I’ve decided I want to try and post on this blog a bit more often, which is going to mean less Storytime and more musings or ramblings or random thoughts.

Today you get ramblings, because that is just how lucky you are. You had better feel special!

I feel like talking about my cats right now, because they are weighing heavy on my mind. I discovered puke with bright red in it this morning, which means that one of our cats is either puking up blood or has eaten something very bright that they should not have eaten. We’re looking into it, but it’s tough when you aren’t certain which cat it is. Both my husband and I suspect it is Seraphim, our little lady, but that is not based on any fact or evidence, just the fact that we have always viewed her as less healthy than our big man, Grim.

We have had Grim (fondly know as Mister, Mr. Grim, Big Man, and Twitchy Butt, among other in-the-moment nicknames) since he was a kitten, adopted from a friend of my husband’s sister. He was the runt of the litter and was small enough to fit in the palm of my husband’s hand when we got him. Of course, we didn’t have a camera back then, so photos of him as a kitten are few and far between if they exist at all. Our big Mister is an all black cat, save for a few white hairs on his shoulder that have increased in number as he gets older.

When he was a little kitten he was a rascal, getting into everything. We had a hide-a-bed couch at that point, and we liked to snuggle Grim in between us while we watched movies or TV. We were doing this one day and we suddenly started to hear these very pathetic, muted meows. Looking at each other in confusion, we tore up all the cushions trying to find the little bugger. Finally, we noticed him under/in the bed part of the couch. Husband lifted the couch (and I’m sure you realize how heavy a hide-a-bed couch is) and I tried to fish the kitten out. Of course, kitten was having none of that and dug into the carpet. I eventually won that battle and we got him out of the couch, but until he grew a bit bigger we had to be extra vigilant that he didn’t wiggle his way back in there.

His favourite toy as a kitten (or at least one of his favourites) was one of those ones you stick to the wall or door and it dangles and has a bell on it. He loved this damn thing. One night, as we tried to sleep, he was going crazy attacking this toy, the bell just jingling and jangling like there was no tomorrow. In frustration, we grabbed the toy, threw it into the bedroom and closed the door. But we didn’t throw it far enough into the bedroom, and Grim got his little kitty paw far enough in the room that he could just touch the bell with a claw. That was all he needed to bring it closer and have a jolly ol’ time jingling the stupid thing, keeping us up. Of course, we moved it further away so we could actually sleep, and now it is a funny memory; at the time? Not so funny.

When we moved back to my hometown, we shared a house with a good friend of ours and had enough room that we could consider the idea of getting another cat.

Seraphim was a rescue from the SPCA back in or around 2006 or 2007. We got her not long after moving back to my hometown. She is a beautiful little thing, a bit small for a cat, with half her face blonde and the other half a dark brown/black color. Our housemate at the time adopted her sister and named her Mittens despite her not having any mittens to speak of – he just always wanted a cat named Mittens; Mittens was much darker than Seraphim and had only a few spots of blond on her, including a vaguely star shape on her forehead. We brought them home to meet Grim, and we learned something very important.

Grim does not like other cats. Especially when the other cats take over his brand new scratch post that he was in love with. Grim spent a lot of time beating the kittens up, especially Mittens. He wasn’t as mean to Seraphim, and we aren’t completely certain if that was because he knew she was ours and he had to put up with her, or because she was too stubborn and stupid to give a shit about him beating her up. Mittens was traumatized, unfortunately, and had taken to pooping under the desks to avoid going into the open where Grim could get her. She eventually had to move into our friends’ bedroom to keep her safe. It was sad, but at least there was that option.

While we lived in that house, we took to letting our cats outside regularly. Grim had had “outside time” on a leash at our old place, but had never been let out alone before. He very quickly formed a “cat gang” that consisted of himself, Seraphim and a stray cat that we called Third. The name was actually a nod to a TV series we were watching at the time, though I can’t recall what the series was. It was pretty epic (the cat gang, not the show I can’t recall). One time, we saw another cat in the condo complex and Third was peering at it from around the bushes, clearly keeping an eye on this cat. Out of nowhere, Grim comes charging around the corner and chases this other cat off the condo property and across the street. Grim didn’t actually leave the complex, but the other cat just kept on running. It knew what was good for it. We are very certain that Third and Seraphim spotted the other cat and Third kept an eye on it while Seraphim ran to inform Grim, since she was trailing behind him like the little follower she is.

Eventually we moved from that home into a one-bedroom apartment. Grim packed on the pounds – there wasn’t enough room for him to really be able to run, and it was difficult to get outside with him on a regular basis. Sera had no issues – being a small cat, she had no trouble rip-roaring around the apartment when the kitty crazies hit her. And they do, quite regularly even to this day.

While living in the apartment, we knew we had to get Grim out more – he loved the outside, and the small apartment wasn’t good for him. We invested in a backpack specially designed to carry cats – it had a hole for him to poke his head out of and a lead to attach to a collar so he couldn’t jump out. He loved his backpack. After he got used to it, every time we pulled it out he would awkwardly jump into it. It was awkward because he is so damn big – we had to pick him up and place him in it properly, and he purred the whole time.

Cat secured in the backpack, we would take him to the nearby park where we would let him roam on a leash while we enjoyed our coffees. There was actually a little public garden that he absolutely loved – it had a wide variety of edible plants, including cat mint. If you haven’t heard of it before and have cats and a garden, I recommend you look it up. It apparently helps to keep certain pests away from the garden, in addition to being loved by cats.

OK, so, apparently I’ve managed to write 1,300 words about my cats. I’m sorry. I could also totally write more, I have lots of little stories and tidbits so, uh, I guess if you enjoyed reading about my kitties, drop me a like/follow, and shoot me a comment to let me know how much you love my cats. And you should. They are the best. I love them so much.