Monday, August 6, 2007

the four-legged wonders

Thank you for the lovely emails & comments about Thursday's post. I don't want anyone thinking I'm some kind of harsh and evil Cream hater, trying to perfect the living cream right out of myself. (Ha - such a think simply isn't possible!) I think it was one of those moments when I just was so tired of comparing myself and feeling like I lacked. Lacked in the GOOD things like kindness and purity and wisdom and and... Anyway, if this blog is about me sharing my (somewhat and VERY) random thoughts, Thursday was a thought. Am feeling more complete now - and also more intent on trying to improve myself, which I don't think is an all-bad thing.

On to today's thought: I don’t know what I’d do without The Cats. They’ve been my companions for 9 years now. I’ve known them longer than many of my closest friends. They’ve been there for me as pillow warmer, back massager, food seasoner (when an errant car hair finds its way into my soup), consolation, play mate, alarm clock, spider hunter, cuddler, orchestra, entertainment, and couch potato companion just to name a few. I know there are a lot of people out there who don’t think themselves “cat people” – and that’s cool. I just know, though, that if you knew my cats, you’d feel differently (and I’m sure the other cat folks out there would say the same).

They are weird. They make me laugh. They can get near me, no matter HOW MAD I am, which is quite a feat. They are their own quirky selves, and I love them for it.

In honor of the cats, I present to you some random cat-related tidbits…

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Fergus has been called the following names (and probably a few I can’t think of right now): Stripeacus Maximus, Fergle Gurgle, Fergy, Ferguson, Fergus Stripewalker, Fergle, Sister Fergusina, Mother Fergusina, The Ferg, Pajama Pants, Pantelones de Bandes, Booger Bandit

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Phoebe has been called the following names (I’ll leave off a few that aren’t very polite – she’s quite the troublemaker): Phoebes, Fat Pants, Phoebers, Phoebles, Pantzone, Bloomers, Phoeberino

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We’ve had to expand our vocabulary to fully grasp our life with The Cats. To date, we have the following:

flurps = noun. Furry lips of a cat (and some people we know). Phoebe appears to have water droplets stuck in her flurps.

fluv = noun. The hairy underbelly of a cat. Best when it swings from side-to-side. I love to rub Fergus’ fluv.

pajama pants = noun. The state of Fergus’ back legs when he’s crouching. They look like pajama pants, that’s it. Fergus has some serious pajama pants going on right now.

purdle = noun. The sound the cats make which is somewhere between a meow and a purr. Usually occurs when they are trying to wake us from a dead sleep. (Can also be a verb – Phoebe just purdled me awake! Can also be an adjective – Fergus is particularly purdely this morning!)

chirp = noun. The sound that Fergus makes when he really wants something. It is something of a high-pitched squeaky meow-thing that is too short to really be a meow. (Can also be a verb, and usually is: Fergus is chirping at me because he wants that catnip cigar thing.)

phoebe hat = noun. This thing that Phoebe does occasionally (and if allowed, would do it every darn day) when I’m lying in bed, where she creeps up and plops herself down on top of my head, as if she were a hat. I can’t move - I’m getting phoebe hat right now.

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Fergus has this NEED to tunnel. I often wonder if he is either part gopher, or just some kind of monk in cat’s clothing, because the kid loves himself a nice little cave of blanket. I have to be careful jumping on a bed or couch if there’s a blanket crumpled on it, because you never know when the lump of blanket is actually a lump of Fergus. In the course of tunneling, Fergus will push his little cat head up into the fabric and purdle with all his might. I love seeing the outlines of his tiny cat skull, defined enough to include even his tiny cat nostrils. In the course of tunneling, he will inevitably find himself peeking out at his audience with just a hood of fabric hanging over his head. This is when we call him Sister Fergusina; or if he’s feeling particularly holy, Mother Fergusina.

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I love the smell of Fergus’ fur. It is a mixed bouquet of cookie dough, dust, cat spit, and graham crackers.

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Phoebe has the most insane furry bits growing between her toes on each foot. It makes for some grand entertainment when she’s trying to run on hardwood floor (I am enticing Chip to install hardwood floors on our 1st floor for this very reason: PHOEBE TRYING TO RUN = COMEDY GOLD). She looks a lot like Shaggy and Scooby when they’re running from a ghost. It’s like doing the running man, without the great dance moves.

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Phoebe cleaning her long silky toe hair goes something like this: lick-lick-lick-tug-tug-tug…lick-lick-lick-tug-tug-tug…lick-lick-lick-tug-tug-tug…

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At The Blessed Realm (Greenwood apartment), with the hardwood floors, Phoebe would play Crunchy Hockey, a hilarious game of fishing the crunchies out of her bowl one-by-one, knocking them across the room, and then attempting to CHASE them. This was great, seeing as how the crunchies would sort of hydroplane across the floor and Phoebe never had the slightest chance to catch a single one (see toe hair situation, above). This is something else I’m using to entice Chip into the hardwood floors.

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A recent discovery of Chip’s involves a laser pen, a dark hallway, and Phoebe madly trying to catch the evil red dot. She extends her claws on every foot while chasing the evil red dot and it sounds like she’s pulling up carpet with every chase.

These little cat tidbits are endless, so I’m going to save some for later. Excuse me while I go love on my furry friends.

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