I'm just an animal looking for a home



Current Mood: sore
Current Music: R.E.M. – Catapult (Live 27Apr84)

Happy New Year! Where are the flying cars?

Good news! My birthday is on January 12. What does that mean to you? Well, nothing, on the face of it, although only a real scoundrel would neglect to go to my amazon.com wishlist and buy me a gift or two. However, my avarice not the reason I am announcing this good news. The main thing is that my parents visited the aforementioned wishlist and purchased me a scanner — fear not, most of the gifts are much less expensive, ranging down into even the $5 level. Ok, ok, back to the point. So I got a new scanner, because my old one died a while back. And I’ve got a lot of photos to scan. And I’m slowly working on that. I updated the page tonight with some new photos, so you can go check out the updates to the page, and anticipate some new ones. Blah blah blah. Enough talking about this boring subject. Boring, I mean, but also awesome. But still boring. Unless you buy me gifts.

So, my apartment is in a shambles. I got home from visiting my parents in Maine last week, and then I decided to rearrange my furniture, and then the cats knocked a box of stuff across the floor, and then I put all of the stuff I need to sort out on top of my bed, figuring it would motivate me to sort it, but instead having the effect that I am forced to sleep along a narrow strip of exposed bed. The cats don’t seem to mind sleeping on the pile of stuff on my bed, and they don’t mind digging around in it while I try to sleep. Rasputin has also adoped a new habit to get my attention when I am sleeping or trying to sleep. Previously he would just meow, or sometimes scratch on the venetian blinds of the window by my bed (indicating that he wanted to clamber behind them). This was plenty annoying enough, but he decided to add a new weapon in his arsenal. Now he will jump up on the bed next to my face and meow. Wait, there’s more. If this doesn’t produce immediate results, he will slowly extend his paw and claw my nose and mouth. Not too harshly, but definitely painfully. This has proven to be the most successful tactic he has come up with to date. The best defense I’ve come up with involves burrowing my head too deeply under the covers for him to reach with his claws. This is a good short term solution, but it gets kinda hot in there, so I eventually have to emerge, and the glorious dance begins anew.

Frankenstein, on the other hand, doesn’t try to wake me up. I think she and Rasputin struck a deal. She’d bug me for petting, and he’d bug me for everything else, including petting. This also includes when he wants the sink or bathtub turned on for drinking, or when he wants food (ok, that one is reasonable, I confess), or when he wants to get behind the venetian blinds, or when he wants…well, nothing that I can determine, but he meows and paws nonetheless.

Speaking of when Rasputin meows and seemingly has no reason to do so, it reminds me of a story that I was sure I had put in my livejournal previously. However, I just scrolled back through it, and I couldn’t find it. So maybe I didn’t tell it before. Or maybe I did and I’m just missing it. Anyway, I’m going to tell it.

So one day shortly after I had moved into my current apartment, I was going to bed. The lights were out, and I was in bed. Rasputin begins meowing. Petting doesn’t satisfy him, and he doesn’t want to drink. He isn’t pawing at the venetian blinds, so I’m guessing it’s food. But I was pretty sure I’d fed them quite recently. Anyway, I walk through the dark apartment to the room with the catfood. From the doorway, despite the darkness, I can see that the bowl is full of food. Or close to it, anyway. Rasputin has followed me here meanwhile, still meowing. I look at him and probably say something like “I have no idea what you want, I am going to bed.” and then I went to bed. The next morning he was STILL meowing at me, even after water and petting. I stumbled by the catfood bowl, and saw that the food was covering in a swarm of ants. Which I evidently hadn’t seen in the dark, but which I assume was the source of his distress. I felt so bad that I had doubted him. I apologized, gave them some fresh food, and over the next week or two I eradicated the ant population in my apartment. They haven’t been a problem since.

Later I wondered what the big deal was. Sure, to you and me, eating ants isn’t appetizing. Well, to me anyway, I guess I shouldn’t speak for others. But here is a cat who likes to eat flies. He was scared of the one live roach he’s seen, but a roach is a bit bigger. I think he’d eat a spider — I know he plays with them. But evidently he won’t eat an ant. Maybe he just didn’t like that there were so many. I’m not sure. Anyway, I was reminded of that story, and I could have sworn that I’d written it in here already. If I did, well, tough, you’ll have to hear it twice.

Okay, time for me to relax in a bath and go to bed. Softball is starting up again, and I haven’t played since early December, and even then I was playing less than usual (due to rain and pain). I subbed in a softball game tonight, and I had practice yesterday, and I’m a little sore. So I’m going to have a hot bath and go to bed.

In closing, buy me a gift!


Author: mitcharf

vegan, curmudgeon, animal lover, feminist, agnostic, cat whisperer, bookworm, hermit, Red Sox fan, Cthulhu enthusiast, softball player, man-about-town

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