January 6, 2001
Saturday 7:47 pm

First, greetings, welcome and well wishes to Merlin in Montana, a feline who is under the weather and the care of a kindly country vet. Loud purrs for Merlin, everybody.

Second, cabin fever. There had been a coupla inches of snow on the ground since before Christmas, and just last week we got another eight inches dumped on us. Now, that puts the accumulated snow depth at just about eye-level, meaning it ain't easy getting around in this stuff. So I don't even try. It is apparently, however, c.c.'s first encounter with this much snow, and she still goes out to explore. But the frequency and duration of these explorations is diminishing progressively. That means she's spending more time in the house. With me. And she wants to PLAY. She can't accept that I don't want to.

She tears around the house and bats around anything left unattached. The Wife caught her on the stair railing, seeking access to the adjacent Christmas tree, and removed her before she found it. She has also figured out how to open the kitchen cabinet door where the cans of cat food are stored. When she figures out how to open the cans, I'll pay attention.

She's even worse around 3 am when all four of us are huddled in the big bed in the dark. After pestering me to no avail, she approaches the Husband and Wife to see how they feel about some playtime, totally without success.

I have noted that once the Christmas tree appears, a parade of visiting humans commences to view it and chat with the Husband and Wife. After a while, the parade ends and the tree disappears. Well, the parade has ended, and sure enough, the Wife has begun removing the colorful trinkets that were all over it. She seems sad while she does this.

I have also noted that once snow appears and humans have fun with it, it eventually disappears. I just don't remember it taking this long.

Happy new year, to all who keep track of these things.

January 21, 2001
Sunday 1:19pm

Well, here we go again. Four more inches of snow last night. I am not impressed. But c.c., who was tiring of the previous snow and hanging out indoors, was back at square one, enjoying the newly-arrived white stuff. She was out pestering the Husband while he moved the snow around with a shovel. Then she wanted to play some more, and the Husband obliged her, and took pictures.

The first picture is the official c.c./snow portrait.

The Husband tossed a small ball of snow that landed in front of her and disappeared into the snow. She stared quite intently at the spot for a long time, waiting for it to move again so she could pounce. Of course it didn't. The Husband used to pull that one on me too, but I'm wise to those tricks now.

I did go out to check out the snow this morning, just long enough to assess that it was S.O.S. (Same Ol' Snow), then I came in. I'm gettin' too old for this stuff. Right now the living room windowsill looks mighty inviting with the sun beaming through.

Excuse me while I go nap.

January 25, 2001
Thursday 11:12 pm

I think Opie should change his name to Poopie; he's just not participating in the abundance of life around here. So this entry is left to me - c.c. - the new kid.

The other three (Husband, Wife, Opie) seem content to sit around the tv for the duration. Now I can forgive the Husband and Wife, but Opie was a kitten once. So I have taken it upon myself to make them all aware of the life around them. That is my job here.

There's still a layer of that cold white stuff on the ground, which periodically melts and refreezes and becomes alternately hard or slushy. It severely curtails outdoor activities. Temporarily, anyway. So I just find things to get into around the house. I amused myself with a measuring tape for almost an hour tonight. Which in turn amused the others. Even Opie. Although he'd never show it.

Everyone needs to be a kitten for a little while. See you soon.

January 30, 2001
Tuesday 8:02 pm

I still patrol my territory, even if it is soggy, damp and chilly. It's just not the adventure it used to be. Of course I can't let c.c. see that.

Maybe c.c. is reminding me that I'm not a kitten any more. As soon as we're outdoors, she takes off for the woods. She makes sure I'm able to observe her every move. She does okay for herself - I don't feel I need to watch her any more. So I go back inside once she's taken off for wherever the Adventure of the Day is taking place.

It's been a cold, wet winter, and all the small rodents have burrowed into their nests to live off their stored goodies for a coupla months, so there's not a whole lot to keep an old mouser occupied. But when they return, I will be right there waiting.

The new little resident hairball is still fascinated by everything, so she always seems active, but she gets just as much naptime as I do.

I'm a ten-year-old cat, and that's not equivalent to 70 human years, as is the common misconception. A cat matures in its first year, so that year is equivalent to 21 human years. Each year thereafter is approximately equal to four human years. So I'm around 56 in human terms. No kitten, but not ready to live out my life in nap mode.

Just wait'll the warm weather returns, then watch me shine.

February 4, 2001
Sunday 8:05 pm

Today was a sunny winter day. And sunny is good. You can enjoy a sunny day without leaving the comfort of padded furniture. Sunny is uplifting. Sunny is relaxing.

The sun comes streaming through the sliding glass doors early in the morning, so immediately after breakfast I stretched out in the sunbeams. This is a great spot - I can lay down and have a full view of the woods beyond the deck while being warmed by the sun. I could see c.c. running along the top of the fence that separates the yard from the woods. I don't know why she was doing that - she was probably feeling kittenish and that was a fun thing to do. For me, stretching out on the sunlit carpet on a winter day was the fun thing to do.

The sun moves from the back of the house to the front as the day progresses, so at some point I have to leave the vista of the woods and move to the living room. There's only the street to look at from the front window, so I just find the first spot where sunlight hits the floor and stretch out there. The sunlit area moves across the room as the day goes by, so I begrudgingly get myself upright, stretch a bit, then follow the sun to the next patch of warmed carpet. It makes for a pleasant, if uneventful, day.

And fortuitously, the sun recedes for the day right around dinnertime. How perfect is that? I hope your day was just as rewarding.

February 10, 2001
Saturday 5:45 pm

Was it just last weekend I was saying what a beautiful sunny day it was? Then we had another snowstorm. Caught everyone by surprise. But I just observed the whole thing from my window seat and begrudged the lack of woods-prowling opportunity that had been smothered in snow.

Not that any of that stopped c.c. of course. After weeks of heavy snow hampering her ability to move about the yard and woods and generating a case of antsy kitten, she welcomed the new snow like she'd never seen the stuff before.

The Husband's just as bad. With every new snow he grabs his shovel toy and runs right out to play.

So here we are, five days later, and it's like springtime outside! The snow, of course, is gone, and c.c. spends the daylight hours outside, enjoying its absence.

I, on the other hand, have chosen to curl up in the sunbeams in the spare bedroom with the Husband, who has chosen to spend this lovely day talking to his computer. Although it's more like muttering. He's trying to formulate a new page for my website that will offer daily pictures of yours truly (and other visually interesting tidbits). He wants to have it active by Monday morning. I hope he succeeds. There's no communicating with him when he's in creative mode. Fortunately he quit for the evening when it started getting dark, and I wasted no time getting under his feet to remind him of we who are to be fed.

So if you find a new page awaiting Monday morning, it means he succeeded. It's called the Today page, and it'll be updated every day with new photos and info.

If you don't find the new page, it means I may not get fed on time 'til you do. We'll hope for the best, won't we?

February 16, 2001
Friday 1:45 am

c.c. impressions ...

Didja happen to check out the new Today page on your way in?

Didja see the size of that BIRD?

Imagine finding that in your very own front yard one morning. That's what happened to me. The Husband was leaving for work and I ducked out the front door just behind him. We both saw it at the same time and we both froze. It didn't seem to pay any attention to us. The Husband called it a stork, and judged that it was about five feet tall. I just knew it was too unfamiliar and too BIG!

When the Husband started down the front steps, it took wing (and I thought it was big before - just add a wingspan to that!) and ended up on the roof of the house across the street.

The Husband always has that silly little camera with him now, and he decided now was the time to take pictures. He decided it was okay to take his eyes off the thing while he retrieved his camera. Not me though, I didn't look away for a second - it might decide to return.

I know I'm new around here, but I've learned that birds are something we felines catch and bring into the house through the cat door. Imagine my confusion. But wouldn't Opie be jealous if I brought that in! He'd never top that!

And this bird stood upright, much like humans, and everyone knows that the function of humans is the care and feeding of felines. Imagine my further conflict trying to fight the imagine of being cared for by a bird.

The thing took off for parts unknown after a few minutes, and I let it be known that I would like to go back inside now. The Husband, as always, was obliging.

February 22, 2001
Thursday 1:00 am

Weather permitting, I venture outside right after breakfast. With the arrival of c.c., I've had to deal with her tagging along every morning. Sometimes that's okay. But more often than not, it's not. I usually start to wander back to the woods with her in tow until she decides to take off ahead of me. She then finds something to amuse herself and I wander next door to stare at the cats in the front window (they aren't allowed out any more since a coupla close calls with cars). There's a fourth cat there now, a skinny all-white thing named Jeter.

But Tuesday morning, Mario (I think that's his name - I haven't heard their names used recently) was out by his front door. It was c.c. who noticed him first, and I don't think c.c. even knew there were cats next door. So c.c. made a mad dash next door and pulled up short of Mario. Mario was curious but not threatened. Mario is cool - we get along, but c.c. is still an unknown quantity. But c.c. was also cool and they just stared at each other. That's the same way Mario and I got to know each other. Eventually, they both laid down and observed each other for a while and I joined them. I hadn't seen Mario outside in quite a while, so we all communicated silently.

The other cats were all at the front window watching and wondering why they weren't outside (I think Mario must've escaped without the homeowners' knowledge since they had already left for work) and suddenly c.c. discovered them and wandered around to a spot in front of the window. When I left, she was still staring, and the three indoor cats were staring back.

So yesterday morning it was a warm day and c.c. and I were outside right after breakfast, and she wasted no time trotting next door to sit in front of the window and stare at the four felines staring back. The tradition carries on.

February 27, 2001
Tuesday 12:02 am

After still more snow last week (a cat-hampering seven inches), the temperature rose significantly. It became downright tropical. The snow that even c.c has grown to abhor was completly gone by Sunday. Of course the ground was soggy and muddy, which is not ideal for exploring (or much of anything else outdoors), and the Wife was not too thrilled either, when we tracked much of the soggy outdoors indoors.

But the high point of all this jetstream hi-jinks was that the rodents couldn't resist venturing from their winter quarters to stretch their legs. And I gave them some help in that regard. I know my chances of actually catching a squirrel are between fat chance and nil, but we both needed the exercise. And I did bring home a disagreeable mouse for the Husband and Wife.

I know the warmer days are not here to stay yet, but it was good to get a taste of them. So after the Husband and Wife had their fun with the mouse, I just curled up by the window and took the rest of the day off .

Happy Fat Tuesday, celebrators (you know who you are).

March 4, 2001
Sunday 12:01 am

After you've lived with a coupla humans long enough, you get to be able read their actions, just like any other animal. Words are an example - when they direct them at felines, you get to know the words "No" and "dinner." And they have a word specifically to get your attention - my word is Opie.

Sometimes they'll act a particular way too. Today they were using the word "snow" quite frequently, and I know what that is - we've had enough of it lately. They stand at the living room window and stare at the sky and see how many times they can say "snow."

The wife needs to get to work Monday and has 4-wheel drive. The Husband says he can bag it and stay home. Some day I'll know what all that means. But I have derived that there is going to be a goodly amount of snow on the ground by tomorrow, and probably the onset of another round of cabin fever.

Of course c.c. hasn't got a clue. She does even respond to her own name. Still, if there's to be a long period of deep snow out there, she's gonna be annoying the heck outa me at every opportunity after a coupla days indoors. And there's no escaping her. But I sympathize. The indoors may be warm and dry, but the woods is freedom, and freedom is what a cat is all about. I know the warm weather isn't that far off; I just hope it hurries up. I'm ready for it.

March 10, 2001
Saturday 12:29 am

There are several trees at the back of the house and a bird feeder hangs in each of the two larger trees. We know that the birds are out of reach and we just basically ignore them. I'm usually out there around dawn, which keeps the birds away. About the time my excellent internal clock says the Husband is waking up, I go inside and wait to be fed. Either c.c.'s internal clock is as good as mine, or she just follows my lead (the more likely scenario), because she comes in right behind me.

So if the Husband is up and stirring around, c.c. and I wait patiently in the kitchen. Occasionally it is necessary to wake the Husband when he sleeps beyond feeding time. Sitting on his chest usually accomplishes that. I then go to the kitchen to wait. Lately I've noticed that c.c. is not there waiting with me. Not that I care; my priority is breakfast. After dishing out the food, the Husband has to call c.c. to eat, and she eventually shows up.

The cat door faces the back yard and is made of transparent plastic. After c.c. and I come in in the morning, the birds all begin swarming the feeders, and a feeding frenzy ensues. Apparently c.c. had not been aware of this until recently, so when we come in from the Dawn Patrol to be fed, she curls up by the cat door and watches the birds with rapt attention. She has to be coaxed away by the call of "dinner" (which always works for me). This was a daily occurrence for the last few weeks.

But c.c. (because she is c.c.) could not be content just to sit and watch; she had to check all this out up close, and one morning proceeded to do so, with stealth. Now the birds all stay away if we cats are there first, but they do not take kindly to having their breakfast interrupted, and they apparently drew strength from their numbers and let c.c. know she wasn't welcome. The cacophonous bird chatter drew the attention of me and the Husband, and we arrived at the back window just in time to observe c.c. being chased back to the house by an annoyed Jay.

So c.c. is back waiting by her bowl in the morning.

March 17, 2001
Saturday 12:01 am
Happy St. Patrick's Day from Opie McCat

The four cats next door have spent the last five months inside their house. They would come and go last summer, and I got to know two of them well, and we're okay with each other. But they were a bit rowdy and had a coupla near misses with cars, or ran off and nearly got themselves lost - I'm not quite sure what the reason was - but they were confined indoors for the winter.

There were three last summer - there are four now. I still communicate with them at their front window, which is how I know about the fourth cat. A couple weeks ago, one of them was out (Mario). I figured this had to be an escape, but he didn't venture far from the front door; he slept in the shrubbery most of the day. It was there that c.c. first spied him, and of course she had to know exactly who that cat was. They sniffed at each other without confrontation (Mario is cool), then c.c. returned to our house. I'm pretty sure that c.c. has no idea that there are four cats living that close to her. If they all start to venture out as the weather warms up, c.c. is going to need some self-control, and I wanna be there to make the proper introductions.

It's cool that two of the four have been out already. It's like a sign that spring is getting close. And I look forward to meeting up with Mario and Dalton after a long strange winter, and getting to know the other two. And getting them to know c.c. - spring is a renaissance, after all.

March 29, 2001
Thursday 12:22 am

Snow. It never shows up at the correct times (like in the middle of winter). It arrives on a sunny day, when I'm all ready for a romp in the woods. And there it is, all over the ground. I'm freezing my pads off before I ever get to the woods. So then I have to make my way back to the house and hang out there for the whole day.

And c.c. has to tag along, complaining the whole time, like I can do something about it. So if I'm not annoyed enough by the cold wet stuff, and the lack of grass and woodland creatures, c.c. does her best to assure that I will be by the time we get back to the house.

But now the snow is gone. Hopefully 'til next winter.

I should note at this point that c.c. is not the persistant companion that she had been early on. She still follows me when I go out, but she tends to venture away for longer periods of time, and lately she hasn't even paid attention when I come back inside. She's found a spot in the Hundredth Acre Wood to hang out and watch the wildlife (which will be handy when the wildlife actually begins to show up). She's not the wide-eyed kid she was six months ago.

Of course, she doesn't know that.

April 5, 2001
Thursday 12:10 am

The biggest difference between cats and humans are calendars. Cats have no use for them; humans can't function without them. They use them to measure their very existence. Their lives are a linear progression, spanning decades. They have to measure their lives; it's how they keep score.

Evaluating the score is the difficult part, but they are the thinking animals, so I guess they have to do this. The difficulty is determining which measurement is more important than the next. That judgement actually determines the direction that humans lives take. And that is what makes humans so diverse. And when human lives end, that is also measured and celebrated, in a special event that calls together all the friends and all the calendars to mark off the decades of diversity.

Cats live for the day. Each day is a variation on the previous day. A cat's diversity is in its incredibly complex personality, We always live in the present, so there is no past or future to speak of. Therefore, cats are immortal.

Well, we think we are.

April 11, 2001
Wednesday 12:10 am

c.c. impressions ...

It was warm, it was sunny, it was a beautiful day. I had forgotten these days. I thought they were gone. But what do I know? I'm a cat, and I'm still learning. That's why I have Opie and the Husband and the Wife. They'll keep me on the right path. So all I have to concentrate on is FUN! Barreling through the woods, chasing anything that will run before me.

Of course I lose all track of time. So when the Husband returned home from work and got out the cat food and washed our dishes and then put a fresh meal out for Opie and me, I was nowhere to be found. And for a cat to forget mealtime is a major fox's paw. So the Husband wandered out to the woods calling my name, but I was paying no attention. I was well up a tree, watching the squirrels chase each other around.

He finally gave up and went back inside. But not me. There's so much for a cat to do in the woods, and I wasn't leaving 'til I'd seen it all. But I finally did; I didn't want to burn out the first nice day of spring.

The Husband was surprisingly happy to see me. Doesn't he understand springtime in the woods? I'll hafta bring him along next time so he can see all the animals out playing when the weather warms up. There are birds everywhere, with more arriving every day. And I remember rabbits from the last warm days.

This is gonna be fun!

April 17, 2001
Tuesday 12:01 am

c.c. impressions ...

Our woodland friends are not all so friendly. I hastened across the yard to greet one let him know he was on my turf, and he became downright rude, biting me in several places, including my left front leg. But he did leave. I shrugged it off and returned to the house to lick my wounds in the more secure presence of the Husband and Wife. The Wife noticed this flurry of wound-licking and proceeded to help, depite my objections. She poured peroxide into the obvious wound on my leg and left me to my own recuperation.

By morning the leg was too painful to walk on, a condition quite apparent to the Husband and Wife. Before I knew it I was stuffed carefully but unceremoniously into a carrier and, several minutes by motor vehicle later, dumped onto a table at the place of funny smells and sharp instruments. I was prodded gently by a white-coated professional who squirted a banana-flavored liquid down my throat and sent me on my way.

I spent the afternoon sleeping and maintaining immobility for the injured leg.

The next day (Easter Sunday) had a whole buncha people at the house, eating food. Being a people cat, I had to place myself in their midst. I hopped around on three legs the whole time, evoking choruses of "aawwww" from the crowd whenever I hopped through. I received much attention (and some secretly-offered snacks) wherever I hopped. Apparently leg injuries are a source of amusement.

I'm back to my four-legged routine now, feeling lots better, thanks. In spite of the extra attention and banana-flavored medication, I think I'll try to avoid a repeat of this condition in the future.

April 25, 2001
Wednesday 12:44 am

I knew the warm weather was soon approaching, but it suddenly burst upon us unannounced. But I've been ready. I was out in the woods bright 'n early, enjoying the rebirth of spring. There was a lot of annoying snow this year, so this day was really welcome.

It was also hot. Almost ninety degrees on Monday. This evoked all my stored experiences. I knew that hot sunny days wear you out quickly. And I recalled where the outdoors places were to keep cool (the banks of the creek bed always have a cool breeze traversing its length). And I remember that the top of the stairs in the house is a good spot to lie to keep cool.

I wonder about c.c. though. This is only her second summer -- does she recall all the necessary transitions? I know she doesn't know the cool spots in the house. Is she going to start shadowing me again, just as she was becoming independent? I doubt it. She's a kid - she can handle the heat a lot better that this old feline.

We were both enjoying the warmth of the outdoors yesterday when the Husband called us for breakfast, and I watched c.c. go running across the yard, tail enthusiastically upright. I came running also, but the enthusiasm didn't reach to my tail, and I arrived a bit behind c.c. Which is okay. She may be faster, but I'm wiser. And she knows it.

April 29, 2001
Sunday 12:36 am

Friday was exciting. I was curled up in the warm sun of the windowsill when I first saw him. A very large Rottweiler, prancing down the street, without benefit of an attending human. He was checking out the houses, the bushes and everything else. Now this is not unusual behavior for a cat, but a dawg needs human guidance at all times (they're not all that bright, y'know?)

All day I watched this lost soul parade up and down the street, not having any idea where he was, nor seeming to care a whole lot. He was friendly enough. A couple neighbors tried to get close to him, but he wanted to play and ran away if they approached.

The neighbors were concerned that the littlest kids would be home from school soon, and the dawg was a rather frightening presence. They stopped a cop passing through, and he spent more than an hour trying to befriend the mutt. But Rover just wanted to play.

The kids arrived from school and were far from frightened; they joined the party too. There were all kinds of folks out there trying to get the dog to come to them. Dog, of course, thought it was all one big game. Eventually the dogcatcher arrived, and with his own expertise, convinced the dog to come to him. There was a license and an id tag with an address.

So the dog was returned home, having had his big adventure for the day, and disrupting the entire neighborhood in the process. All of which I observed from the safety and comfort of my windowsill.

May 5, 2001
Saturday 12:36 am

Y'know how spring is often described as a time of rebirth and renewal? It's true. All-new birds, bunnies and bugs are born into the world in the spring. Dormant flowers, chipmunks and possums shake off their long winter's naps and appear anew throughout the woods. And attitudes are renewed (applies to both human and non-human animals), so that every living thing is ready to exercise its purpose in life.

And then there's c.c. This is, as near as we can tell, only the second springtime that she has experienced, and therefore the first spring for which she has a previous spring's experiences to apply to it. And she's applying with a vengence. She been spending more time in the trees than the squirrels. She spends every waking moment (except mealtimes) in the woods, exploring. And, contrary to Newton's laws, motion seems to be her natural state. The Husband went out on the deck to call her in for breakfast, but she saw him first and was across the lawn, through the cat door, up the stairs and wolfing down her Alpo Turkey and Giblets before the second "Here c.c.!" escaped his lips. Moments after the last mouthful, she was back in the undergrowth, doing her spring thing.

This spring has started off hot. It was mid-summer hot yesterday (measurement-conscious humans called it 90 degrees Farenheit, 33 degrees Celsius - cats called it hot). I drink water before going out and curl up on the creek bank in the shade of the overgrowth canopy. I can hear c.c. tearing around in the woods, chasing insects and anything else that moves, catching nothing and not particularly caring, although she did catch a rabbit the other day. She brought it in the house and paused only long enough to drop it off, then she was back out again.

Springtime is its own entertainment for c.c. -- she doesn't need me to keep her amused.

I guess that's good.

May 11, 2001
Friday 12:16 am

I think c.c.'s spring fever is contagious. I was heading across the back yard toward the woods when c.c. came tearing by, inviting me to chase her. Normally I am the aloof cat and just ignore her. But this time I felt the urge to give chase, so that's what I did. She was totally amazed when I overtook her, diving over her and causing her to roll over in defense. Then she was on her feet and hellbent for the nearest tree; her momentum took her ten feet up, and she stared down at me in disbelief.

I paced around the bottom of the tree for a while (it takes a lot more effort to get my mass up a tree trunk than it used to), but c.c. just stared. I finally began sauntering back toward the house. I knew she wouldn't be able to resist retaliation from behind, so I kept a sharp ear aimed behind me. My tree-climbing days may have waned, but my hearing has not. Sure enough, I could hear the little furball approaching at a quiet gallop, and I turned suddenly at just the right moment to freeze her in her tracks before doubling back toward the woods with me in hot pursuit.

When we reached the rail fence at the perimeter, she managed to leap to the top rail without breaking stride. I had to stop and survey the situation, but I too acquired the top rail in a single bound. We settled down on the rails and just stared (an opportunity I welcomed in order to catch my breath).

I turned to see the Husband watching us from the deck and I felt a little sheepish. My kitten days are history, and here I was playing kitten games.

When I looked back, c.c. was gone, although I could hear her crashing through the woods. I maintained my spot on the rail. It was comfy and there was a breeze from the creek.

And the Husband was watching.

May 18, 2001
Friday 12:03 am

c.c. impressions ...

All living things grow. They start out small and unprotected and grow big and learn to survive. Playing is a way of learning survival skills. So I'm out there learning.

One of the most important tools in survival training is The Tree. All the animals use them, including the youngest humans. Besides testing physical strengths, it tests the limits of our fears and curiosities, and enables us to spot movement over vast distances, And a cat learns instinctively the psychological benefits of being above the rest of the living world. Height is a control factor. If you can maintain an elevated position over your adversary, you have the advantage. It's a gravity thing - if you attack from above, gravity assists you, and no energy is spent. Attack from beneath requires sudden bursts of energy just to reach your opponent, so you're already at a disadvantage before you even make contact.

Humans have adapted this method for psychological use only. A lecturer will stand while his audience is seated. He wouldn't be taken as seriously if he sat in a chair while lecturing and his audience stood. They erect stages to assure their height advantage over their audience. I got all that from climbing a tree. A form of "higher" education, you might say.

The Husband gets nervous when I climb too high. He dreads the thought of having to come get me. :)

Chronologically I am no longer a kitten. But it's a transitional thing - you don't just wake up one morning and say "Today I am a cat!" There is still much to be learned. The kitten things fade and the cat things take over. So I'm still burning off that excess energy with a few refresher courses now and then.

Stay above the fray.

May 23, 2001
Wednesday 12:03 am


Well, here we go again. I had another encounter with a life form not of this house (i.e. a denizen of the forest), and I did not come through it unscathed.

This has happened before. I come home with bit of a red badge, and the Husband and Wife get very concerned. They poke around, apply stinging chemicals, then stuff me into a carrier and cart me off to show me to that "vet" person. So when I came in this morning I decided to apply my cat aloofness and not let on that I had been bloodied.

Of course, that crusty patch on my flank kinda betrayed my ruse. So they cleaned it off, applied the usual chemicals, and made comments like "Eeeuuww! Gross!", then left me alone.

Huh? No carrier? No vet? Okay. So I curled up on the spare bed and relaxed. Until the Husband showed up in the middle of the afternoon and got the cat carrier out of the garage. I'd been lulled into a false sense of security. What a dirty trick.

So I was carted off to see the "vet" person, and after the usual poking and prodding, pills were dispensed, and I was dispatched without ceremony and, now having a shaved butt, without dignity.

So once again I curled up on the spare bed and was left alone. This time for real.

May 29, 2001
Tuesday 12:02 am

c.c. impressions ...

Rain. Rain, lotsa rain. Too much rain.

Normally, it just runs off my back. I don't even think about it. I wait 'til I'm in the house and a good shake alleviates most of the wetness, then licking finishes it up. But this was getting really annoying. I'd end up dripping wet before I managed to get my whole self out the cat door. What fun is stalking a bird (they seem to like the stuff) when you're dripping from all sides?

So I finally settled for some indoor time. It kept the Husband and Wife inside too. The Husband seemed to be always at the computer, and Opie monopolized the bed space next to him. But the Wife had settled into the couch watching tv for hours, and she left a convenient spot next to her that was just my size.

So all four of us bonded together for the weekend (although it was less like bonding and more like sleeping, but it was together). Monday brought the sun back, and we were all outdoors again. But everything was still wet. But it smelled fresh - it was inviting. So off to the woods I went. Opie chose to sun himself on the deck, although I know he had an eye on me. And the Husband and Wife went off somewhere as they often do.

Life returns to conquer all. Meow, everyone.

June 7, 2001
Thursday 12:02 am

The Husband and Wife had been using the Alaska word a lot for the last coupla weeks. The last time they used it so much (about a year ago), they vanished for over two weeks, and strange people occupied the house in their absence. But I didn't worry. I just didn't understand.

So this year, after much discussion about Alaska, one day they went out and didn't come home. I wasn't worried, but I was curious. Were they going to be gone for another two weeks? And where were the people who were gonna feed me?

The tell-tale signs were there - luggage in the living room, a refilled food bowl right after I ate, and fresh dry food in double the normal quantities. A sure sign that I'm about to be left alone.

I wondered how c.c. was going to take it. She hadn't been left alone before. But the Husband and Wife always made sure we were cared for. As it turned out, I don't think c.c. noticed they were gone. She maintained her outdoor routine with little variation.

The Husband and Wife returned the next day. I came running to meet them when they pulled in the driveway. There was much purring and petting and fresh food being dished out. Around eleven, c.c. came in, wolfed down some dry food, accepted a pat on the head and was back out again.

It was a brief disruption and now everything is back to normal. I wasn't concerned.

June 14, 2001
Thursday 12:12 am

Okay, who noticed that there was no new "Today" page for Monday? The Husband forgot to upload it before going to bed Sunday night (he's at that age), so the Sunday page continued to run. But he reasoned that most hits are during the week (and during work hours), so he figured most folks hadn't seen the Sunday page anyway (do we detect a bit of rationalization here? A purely human trait). He did upload the Monday page Monday evening, but hey ... if most hits are during work hours, what was the point? So Monday's pictures carried over to Tuesday for all to view. I thought that's what the "This Week" page was for. More rationalization. So the Tuesday pix on the "This Week" page are actually from the week before. Confused? You're only human.

I think c.c. has given up her tree-dwelling escapades. She's been strictly earth-bound for the last few weeks. She's about two years old now, but there is still much kitten in control of her daily routines. She keeps us all young. I quit succumbing to my age-related laziness and went out and collected a mouse, a bird and a chipmunk on successive days. I'm quite pleased with myself. Apparently so are the Husband and Wife. They had such nice things to say when I brought the critters to them. Of course c.c. collected nothing, but she doesn't care. She is individual, immortal, impervious youth, with fur. But I can at least return to a series of catnaps, content with my latest captures.

Have you noticed that the offspring of all life forms are individual, immortal and impervious? We are all the same, whether we walk upright or not. Humans, take note.

June 19, 2001
Tuesday 12:10 am

Wet. Really wet. That tropical storm Alison (that flooded out Houston) came ripping through here Saturday and caught me out in the woods. The undergrowth out there protects me against the average rainfall we get, but this was no average rainfall. It poured heavy and steady. I finally had to make a break for the house. It was like a waterfall. I was drenched. The Husband and Wife saw we coming and were waiting with towels when I got through the cat door. They spent several minutes drying me off. Of course I know it was just because they didn't want me dripping all over the house, but it was still a nice gesture. And I got to spend some nap time in the Husband's lap while the steady downpour played rhythmically on the roof.

This Thursday (two days from now) is the Summer Solstice. It occurs because the earth rotates on an axis that is 23 degrees off perpendicular, creating the seasons. Not that the animals care (or humans either for that matter); they just know that warmth and an abundance of food is theirs for the next few months.

It means something just a little different to the Husband (as do most things). This Thursday officially begins the fourth year of the Opie Project (that was the date he uploaded all the components, even though it had existed in various stages for six months prior), so each year on the Summer Solstice, he tries to come up with something new for the Opie Project. He's been working on it for a coupla days. He says it's not gonna be anything big or earth-shaking that will alter our places in the Project; it's just gonna be a small addition that will keep the content of the Project growing (we nod our collective heads knowingly and smile, pretending to understand). He calls it Foo. Yeah, Foo.

So in a coupla days you'll be presented with Foo. And hopefully you will like it. We're assured we will.

We heard from six felines in Atlanta yesterday via the Opie Survey. One of 'em is eighteen and used to antagonize the neighbor's Doberman. As I approach my golden years, that's what I like to hear. Keep up the good work, Atlanta kitties.

To folks in the path of the storm, stay dry.

And Foo to everyone else :)

June 25, 2001
Monday 12:10 am

I'm s'posed to be pushing Foo today. Foo (Friends Of Opie) is a new page on the ol' website that features portraits of all you proud felines (okay, there's a coupla d*gs - and a parakeet) out there who are curious enough to check in on the Worldwide Webcat (yours truly). So get your furry faces digitized and send 'em along; you'll get an official Friends of Opie certificate in return.

That takes care of that.

The rains continue, but in spurts, followed by very brief spurts of sunshine. Drives me nuts. But even when the sun shines, the woods remains wet. But I know this will all pass. I can be patient when necessary.

Every morning the Husband takes a walk. He's gone about a half-hour, but he always returns, and I usually wait outside for him so I can get some extra affection (he feels the need to pet and talk whenever he returns to the house after being away). So Sunday morning was the usual routine; c.c. and I had our breakfast and were let out on the front steps, where we go our separate ways. Shortly thereafter, the Husband came out for his walk, packing his cell phone, digicam and mp3 player. He headed off up the street, boppin' to music only he could hear. I stretched out on the front steps, taking advantage of the brief appearance of the sun, when I noticed c.c. heading off after the Husband. Now c.c. never ventures out of sight of the house, even when she's in the woods, so I was kinda surprised when she disappeared around the bend in pursuit of the Husband. By the time I'd realized that I should keep an eye on her, she was gone (I don't venture much out of sight of the house either).

About five minutes had passed when I heard that familiar incessant meowing. I looked up to see the Husband returning early, and carrying a cranky c.c. He dropped her in the yard and spent the rest of his walk time wandering around the back yard, taking our pictures and generally keeping us company (quality time is always welcomed).

Of course it started to rain. Foo.

Stay dry.

June 30, 2001
Saturday 12:01 am

c.c. impressions ...

We're having a heat wave. I thought that was just another occasion concocted by humans to enhance their otherwise dull lives, but I have learned that it affects us all. It means I hafta exercise my outdoor skills early in the morning, before the sun gets over the tops of the trees. So I'm out before the Husband and Wife awake from their extended naps, coming in briefly to meow for breakfast once they're up, then I'm gone again. Some vigorous bug and rodent pursuit, followed by small animal burrow investigation, and before long I'm tripping on my tongue from the heat.

So it's one last trip to the creek for some natural water (that stuff they give us in the plastic bowls is for emergencies only!), then a quiet day napping in the air conditioning. I don't venture out again 'til the sun is gone.

That's another concept I've learned about recently. Air conditioning. The Husband and/or Wife will come in the house and collapse in their favorite spots and mutter "Ahhh - air conditioning." I get it now.

Humans make their lives way too complicated and stressful; they need to simplify. But for the air conditioning they get a paws up!

Keep cool.

July 7, 2001
Saturday 12:01 am

Well, they're doing it again. Piling suitcases and bags of stuff in the living room, which is just the staging area for a quick departure when daylight arrives. This usually means they're going somewhere for an extended period of time (the length of time usually correlates to the quantity of stuff piled in the living room). It also means we only get fed once a day, by some nice lady who comes over, talks to us and feeds us, then leaves. Not that we don't appreciate it, but when it's dark and quiet, that big bed isn't the same when it's just me there.

But I suspect that this time is different. Over the years, there has been a period during the really warm days when the Wife departs and the Husband stays home and we have fun. He shares his dinner with me and we just talk about nothing. Hopefully, that is the case this time.

And of course c.c. hasn't a clue. I don't think she even notices their absence - she comes and goes when the mood hits her, and as long as there's food in her dish, the absence or presence of humans is inconsequential. But she has never experienced their absence for more than a day, and I suspect she will be seeking me out for security once she goes a few days without some old-fashioned human rubbing behind the ears if both the Husband and Wife are gone.

Either way, I've been through this many times over the years. They always return, and we are always cared for in their absence.

I wonder if I'll hafta share the Husband's dinner with him and c.c.

Friday the 13 12:17 am
July 2001


The Husband and Wife can't seem to make up their minds as to where they want to stay. They left, returned, left again, only to have the Husband return for one day, then he disappeared overnight, and now he's back. Without the Wife.

Maybe they're doing this on purpose. But why? There's no sounder sleep than that shared together by human and cat. That big ol' bed is just a restless rest stop when they're not around.

Not that c.c. is concerned. I never know where she's gonna turn up . Or when. But she knows that there are times when the Husband and Wife aren't around, so she doesn't even think about it. Our food and water dishes are filled, and she can enjoy either the sunny outdoors or the cool indoors whenever the mood strikes her.

I can too, of course. But tonight the Husband is home, alone, and he shared his pizza with me. Just us; c.c. was out being a cat. And I got in a lotta lap time while he read the last three days' newspapers. He'll be going to bed soon (after he feeds me, of course), so it won't be just me in that big ol' bed tonight.

Of course things won't be back to normal routines 'til the Wife returns. I'm hoping that will be soon. I suspect the Husband does too :)

Purrs.

July 19, 2001
Thursday, in the dark


The Husband has remained home for several days, but there is no sign of the Wife. If I was worried about it, I'd be confused, but I'm not, so I'm not. The Husband is not concerned; ergo, me neither.

The neighbor's four cats are out and about this summer; they'd been cooped up all winter. So I've got some peers to rub noses with. Little c.c. was en route to the woods when she spied three of the four in the adjoining yard. She was not shy about running right up to them, but they just stared at each other. I don't think c.c. realizes that they actually live next door. The three began walking around c.c. in a circle, checking her out, which kinda confused her. She kept looking over at me for directions. I chose to ignore her. It was my way of telling her it was nothing to worry about (of course I was poised to bolt if fur started flying). Eventually they all laid down in the grass and looked at each other. They were there for quite a while, until the neighbor lady called her pets home, then suddenly c.c. was alone in the side yard, wondering what just happened.

But not for long. She was soon off to the explore the woods, as originally planned.

July 31, 2001
Tuesday, when all is quiet


If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, where are cats from? Someplace cool, no doubt.

This weekend just past, Venus was in Pittsburgh. The Wife's instinct for family occasions took her out there, along with the rest of her family, to celebrate the birthday of a family matriarch. Mars, meanwhile, remained in New Jersey, where the Husband's instincts had him working on his truck (which, as any female human with a penchant for cliches will tell you, is a "guy thing").

I like keeping the Husband company while he works. That's a cat thing. Especially a people cat like myself. We just like to know they're there. The weather was beautiful, so I made the front steps my base of operations. I could catch some sun, a breeze, and keep an eye on the Husband, all at the same time. And if I became hungry, I could easily summon his attention.

Eventually c.c. realized that we were indulging in some kind of bonding out front and came to join us. She occupied the bottom step and waited. But not long. She doesn't stay still for more than a few minutes, and soon she was headed back to the woods. I maintained by semi-napping/semi-vigilant status on the steps.

Occasionally the Husband would disappear into the garage, and I would eventually have to go check up on him. He would give me a rub behind the ears as a thank you, and I would just observe. Until he brought out a power tool, that is. I don't like those things. They're noisy. Remind me of vacuum cleaners. And any animal can tell you that noisy means danger. So I returned to the steps. Quickly.

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday, although shortened by the appearance of dark clouds and bursts of precipitation. So we all adjourned to the indoors (c.c. included - she's learning to come in out of the rain). The Wife returned home a little later than planned, but we were once again all together in that big bed. And from that viewpoint, life is good.

August 6, 2001
Monday, shortly past midnight


The Husband was out in the driveway again, working on the truck, and I was out on the front steps again, supervising. It was a lot like last weekend except it was hot and humid again. But it was not without its bright spots.

I saw the sun come out. The day started out gray and dull and ended with a very blue sky full of really white clouds. Better than the other way around

I saw a butterfly. A big one. I can't remember the last time I saw one. I saw it again a bit later.

I curled up under the truck because it was cooler there. The Husband kept going inside to cool off. He would collapse for several minutes in the spare bedroom with the fan blowing on him. I finally caught on and made my way to the spare bedroom. Then, whenever the Husband overheated and came in for some minutes by the fan, I was there to be petted and chatted with. This continued for the entire day, and it was a lot more comfy than under the truck.

The forecast is for lots more heat and humidity to come. Looks like lots more time by the fan in the spare bedroom.

Keep cool.

August 12, 2001
Sunday, in the wee-wee hours


There's a new cat in the neighborhood; we met a coupla nights ago. In our living room.

He apparently was checking out the new surroundings and discovered our cat door, and curiosity being a feline forte, he ventured in. I don't think he was expecting to confront a six-pound furball with more attitude than body mass, but c.c. ended up chasing him all over the house until the cat was so disoriented he couldn't figure out how to get out, so he took refuge in the bathroom, and no coaxing could bring him out.

So c.c. and I ignored him, but not so the Husband. Hissing upon approach discouraged the Husband from physically removing him, so he escorted c.c. and I into neutral rooms and closed the doors. He then donned heavy clothing and grabbed a broom and cautiously (and gently) "brushed" the nervous animal out of the bathroom. Once out, it took off for the dining room (where the Husband had thoughtfully left the sliding glass door open to the deck) and he was gone, and will probably think twice about checking out cat doors in the immediate future.

The animal was not a mutt; it was all black with a little white and had a long bushy tail and was wearing a rather expensive leather collar. Two new families moved into the neighborhood recently; we suspect he belongs with one of them. Further updates forthcoming.

Did I mention that all the above occured at 2 am? Do cats know how to find adventure, or what?

August 26, 2001
Sunday, am sometime


Two new families moved into the neighborhood last month, and. I took a casual stroll down to the nearest house of the two (which is kinda on the fringe of my territory) and discovered a gray tabby sitting in the living room window. We observed each other briefly. He's not really on my turf, so I wasn't particularly interested. Still, we hafta let the new guys know we're here and in charge.

As I returned home, I passed the next-door cats collected in their living room window and gave them only a passing glance. They only come outside on rare occasions, but we've already established territories, so there's no need to press the obvious.

Then I checked the upstairs windows and was amazed to find a small and hitherto unseen face staring back. It was a light gray tabby kitten with the big, curious eyes of youth. We sat and exchanged non-verbal staring for a while, studying each other. I wonder how long it will be before this one is poking around my backyard. I learned that her name is "Josie" (as in Josie and the Pussycats), and she's only a few months old. She probably won't be seeing the outdoors for a while, but I'll be ready to explain the territories to her when she does :)

As Daniel Boone said when he packed up to move because a settler had built a cabin a mile from his," Sure is gettin' crowded 'round here."

August 31, 2001
Friday, early


Three weeks ago, a back and white cat intruded into our home territory. I was alert but unthreatened. But c.c. was miffed, to put it subtly. She chased the intruder all over the house until it took refuge in the bathroom and refused to come out. The Husband had to gently "sweep" it out with a broom.

Since then it has been seen frequently in the backyard, though his actual home was unknown. He was a clean, healthy cat with a collar, and the long fur of pedigreed breeding, and he'd been (ugh!) declawed. It was assumed to be a cared-for animal, probably attracted to c.c. (I may be fixed but I ain't dumb).

We housecats, by definition, are finicky things, and if we're bored with this week's menu, we'll ignore it. So our food frequently ends up with other organic trash on the compost heap. One morning the Husband discovered the black n' white cat eating some stale hamburger rolls from the compost heap. He got the breakfast meal we had just turned up our noses to and offered it to the b&w cat, who wolfed it down gratefully. And quickly. The Husband got a fresh can of food and he devoured that also.

Since then, every morning the newcomer waits on the deck stairs for his breakfast, and the Husband obliges (usually with food we have rejected). He won't come near the Husband (or the food) 'til the Husband goes back in the house. And he has not tried to come back in the house since the traumatic first attempt three weeks ago. After breakfast he disappears until the next morning.

The Wife named him Sweeper, because of the original necessity to nudge him from the house with the broom, and because his long, bushy tail hovers just above the ground like a broom ready to sweep.

Since he's only around about an hour a day, we ignore him. Even c.c. will sit at the window and watch him without her fur standing up. But he is not a people cat and he does not seek attention; he keeps his distance.

I can accept that.

September 6, 2001
Thursday, midnight +


I have noted before that humans wear slave bracelets and are controlled by them. They're called watches, and they run humans' lives. But the watches are just a tiny part of a larger conspiracy known as calendars. Without them, humans would just wander aimlessly, without purpose. Seemingly, the watches and calendars create the necessary guidance to lead humans through their lives. To create the illusion of freedom, there are "holidays." There was one this past weekend, known as a "Monday" holiday, which extends the weekend to three days. Since humans lives are so mundane, the holidays must celebrate something, so this past holiday celebrated Labor. I'm missing something somewhere.

Cats, of course, are not controlled by watches or calendars, and we celebrate life every day. But humans have their freedoms sandwiched into the grand scheme of things, just another part of the calendar, so they're not really freedoms in the large sense. Why is this so obvious to me and not to them?

Our furry black n' white friend they call Sweeper has not been around since the beginning of the holiday weekend. Conclusion? His family is so controlled by time that he is left to his own devices while they are pursuing their own schedules, and returns to the fold when one of the pre-scheduled "holidays" presents itself. This particular three-day holiday has concluded, and routines are returning (his family probably all leaves early in the morning, giving him time to wander over to our yard and sniff around for food. We expect him to return soon for his morning snack. Sure would like to know where he comes from though.

The next three-day holiday celebrates some Italian guy who managed to sail here without falling off the edge of the Earth. Humans. Y'gotta luv 'em.

September 12, 2001
Thursday, early


Some ugliness in New York City and Washington DC has affected the Husband and Wife.

The Wife's brother-in-law was trapped in New York (he managed to call early to say he was okay), but it took him eight hours to make the 80-minute drive home.

A friend's brother-in-law worked at the World Trade Center. They're awaiting word.

A friend of the Opie Project (Judy, whom the Husband acknowledged in his first notes this month for offering a scenario for why the cat Sweeper would have a family and still come around for food) works at the Pentagon. It will probably be a while before we hear anything.

And then there's all those people we don't know who also had families and lives and interactions with the world.

As for those responsible, not all people are human. Some are animals. And they give animals a bad name.

Peace.

September 18, 2001
Tuesday in the early morn

First of all, greetings to a coupla male cats, 2 and 3 years old, out in Phoenix AZ (and their caregiver, of course); welcome, guys, to the fun and games of the Opie Project. There is a place in the Foo Gallery awaiting your portraits.

Sweeper, the breakfast cat, has not been around as much as he used to be. We could count on him showing up for breakfast days at a time. But he's only been here twice last week. Nevertheless, the Husband serves him the food we rejected in the past week, and he gobbles it up and disappears.

It's been a week since the insanity in New York, and official types have recommended that everyone try to return to their normal lives and carry on. So I took a nap.

The Husband and Wife left for their jobs as usual on Monday morning, and the ensuing quiet was conducive to catnapping, but shortly after noon, the Husband was home. Work had kinda ground to a halt last week, and he couldn't even find busy work to keep him busy, so he took a half-day off and came home to finish up work on The Truck.

He worked on The Truck all weekend, with mutterings and colorful language accompanying the process. These are indications that things are not going ideally, and questioning the progress is not a good idea. Monday afternoon was more of the same, trying to tidy up the parts of the project that did not go well (and they apparently were not improving).

Monday night the Wife returned home earlier than usual. She too had taken time off from work and gone Christmas shopping. You heard me right.

The Husband complained about why the new convertible top wasn't fitting properly on The Truck while the Wife was showing him everything she'd bought (mostly kids' clothes). She then found boxes for everything while he took a shower.

This is our lives getting back to normal.

September 24, 2001
Monday, during the dark

Life is just a little bit out of adjustment for now. The Wife has gone to Atlantic City with some girl friends, but she'll be back tonight. Once again, c.c. has managed to shed her collar (for the third time this year -- way ahead of her usual semi-annual collar-shedding); I still have mine in place as always, for which the Husband and Wife are appreciative. And the Husband broke a tooth. Again. He does that a lot. They don't cause a lot of pain, just a lot of expense. He's asleep right now, or he'd be complaining about that, as he has all weekend.

The nephew in college was home this weekend (they had another one of those uniquely-human celebrations honoring the aging process of his father), and he happened to mention off-handedly that he desparately needed jeans because he had trouble finding ones that fit him (he's 18 and already in the big 'n tall category). By coincidence, the Wife had been shopping the outlet stores and found his size. Knowing they were hard to come by, she scarfed up a bunch. He was over-joyed; there's nothing worse than making a first impression to your college peers in ill-fitting jeans.

The Wife's younger sister suffered a transmission failure in her mini-van. This is quite serious to a mother of 4-year-old twins and a 6-year-old, and whose only other mode of tranportation is a compact. But the Wife came to the rescue by offering the Bronco for their use. But the sister doesn't drive a stick shift, so her husband drove the roomier Bronco while she managed three kids in the compact. Hey, better than nothin'. They have the mini-van back now, and all is more or less normal.

Now I'm just a cat, but considering all of the above, don't we cats have the advantage? I still eat well, sleep when I want, and if my size expands disproportionately, I grow more fur. I think humans evolved into a higher life form just to compensate for the problems they make for themselves.

Meow.

September 30, 2001
Sunday, e.o.m.

Greetings to Chubbs and Delilah in the UK! Welcome to the Opie Project!

Sweeper (the unknown cat that periodically shows up for breakfast) returned again yesterday morning, only this time without a collar (apparently c.c, is not the only feline shedding collars in this vicinity). We will await with interest to see if a new collar appears magically (if it does it means that Sweeper is in the care of creatures with opposable thumbs; if it doesn't, it really doesn't mean anything).

c.c. took out after a Blue Jay yesterday - I warned her about that. Blue Jays have no sense of humor. The Jay returned with a friend and they took turns buzzing c.c. and otherwise harrassing her 'til she came in.

The Wife's parents visited yesterday to pat me on the head. They come over every so often just to do that. While they were here, they took the opportunity to show the Husband and Wife their new car (I stayed inside and watched from the window - I'm not that crazy about large objects that are both noisy and mobile). Then they discussed dishwashers (another noisy machine that I avoid when it's churning away). Then everybody left.

When they returned they proceeded to tell me about the dishwasher they had bought that is so quiet that I can eat my dinner in the kitchen while it's running and I won't even notice. I pretended to be interested. Apparently this thing is arriving next Tuesday. I must make plans to visit the woods that day.

Now if they would just make some kind of arrangement for that vacuum cleaner.

October 6, 2001
Saturday, in the wee-wee hours

There's change in the air, I can feel it. According to the human calendar, it's fall, and that signifies a change in the seasons. Cats don't need calendars to know that. When the nights start getting chilly on a regular basis, a cat's built-in instincts click into gear. Our fur gets thicker, and we eat more as a protection against the cold (and in c.c's and my cases, we spend more of the night in bed with the Husband and Wife). We know that soon the days will get chillier also, and the sheltering foliage in the woods will begin to thin out, sending our small animals friends into their burrows for the duration. And it's only gonna get nastier before it gets better (the closer you're built to the ground, the less you appreciate the inevitable snowfalls).

All creatures great and small know instinctively that winter approaches, and they instinctively prepare for it. However, the Husband and Wife seem to be the exceptions to this major shift in our natural world. The Husband still puts the top down when he drives his vehicle. The Wife still opens all the windows, even when the chilliness is quite obvious to me.

c.c. seems oblivious also, but I attribute that to the fact that she's only been around for two falls and hasn't quite grasped the fact that this is a recurring event. She's still out there every morning in the chilliness, stalking moths and birds (I think the rabbits have already burrowed in and will not return 'til spring). The squirrels are still hustling about, but we've never had any luck with squirrels. Still, she's there, making full use of her catness. I tend to spend these mornings indoors, awaiting breakfast.

But the sun still warms the days, and I get out and enjoy the last of the life-affirming warmness, keeping an eye out for the rodent stragglers, gathering the last of their supplies for winter.

I'm used to all this stuff by now. The Husband, the Wife and c.c. will catch on eventually.

October 12, 2001
Friday, nocturnal cat time

First of all, greeting are in order:

In northwest Arkansas we welcome Fluffy and her six feline roommates, plus two dogs and a horse (we hope they're not apartment dwellers) ...

And in Minnesota's twin cities we are joined by Quinn, Freya, Tuna and Moose; felines all.

Welcome to this little celebration we call the Opie Project, guys. The fun begins now.

The Husband and Wife were correct; the new dishwasher is quite cat-friendly, with noise levels in the no-stress zone (c.c. actually stopped to listen to it a few nights ago - she was curious as to what was going on in there).

And the calendar came into play again - time once more to celebrate something that coincides with a calendar date. This celebration is the Husband and Wife's seventeenth anniversary (which explains the new dishwasher - sort of). They usually find a single item to give themselves as a gift each year, and this year it's the dishwasher. But there's also the extended family to whom an anniversary is just one more reason to party, and they will be doing so on the weekend.

The temperatures have climbed back up a bit, and the concrete steps out front stay warm all day - a great catnappery for the daylight hours. I think c.c. is starting to grasp the concept of seasons. She's getting in as much outdoor time as she can before it gets too nippy. The Husband, too, is getting as much out of these final warm days as he can, putting the top down as often as possible and making the most of a sunny day.

Me, I'm just fat 'n happy and ready for winter :)

October 18, 2001
Thursday, after lights out

The Husband and Wife are finally admitting that the season of warmth is giving way to the season of nasty chills. They finally closed the windows tonight.

I'd comment on the brilliant fall foliage that is currently putting on its annual display of reds, oranges and yellows, but cats are color-blind, so there wouldn't be much point to it.

A blustery blast from the North came gusting in at high speeds yesterday morning, bringing Arctic air, magnified by the wind gusts. Once the Husband and Wife awoke and realized how windy it was, they dragged out the large plastic recycling can so the wind gusts could carry away the plastic milk cartons and soda bottles. All the neighbors got into the act, dragging out their recycled plastics to be blown around the neighborhood. This went on for several hours until the township sent a big truck to pick them up. They didn't do a very good job though - they only took the stuff that managed to stay in the cans and let the rest of it blow around the neighborhood. So when all the neighbors came home from work, they had to go out and collect the stuff that was blowing all over the place (they didn't have to figure out whose was which; each just collected whatever ended up on his respective lawn).

Another strange ritual unique to humans.

Keep warm.

October 24, 2001
Wednesday, a.m.

A hearty welcome to some critters in California. They are, specifically, 12 most awesome cats, 3 dogs, 2 horses and a 1000-lb. "pet" pig, all in one place. Welcome to the Opie Project, guys - squeeze in; we'll make room :)

The warm weather has returned to this side of the country. Today might possibly break a long-standing temperature record. But even with the warm temperatures, the falling leaves a sure sign that we're gettin' close to a change. Two other harbingers loom just ahead. This weekend the clock-and-calendar species (the humans) celebrate some kind of time-keeping event in which they set all the clocks back one hour, thereby giving themselves an extra hour. For what? Do they think I'm going to become hungry an hour later than usual? They're just going to sleep through it anyway, but everything will be an hour off when they awake. This has gotta make for a lotta chaos. For them. I personally don't plan to notice. And if I end up hungry a hour ahead of what the clock says, they're gonna hear about it anyway.

Harbinger number two is Halloween, another calendar-specific event in which already-hyperactive children go door-to-door seeking sugar. But that's usually a fun event around here. Friends and family show up with their decorated children and the Wife takes photos to commemorate the occasion. I keep a low profile in the corner and observe. It's quite a ritual. I'm a favorite with most of the kids; they talk incessantly to me while keeping a respectful distance. I've gotten used to them.

But then the daylight hours become shorter, and the nights get colder, and our independence is somewhat curtailed. So we spend a lot more time indoors, curled up next to the Husband and Wife.

But that's later. Today is gonna be warm and sunny, and c.c. and I are going to make a final round of the woods and bid farewell to our forest friends for the winter. Cats can have rituals too.

November 12, 2001
Monday, a.m.

Leaves on the ground, a chill in the hair and heavier fur. I know what all that means. More time indoors for this ol' cat. Of course c.c., with more sense of adventure than common sense, will freeze her butt before she'll come inside. Kids.

As today was a bit on the breezy/chilly side, after my usual morning rounds of the woods, it appeared I'd be destined to spend the afternoon on the couch. But the Husband and Wife, always attentive to my needs, invited the Wife's sister and their family, along with her parents, to take turns petting me and talking silly human talk to me. I had more than a dozen laps to choose from, so I made sure everyone got a chance. They all sat around and talked as I ventured from lap to lap.

They took a break to eat dinner (even I got a little roast beef - not a usual treat), before resuming their Opie-stroking duties. This went on for hours, and c.c. was outside all this time and missed the whole thing (hey, I wasn't about to get up and leave all this attention to go out and find her!). Even the Wife's sister (who is not a cat person - can you imagine that?) offered her lap and some soothing petting.

I can't begin to think just what they might be celebrating on this occasion, but I wasn't about to question it :)

And c.c. did stroll in after six (and after the dinner break), meowing strenuously, and distracting my entourage of petters. And of course she received her share of attention, but what she really wanted was food (the Husband presented her with a c.c.-sized portion of beef and some dry food, which she appreciates more than anything else).

Fortunately, there were plenty of laps to go around, so c.c. began checking them out and receiving attention without disturbing my strokes.

Everyone left around eight, and I returned to my planned day of rest, this time purring contentedly.

Meow.

November 18, 2001
Sunday, quiet time

c.c. impressions ...

Being a 2-year-old, I'm a pretty frisky kitty. I spend a lot of time outdoors (though never out of sight of the house). I am, after all, an animal. This domestication thing has its perks, but I need my space.

I used to come in at mealtimes and wait to be served, but I learned that if I'm not there waiting when the food comes down, either the Husband or Wife will call out the back door when it's ready, allowing me to spend more time in the wild. Very convenient.

So when the Husband called me around dinner time one night, I came running, as usual. Imagine my surprise when I was picked up and placed in a cat carrier (it happened so quickly that I offered no resistance - devious people, these humans). And when I was carried out to the car, I knew I wasn't going to like any of this. I voiced my objections loudly and often, but to no avail.

We all ended up in a sterile little room of familiarity that did not bode well, even though they baby-talked to me constantly (a diversionary tactic - even a 2-year-old cat is wise to that).

Sure enough, the Doc came in, acknowledged my complaints, and stuck a needle in me. Another surprise, but it was over quickly, and I let it pass. Then came the second needle, also over quickly, but I wasn't sitting still for this indignity; I tried to leave, but was restrained by the Husband.

The Doc had an assistant come in for the third needle, to keep me occupied so I wouldn't associate the Husband with needles every time he held me. Then it was back in the carrier and quickly home. The Doc had said three shots in such a small cat (I'm not that small any more - 8 lbs.) might make me drowsy for a while, but I fooled her - I was back outside being a free and wild cat for the rest of the night.

I did spend a lotta time catnapping Friday though. And some on Saturday.

Are you up to date with your shots?

November 25, 2001
Sunday, a.m.

This is one of my favorite weekends, as far as the annual cycle of human events goes. On Thursday they dined at the Wife's sister's house for a feast known as Thanksgiving. One of the traditions of this feast is apparently to make extra food so that no one can possibly eat it all, and they have to take some home with them. This year was no exception; there would be lots of people-food goodies added to our plates for the next few days. Hey, I'm thankful.

There is another part to this tradition that I haven't figured out. After returning home from the feast they retire early so they can get up early and go shopping. The Husband doesn't participate in this ritual; he just goes to work like always. But the Wife and her sisters all meet shortly after dawn and head out for the shopping malls, and they don't return 'til after dark.

Here's where the cool part comes in. The Husband gets home from work, grabs a large plate of white meat turkey, and he and I and c.c. all get together on the couch and share the plateful. Then we jostle for the best position and remain at rest for the evening while the tv plays its mournful tune.

Then it gets even weirder. Pretty soon they'll be a tree in the living room. Honest! It happens every year.

It hasn't gotten really cold yet, and my nocturnal instincts beckon. See ya!

November 30, 2001
Friday, early

It's the last day of the month, as measured by our well-meaning human counterparts, but it's meaningless to cats. We have our internal clocks to tell us that cold weather is imminent. Actually I thought it would be here by now. But the days are still mild (although the nights are refreshingly chilly).

We're between celebrations right now, although I sense that tree that invades our living room is not far off.

There are new celebratory words being bantied about lately. "DSL" and "home networking," to be specific. The Husband and Wife chat about them animatedly for long periods. Seems the Wife ordered DSL service because - this month only - all the hardware comes free (network modem, DSL filters, and even a web cam). The kit with the hardware arrived Wednesday, along with the set-up instructions, but the service won't be activated 'til December 12, so they've got a coupla weeks to figure it out. The Husband has already begun in earnest, voraciously reading manuals.

And by December 12, things should be just a bit chiller around here. I can sense it coming. I hafta go rest up for this. I'll read the manuals later. G'night :)

December 7, 2001
Friday, a Date Which Will Live in Infamy

Pearl Harbor Day. They're comparing it to September 11. A lot today. I don't know if felines should count themselves lucky for not having any understanding of world-shaking events. That's the arena that humans play in, and they're the ones responsible. We'll just live out our feline existence as it was meant to be and trust the humans to take care of the larger events.

How scary is that?

Two new lives entered the world yesterday. Two friends of the Wife each had a new boy human to care for.

The Wife was home most of the day today. She was doing things around the house, but c.c. and I did get a good dose of attention. She talked to us while she was doing things, which was fun. Both c.c. and I were curled up on the couch, listening to her make happy human sounds, so we knew all was okay.

She did go out later to do "Christmas shopping" (there's a lot of that happening lately), and returned with more stuff to pile around the house, and just as we were investigating them curiously, she brought out the vacuum cleaner (her timing is definitely not attuned to cat needs).

And last night small people came over for a while. The Wife's sister dropped them off for a while so she could go see one of the newborn humans. The small people like me; they offer lots of attention in non-threatening ways; which I accept gratefully, although c.c.'s still a little nervous around them.

There's still no tree in the living room, but I know it's coming soon - I can feel it.

Ho, ho, ho. That seemed appropriate somehow :)

December 13, 2001
Thursday, ho hum

That tree finally arrived. And I've staked out my spot beneath it. And c.c. has her spot. Life is good.

We had a bunch of additions to the Foo Gallery recently. Hello to Midnight, Milo, Deja, Chip and Snoopy.

The Wife spent all day making Christmas cookies. I'm not a big cookie fan, but I liked that she was around and keeping busy and talking to us while she baked. I stayed under the new tree mostly, while c.c. stayed under the Wife's feet as she moved around the kitchen.

It's been cold and rainy. Even c.c. prefers the indoors lately.

The Wife has placed all kinds of decorative items all over the house for the season, but the ones on the windowsill make stretching out in the sunlight very difficult. But that's okay - I've moved them out of the way (she keeps moving them back, though).

So if the weather warms up, I'll be outside; if not, I'll be inside. Either way, I'll be under a tree :)

December 19, 2001
Wednesday

Greetings to Carlos and Marvin, a coupla upstate New York felines, and new additions to the Opie Project. Welcome, guys. I think your faces have been added to the Foo Gallery already (website maintenance is the Husband's job, and he's been busy with this Christmas thing lately, so if they're not there yet, they will be).

Christmas day is coming; I can feel it. Both the Husband and Wife have been busily scurrying about, wrapping colorful paper around things, or writing notes in Christmas cards, licking envelopes, etc. A sure sign that Christmas Day is near. They talk about all the stuff they've gotten for people and are quite animated. I know there's stuff for me too. I've already gotten a new scratching post and a new collar. We almost always get some kind of toy that we bat around the house for a coupla days (that's what they expect us to do, and we are happy to oblige). The house is full of bags and boxes that everybody trips over. The Wife did most of her shopping online, so there's an excess of corrugated cardboard and styrofoam peanuts taking up space this year.

I share under-the-tree time with c.c. We don't both get under there together - if she's already there, I take the chair next to the tree. She, on the other hand, upon finding me under the tree, will lay down in the hallway and watch me the whole time (I've learned to ignore her). So far it's a mutually-agreeable arrangement.

I know the boxes and colorful paper will soon be gone, so I better get myself out there and start playing with all that stuff (it's very inviting when the Wife is trying to wrap the boxes in paper - she enjoys my help :)

Hope you get a lotta boxes and paper for your Christmas!

December 31, 2001
New Year's Eve

Greetings to Ruby, Julie, Mikey, Mystery, Scooter and Tommy; felines all from Toronto. Welcome to the Opie Project, guys!

Tonight is another celebration - New Year's Eve. They just had a humongous Christmas celebration. You'd think they could space these things a little further apart. For some reason, at midnight tonight, the precise orbit of the planet around the sun requires everyone to hang up new calendars and drink Champagne. Being a cat is so much simpler.

We enjoyed the Christmas part - it always makes things cheery around here, and we end up with new things to play with. Besides all the paper that c.c. and I played in for hours on Christmas day (the Wife had to be convinced to leave it laying around for us), we also got a brand new scratching post (those things just don't last very long around here). But there's something enticing about a new scratching post; it just begs for claws.

We got a whole buncha odd looking toys too, all with varying quantities of catnip safely stashed inside. But they've gotten old already. At least we got some indoor exercise (it's gotten decidedly cold outdoors).

We also got new collars. I suppose they qualify as gifts, but their fun factor is severely low.

And now the paper and boxes are gone, all the loot has been stashed neatly under the tree, and things are almost back to normal. Almost - that tree is still there.

So to all our calendar-afflicted friends out there, Happy New Year!

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