Bunnies Need Not Apply

Easter arrived last night at midnight--as it has a tendency to do--along with my daughter and her boxer named (what else?!) Rocky. My 23-year-old daughter lives in Lake Tahoe and works as a bartender in a casino. Tahoe is a prime recreation area with an abundance of winter and summer sports, and most of the 20- and 30-somethings work only to earn enough money to support their passion for sport. My daughter and her boyfriend had planned a back country trek this weekend, wanting to get in as much snowboarding as possible before the snow disappears; unfortunately, she turned her ankle snowboarding last week, so she decided to come home for the holiday instead.

Rocky, I'm told, is my granddog. He's a sweet but slobbery guy who rarely leaves my daughter's side except to pace around and explore his surroundings.

So, this Easter morning, we have an overabundance of animals, although a couple of them have made themselves pretty scarce. Our younger cat, Spike, is terrified of Rocky and has been hiding under the bed since he arrived. I finally coaxed her out and set her on top of the amoire in my bedroom with some food and water where she's pretending to sleep but reveals her anxiety every time she hears a noise and looks at the bedroom door with panic in her eyes.

My daughter thought it might be fun to let our two dogs out of their dog run to play with Rocky, but when one of them expressed some interest in Rocky's food bowl, growls erupted and Rocky pinned her to the ground. Play time over.

Meanwhile, our older cat, Button, is frightened of Rocky but--cat-like--refuses to show that she's intimidated and has spent much of the morning in sight but up on the kitchen counters and cupboards. My husband has been doing a little baking this morning, preparing a coffee cake for our Easter morning meal. It seems that Button has been able to set aside her fear of Rocky long enough to check out the baking. None of us would have noticed if it wasn't for the evidence she was wearing--check out the flour all over her face--normally she's pure black! LOL!

Does she look bored, or what? The consumate feline actress! Thank goodness the Easter bunny hasn't shown up--I can't imagine what would happen if we added one more animal to this menagerie! Have a wonderful Easter day!

Do You Ever Wish You Could Teach a Cat . . .

. . . to clean house? If you have a cat, you know that they get these insane bursts of energy when they race around the house at warp speed. My goofy little one had just such an attack this morning, jumping up on the bed, crouched down, ears back, eyes wide, so excited that her claws were caught in the bedding and she couldn't move! LOL! Once she got herself unstuck, though, she was off like a rocket. Then back. Then off again. Then up on top of the curtain rod, wondering if she could get away with a tight rope balancing act. Then off again. On and on until she collapsed on the bed, exhausted and panting. Wouldn't it be nice to put all that energy to constructive use? Cleaning, doing dishes, vacuuming? Heck, if I could find a way to transfer it, I could probably run my sewing machine off the energy generated by one cat in that state! Horse power for the car's engine? Nope! Just harness up a couple of cats and away you'd go! Until they wanted to take a nap, of course, which would probably be most of the time. And that, my friends, is exactly WHY you can't teach a cat to clean house!

Attachments

We all form attachments to people and places, and that's completely understandable. But why do we form attachments to THINGS? From early childhood we become attached--to a blanket, a stuffed animal, a pacifier. We think we grow out of the need for security embodied in a "thing," but I don't think we really do. For instance, I have a favorite top I like to wear. It's gotten so ratty looking that even I realize I can't wear it out in public anymore, but am I ready to toss it out? NO! I'll wear it at home, sewing, cleaning, whatever. I've even thought about ways I could applique stuff on it to cover the worst areas! LOL! It's comfortable. It's familiar. I put it on and don't think about the clothes I'm wearing--it's just there. Not to hot, not to cold. Soft. Perfect!

It's not just a human trait either. I started thinking about this when I was looking at my little cat, Spike, and her "feather." When she was a kitten, my daughter bought this long plastic, bendable stick with a big purple plume feather on the end. Spike loved chasing after that stick! Yep, the stick--not the feather. She could care less about the feather end.

A couple years later, and there's no feather left. Well, there are a couple straggly strands of purple stuff taped to the end, but you can't really call it a feather. Some time back, I bought her one with a blue puffy feather on the end to match her eyes--same stick. She really just doesn't like that one nearly as much as the original feather. I think it must be like wearing an old, familiar top. She carries her feather around, scraping the stick against the hallway wall as she prowls up and down, looking for a human to play with her. Sometimes I'll be sewing and hear a "meow." I'll look down and there's Spike, looking up at me with her ratty feather sitting at her feet. And somehow, it's such a pathetic site, I'm compelled to play. Spike with her ratty feather and me in my tatty top! What a pair! But we're happy with the things we're attached to.