"The Way the Mongoose Sings"
Brush a Rudyard, Collect his Fur
Tie Them up in Strings
Give 'em a Nudge, Then a Hur-Hurr-Hurrrr
That's the Way the Mongoose Sings
Friday, April 30, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Interrupting Ferret!
I am currently working on my "adult" version. My "adult" version is what happened in my head before I put this on artist trading cards for the kiddos at the library.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Rudyard Insists on a Treat
"Mom! Mom! Mom! Moooooommmm!" he says as I open his cage doors. He backs up into a corner that is heavily coated with newspaper.
"Yes?" I say. I wait. When he retreats from the newspaper corner, there is nothing there. I snort. "I know what you are trying to do."
"Give me a treat now!" he hops up and down on his front paws. "I did it! I did it!"
"No you didn't," I tell him. "You were pretending."
"No, I did it! Look, I'll do it again!" He backs up into the corner again. Again, when he retreats, there is nothing there. "Look!" he tells me, then races down the ladder to the bottom floor. He backs into another heavily newspapered area.
I wait.
When he comes out from his squat, there is still nothing.
"MOM! I did it! Now give it to me!"
"You didn't do it," I told him. "You didn't do anything."
Huffingly, he jumps out of the cage and onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. He sees another patch of newspaper. Excitedly, he runs over to it.
"Look! Look!" he yells at me. I am distracted by Bowie, who is in a lovey mood this morning. Rudyard puffs up and runs over to me. When I finally give him a glance, he races back to the newspaper.
"LOOK!" he tells me. "Look at me!" When he leaves the newspaper, again there is nothing for me to be impressed.
"Sweetie, you can't just pretend."
"I'm not!"
"Then where is it?"
He runs down the hallway, giving up on me. A few minutes later, though, he runs right back up. He finds another patch of newspaper. Noticing that he doesn't demand my attention, I glance over my shoulder and see that he has relieved himself thoroughly on the paper.
"Now that deserves a treat, my love." I pull out the ferretvite; he bounds towards me, his excitement evident. "Here you go."
I give him the top of the bottle. He runs off, chewing on it happily and licking all the ferretvite off of it.
"Yes?" I say. I wait. When he retreats from the newspaper corner, there is nothing there. I snort. "I know what you are trying to do."
"Give me a treat now!" he hops up and down on his front paws. "I did it! I did it!"
"No you didn't," I tell him. "You were pretending."
"No, I did it! Look, I'll do it again!" He backs up into the corner again. Again, when he retreats, there is nothing there. "Look!" he tells me, then races down the ladder to the bottom floor. He backs into another heavily newspapered area.
I wait.
When he comes out from his squat, there is still nothing.
"MOM! I did it! Now give it to me!"
"You didn't do it," I told him. "You didn't do anything."
Huffingly, he jumps out of the cage and onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. He sees another patch of newspaper. Excitedly, he runs over to it.
"Look! Look!" he yells at me. I am distracted by Bowie, who is in a lovey mood this morning. Rudyard puffs up and runs over to me. When I finally give him a glance, he races back to the newspaper.
"LOOK!" he tells me. "Look at me!" When he leaves the newspaper, again there is nothing for me to be impressed.
"Sweetie, you can't just pretend."
"I'm not!"
"Then where is it?"
He runs down the hallway, giving up on me. A few minutes later, though, he runs right back up. He finds another patch of newspaper. Noticing that he doesn't demand my attention, I glance over my shoulder and see that he has relieved himself thoroughly on the paper.
"Now that deserves a treat, my love." I pull out the ferretvite; he bounds towards me, his excitement evident. "Here you go."
I give him the top of the bottle. He runs off, chewing on it happily and licking all the ferretvite off of it.
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Conversation with a Ferret
He climbed up into his cage and went to the sleeping-floor in his Ferret Nation mansion house. He looked at me expectantly.
"Well?" he said.
"Well what?" I asked. I was eating my bagel.
"Well, I'm in my house aren't I!" he puffed and sighed impatiently, cocking his head to the side and giving me a confused look.
"Indeed you are, my love," I told him.
He ran down the little metal ladder that took him to the first platform He went down the other ladder to firmly plant his feet on the first floor. He stood next to the water bowl, staring intently. His muscles were rigid.
"Why won't you give it to me?" he said frantically.
"Give what?" I asked as I shoved another piece of cinnamon-sugar bagel into my mouth.
"Give what! Give what!" he huffed. He ran upstairs, into his bedroom. "I climbed in all myself," he said to me. "I climbed in all by myself!"
"I know," I said. I lean in to scratch behind his ears, but he veers away.
"Oh! I know!" he says excitedly. He climbs up one more ladder to where his food bowl is. He looks in the food bowl and appears crushed. "You're being mean," he told me.
"You know," I tell him, "when I give you your treat that means you stay."
"I know, I know," he tells me, pacing back and forth. He gets to the very edge of the open doors. "I know, I know. I'll be good. I won't ask to come out."
"Okay," I say. I go to the treats drawer and pull out some yogies. Opening the lid, I thrust it in front of his nose. He sniffs and sniffs, finally picking one he wants and then taking it away from the edge. I begin closing his doors, but in his haste he drops the yogie and it falls to the ground.
"No! No! It's mine!" he cries. He's so upset. I pick it up, wipe it off and give it back to him. He happily forgets his sorrows and takes it far away from the edge.
"Are you happy now?" I ask him teasingly. He doesn't let me scratch his head but I know he is grateful.
"Very much so. Thank you mum," he tells me.
"You be good."
"Okay."
"Bye, love."
"Bye."
"Well?" he said.
"Well what?" I asked. I was eating my bagel.
"Well, I'm in my house aren't I!" he puffed and sighed impatiently, cocking his head to the side and giving me a confused look.
"Indeed you are, my love," I told him.
He ran down the little metal ladder that took him to the first platform He went down the other ladder to firmly plant his feet on the first floor. He stood next to the water bowl, staring intently. His muscles were rigid.
"Why won't you give it to me?" he said frantically.
"Give what?" I asked as I shoved another piece of cinnamon-sugar bagel into my mouth.
"Give what! Give what!" he huffed. He ran upstairs, into his bedroom. "I climbed in all myself," he said to me. "I climbed in all by myself!"
"I know," I said. I lean in to scratch behind his ears, but he veers away.
"Oh! I know!" he says excitedly. He climbs up one more ladder to where his food bowl is. He looks in the food bowl and appears crushed. "You're being mean," he told me.
"You know," I tell him, "when I give you your treat that means you stay."
"I know, I know," he tells me, pacing back and forth. He gets to the very edge of the open doors. "I know, I know. I'll be good. I won't ask to come out."
"Okay," I say. I go to the treats drawer and pull out some yogies. Opening the lid, I thrust it in front of his nose. He sniffs and sniffs, finally picking one he wants and then taking it away from the edge. I begin closing his doors, but in his haste he drops the yogie and it falls to the ground.
"No! No! It's mine!" he cries. He's so upset. I pick it up, wipe it off and give it back to him. He happily forgets his sorrows and takes it far away from the edge.
"Are you happy now?" I ask him teasingly. He doesn't let me scratch his head but I know he is grateful.
"Very much so. Thank you mum," he tells me.
"You be good."
"Okay."
"Bye, love."
"Bye."
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Pigeon
It was really light. Like it was hollowed out driftwood.
I don't carry many birds.
It's difficult when they are cocking their heads toward you, looking at you with those curious eyes; their little hearts beating, going pitter-patter. Their nervous feet interchange with each other, slide back and forth, hopping about, not sure what to make of you.
But this pigeon was flattened out on the concrete; it's stomach pressing into the earth, it's neck broken and eyes lifeless. There was a hole in it's shoulder blades; large enough to peer within. To see the hollowed out insides.
Light as a feather.
Every one walked past it, glancing at the dead creature. Walking on. A shudder or hesitant step were not among these street-walkers.
I stood there. Stared. Sam said, "Let's cross," and he takes me across the street. I look for newspaper.
"It's part of the city," he says. "It will rot into the concrete. It will grow out a new parking meter. Leave it be. Don't touch it."
But I still look for the newspaper.
I decide to go home. "I've got to watch Where the Wild Things Are," I tell him. "I haven't seen it yet."
"Don't touch the pigeon," he says. "That's how diseases get spread." A kiss goodbye. See you later.
I wrap the pigeon up in layers and layers of newspaper. I carry it to the nearest trashcan. I dump it in the trashcan, making sure that it is hidden beneath the paper.
Let it decompose in the dump. It is better than to be stared at or, worse, ignored.
It was light as a feather. Lighter than a breath of air.
I watch Where the Wild Things Are. I cry. It's a good movie.
I don't carry many birds.
It's difficult when they are cocking their heads toward you, looking at you with those curious eyes; their little hearts beating, going pitter-patter. Their nervous feet interchange with each other, slide back and forth, hopping about, not sure what to make of you.
But this pigeon was flattened out on the concrete; it's stomach pressing into the earth, it's neck broken and eyes lifeless. There was a hole in it's shoulder blades; large enough to peer within. To see the hollowed out insides.
Light as a feather.
Every one walked past it, glancing at the dead creature. Walking on. A shudder or hesitant step were not among these street-walkers.
I stood there. Stared. Sam said, "Let's cross," and he takes me across the street. I look for newspaper.
"It's part of the city," he says. "It will rot into the concrete. It will grow out a new parking meter. Leave it be. Don't touch it."
But I still look for the newspaper.
I decide to go home. "I've got to watch Where the Wild Things Are," I tell him. "I haven't seen it yet."
"Don't touch the pigeon," he says. "That's how diseases get spread." A kiss goodbye. See you later.
I wrap the pigeon up in layers and layers of newspaper. I carry it to the nearest trashcan. I dump it in the trashcan, making sure that it is hidden beneath the paper.
Let it decompose in the dump. It is better than to be stared at or, worse, ignored.
It was light as a feather. Lighter than a breath of air.
I watch Where the Wild Things Are. I cry. It's a good movie.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
You Know Your Ferret is Upset When...
...He has trashed the upstairs food-floor.
Whenever Rudyard has run out of food in his food bowl, or gotten quite low, he will throw a temper-tantrum. I have never actually seen him do this, because this will usually occur over night when everyone is asleep. His food bowl rests on top of blankets because occasionally he enjoys taking bits and pieces of his food and hiding them in spots he can go back to later (very much like a rat). When his food-bowl is empty or near empty, Rudyard will pull up all of his blankets. Maybe he is searching for the food bits he stashed, maybe he is so mad that bouncing about on the top floor and throwing the blankets about in a mad fashion will be the only thing that will do.
...You have just given him a thorough bath.
It does not happen every time and, in fact, the little booger is getting better and better at handling baths; but, when Rudyard is very displeased with his thorough bath (and I mean rinse, shampoo, rinse, scrub, towel ruffle, dry with the hair-dryer, brush, dry again), he will run away and hide. Last time I did not know where he was.
You see, little Rudyard wears a bell-collar so I can hear where he goes. Unlike his late brother Edgar and most other ferrets, a name-call and/or a shaking-of-treats does not pull Rudyard out from beneath his hidey-hole. Only when wearing his winter coat can you see his white blaze that runs down his head, but the significance of its existence is still prevalent: his is a deaf furrt.
Who wears their clothes when they bathe? Rudyard doesn't. He wasn't wearing his bell-collar. The mad little beast ran away from me and it took me twenty minutes to find him. He was so irked. He did not want me to hold him... cuddle him... treats were okay... but mostly, no! He was staying in his secret-spot.
Whenever Rudyard has run out of food in his food bowl, or gotten quite low, he will throw a temper-tantrum. I have never actually seen him do this, because this will usually occur over night when everyone is asleep. His food bowl rests on top of blankets because occasionally he enjoys taking bits and pieces of his food and hiding them in spots he can go back to later (very much like a rat). When his food-bowl is empty or near empty, Rudyard will pull up all of his blankets. Maybe he is searching for the food bits he stashed, maybe he is so mad that bouncing about on the top floor and throwing the blankets about in a mad fashion will be the only thing that will do.
...You have just given him a thorough bath.
It does not happen every time and, in fact, the little booger is getting better and better at handling baths; but, when Rudyard is very displeased with his thorough bath (and I mean rinse, shampoo, rinse, scrub, towel ruffle, dry with the hair-dryer, brush, dry again), he will run away and hide. Last time I did not know where he was.
You see, little Rudyard wears a bell-collar so I can hear where he goes. Unlike his late brother Edgar and most other ferrets, a name-call and/or a shaking-of-treats does not pull Rudyard out from beneath his hidey-hole. Only when wearing his winter coat can you see his white blaze that runs down his head, but the significance of its existence is still prevalent: his is a deaf furrt.
Who wears their clothes when they bathe? Rudyard doesn't. He wasn't wearing his bell-collar. The mad little beast ran away from me and it took me twenty minutes to find him. He was so irked. He did not want me to hold him... cuddle him... treats were okay... but mostly, no! He was staying in his secret-spot.
Monday, April 12, 2010
No Car for Moi
My car broke down last week. Now I have to venture and brave the bus route. My first time on the bus, I thought I would spend reading the rest of Tender Morsels by Margo Lanagan, but the roughness of the bus's movement started making me feel sick. So I put the book down and just endured the bus ride by staring into space.
Sam has suggested I use my handy-dandy iPod for the trip. I suppose it is a good idea, since I will just be staring off into space anyway. I feel like I should do something productive, however.
ANYWAY,
what was I talking about? Oh, yes, the bus. I hate the bus. It's uncomfortable. I miss my car.
Which reminds me, I have started learning to drive stick. It is very scary. I've only driven around my mom's neighborhood twice. Sam was/is showing me how and what to do yesterday. My car stalled a couple of times, and I was constantly confused as to which gear I was in. (It is very hard to tell, you know. I thought I was in 1st, but really I was in 3rd, which is why I had so much trouble leaving that stop-sign.)
On Saturday, and I know my brain is all over the place today, I went to the Warlick Wedding (wooooo!) where a very good friend of mine got married. Sam was the photographer and I swear, he was so busy all day long. Even before the official picture-taking began, he was helping organize and everything. I tried to befriend Christina's little brother, Matthew, but he constantly ran away from me. Ah well.
Sam's pictures are beautiful. I want to post some of them, but I want Christina and Andrew to see all of their photos first. Plus I am going to make a scrapbook for them and it's going to be great. The End.
My hand hurts. I'm going to stop typing.
Sam has suggested I use my handy-dandy iPod for the trip. I suppose it is a good idea, since I will just be staring off into space anyway. I feel like I should do something productive, however.
TANGENT:
Sam made coffee this morning and then was watching the new Simpson's episode and asked me to get the coffee when I was barely awake I told him to go fuck-himself and then he got himself coffee and didn't get me any!!!! Naturally, I got all huffy with him. Of course I am in the right. Don't try to argue with me.ANYWAY,
what was I talking about? Oh, yes, the bus. I hate the bus. It's uncomfortable. I miss my car.
Which reminds me, I have started learning to drive stick. It is very scary. I've only driven around my mom's neighborhood twice. Sam was/is showing me how and what to do yesterday. My car stalled a couple of times, and I was constantly confused as to which gear I was in. (It is very hard to tell, you know. I thought I was in 1st, but really I was in 3rd, which is why I had so much trouble leaving that stop-sign.)
On Saturday, and I know my brain is all over the place today, I went to the Warlick Wedding (wooooo!) where a very good friend of mine got married. Sam was the photographer and I swear, he was so busy all day long. Even before the official picture-taking began, he was helping organize and everything. I tried to befriend Christina's little brother, Matthew, but he constantly ran away from me. Ah well.
Sam's pictures are beautiful. I want to post some of them, but I want Christina and Andrew to see all of their photos first. Plus I am going to make a scrapbook for them and it's going to be great. The End.
My hand hurts. I'm going to stop typing.
Friday, April 9, 2010
An Unpleasant Surprise
I woke up this morning and walked into the kitchen. GROSS.
I don't know what it was--some sort of nasty diarrhea mess? or maybe it was vomit? Either way, I'm sure it was Douceline. None of the other cats have had this issue in the past. It was yellow and looked like it was full of litter. I hope she didn't eat litter. She has cat food in two varieties in the kitchen.
Le sigh. I will have to mention it to the vet when I take her.
UPDATE: Melody has informed that it was probably a hairball. I will still mention it to the vet.
I don't know what it was--some sort of nasty diarrhea mess? or maybe it was vomit? Either way, I'm sure it was Douceline. None of the other cats have had this issue in the past. It was yellow and looked like it was full of litter. I hope she didn't eat litter. She has cat food in two varieties in the kitchen.
Le sigh. I will have to mention it to the vet when I take her.
UPDATE: Melody has informed that it was probably a hairball. I will still mention it to the vet.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Douceline: day 3
Douceline pooped! FINALLY!
And it's the biggest, loggiest poop I have ever seen come out of a cat.
Whew. I was worried about her there, not using the litter box. Not going to the bathroom since I picked her up Sunday. Tell everybody! Woohoo!
And it's the biggest, loggiest poop I have ever seen come out of a cat.
Whew. I was worried about her there, not using the litter box. Not going to the bathroom since I picked her up Sunday. Tell everybody! Woohoo!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Douceline: day 2
Wow, improvement in one day! I'm impressed.
Yesterday I went to do a little shopping at the store, just to see if there was anything offered in the cat department that may be of interest to make Douceline feel more homely.
I found a collar that is supposed to release homeopathic pheromones that are supposed to calm and soothe the cat in question. I wrestled it onto Douceline's neck, who does not wear collars by the way and has not in years. She was very upset, growling at me and attempted to run away from me. She never scratched me though and eventually the collar slipped on. Angrily, she hid from me for several hours, unforgiving stares piercing through my bedskirts.
Eventually, Douceline begrudgingly ate from her food bowl--the first time she has eaten since coming to my house. She still has not used the litter box, but now that she is eating I'm not too worried.
I went to work. I came back. Melody was home. Sam was home. I plopped on the couch, tired. As we all started chatting, suddenly I saw Douceline coming up from the hallway! She walked out into the living room, all on her own accord, and jumped on the couch full of people. She received much love and affection.
Church and Bowie are still very wary of her.
This morning, however, with my door wide open, Church stepped in wanting to have her daily sunbath. She missed out on it yesterday. This morning, she was quite determined. I was relieved. I like it when Church comes in to sunbathe.
On top of that, Douceline behaved while I held Rudyard in my arms. I think she now knows that he is my baby and that hissing and batting at him is not okay. Instead she just stared at him. She does not like him, but that doesn't concern me at the moment. As long as there is peace.
When I let Rudyard run about, he tried to get Douceline to play with him. She didn't, but I want to believe she appreciated the effort. I sure did.
Things are progressing much quicker than I anticipated, which is good. I've got Melody helping me out--I haven't had to introduce new cats to old cats in such a long time. I don't remember it ever being so dramatic, but Melody informs me that it is a predictable process and all cats do this every time.
Oh! and last night, Douceline started chasing her tail about in a circle. That was very good. She is back to her normal self, for the most part.
Douceline is to the far left, Church is to the far right washed out in the sunbath. This, my friends, is what peace looks like.
Yesterday I went to do a little shopping at the store, just to see if there was anything offered in the cat department that may be of interest to make Douceline feel more homely.
I found a collar that is supposed to release homeopathic pheromones that are supposed to calm and soothe the cat in question. I wrestled it onto Douceline's neck, who does not wear collars by the way and has not in years. She was very upset, growling at me and attempted to run away from me. She never scratched me though and eventually the collar slipped on. Angrily, she hid from me for several hours, unforgiving stares piercing through my bedskirts.
Eventually, Douceline begrudgingly ate from her food bowl--the first time she has eaten since coming to my house. She still has not used the litter box, but now that she is eating I'm not too worried.
I went to work. I came back. Melody was home. Sam was home. I plopped on the couch, tired. As we all started chatting, suddenly I saw Douceline coming up from the hallway! She walked out into the living room, all on her own accord, and jumped on the couch full of people. She received much love and affection.
Church and Bowie are still very wary of her.
This morning, however, with my door wide open, Church stepped in wanting to have her daily sunbath. She missed out on it yesterday. This morning, she was quite determined. I was relieved. I like it when Church comes in to sunbathe.
On top of that, Douceline behaved while I held Rudyard in my arms. I think she now knows that he is my baby and that hissing and batting at him is not okay. Instead she just stared at him. She does not like him, but that doesn't concern me at the moment. As long as there is peace.
When I let Rudyard run about, he tried to get Douceline to play with him. She didn't, but I want to believe she appreciated the effort. I sure did.
Things are progressing much quicker than I anticipated, which is good. I've got Melody helping me out--I haven't had to introduce new cats to old cats in such a long time. I don't remember it ever being so dramatic, but Melody informs me that it is a predictable process and all cats do this every time.
Oh! and last night, Douceline started chasing her tail about in a circle. That was very good. She is back to her normal self, for the most part.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Douceline: day 1
Douceline is one crotchety cat.
Unfortunately, her age has set her into some rhythms and normalities that she has followed her entire life. Now the whole world has been shook up and turned upside down for her.
Mum and BDon are moving, but Douceline is getting fragile in her old age. We thought it would be better that instead of her moving far out to where they want to be, she should stick out the rest of her life with me. I mean, I love Douceline. She's precious and sweet and gives me kisses. She's got bad skin and is ballooningly fat, which is endearing in its own way.
I bring her home and she is nervous beyond belief. She hisses at everything, bitches at everybody, and swipes when another kitty gets close to investigate.
Eventually it was time for Rudyard to get some exercise. She bonked him on the head so hard, he ran away terrified and hid underneath the TV stand for a good while. I had to move the TV stand and pull him out. He would not come out on his own.
Fortunately, my baby was fine. No scratches, no marks. He was just one terrified weasel.
On top of this, Church and Bowie are mad at me. I carried Douceline to my room in the back so she would be out of the main residency space, then went to Church to see how she was doing. She hissed so hard at me, I felt like I was a cat in bad standing. Ouch.
I decided to sleep with Douceline last night. I informed Sam, who did not tell me how he felt on the matter just said that if I felt that it was a good idea, I should most certainly do it. (Although, he mentioned concern later that if Douceline were in such a bad and frightened state, should I really sleep with her?)
Before officially going to bed, Sam and I hung out in my room observing Douceline. She was in a nervous state. She would twitch and make grunting and growling noises, all incomplete mind you. They were very strange, and for a person who grew up being a part of the Crazy-Cat-Family in the neighborhood, I couldn't understand what Douceline was trying to tell me.
On top of her grunting and tail twitching, however, she purred. She rolled around. She stretched. She let Sam scratch her and cuddle up next to her. She even put her paw on his arm, informing him not to leave.
I know some cats purr when they are nervous, but this behavior was entirely new to me. I couldn't tell if her grunting and incomplete growling noises were actually noises of displeasure or if it was just her way of things.
I knew that she was still nervous about the entire situation when Sam pretended to be an angry cat and made angry cat noises at her. She hissed at him. However, when he stopped, she immediately went back into kitten-stasis.
Well, eventually it was bed time.
I turned the light off and attempted to sleep. Douceline sidled up next to me, cleaned out my ear with that rough tongue of hers, and then left my side. Repeatedly during the night I heard her jumping on things. I would turn the light on, and she would just be sitting on my desk or work table. A few times she turned my computer on and the bright lights of my beautiful desktop Mac filled the room as if it were day.
For the majority of the night, however, Douceline stayed under my bed. I was okay with this.
I had set up food and water and the litter box in my room, something I am hoping to put out in the kitchen much sooner-than-later. It is still in my room and it smells terrible.
BUT, Douceline has not used the litter box yet. I don't even know if she has eaten or drunk any water. I do know that she has used the bathroom. I found it under my bed this morning. I am quite unhappy about it, because it will be awkward to clean up, but I'm still hopeful that she will use the litter box that is right next to her in the future. I am a little worried about the not-eating and not-drinking, but there is still time for adjustments.
At the moment, Douceline is under my bed. Church was sitting a goodly distance away, investigating my room. She is gone now. Rudyard is playing beneath my dresser, which I am pleased with because it is away from Douceline, he is still happy in my room, and she doesn't feel that he is infringing upon her private bubble. I am well aware that Rudyard has no idea what "personal space" is, which is very important for a cat.
CORRECTION:
It was Rudyard poop under my bed. Not Douceline. Goody!!
(I never thought I would be so excited about that....)
Unfortunately, her age has set her into some rhythms and normalities that she has followed her entire life. Now the whole world has been shook up and turned upside down for her.
Mum and BDon are moving, but Douceline is getting fragile in her old age. We thought it would be better that instead of her moving far out to where they want to be, she should stick out the rest of her life with me. I mean, I love Douceline. She's precious and sweet and gives me kisses. She's got bad skin and is ballooningly fat, which is endearing in its own way.
I bring her home and she is nervous beyond belief. She hisses at everything, bitches at everybody, and swipes when another kitty gets close to investigate.
Eventually it was time for Rudyard to get some exercise. She bonked him on the head so hard, he ran away terrified and hid underneath the TV stand for a good while. I had to move the TV stand and pull him out. He would not come out on his own.
Fortunately, my baby was fine. No scratches, no marks. He was just one terrified weasel.
On top of this, Church and Bowie are mad at me. I carried Douceline to my room in the back so she would be out of the main residency space, then went to Church to see how she was doing. She hissed so hard at me, I felt like I was a cat in bad standing. Ouch.
I decided to sleep with Douceline last night. I informed Sam, who did not tell me how he felt on the matter just said that if I felt that it was a good idea, I should most certainly do it. (Although, he mentioned concern later that if Douceline were in such a bad and frightened state, should I really sleep with her?)
Before officially going to bed, Sam and I hung out in my room observing Douceline. She was in a nervous state. She would twitch and make grunting and growling noises, all incomplete mind you. They were very strange, and for a person who grew up being a part of the Crazy-Cat-Family in the neighborhood, I couldn't understand what Douceline was trying to tell me.
On top of her grunting and tail twitching, however, she purred. She rolled around. She stretched. She let Sam scratch her and cuddle up next to her. She even put her paw on his arm, informing him not to leave.
I know some cats purr when they are nervous, but this behavior was entirely new to me. I couldn't tell if her grunting and incomplete growling noises were actually noises of displeasure or if it was just her way of things.
I knew that she was still nervous about the entire situation when Sam pretended to be an angry cat and made angry cat noises at her. She hissed at him. However, when he stopped, she immediately went back into kitten-stasis.
Well, eventually it was bed time.
I turned the light off and attempted to sleep. Douceline sidled up next to me, cleaned out my ear with that rough tongue of hers, and then left my side. Repeatedly during the night I heard her jumping on things. I would turn the light on, and she would just be sitting on my desk or work table. A few times she turned my computer on and the bright lights of my beautiful desktop Mac filled the room as if it were day.
For the majority of the night, however, Douceline stayed under my bed. I was okay with this.
I had set up food and water and the litter box in my room, something I am hoping to put out in the kitchen much sooner-than-later. It is still in my room and it smells terrible.
BUT, Douceline has not used the litter box yet. I don't even know if she has eaten or drunk any water. I do know that she has used the bathroom. I found it under my bed this morning. I am quite unhappy about it, because it will be awkward to clean up, but I'm still hopeful that she will use the litter box that is right next to her in the future. I am a little worried about the not-eating and not-drinking, but there is still time for adjustments.
At the moment, Douceline is under my bed. Church was sitting a goodly distance away, investigating my room. She is gone now. Rudyard is playing beneath my dresser, which I am pleased with because it is away from Douceline, he is still happy in my room, and she doesn't feel that he is infringing upon her private bubble. I am well aware that Rudyard has no idea what "personal space" is, which is very important for a cat.
CORRECTION:
It was Rudyard poop under my bed. Not Douceline. Goody!!
(I never thought I would be so excited about that....)
Saturday, April 3, 2010
National Ferret Day
National Ferret Day this year landed on Good Friday. World Rat Day is on Easter. So much celebrating is to be had!
Yesterday, Rudyard and I visited the library staff. They were very surprised and pleased. Here are some of my favorite moments with the library staff:
Yesterday, Rudyard and I visited the library staff. They were very surprised and pleased. Here are some of my favorite moments with the library staff:
There were many who had never held ferrets before, just heard of them through my legendary stories. Naturally, they loved him quite instantly.
Of course, there were others who were quite professional ferret holders and had been in somewhat of a dry-spell since yesterday. I do love to remedy things. :)
Rudyard loves a good belly rub, ear scratch, or chin scratch when he's feeling it. Which he was by the way. At this point in time (these pictures are not chronological) he was very tired from a full day of petting and being held by strangers.
"I'm going to go home and tell my kids that I got to hold a ferret at work today!"
Sometimes, I wonder why Rudyard isn't camera trained yet. He's been in so many pictures. Maybe I'm going about it all wrong. Maybe I have to put a treat in front of the camera and... well no; he would be too distracted by the treat.
This is one of my favorite moments because I was so incredibly delighted to see this woman here. This woman was my first boss ever! She retired last year, and apparently she comes back every once in a while to volunteer and help out with book binding (I LOVE THIS LADY SO MUCH, you have no idea).
Of course, Rudyard and Melody are no strangers. See how cozy he is in her arms? She says he is much more fun at work than he is at home. I beg to differ; I think he is always fun. But I'm his Mum and I can't help think that.
Here, too, Rudyard is no stranger to Natalie. Or visa-versa. This is when we first got inside. We hadn't even started the ferret exchanging yet, and right away he almost fell asleep in Natalie's arms. Methinks he is fond of Natalie and Melody.
Mary Jean, my current boss in the YA department, and her daughter Ruthie started sniffing and rubbing Rudyard's smell all over themselves so that when they got home, their doggies would be so utterly confused. Cruel? Not even slightly.
Can't walk away from a day like this without Rudyard and his Mum being in a shot together. I do love my baby-boy.
And, so far, my favorite picture of Rudyard to date. Everything about this picture is quite perfect. I would put a "National Ferret Day" logo on this one. Maybe I will....
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