Sunday, March 26, 2006

A Trinket in the Land of Men

Pretty catchy title, huh? I just realized that I didn't specify which one of the kittens in the pictures is Trinket. Trinket is the black and white tuxedo kitty, and Gizmo is the zebra-striped brown tabby.

Gizmo got groomed for the first time yesterday. She has experienced baths before, and had her claws clipped before, but yesterday is the first time in her whole life to get combed. I was informed that I was mean and wretched by my poor pitiful kitty while I removed the knots from her extra-fluffy plume of a tail.

Trinket, however, is doing quite well. She has learned how to give kisses (I lean down, she sniffs my face, we touch noses and I make the kissy sound with my lips, and no, I don't actually kiss her- gross!). She likes to sit from an imperious height (the back of the couch) and observe the goings-on of the house. Occasionally she gets so involved in whats going on at the moment that she slides from her lazy reclining position, does a flip as she falls, and proceeds to land on some weird part of her body.

So, that's pretty much it for now. Just thought that you guys would enjoy a little update on the furries.

Oh yeah, I have dogs too. Two of them. Today David and I went on a walk and left Sadie at home. Poor puppy. Sometimes she knocks on the door in the afternoons and in the evening when David gets home to make sure that we remember she exists and needs food (I'm exaggerating, by the way, but she really does knock on the door. You could have just spent one hundred sixty three and a half hours straight playing with her and still, thirty minutes later, there it is again. The demanding "bang. Bang. BANG!" I digress.)

David just discovered that Trinket knows how to open doors. If a door isn't latched in this house you had better be prepared for a friendly little furry intruder to arrive within minutes, announcing herself with a self-satisfied purr, and an open, wide-eyed look of triumph, joy, and curiosity, as if to say, "Hello! I'm Here! I take it I was invited since I managed to bulldoze the door down. Pet me! I'm the Baby, gotta love me!" She's a very sturdy little cat. She can handle any door in the house.

David is cleaning the litter box right now and said that he thinks that the cats crap twice their weight every day. Then he asked if I thought tigers cover their poop too. Trinket doesn't. Guess she's not a tiger.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Petty Indulgences




I think everyone in the world needs a pet. Whether dog or cat, depending upon a person's tolerance of devotion and adoration, all people need the experience of complete, open, unconditional regard.

Let me take a minute to tell you about my Trinket. She and I did not bond too well at very first. At first my feelings for her were slightly polluted by my past crumpet-who soaked-up-all-my-excess-time-and-attention-and-squeals-of-she's-so-cute-look-at-the-kitty-show-me-the-kittyness (otherwise known as Gizmo), who wasn't shy about voicing and displaying her opinion that the new kitten should curl up, wither, and die.

But, now that that's all over, Trinket has become the delight of housewifely existence. She's not a graceful being by any stretch of the imagination, managing to disprove the theory that cats always land on their feet at every given opportunity, but all is forgiven when laughing at her spastic displays of playfulness when she joyously manages to find one of my ponytail holders on the floor, and also when I'm being clumsily "wooled to death" (as my oldest sister used to say about my crawling on and off and on her lap in effort to cuddle and find a comfy spot at once) when Trinket is in one of her moods of complete and utter love and adoration. It's just impossible to get mad at an adolescent cat who's wanting to love on you so much that you have to reach for her wreckless little fluffy body to keep her from tumbling to the ground. And reach for her to move her off the keyboard because she wants you to pay attention to her and not the computer. Her rattly purr that makes the walls vibrate when I pet her makes me melt.

And sometimes Gizmo still wants her to curl up and die.