy storm window, it would get warm again! I propped open the door with a box of books to let in the warm southerly afternoon breeze & of course, the cats wanted to go out on the front porch. Here’s Jack exploring the porch:

I had to shoo him back into the house when he decided to go on the far side of the iron railing because I didn’t need to have him try to jump from the second floor! He’s fourteen years old & ought to know better but you never know!

all photographs © polly macdavid