Ninja Cat: Fun Filler For the Feline-o-phile

Dude. I just shot coffee out my nose.

This is awesome.

Watch for the fluffy white cat...

... its behavior on the treadmill and mine are eerily identical.

The Accidental Afficianado: The Sequel

Alternate Title: Cat Litter Post...

wait for it...

Number TWO!

Sorry for the toilet humor. It can, at times, be somewhat unavoidable.


So. When last we checked in on the cat litter saga, I had relented and turned to the of-questionable-safety, but preferred-by-one-cat-out-of-seven option of clay in one box. The rest were filled with Feline Pine.

Well, guess what? Feline Pine got stupidly expensive for a lumber industry by-product, was still rejected by at least one cat and my success was taking a very sharp dive into... nah...

In addition to six young and healthy cats*, we also have a very old, VERY particular fellow whose cat box record is, shall we say, not spotless. For years I have blamed his inconsistency... and incontinence... on urinary tract infections. There is some accuracy to my hypothesis, but I'll get back to that in a minute.

So, our quest for the perfect cat litter was resumed, much to our dismay, in conjunction with our pursuit of a superior accident-clean-up product. We found "Anti-Icky Poo" (Yes, that is its real name. Don't blame me. I know it's stupid) and a silica-based cat litter that I now can't even find online anymore to show you.

Both products work great. Both are so maniacally overpriced that it would be cheaper to fill your cat box with actual gold nuggets.

The Anti-Icky Poo is totally worth it, though it can only work so well for so long. When the poor Old Guy is saturating the bathroom carpet before you realize what has happened... the product's efficacy is bound to suffer.

In an attempt to help the Old Guy not fall prey to the "He's FIFTEEN YEARS OLD and stinking up the bathroom! How long do you expect me to let him live?!" argument, I took him to the regular vet... three times... for UTI treatment (which they confirmed) without ANY results. I finally turned to a naturopathic vet who immediately informed me that dry food was possibly the worst thing I could feed him next to, oh, I don't know... asbestos! "It's dehydrating him by sucking up what little moisture he's getting from drinking... which, by the way... cats in the wild DON'T DO! They get all their 'water' from their prey."

What the...?

His issues had many layers...

First: He was so dehydrated that "going" was painful and had very bad associations with The Box. Not that going anywhere else was more fun, but it sure didn't make him want to squat in a pile of wood shavings... or in a bed of silica pellets either, for that matter.

Okay. I'm REALLY digressing here.

Sorry.

The silica litter worked great, but with seven cats, it doesn't last the two months touted on the bag. A couple of weeks, MAYBE so that means going through a LOT of fifteen-dollars-a-five-pound-bag litter.

Much to my very temporary glee, I found big, square buckets of something very similar at the feed store for a fraction of the price! There is a reason... the bargain product is what's left after they punch out all those nice, smooth little pellets... and it's sharp as freakin' GLASS... not kitty-pad friendly! Nor is it very nice to bare feet that stumble across the random shard in the carpet.

The packaging was also EXTREMELY WASTEFUL.

I went back to the slightly-more-economical-than-what-I-found-online version... "Litter Pearls." It does work really great. Most of our cats were fine with it... but not all.

Fabulous.

On yet another trek to the feed store I was met with a new and intriguing option in the cat litter aisle... a NEW, healthier and fantastical variety of clay litter! Can it be?

For five bucks, I can afford for it to tank.

I put it in the Old Guy's personal potty and, what do you know... HE ACTUALLY USES IT! He hated all the other litters AND was having health issues that weren't helping matters.

What happened next?

ALL THE CATS were using HIS box. They completely rejected the fancy stuff once they had access to this much better clay product.

"Wundercat," as it is so adorably named, is a combination of clays. It doesn't produce much dust at all and it REALLY does NOT STINK!


I switched the two boxes in the house to Wundercat and left the two boxes in the garage with the Litter Pearls. No one has stepped foot in the garage boxes since the Wundercat appeared. Interesting, 'eh?

The critics have spoken!

So, to finish my story about the Old Guy... He now gets mostly very high quality canned food and sometimes I make or buy raw food. He has access to the occasional bit of kibble and still prefers to drink running water from my bathroom sink. The change in his diet has made a new cat out of him. For literally years he has barely emerged from our bedroom (hence, he had his own box in our master bathroom to encourage its use.) He almost never went outside. He regularly vomited and, the older he got, often had such dry stools... well ... we'll leave it at that, shall we?

As I type, he is sitting in the other office chair with Grace. He rarely vomits except to do "maintenance" and he recently even spent an entire night outside by choice. That hasn't happened in at least ten years! He is much healthier and happier thanks to the naturopath's brilliant information. What's more... he is now so energetic that I have been able to successfully move the cat box out of our bathroom and into the laundry room with the other one. That, folks pretty much constitutes a bone fide miracle!



*As for the SEVEN in Lucky Seven Cat Ranch... I'm afraid we are now down to a Fortunate Five. Boo, our super-friendly 20-poounder, went missing a couple of months ago followed shortly by little Midna. Losing two cats in the space of a month for us is unheard of. Cats are wandersome creatures, though. I hope they mosey home from their walkabout some day.

My sister-in-law's cat returned after five months, so here's hopin'.
























If they are gone for good, though, I hope it is somewhere plentiful in fat, juicy mice and "crunchable birdses."

... And miles and miles of fresh, clean, scratchable sand, of course.



That, Dear Readers (Marty!), concludes the "highly-informative post" I promised you back in June! ;)


I hope you are all enjoying this gloriously much cooler Monday!

I have but one question...

... I have *seven* cats. What does that make me?

You're right. I don't want to know.


Please note: it's not like I reside in a studio apartment with my feline throng... I live on acreage, People. This fact should be taken into account when forming your judgment as to the degree and severity of my psychoses...


Kitty People, enjoy the vid'!

Rx for thought...

I just gave our very old cat his antibiotic liquid and was intrigued by the fact that it is BANANA flavored... and not just banana... really BAD banana.*

For a cat.

Is it just me or does it seem for more logical that medicine intended for a feline should be flavored like, oh I don't know, field mouse or maybe even tuna fish?

Banana.

Who's idea was that?


*The reason I know what it tastes like is because I had to mix it up from powder and in breathing in a little of the powder, I got a hit of the very strong and disgusting flavor.

What's Next, Cat Juggling?!

Wondrous Gift From Above or Evil Implement of Kitty Terror?

The nights have gotten quite nippy of late here on the Ranch, so one or more of the four members of the outside-at-night contingent have started weaseling their way into sleeping inside the house.

Sometimes it's blatant. More often, it is a covert operation involving diversion and subterfuge.

They all usually prefer to roam the shadow realm when night falls, finding refuge in the hay bales in the barn when the temps take a dip. But if the weather takes a turn for the very wet or extra chilly, the finagling begins.

Two of the four are very well behaved and can be trusted indoors. The other two are menaces who, after having successfully achieved bedtime invisibility, will make their presence and strong desires known somewhere between 4:00 and 6:00 AM in a most raucous and boisterous display that, should I choose to turn a deaf ear and continue soaking my pillow with drool while pursuing that ever-illusive French truffle the size of an ottoman, will give way to retaliatory vandalism.

We have recently discovered however, that there is, in fact, such thing as Kitty Karma.

Not long ago, our dearly beloved and faithful, fairly low-tech coffee maker went kaput. It was simple featuring only a thermal carafe and timing capabilities, but made great coffee. Upon its demise, my folks generously gifted us a new, state-of-the-art, fancy schmancy model that had been languishing unopened in their garage. It not only brews your coffee and holds it at the temperature of your particular preference, it even grinds your fresh, whole beans and dumps the fragrant grounds right into the filter for you at the precise moment and grind consistency to achieve the most technologically perfect cup o' joe ever devised by a team of overpaid engineers.*


So, there I am, post-alarm, cozily drowsing in eager anticipation of the joyful sound of our new java droid awakening to begin its life of servitude when it happens...

The timer hits 6:55, the grinder whirs and clatters to life and, at that exact split second... the unmistakable sound of 16, startled and terror-filled paws frantically scratching their heated exit from the still-dark kitchen, then thundering down the hallway toward our bedrooms and presumed sanctuary.

In stead of comfort and consolation, they found me, standing there in my jammies, laughing at them in unexpected, payback bliss!

Apparently the sneaky ones had somehow *overslept* and got a taste of what it's like to be startled awake by a harsh and unexpected racket...

"HA!" I say. Double "HA!"

Though I did feel kinda bad for the good, polite, quiet kitties who let me sleep, I savored that first cup from the shee-shee machine with great relish and just a bit of sick satisfaction.

"The new coffee maker is so fast, why don't you set the timer for when you're already up and the lights are on so it doesn't come as such a shock to them when it starts up?" my kind-hearted husband asked.

"What? And deny myself all that sadistic pleasure? Are you nuts?"

Poor kitties. Poor, poor traumatized little kitties...

::snicker::

Now, where did I leave the vacuum...




* Don't get me wrong, it's really a nice machine, but it cracks me up how this thing is supposed to make "making coffee" so much more convenient. Now, instead of: grind coffee the night before; place in filter; pour water into reservoir; activate timer; upon finishing coffee toss used filter... I get to: place beans in grinder the night before, pour water into reservoir; activate timer; upon finishing coffee dismantle the entire machine, clean five separate pieces and dry thoroughly before reassembling... so I can have my coffee ground for me and drink it five minutes sooner! I have to laugh at myself that I love it so much.

Ring Around the Ranch

Alternate Title:

No Pheasant Present, But Dew? Can Do!

sorry.

Clothesed for the Season

Today I won't subject you to any feeble attempts to wax poetic, but did want to share some shots of my tour around the Ranch this morning. It is such a glorious day, I took a good long time to wander the property and drink in all the breathtaking beauty Fall has to offer.

Faerie Skyscrapers

If only I knew if they are poisonous...

Animation Suspended

Everyone Shares on the Ranch

Dewy Dandelion

Today's Chore Companion, Jack.

Still Trying

Where Faeries Get Their Silver

Barn Boss

Cow Candy

Brilliant

Should've worn the boots.

I hope you are enjoying this amazing day as much as I am... Cheers!

The Accidental Afficianado

This is Midna*. She looks like she has a guilty conscience, doesn't she?

That is probably because a split second before Anna took this picture, she most likely just took a dump behind the couch! Or perhaps she recently peed by the front door...

Charming.

It was when she started leaving *presents* RIGHT NEXT TO THE CAT BOX that we were left with one of the following conclusions:

1. Having never lived with a cat that didn't catch-on to the box within about 10 seconds of being introduced to it, she was obviously severely brain damaged.

2. She was acting out her extreme angst over our blatant favoritism for her little sister.

3. Said angst had rendered her maniacally suicidal.

4. She didn't like the cat litter.


We had always used clay litter until I, on a visit to our local she-she pet boutique, read an article posted right there on the glass of the kitty-love-a-thon room that clay is supposedly very bad for the health of your cat and, not too surprisingly, that of the owner changing the cat litter. Seems the dust gets breathed in and all that wonderful clumping power works its own special brand of Voo-Doo on the dewy-moist lining of the lungs. Also, since cats aren't inclined to hop into the shower with their kitty-sized bar of handmade lavender soap, they also get it into their digestive system where it can wreak havoc.

SO...

Being the ever vigilant cat owner I began a quest for the best non-cat-killing litter I could find to assure a safe potty experience for all our cats, but especially Ashly's soon-to-arrive litter of kittens. ("Cat litter" ... "Litter of kittens." Coincidence? I *seriously* doubt it.)

First, I tried "S'Wheat Scoop" made from ground up wheat kernels. Lovely idea though obscenely expensive. It worked pretty well except for two things: The gluten in the wheat is what makes for the highly-touted "natural clumping action." This is also why you can use flour and water to make GLUE. Not so bad when kitty only piddles in the top inch of the litter, but most cats love to dig... hence, imagine cleaning four cat boxes with sticky pee clumps inexorably adhered to the bottom...

And as if that weren't pleasant enough, the wheat has a smell that one normally associates with food, of course. Nothing is quite so appetizing as the perfume of fresh baked bread slathered in newly minted cat poop. MMMmmmmm YUMMY!

::GAG::

I wasn't willing to do litter "pearls" or any of that chemically, high-tech junk. Please. They're cats. Cats poop in dirt, NOT on a freshly strewn bed of fragrant white marbles.

My last resort was to try "Feline Pine." Basically, it's sawdust that comes in pellets and now, "New Scoopable!" I knew my cats would have a hard time adjusting to pellets and, well, the loose kind just made more sense to me, so I got it.

This stuff is GREAT!! Yes, it tracks, but all cat litter does, really. The thing that is so amazing about it is that we never** smell the cat boxes even when I'm changing them! I think it smells like "new house in progress." You know, the scent of freshly sawed lumber? To me, that's a happy association. The litter clumps really well though, because it is very light, you have to jiggle around the little scooper thing to separate the solids from the clean stuff. Not a huge deal in my book.

So. Here I am, thinking I have struck kitty litter gold! The Old Cat's frequent, spontaneous vomiting had stopped except for when he actually had a hairball (a VERY welcome change, I might add, especially since he spends 99% of his life in our bedroom...) and the other cats took to it immediately. Super!

Bring on the next challenge!

Stupid, stupid girl.

Fast forward to the present. Of Ashly's six fuzzy little offspring, we kept two: Midna and her little sister, Winky. Naturally, there were a few accidents around the house as the kittens were learning the ropes, but someone was exhibiting a severe learning disability! We were never sure exactly who it was, because we never caught her in the act, but had suspected Midna as I had regularly seen Winky leaving the cat box.

I was NEVER without my Kitty Clean-Up Kit within easy reach.

Damned cat.

Finally, timing was on our side and Midna was exposed as the resident vandal. Every time she would slip up, we threw her in the cat box or outside and thoroughly cleaned the accident spot, but she just wasn't *getting it.*

I was sick of spending my *free* moments inhaling kitty fumes.

James, who can hardly stand two magazines resting askew on the coffee table, let alone kitty bombs regularly defiling his domicile, gave me a week to figure it out or Midna would become an outdoor cat. Where we live, given her minuscule size (even at seven months old) and lack of experience in the "wild" this translates directly into "Coyote Food."

Did I say "bring on the next challenge?" Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

It wasn't until I noticed that she would sometimes poop NEXT TO THE CAT BOXES that it hit me. James, in reading about "Feline Pine" when we switched, had mentioned that a certain percentage of cats don't take to it. The pine aroma is just too strong to them or they don't like the way the particles feel between their pads... who knows.

In a last-ditch effort to save this cute, friendly, if *frustrating*, little creature from the maw of a violent, predatory death I decided to try the clay litter again in one cat box.

I put her inside it and dragged her tiny paw across the clay in a hope-filled demonstration of Remedial Cat Box Training 101... "First we scratch the surface..." Clearly oblivious that her very life was at stake, she walked off with a swagger of indifference. My heart sank but I crossed my fingers anyway.

Lo and behold! Since her introduction to the potentially hazardous glory that is clay litter, Midna has not had ONE accident! HALLELUJA!!


We are ALL very relieved.

Yes, I have to clean that particular box out at LEAST once a day or the smell drives me out of the house***. And, while I tried to find the least harmful litter I could, I do hold by breath and turn on a fan when I change it. However, until Midna starts showing signs of ill effects, I will consider the compromise worthwhile as my carpet, the kitty and my marital bliss have been saved.

Scientific conclusion: ratio of cats who love "Feline Pine" to those who would rather risk being eviscerated than use it: 6:1.

Bring on the next...! OH, would you just SHUT UP!!




*Yes, for all you "Legend of Zelda" fans, thanks to James, she is named after Link's impish "Twilight Princess" cohort. I had named her Mojo, but he thought it sounded too masculine. *Whatever*


**Okay, so , when someone has been eating too many mice and you walk by the box after they've just stepped out of it the aroma is, shall we say, pungent... okay, ASSAILANT, but it is soon overtaken by the clean, fresh scent of pine trees!

*** I have the olfactory senses of a freakin' Bloodhound.

This Could Explain The Multiple Contusions and Sketchy Memory

This is why only our 14-year-old cat sleeps inside.

He's too old and fragile to lift any blunt, heavy objects, but will at times resort to the old "knock-over-the-glass-of-water-on-the-night-stand-with-my-head" maneuver.

Can you imagine the carnage if all seven slept inside?!
::shiver::

Fresh From Heaven

Alternate title: "Got MILK?!"

Please join me in welcoming Princess's newest baby, Miss Peach, to our humble little herd.

Peach was born yesterday (the 12th) at 4:30 pm and was on her feet (sort of), vigorously slurping down her first meal by 5:00. So far, she seems to be thriving and the lot of us couldn't be happier.

This tribal custom, rarely seen by outsiders, is known as the "Getting a Clean Bed Ready For the New Calf Dance." One of the tribe members performing this sacred ritual is required to wear a bathing suit and pink rubber boots with cats on them while carefully executing the Hokey Pokey. The others simply flail around strewing about fresh hay while inhaling massive amounts of dust.

Just about sixteen hours old, here's a better view of Miss Peach in all her wobbly-legged, wooly, creamy-rich glory. Sooooo sweet.



OH MY GOSH! As I'm typing this, I can see from my office window that Princess has taken Peach to the corner of the fence where our pastures meet so she can meet her sister, Sparky, through the fence. (We've had to keep them separated for the last six weeks or so.)

They were touching noses through the fence, all three of them... I just love living with animal families.


It's so unusual to have all, or nearly all, the members in a family of pets that one rarely has the opportunity to see how very much like us they are. Four of our cats are mom, dad and two kittens. The way they interact with each other is very different from their relationships with the other cats. They even have sounds that they only use with their family and no one else. It's quite amazing and I feel privileged to get to witness it all.

Back to the cows:

When Miss Peach was just born, all the cows in the neighborhood started to bellow. Sparky, Bossy and even the neighbor's cow and her calf were calling at the top of their lungs over the fences. No one bellowed as long or frequently as Sparky, though. She ran up the fence line until she got as close as she could and stood there watching her mom and new baby sister. Sparky then spent most of the night and into this morning up in the trees at the top of my sister-in-laws property yelling some more. I finally had to go up and retrieve her and make sure she wasn't in some kind of trouble.

Was she upset? Happy and announcing to the world about the new addition to her family? Could be that she's just, um, lookin' for some lovin' of her own... you know how teenagers are... but her behavior is definitely not typical.


Life on the Ranch has been loaded with animal issues lately. Ashley had two, count 'em TWO abscesses on her face, undoubtedly caused by a very unwilling victim of her startlingly prolific predatory tendencies. This meant I got to whip out my latent veterinary skills administering antibiotics, cleaning the wound twice a day and feeding her raw milk yogurt to keep her tummy healthy.

We also have a very old cat that we were sure was dying after a couple of bouts with bladder infections and, yes, more antibiotics. He even disappeared for quite a while. We were sure he had wandered off to die... the next morning we found him in a very soft and cushy, though different from his usual, place feeling much better and apparently securely fastened to his mortal coil. More yogurt administered.

On Sunday, we had a stray LARGE, old white dog show up on the Ranch. She was very sweet and wasn't any kind of threat, but we were worried for her safety. And rightly so. In the process of trying to contact animal control and/or find out who her owner was she had wandered over to my in-laws and fell in the pool. It was nearly an hour before Anna found her when she ran up to borrow a movie, but thankfully, being a HUGE dog, she was able to stand on her hind legs in the shallow end with her front paws on the pool deck. She was pretty tired, but unharmed for the most part. James and I lugged her out and she just flopped in our yard and dried out in the sun while she caught her breath.

Eventually, we found out where she lived and my dad-in-law and I took her up and tied her to the front porch after hearing her owner had been asking around about her, but wasn't home when we got there. Turns out contractors going in and out of the house kept letting the dogs out and didn't care, um, I mean, weren't at all worried that they might wander off.

Thoughtless, idiot bastards...

Ahem.

But wait! There's more!

The kittens just turned six months old so that means it's time to make Bob Barker proud and do the responsible pet owner thing... get the girls spayed.

There is NOTHING I hate worse than forcing sweet little animals to wear those STUPID cones on their heads. I know, it's for their own safety, but DAMN! If I couldn't lick my tummy... Oh, wait... I can't, can I... well, if I couldn't scratch where it itches, I'd be pretty ticked off, too.

And THEN, there's the whole my-own-family-doesn't-recognize-me-because-I-don't-smell-right thing... oh, and did I mention I have a freakin' CONE ON MY HEAD?!

Poor babies. Must be so traumatic. It almost makes me want to wear an upside-down lampshade around my neck in a show of solidarity.

Thank goodness for Boo. He is so totally secure in his own hugeness, he fears nothing and loves everybody. Good ol' Boo.


Well, as I've been writing I've gotten an email begging for a quote and one screaming for an emergency PhotoShop intervention... as with all things in graphic design... it's a life-or-death scenario. Better go warm up the defibrilator.

CLEAR!!!

For now, this is Dr. Doolittle, signing off.

It's Been a While

Here's a long-overdue cute kitty shot.

Sisterly love doesn't get any cuter than this...

...well, yes, I guess it does...
More to come on our adventures at Ft. Stevens... including a *big* announcement!

Birthday Beauties, Bashful Bovine and the Blessed Bounty

My delicate, tiny, little preemie...

... turned NINE on Wednesday.

I can't believe that sweet, fragile baby now has talents and thoughts and friends of her own.

*sigh*

At the risk of sounding like a totally typical parent... Where does the time go?

Well, it DOES fly when you're having fun... again with the clichés... so we seriously contributed to the speed of its passage with a small but exceedingly enjoyable celebration. It began with a trip to our favorite nail place where Anna, her two best friends, Julia and McKinzie, and Grace got their toes done... which seemed as much fun for the folks doing the pedicures as it was for the recipients. With sparkling, colorful toes, we went back to our house for HUGE cupcakes and pizza... then I had to go to a STUPID MEETING... while James supervised swimming and lots and lots of Wii gaming.

Julia spent the night which was Anna's very first sleepover ever. Once the excitement died down, everyone slept like rocks... in my bed... with me in it. Actually, it was pretty fun, all four of us girls piled in together. (James retreated to Anna's bed for a much more dignified and predictable night of slumber.)




























Farm Life Follies

"Exactly what kind of cow are you?"

"'COW?' What kind of CAT are YOU?"

Midna (the kitten) and Sparky (the heifer) meet officially for the first time.

Clearly, neither is sure what to make of the other.











My first zucchini of the year and my first garlic EVER! Woo hoo!
Honestly, we forgot the garlic was even there so it was a very fun surprise.



















Another brilliant sunset here on the ranch. Ahhhhhh.














Stay tuned for part 2 of "40 years to 'Getting It."

Best of Seven

HELP!
I'm being held hostage by radical deadlines!


In the mean time, here is some very cute filler:

WARNING: If you're allergic to, dislike,
or otherwise have no interest in cats, leave now!


This is Winky.

Don't tell my other cats, but she is my all-time favorite.

I love all seven with varying degrees of emotional attachment, but this one has stolen my heart.


I watched her come into the world. I snatched her from the jaws of death when, as the runt of six, she ended up needing to be fed with a syringe to survive.

She was so tiny and fragile I carted her around inside my shirt
to keep her warm and safe.

And now, at three and a half months old and still remarkably small, she is the most relaxed, sweetest and most tolerant cat I've ever seen.

These pictures show how stressed she was after having her nap distrurbed repeatedly by Grace's insistence on having Winky sleep on her lap... then she moved her to my lap... then I had to make dinner so I picked her up and she stretched out into the position you see here... and stayed that way through being moved yet again and bombarded by the cacophony of gaming noise and wiggly children.

Oh... my... GOODNESS!