Tornado Choices

 

by Angie Quantrell @AngieQuantrell

SO many events and changes going on in our lives right now, I'm having a difficult time choosing what to share. Let me just be honest and tell you that I've been avoiding posting just because of the vast plethora of options.

There. Got that off my chest.

It may take me months to fill you in. Or just a day. Let's see, shall we?

Life in Quantrell Land has been tornado-like in the sense that every day has been consumed with a whirlwind of activities, decisions, stressors, excitement, responsibilities, and cat fur. Truly. At times, we just had to grab something - anything - and hang on!

But it's ALL good.

Because now, we are living in the RV full-time with 2 insane cats. Which if you want some more truth, makes us the insane ones. 2 shedding, clawing, racing, sneaking, messy, loving, snuggly kitties. In. A. Small. RV.

This classifies as an adventure for sure. I kid you not.

When folks used to show up late for church spouting, "The cows (dog, birds, chickens, pigs, horse) got out and we had to chase them down," I would nod in agreement. But now I REALLY understand the stress and anxiety produced by such an event!

MONET, the sneak, wants out. Not just a little want, but an all-consuming desire of wanting out. Of the RV. The problem is Tiger, who is resident cat on the property. Tiger is very territorial and has been seen chasing off and beating up other cats. She's a sweetheart to adult people, but not other cats. So we don't want the girls out unless we can protect them from each other.

MONET, who cares she thinks. I want out. So she watches the door and our feet and if the door is open, ZIP, there she goes. Oh, the anxiety and interesting language on our part! She is having a great time, but we are watching for the arrival of Tiger and trying to lure the naughty girl back in...

Last Sunday, to connect you to what I was sharing, she did it again. Kevin was being nice to the moth and trying to get it out (before MONET, the best moth-catcher west of the Mississippi, ate it). MONET saw the open door - a mere 3-4 inches - and zip, she was out.

Church day. Big luncheon to prepare. Stuff to take (we still forgot the meat and cheese). A wonderful guest speaker to hear. Responbililty to get there first to unlock the building. And we had a loose cat.

I understand, all of you chasing-of-escapees people! Arrrggghhhh!

We won. This time. Even made it on time (except the meat and cheese, which had to arrive with our son).

So goes our tornado lifestyle. Adventures around every corner and open RV door.

By the way, RV doors are difficult even when not dodging the cat. Narrow, steep, metal shaking steps. I cringe just waiting for one of us to biff the landing and go sprawling face down in the gravel.

But for now, we are good. It's ALL good.

Because He is good.

$125 Bucks Later . . .

Monet in one of her favorite napping spots. In her favorite position.

By Angie Quantrell @AngieQuantrell

The first hint that something was wrong was the sound of the cat door furiously flapping.

The next hint was the flash of gray darting across the floor to the cat box. Monet had the kitty runs. Eww.

I mean the nasty smelly potty stops. While I've been there myself (though I don't use the cat litter box nor do I go through the cat door), I've never seen a cat make a mad dash to the toilet!

Poor baby!

The dash and go lasted all evening and we were getting concerned. But since she continued to eat, drink, and play with her toys like a wild thing, we figured it would pass.

But this morning there was blood.

That definitely meant a trip to the vet. There was initial interest in the cat carrier by both girls, but the second I grabbed Monet to put her in, Mabel dashed off for hiding, afraid she would be next.

$125 bucks later, Monet was home. Colitis. Who knew cats could have that?

Cats eat all sorts of things. Especially Monet. She's the wild girl and she very aggressively hunts, consumes, and shares her prizes. According to the vet, this is common.

No fever, healthy teeth, eating and drinking, playing, good fur, no temp = colitis and maybe a some worms (from eating before mentioned outdoor treats).

"Are you able to give her pills?" he asked.

"My guess is no, though we've never had to give them to her before," I said. "Monet is our more intensive cat and pulls no punches when she plays. I'm guessing I would earn a bite or scratches from any attempts."

This idea was confirmed when the vet came back with Monet after a little visit to the back room. "I did manage to give her a pill, but I had a technician and an assistant helping me. I gave her a shot. It's not my first choice, but to prevent bites and scratches, it will be best for her." (And me!)

As I thought.

How Monet loves to sleep.

So, guess what $125 buys? A vet inspection. A very strong antibiotic injection. One pill. Worming medication.

And a very happy-to-be-home cat who has already brought me a moth.

The Threat - Can Cats Read?



The experiment - Can cats read?

By Angie Quantrell Angie Quantrell

 

My husband walked into the kitchen with a guilty grin on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing," he smirked.

Seeing I wasn't convinced, he added, "I'm just laughing at your book on CD."

Ok. Weird. But I let it go.

After dinner, I went out to tidy up the patio and harvest strawberries. And then I saw why he was giggly.

On the chalkboard we have mounted to a wall (for the grands, of course), someone had drawn and written a message.

To our neighborhood bully cat, Mr. Mustache, or Stache. From our gray girls, Mabel and Monet.

Can cats read? Do they understand a threat? Is humor lost on them?

It seems my husband thinks so.

Did his threat work?

I'm sorry to say, but no, Stache has still been around spraying on our windows and chasing the girls inside.

To conclude this experiment in cat communication skills, we may assume that:

1. Cats cannot read.

2. Cats don't care if you threaten them.

3. Cats don't get humor.



Stache, boldly making his visit



Or maybe, cats just don't read message boards.

Read more about Stache, the Bully, here.

Unexpected Gift Perfectly Suits

A purrfect gift. @AngieQuantrell

By Angie Quantrell @AngieQuantrell 

We were recently given a handmade gift that perfectly suited our family.

As we served an appreciation luncheon for co-workers, a certain woman, well-known for her hospitality and kindness, walked up to me and delivered a gift.

Since this luncheon was for them, I was not expecting a gift. We were doing the giving. But in her thoughtfulness, she remembered us with a hostess treasure.

When time allowed, I dug into the package and discovered a large, white hand-embroidered dish towel. Beautiful!

The homemade varieties are the best sort, are they not?
I quickly went to her table to thank her for the thoughtful gift. That was when I discovered four reasons the unexpected gift perfectly suited our family.

1. We are facing a shortage of decent dish towels. I prefer to use them until they are rags. We are breathing down the neck of the rag stage.

2. The embroidery neatley featured a cat. We love cats and have two terrorist cats of our own.

3. The embroidered cat was gray. Aha! Both of our monsters are affectionately called the Gray Girls.

4. The towel design included a cat clock of the old fashioned sort. We have a cat clock, of the new fashioned type.



I decided to use the dish towel as a mini-tablecloth. For now. @AngieQuantrell

A simple dish towel delivered true joy and pleasure for the one who was trying to give appreciation.

Have you ever received a perfect, unexpected gift?

National Haiku Poetry Day

Monet in the garden

by Angie Quantrell @AngieQuantrell

National Haiku Poetry Day was on Sunday. I love wrangling words to create a 17 syllable story poem.

 

Cat in the garden

Ladybug is mine, Mine. MINE.

I can't have it? Fine. I'm gone.

Fine. You won't let me have it, I'm outta here.

 

Cat, photos, and Haiku are mine. Happy Haiku Holiday.

National Pet Day

Baby pictures - Monet & Mabel

By Angie Quantrell @AngieQuantrell

Today is National Pet Day.

Here are our two highly energetic and trouble-seeking felines, Mabel and Monet.

The sisters are camera shy and any attempt to take photos results in instant movement, waltzing away from the scene, aloof attitudes, or disdainful staring away from the camera. Loving eye shots are not allowed. No. Not at all.

Mabel of the gorgeous eyes

Our cats love to:

- climb the walls (literally)

- chase, capture, and bring in wildlife (birds, worms, mice, rats)

- pretend they live at the home of neighbors (your choice; we see them regularly lazing in the yards or coming home from 5 different yards - none of which are ours)

- leave hair everywhere

- recline on the kitchen table

- claim any unfurred piece of furniture until it is redecorated in white, gray, and tan fur

- play catch the lazer (or string, or cord, or feathers, or toes...)

- steal rubberbands

- eat daddy-long-legs

- try and potty in the garden beds

- tease the neighborhood bully cat with friendship, and then turn about squawling as if ripped limb from limb (this also results in the male boy spraying regularly on several key locations, house included)

- race loudly and wildly through the house

- be wherever we are

- sleep on fuzzy blankets

Monet with the striped tail

Oh, there is more. They are cats. You get the idea. We are not allowed cat fur free clothing, bird feeders, or litter free carpets.

But we love them. Entertainment, affection, company, lap warmers, snugglers. I guess we'll keep them.

Monet depositing hair and cat litter

 Do you need some great ideas of things to do on National Pet Day? I found a Web site that shared several suggestions. Just click this link. National Pet Day

What kind of pets do you have? I'd love to see and hear about them.

Mabel claiming the center of the bed

Happy National Pet Day!

Catitude Haiku

Monet expressing her cat-ness


yes, I am Gray Queen

royal bed and rest doth call

stop bothering me

 

 

 

by Angie Quantrell



@AngieQuantrell

Never Use Scissors As a Tool

Mabel, expressing her disappointment. "I can't believe you did that, mom."

I'm embarassed to admit that I misused the scissors this morning.

The cat food container was stuck closed. It was very tightly sealed.

The food dishes were empty.

The (in their minds) gaunt kitties were starving.

The husband was already gone, so help was not available except for the above mentioned wasting-away gray girls.

What to do? What to do?

The not-intelligent thinker in my head suggested that I use scissors to pry up the lid.

Not the round-tipped kid scissors. No. Let's try the pointy-tipped very sharp scissors. Yes. Those will help tremendously.

I didn't need to be told twice, but grabbed the pointy-tipped scissors and began trying to pry up an edge on the food container.

Just as I was thinking This is not a good idea. These scissors could slip off of the metal and poke me. the unthinkable (apparently not unthinkable, as I had just thought it) happened. The scissors skidded off of the metal tin and slid right into my face!

Yes. Berating myself, I immediately felt blood running down my cheek.

Yes. I stabbed myself on the face.

As Hermoine Granger said in one of the Harry Potter movies, "What. An. Idiot."

I am forever grateful that God saved me from my poor choice and protected my eyes, nose, and lips. He did not save me from crumbled pride. How humiliating to admit the error of my ways.

I am grateful that the small puncture and slice wound is tiny and the rest of me works quite well.

Warning from one who used scissors improperly: DO NOT use scissors as a tool. They are for cutting. Not prying, digging, scooping, or any other chore. Cutting. Period.

When was my last tetanus shot?

Happy New Year (From the Kitties)

Today, as I began 2016 by working on a deadline, I had plenty of help.

 

Too much help, in fact.

This one, Mabel, jumped up right after sister, Monet, left.

 

I sense a new year trend in my office.

 

 

What work? You are doing that?



 

I think I should help you. Yes. Let me scooch right here.

 

Move? You want me to move?

 

Fine. I will sit over here. I'll just watch my sister.

 

Mom, what is in the basket? Can I get in the basket? Let me chew on some things in the basket.

 

What book? You need this book? I'm sitting on it . . .

 

And so went the day. There have been times when my mind was so focused, I didn't even see or hear the approaching kitty until she leapt in the middle of work. This was especially troublesome when her paws were wet and a touch muddy.

 

We have new S.O.P.

(standard operating procedures)

 

1. Be prepared at any moment to quickly and calmly gather all ready-to-mail papers in a pile and remove them from work counter.

 

2. Try very hard to hear the tiniest pitter patter of kitty claws on the wood floor. This will give warning of impending assistance on the work desk.

 

3. Give loves. This allows kitties to purr, shed fur, and roll around on paperwork. This also encourages kitties to vacate the project zone in a timely manner.

 

 

Paws up to 2016!

 

May your year be fulfilling, joyful, and overflowing with peace.

 

And may your clothes always bear fur from the administrations of 4-legged children. For that means you have provided a home to loving pets.

 

Happy New Year!

Meowy Christmas!

Meowy Christmas!

May your fur be thick enough, the fire warm enough, and the food dish always filled!
 
Purrs, snuggles, and furballs!

The Christmas Tree Skirt

I can't imagine why the Christmas tree skirt looks like this. Or why the ornaments are falling down.

- House with 2 Cats

Meow-y Christmas!


How about you? Who are your special helpers this year?

The Bully



Stache, boldly patrolling our yard in search of victims

One of our cats is a bully.

Oh, did I say our cats? I mean we have 3 cats.

NO. We have 2 cats. There is an impostor who makes his rounds and regularly visits our yard. He believes that he lives here.

And he preys on my 2 gray girls. Beats them up, terrorizes them, chases them back through the cat door, lurks, stalks, and generally haunts their every step.

We are guaranteed at least one cat fight a day. Screeching and caterwauling fill the neighbor air with clouds of cat angst. And then one and/or both of my cats come flying through the cat door or back screen door, tails a-puff, terror written on their furry little faces. On occasion, he has even interrupted potty time, with somewhat messy results.

"How are your kitties doing?" asked one of our neighbors.

"Fine," I replied, happy to share about my girls to our dog-person friend, "brought in a mouse yesterday."

"But are they getting in cat fights?" she clarified.

OH. "Why yes they are. Every. Single. Day."

"Is the cat black and white with a mustache?"

"That's him. We call him Stache."

It seems Stache has several other less complimentary names. And he does indeed weave rounds of torment as he runs through yards on our street.

He's bold, that one. He perches on our front porch as if he owned the place. One morning we woke up and he was sleeping on our back patio right against the kitchen window.

Last night, after hubby had wandered off to bed in a post-Seahawks win fog, the girls and I were curled up cozy watching a little tele and reading. Mind you, my 2 cats were locked in for the night to prevent them from bringing treats of the worst kind into our bedroom. We have also found that they couldn't be involved in midnight fights if they were safely secured inside with the cat door locked.

Lo and behold, someone was trying to get in our cat door! Not my 2, who both immediately flew off of the couch and raced to the cat door (they are very brave when I am around).

I followed very quietly. I knew who it was. Our cat number 3, the menace. We should call him Dennis.

It was Stache. Trying to break and enter. I can only imagine what chaos would have ensued had the door not been closed and he had gained entry! Talk about the fur-be-flying...

Let that be a lesson to us. And a quest for answers.

1. Lock the cats up at night. In the house.

2. Close and block the cat door to prevent unwanted guests.

3. Chase the bully away each time you see him (we do this EVERY day, and it does not really work, but what else can we do?).

4. Provide multiple escape routes for kitties.

5. Ask for help.

HELP! Any ideas? Must stop bully.



Stache, making his this-is-my-house approach to our front porch

The Trial of Two Kitties - Jury Needed

How could this innocent face be guilty of such a crime? Or is she craftily scorning us with her kitty schemes?

Trial Notes:

The Accused: Mabel

Accomplice: Monet

Innocent Victim: Mr. Mouse

Witness for the Defense & Prosecution: Me

Bailiff: Kevin

Judge: Kevin

Executioner: Kevin

Coroner: Kevin

Funeral Director: Kevin

Burial Representative: Kevin

Mourners: Mabel, Monet, and Me; the family of Mr. Mouse

The Scene: Living room at Quantrell residence

Mabel lounging in the middle of secured crime scene, toying with Mr. Mouse who is hiding terrified behind the toy cupboard.

The hallway crime scene is secured.

Chronological Trail of Events:

7:56 AM: The Accused brings victim to living room via cat door
7:56 AM: Witness notices game of cat-and-mouse behind library book bag
7:57 AM: Witness texts Bailiff
7:58 AM: Witness secures the scene
8:01 AM: Repeat text between Witness and Bailiff
8:05 AM: Judge arrives on scene and passes judgement
8:08 AM: Executioner corners Mr. Mouse with the assistance of The Accused and her sister, Monet
8:09 AM: Mr. Mouse is sent to the great upstairs mouse house as Witness covers her ears, turns her back, and makes squeals of her own
8:10 AM: Coroner pronounces Mr. Mouse is deceased
8:10 AM: Funeral Director consults with Burial Representative and secures plastic lined casket for Mr. Mouse
8:11 AM: Incident is concluded and scene is returned to normal
8:12 AM: The Accused and sister leave the scene through cat door to attempt locating a second victim

(Due to juvenile age of the victim, no photos are available of Mr. Mouse.)

The Jury: Readers

Who was the guilty party in this tragic event?

Was it Mabel, the cat who could not stray from her natural reflexes to pounce on Mr. Mouse as he moved in front of her? Or did she get off scott-free?

Was Mr. Mouse in the wrong for daring to travel in a NO-MOUSE zone due to inhabitations of viscious mouse-murderers?

Did Kevin err too soon in the trial, sentencing, and execution of Mr. Mouse? Or should the household catch-and-release policy (most often exercised by Mabel and Monet who catch prey and release it inside the house) have been upheld?

Should Angie have avoided texting for help, and so saved the life, at least temporarily, of Mr. Mouse?

You be the jury.

Guilty or Not Guilty?

Mabel has the last laugh.

Saving the Birds

After 4 finches came unwillingly into the house in less than 24 hours, it was time to save the birds.



The cats. Mabel and Monet. I don't know what changed, but suddenly the finches were having particularly harried days. Either the cats were mega-charged in their bird snatching skills and were enjoying that success by bringing mommy a bird - often - or the birds were waxing eloquently as they greedily gulped sunflower seeds by the dozens and failed to see or hear gray calico cats lurking and stalking.



Either way, after a robust season of catch and release (by one or both cats) and then catch and release (by me, the mom), it was time to remove temptation.

Don't get me wrong. I adore and love my sunflowers. I really only had to plant them one year. After that, they sprang up unaided from seeds dropped during the previous season. I hated having to put them down. The bees would starve, the table would lack from flowers, the shade would disappear . . .

But the poor finches. I can't even count how many I've rescued and taken out to the front yard (opposite of sunflower territory) and released under the lavender bush to recover. Perhaps not all made it and we will find tiny skeletons when we trim off the growth for winter. I hope not.

So good-bye finches. Realize that while I have taken away your food, I am prolonging your life. Go. Be happy. Sing loud. Stay away from cats.

That is why I do not put out bird feeders. Clever cats.


"Snicker, snicker. Me? Never."

Where is the REST of the Bird?

You know that moment.

The one when you return from a day-long excursion and the girls were left to their own devices. (Four-legged, furry, sisters from the same litter - that kind of girls.)

And there it is. A something dark on the floor. What is it? Barf? Mouse? Rat? Bird?

Creeping ever closer, you are relived to find it is a feather. A very large feather. But how did it get there?

And where is the REST of the bird?

Did they eat the whole thing? Is it loose and wounded in the house? Are there other piles of feathers and 'stuff' in a different room? Where are the girls anyway?

So you search, room by room, hoping to not find anything that jumps out or wiggles or spreads blood and guts while also needing to discover the source of the feather and deal with it.

Nothing.

Some relief. But not really. Because the feather did belong to someone at sometime.

The last time this happened, we found piles of tiny feathers. No bird. Months later, Mabel managed to scrape out the petrified dehydrated bird from beneath the stove. Can I just say YUCK?

So far, so good.

Let's check back in a few months to see if she pulls something else from beneath the oven.

Cats and Their Toys

Her Highness, Mabel, too hot and exhausted to stand at the water bowl. Serve me please?

It's been a weekend of cat yack. Hoping that joy is complete after several doses of furball meds to both cats. Still not sure who the guilty one is. I think we have the quietest yackers ever.

But let's talk cats for a moment. It's been hot. Over 100 hot. The kitties in their shedding but still thick fur coats are feeling it.

Speaking of, will the guilty one who lost this tail clump please step forward? And do tell how it happened.

The joys of two cats that could be twins mean one never knows exactly who did, lost, ate, yacked, or chewed up what.

This perfect gem of a cat rule was in the Monday morning funnies. Totally true.

For example, all of those papers-in-process-of-becoming-masterpiece . . . TOYS. Thank you, Monet, for rearranging. Oh so much nicer.

These TOYS slide and skitter off the desk, table, and floor with such fascinating ease. Never do papers stay on the desk. Or bulletin board.

The cat puzzle transformed into a cat puzzle toy. Which one to flick off first? Where should I sit? Can I roll and then ease entire sections off the edge? Can mom work the puzzle with my help? Should I eat this one or that one?

The answer to all of the above is mostly yes. This one, sit here, yes they roll off, no mom can't do it with my assistance, and no, maybe I shouldn't eat that piece.

The puzzle is now put away for the lifetime of the two cats.

Happy Monday, cat owners. You know that of which I speak.


PS What is your cats' favorite toy?

Pick Your Seat

My mom used to tell me that picking your seat meant I was digging my underpants out of my . . . uhm . . . they were stuck and I was helping them get unstuck.

In this case, picking your seat means that Mabel already has. And I'm not sure where I am supposed to sit to work.

One of us is going to be very comfortable. The other will probably slide off the chair.

Life with cats.

The Law of Perfect Timing + Newton's Laws of Motion

I'm pretty sure that this household was witness today to all 3 of Newton's Laws of Motion (at once).

Object 1: Monet (quite a solid mass, if I say so myself)

Object 2: Myself and office blinds (hurriedly goes on to object 3, avoiding subject of mass)

Object 3: Desk and standing folder holder


Newton's First Law of Motion = in order for the motion of an object to change, a force must act upon it.


Newton's Second Law of Motion = the relationship between acceleration, force, and mass.


Newton's Third Law of Motion = anytime a force acts from one object to another, there is an equal force acting back on the original object.


Let's add another law = The Law of Perfect Timing.

Here are the events:

1. Monet circles the desk, preparing to leap on the desk to jump to the window sill.

2. Angie, seeing this, grabs the window blind wand and begins to push the blinds open so Monet can more easily acquire her goal.

3. Monet, not seeing this, or maybe anticipating that the mama was faster, hurriedly jumps up to the window, colliding with the partially closed and open blinds. Perfect timing.

4. Monet, slamming into the blinds, falls backwards on the desk, scrambling for all of her worth (mass + motion) knocks standing folder holder (inert object) to the floor, strewing papers, files, and notes in all directions.

5. Angie, still in awe of the perfect timing and collision of all objects, quickly grabs the camera to document events.

Monet, surveying the damage.


Boys and girls, what did we learn today?

The motion of an object (Monet) changed when she hit the blinds. See 1st Law of Motion.

The relationship between acceleration (both Monet and mama), force (moving Monet), and mass (Monet, mama, and blinds) was apparent. See 2nd Law of Motion.

A force (Monet) acted upon two other objects - the blinds, which forced her back to the desk, and the file holder, which by merely being in the way knocked her off the desk and spewed paperwork hither and yon. See 3rd Law of Motion.


Great lesson. Class dismissed.