That damn cat

In the not so distant past, I acquired another cat (read about him here and here). In the not so distant future, I will be buying a new TV.

From clues left behind by the purrpetrator, it appears Beau knocked the sound bar off the TV stand, and the sound bar hit the screen, damaging the display at point of contact. I would be more upset, but the display on this TV has been problematic for a while, so now I have an excuse to buy a new TV. And lock Beau out of the den.

What a good cat!

Last night, with my butt plastered to the living room couch, I heard a noise in the dining room. I thought it was the cat doing something, but the sound went on and on. Finally, I eased over to see what was what. Finn was lying on the floor, perfectly innocent and perfectly OBLIVIOUS to what I realized must be a mouse in the wall between the dining room and the kitchen. Eek!

There has been the occasional rodent in the garage, but never in twenty years has there been a mouse in the house itself. The other day, however, I noticed some movement by the (closed) garage door and realized there is a gap in the garage foundation; the movement was probably Mickey deciding to come back later when the structure was not occupied. I keep a litter box in the garage because sometimes Finn likes to hang out there (I wonder why!) and I grew tired of finding cat poop here and there. Last night the litter box contained not cat poop but mouse turds. While I have changed to using clay litter in the house, the garage litter box contains the last of the Swheat Scoop which is made up of wheat which is apparently attractive to mice.

So I locked Finn in the garage overnight (with food and water), and this morning there was half a mouse on the step. Hopefully, that is the only one. Today I am replacing the Swheat Scoop with clay litter and blocking the gap in the foundation. In a previous lifetime, when I lived in the country, there were mice in the house, but you can't live in the country and be squeamish about such things. (There was a black snake that hung out behind the siding by the back door, too. Snakes eat mice - the enemy of my enemy is my friend.) That was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. Backyard habitat notwithstanding, this citified gal now prefers the wildlife stay outside!

That darn cat, part 2

Finn is an indoor-outdoor cat. I tried to turn him into a strictly indoor cat when I first got him, and that worked over the winter, but then he began terrorizing the household in his bid to go out. We reached a compromise: I let him out after dark (for the protection of the local bird population) and he comes back in in the morning to sleep all day.

Such was the fair weather schedule. Now that winter is here, he still wants to go out, but once there, he usually does not want to stay. If it is below freezing and/or there is snow on the ground, his enthusiasm for outdoor activities falls precipitously. Now, if he stays out at all, it is for only a few hours in the evening.

The problem is, he repeatedly wants out during my waking (and non-waking) hours. Apparently, he thinks the weather may change between now and the last time he was out. At first, I thought, Dumb cat! It is still cold and will be cold for the next few months. But actually, if you think like a cat, it makes sense that he would need to test the waters periodically. After all, he can't check the weather report or read a thermometer. Even in fair weather, every time he steps out the door, the weather may be a surprise - cooler, hotter, wet, windy, sunny, etc. And if it is at all tolerable, he tolerates it.

Re the non-waking hours, if he stays in at night, he invariably wakes me around 3 or 4 in the morning, wanting out. I was hoping he would be the kind of cat who would sleep on the bed with me, but when he does, it is only to keep an eye on my movements. If I get up in the night, he tries to lead me out of the room to do his bidding. Otherwise, he stands guard at the patio door, watching for night critters, and when one appears, he wants OUT. I finally had to banish him to the West Wing at night.

Sleep on, fair Finn, and, like the rest of us, dream of warmer days.

That darn cat

Cute kitty-under-the-xmas-tree photo FAIL

Cute pets-falling-all-over-each-other-to-get-inside photo FAIL

Cute cat-watching-birds-through-patio-door photo FAIL

FINALLY!

Mother plant, and a name for the cat

A while back, Pamela J asked about growing coleus from cuttings. The Blonde Gardener has some advice, or you can read about my attempt below.

My plan was to grow a mother plant over the winter from one cutting. So I took my cutting and stuck it in a cup of water.

The aluminum foil is primarily for support and to keep the leaves out of the water, but I think the roots develop better in the dark. (Demonstrating whether this is so is an idea for a science fair project, kids.)

And I waited a while - a few weeks in this case - for roots to form.

Then I potted the plant and will now treat it like any other houseplant.

Coleus don't need a lot of sun, but even if it gets leggy, no problem. In late winter/early spring, I will take cuttings off the mother plant, enough to repopulate the planter on my front porch, and root those. Voila! Free plants!

And now the cat name. I wanted something that suits the big guy. He's not a Rufus (which rhymes with Doofus, which he is not either). Hunter felt close, but I tend to sweet talk my pets by rhyming their names (e.g. Betsy Wetsy, which initially was too appropriate), thus Hunter fell by the wayside. A single syllable seemed right, but what? Last night I actually lost sleep trying (unsuccessfully) to come up with the perfect name. Today I stumbled over it online: Finn, which is Irish for "fair-haired". It also sounds solid, like the cat. So Finn it is.

I've been adopted

After losing my last cat to tongue cancer, I decided to take a break from felines. I have to admit that the decrease in pet hair and the elimination of kitty litter were both welcome respites. I also decided that, when the time came, rather than look for a cat, I would wait for a cat to find me.

And that is what happened. A friend of a friend of my daughter had a cat that needed a home. And now he is in my home.

Still nameless, he matched almost all my criteria for a cat: male, neutered, short hair, adult. I was hoping for declawed, too, but while he has claws, he hasn't exercised them yet except for some reflexive kneading. He let me trim them (although that elicited some tail thrashing), so I'll let him keep them for now.

Kittens are cute, but adult cats usually have better manners. This big boy is no exception. He is calm, somewhat regal in his bearing, but loves attention. He showed no reaction to the dog (and once the initial butt-sniffing was over, Betsy lost interest as well), but you can tell by his window shopping, he would like nothing better than to decimate the local avian and rodent population.

But what to name him? I was thinking "Rufus" but that seems more appropriate for an orange cat; this one is buff, the color of butternut squash or garbanzo beans. "Butternut"? "Garbanzo" (which my son favors)? Those seem too cutesy for this fellow. My daughter suggested "Hawthorne" but it does not exactly roll off the tongue. Maybe "Hunter"? He looks just like my first cat, so I've been calling him "Pinky".

He answers to it, but I don't think he likes it. Any suggestions?