flewellyn: (Default)
So, some of you may be wondering how Miette and Bella are getting on, particularly in the years since Yitzak died. The answer is "Well enough, I guess."

In the weeks immediately following Yitzak's death, Bella needed a LOT of comforting snuggles. She would spend a lot of time cuddling with me, and Miette, normally very jealous of her Flewtime, would give Bella all the space she needed. Also, she would sometimes snuggle Bella herself, which I had never seen her do before.

But, that did not last. Since then, they have settled into a more typical level of affection for their prior relationship, which is to say, none whatsoever. You're familiar with the "love/hate relationship"? This is more of a "tolerate/hate relationship".

Normally, Miette will growl whenever Bella gets too close to her. What defines "too close" depends on the vagaries of Miette's mood, and can vary between "a few inches" and "in the same room or even in view at all". What defines Miette's mood depends on how much sleep she's had, where she is sitting, whether or not she is eating or using the litter box, the time of day, phase of the moon, tidal forces from Jupiter, and the current air pressure inside Miette's skull.

Bella, for her part, is not intimidated by Miette, but generally gives her her space out of, well, if not respect, at least a lack of desire to deal with her growly, whiny fussing. Usually, if this means Miette chases Bella away from me so that she can take over snuggling duties, Bella just leaves; sometimes, however, Bella gets tired of it, bites Miette on the ass, and then runs away as Miette furiously chases after her, hissing and growling. I imagine Bella making the Curly Howard "whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop-whoop!" noise as she runs off.

Every so often, though, something will get into Miette's head (probably dust) that convinces her to be nice, and I will find the two of them cuddling together. Usually this happens when I wake up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, and find them curled up together on the couch.

While adorable, this never ends well. Inevitably, what will happen is this: Bella will decide "We snuggled, this means we are friends now, this means we can PLAAAAAAY!" She will then gleefully pounce on Miette. Miette, who does not do "play" or "roughhousing" or "movement in general", will interpret this as an attack and engage in furious howling and hissing, and then run away as fast as she can. The end result will be Bella looking very confused and slightly sad, and Miette hunching over in a corner defensively with a "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH ME!" look on her face.

On the bright side, they don't try to injure each other, and they share food and space willingly enough, as long as they're separated from each other. So it's usually a kind of uneasy detente, much like the Cold War, but with less nuclear weapons and slightly more hissing.
flewellyn: (Default)
So, I'm getting ready for work, and I chance to see Bella laying on the floor. At first I think she's just lounging, but then I notice that she is rolling back and forth, thrashing around, while furiously licking herself.

Apparently, Bella likes to make washing herself into an extreme sport.
flewellyn: (Default)
My new living room is done, with couch finally here!



New couch!



It is super comfy, too.


Miette wasted no time in claiming a spot:



She even matches the color!
flewellyn: (Default)
Last night, when I came home, I found Miette flopped in one of my new saucer chairs. These are foldable, mini-Papasan chairs. Nice and comfy, and also lightweight and easy to move. I got them partly as auxilliaries for company, and partly to replace my old recliners, which are now gone (and thank goodness, they were busted and covered in cat hair).

I didn't want the cats getting hair all over these chairs, so I tipped her out and folded them both up.

This morning, when I woke up...

I found her flopped against them.

They were leaning up on the wall, and she was leaning against them.

It looked so sad and pathetic that I unfolded them and plopped her back in one.

Such a sucker...
flewellyn: (Default)
My friend Estera and I were messing with Miette earlier tonight, and, well...just watch the video.



Yeah, I don't know either.
flewellyn: (All my chair are belong to cat)
Tonight, Yitzak was sitting on my desk when Miette hopped up, intending to lounge on it. She came to a halt when she saw Yitzak, and they both sat down and started staring at each other. Tension rose, and clearly there was going to be a dominance challenge of some kind.

I watched them for a second, and then waved my hand in between them, making fluttery motions and saying "Distract! Distract!"

They both blinked several times, and then refused to look at each other or at me. After a few moments, they both hopped off the desk.

I imagine the dialog went something like this...

Yitzak: "I will not yield."
Miette: "Neither will I!"
*stare*
Me: *flutters hands* "Distract! Distract!"
Yitzak: "Uhhh..."
Miette: "Umm..."
*pause*
Yitzak: "So, uh..."
Miette: "Yeah...umm..."

*leave*
flewellyn: (Default)
It occurs to me that I haven't blogged anything about my cats recently. This is a serious lapse, because it's my sincere hope that, by reading about (and viewing pictures and video of) my cats, you will all come to a greater understanding, and deeper appreciation, of my cats.

So, let's get on with it! )
flewellyn: (Default)
I took this picture of Miette last night. I present it without further comment.

flewellyn: (Magritte)
This is just a post to post, because it is "LJ on strike" day, and I am not on strike.

So I am posting a post in order to have a post to post.


Anyway, have a cat picture:

flewellyn: (All my chair are belong to cat)
Well, since his last entry was such a hit, Yitzak has urged me (with much poking) to let him at the keyboard once again.




Good evening once again. I, Yitzak, have decided to undertake this opportunity to answer some of the questions posed by readers of my prior missive. Herein I shall attempt to shed some light, and no small amount of fur, upon the mysteries of felinity.

First, one [livejournal.com profile] randallsquared asks: "why do cats -- and I have a specific Cat in mind -- find it necessary to lick a human wrist? But only that one wrist, and never the other?"

As I am unacquainted with the cat in question, I can only speculate on the reasons for this behavior. I know of several felines who are fond of licking human skin, for reasons unfathomable; I myself do not engage in this pastime, as I find the prospect of grooming a mostly hairless ape less than appealing. One possible explanation, of course, is that your wrist has somehow come into contact with an edible substance which is appealing to cats, such as meat, dairy products, eggs, or something else appropriate. However, I would endeavour to assume that you would not find such a response perplexing; therefor, I must assume that you have not done so.

Allow me to consult with my fellow resident feline, Miette, who is the cat most fond of licking humans; she undertakes on regular occasions to use her tongue to groom our Flew-human, even to the point of licking his armpits, an act by which I admit some perplexity. Here is what Miette has to say on the subject:

jjjfwie02855ghjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkl9842840000000000j

Alas, Miette was not particularly helpful. I fear her typing skills are sadly underdeveloped. I would dictate her response, but it was also singularly unhelpful: she merely said "Tasty!" and resumed her prior activity, that of laying on her back on the floor whilst cuddling her tennis ball.

In summary, I fear I cannot answer definitively. I would only assure you that it is extremely unlikely your feline companion is contemplating devouring your flesh; in general, we do not find the taste of human flesh particularly satisfying, and it is as well most difficult to procure.


[livejournal.com profile] naamah_darling inquires about feline excretory ettiquette:

"Why is it that some cats won't cover up their poop? I mean, I'm not talking a cat that won't properly use a dirty box. I could excuse that. I'm talking about a cat that won't properly use a freshly-cleaned box full of virgin litter that has been combed perfectly flat. It is the ideal pooping environment, and yet ONE of my cats does not feel the need to cover her business when she is done. She leaves it sitting on the surface of the crystals like a breached sandworm, or a thoughtful gift."

A lamentable situation, to be sure; most felines find the scent of our own feces as unpleasant as do you humans. Moreso, in fact, since we possess greater olfactory sensitivity. Therefor, it is quite uncommon for us to leave our, well, leavings, uncovered. Our local exception is Miette, but I fear she lacks the ability to aim properly. Since, from your description, these emissions of execrable excretory effluvia are deliberate, I can only assume that the feline in question is attempting to assert her dominance over the household.

In such cases, I fear the best response depends upon the attentiveness and intellectual capacities of the feline in question. You could attempt to explain the situation to her, and inform her that her odors are undesirable. However, I am given to understand that this particular cat, if it is indeed the one I suspect, may not respond to such coaxing. In such case, I will ask if this cat is expected to share her litter tray with other felines; if she is particularly antisocial, she may be displaying her leavings as a means of asserting dominance over the others, and this might thus be ameliorated by providing her with her own litter tray.

Alternatively, you could attempt punitive measures; while ordinarily I would strongly discourage humans from attempting to assert control over their feline owners, I am told that the being in question may not, in fact, be a true cat, but some form of ambulatory fungus, which has taken feline form for whatever dastardly purpose. In such cases, I have no qualms recommending the use of spray bottles to inform the creature that she is to cover her extrusions.


I shall now turn my attention to the queries of one [livejournal.com profile] limpingpigeon, who asks:

"First, what is so great about cardboard? Every feline I have had the pleasure to get to know can't wait to lie down and nap on pieces of cardboard, or any paper product for that matter."

What you must understand about feline sleeping and reclining habits, is that we above all value a variety in the textures of the surfaces upon which we are recumbent. In a wilderness setting, we would of course have access to the various textures of the ground, fallen leaves, tree branches, rocks, and the like. When indoors, we find human dwellings lack the same variety. Therefor, when presented with a new surface, we are likely to endeavour to "check it out", as it were.

As for cardboard in particular? Well, I myself am not especially fond of it, but Miette is quite well known for her love of cardboard, paper, and plastic bags as sleeping surfaces. I'm uncertain of the reason, but I suspect that it may relate to her fondness for creating undue amounts of noise.

"Second, my feline companion is the rugged outdoorsy type and an accomplished hunter. He often brings home his catches in an apparent attempt to share and seems frustrated when I don't wish to partake in the kill. Can you advise me a polite way to tell him that while I appreciate the gesture, raw squirrels and baby bunnies are not part of my regular human diet?"

As a former hunter myself, I understand the urge to share the bounty of my prowess with my humans. However, as I have learned, humans rarely appreciate the gift. My advice to you would be to simply place the slain prey outside, where your feline companion can dine at his leisure. It is, I think, enough for him to know that you appreciate his skills.


Finally, it seems a group of felines have chosen to correspond with me, under the name [livejournal.com profile] anonkitties. I bid you welcome!

"Can you give us tips on how to better manage our human? We don't feel like she feeds us nearly enough. I mean, come on, we *need* 8 meals per day!!!! She feeds us 2-3 times, at most! And no midnight snacks, either.

How do we correct this?

And why does she get mad when we spill the water?"


Alas, I fear I shall have difficulty correcting you in your misapprehensions. It is, in fact, a poor idea for felines to eat more than three or four times per day, especially in large quantities. I find that the constant desire Miette displays for food and drink is quite unseemly; of course, she herself is quite unseemly, and does not seem to care, so I suppose there is little sense in objecting. Nevertheless, I would urge you to moderate your feeding habits.

As for spilling water, I believe this is mostly irritating because of the strange human desire to keep their dwellings "clean", free of dirt and moisture. Now, I am a cat who has seen much of this world, and as far as I can discern, the entire planet is constructed of dirt and moisture; attempting to keep these aspects of the natural environment from entering their artificial dwellings would thus seem to be yet one more human behavior which is ultimately futile.

I hope that my answers have been helpful, or at least enlightening. Now, I shall bid you good evening, as I have much to do. Bella informs me that the time has come for us to dash madly about the dwelling chasing each other, in that solemn ritual which our Flew-human has termed "Apeshit Time". It is a serious responsibility, but one I relish the opportunity to perform. Ciao, and miao.

Got more questions for Yitzak? He's here more than Flew is!
flewellyn: (All my chair are belong to cat)
I've decided that I should update this thing more often. So, while today is still Sat...er, Caturday, that is, I have decided to blog about cats.

But then it occurred to me that I have a cat who can speak for himself. So, instead, Yitzak will blog about cats and humans. Take it away, Yitzak!




Good evening, readers, both feline and of lesser species. I am, of course, Yitzak, as my Flew-human was kind enough to state previously. This marks the second occasion on which I have undertaken to post a missive in this medium, and the first in which I have done so whilst Flewellyn was still awake. For this occasion, I have decided to address a question that you humans commonly ask concerning your felines, namely: Why do cats always get in the way when I am trying to read? Do they not want me to read? Would they prefer I didn't know how to read at all?

As a noted elder in the online feline community, I can assure all of you gentle humans that your feline owners have no desire for you to remain uneducated. Nor, for that matter, do we wish that you stop reading. In truth, when we act to interrupt you in any particular activity, this does not indicate that we find said activity objectionable in any way.

No, the reason for our interruptions is simply to ensure that you do not engage in any one activity, which does not involve cats, for too long, as this is clearly unhealthy for you.

Humans bond with felines, you see, because they require our companionship and our natural grace and charm, whilst we require the use of their opposable thumbs to provide food, comfort, and pettings. Naturally, this symbiotic relationship is at its healthiest when feline and human interact at regular intervals. Thus, if too much time has passed without proper interaction, it behooves the feline to alert his or her human to this lamentable situation.

Of course, there is one situation in which this is not entirely accurate. When we interrupt your activities as you are preparing food for human consumption, if any of that food is feline-suitable meat, we are of course alerting you to the fact that we have detected this situation, determined that we do not currently possess any of said meat, and would find you most remiss if you did not act to correct this unfortunate oversight.

So, you see, our interruptions are undertaken with only the best of intentions, for the sake of your own continued good health, and ours.

Thank you for this opportunity to enlighten the general public. I shall now retire to the recliner, where I note Bella is already engaged in somnolent contortionism. I believe I shall join her; she makes an excellent pillow.

Got more questions for Yitzak? Write in comments!
flewellyn: (All my chair are belong to cat)
If zombies really DID invade, I would not worry. Miette would protect me.

Oh, sure, first she'd go up to the zombies to beg for pettins, but when she realized that the zombies A) were not going to pet her, B) smelled DEAD, and C) smelled like MEAT, she would just eat them.
flewellyn: (Default)
So, I got a laser pointer.

Actually, it's more of a laser...dolphin...thing. I ordered it from an eBay store called Feline Friendz, which, although guilty of tragic abuse of the letter Z, sells cat stuff to raise money to help feral strays in Nebraska, so is nonetheless good.

So, yes, got the laser pointer thingy. It is meant, of course, to be a cat toy.

How are the results? So far, mixed.

Yitzak, of course, is not interested. He caught the laser dot once, you see; it was about eight years ago, and I was taunting him with the red dot, when he slammed his paw down on top of it. I left it there, curious to see what he'd do. He sniffed at it, removed his paw, sniffed again, and then looked at me with irritation, as if to say "That's not real! What's the big idea?" Ever since, he has shown no interest in laser pointers. (He will, however, chase feathery things. Those he can catch and kill.)

Bella, surprisingly, was also uninterested. She started stalking the red dot, but then sniffed when it went by, and must have come to the same conclusion as Yitzak. So now she ignores it.

Miette, though, goes absolutely apeshit. She LOVES the "chase the red dot" game. She will tear across the room after it, running as fast as she has probably ever moved in her life, her belly jowls wobbling absurdly underneath her as she strenuously huffs and puffs after the light. She leaps up against the walls trying to catch the dot, jumping and clawing with wild abandon. I can even induce her to run in circles with it, although she rapidly becomes dizzy and has to lay down (or rather, fall down). And, that first time that I let the laser turn off while she was watching it, she sat there staring, looking forlorn, for five minutes, wondering where her prey had run off to, and would it please come back?

She is not completely stupid, however. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her teeny, tiny brain, amidst the cobwebs, moldy tissues, and back issues of Butt-Licking Quarterly, she has somehow realized that the red dot is summoned when I pick up the purple dolphin thingy. Every time I do, she hops up excitedly and gets ready to play! When not playing, she will lay on my desk snuggling the darn thing in her paws.

Heaven help me if the battery runs out.
flewellyn: (Default)
Yitzak wears the pants in this house.

flewellyn: (Default)
Admit it, you guys love to see photos of my cats.

ADMIT IT! We have ways of making you confess!



So, here's Bella and Yitzak, puddling on the red recliner. This is what my mother used to refer to as a "poose puddle". Unfortunately, just after I snapped the picture, Yitzak got up. The camera managed to catch him a split second before he stood up and stretched.

Leaving Bella sitting alone, still collapsed.



She was not exactly upset, but not happy that Yitzak had gotten up and left her. They like to puddle together for long periods of time, sometimes in my cupboards.

So she got up, and hopped down under the recliner.



Here we see Bella sitting under the recliner in what we have always called, in my family, the Bologna Loaf Mode. She is clearly a lean loaf, however.



Miette, on the other hand, is obviously a much more robust, meatier loaf. It's true that a Mietteloaf will shrink some during cooking, but this particular Mietteloaf will probably feed a family of four (or six, if the parents don't like their kids very much).

I tease Miette, of course. She's a bit stupid, a bit insane, and rather silly. But still, she has her dignity.



See? The picture of dignity.
flewellyn: (Default)
I just got a new digital camera! It's not a top-of-the-line model, but I didn't want that; I just wanted something I could use to take pics of, well, things.

Among other things, my cats! )
flewellyn: (Default)
Miette is one hell of a strange cat. I think I have mentioned this.

Right now, she is licking my armpit.

This is really quite strange. Although, since I've been ill, she might just think I smell bad. Should I feel offended that an animal who licks her own ass thinks I need a bath badly enough to give me one herself?
flewellyn: (Default)
Holy...crap.

Yitzak is bobbing his head in time to the music from "Dragoste din tei".

I...wish I had a camera.
flewellyn: (Default)
Many people do not believe me when I describe my middle (in age) cat, Miette, as "the most graceless ball of furry flab ever to lay claim to the name feline". They always cite examples of their own cats doing goofy things like trying to jump and then missing the landing and falling down, or running around and banging into things.

However, tonight I saw absolute proof.

Miette came into the living room just a moment ago, carrying her stuffed crab. This is a small stuffed animal that I sewed together about 15 years ago or so, when I was futilely trying to learn to sew. She loves to carry this thing around the apartment, dropping it in random places, and then ignoring it for a few days.

Tonight, she brought it in, dropped it on the floor, and then started to trot towards me...

...and tripped over the crab.


Uh-huh.

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flewellyn

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