The space between drape and window
The magic fluffy blanket sent by Flumptytail
Bach at low volume
Light playing on the ceiling
Being carried around
Shoes with feets in ’em
Food. Preferably stolen
Wearing light fabric shirts loose at the pits
Laying turds astride the edge of the box
Chasing red dots
Hamming it up for pics
Soaking up photons
Hiss of the soda bottle when the cap is popped
Miss Jenny likes:
Farting on Daddy
Chasing the boyz
Grooming the boyz
Chin rubs from Daddy
Chewing on shoes
Daddy talking gibberish
Snuggling with Daddy
Shoes with feets in ’em
Being picked up
Daddy going to work
It’s not that Maz Whang is selfish, exactly… Or even that Tito is an enabler, but… Let’s again face the fact that Maz, a bit like Bad Santa, is an eating, drinking, sh*tting machine, who zeroes in on food with purpose and violence.
He does burn through calories like a three alarm fire and prefers 80 degrees weather.
Tito would even sit on a kitchen chair, looking at us with eyes half-closed, a signal that he wants canned food, only to leave it to Maz once he showed up: in other words tricking us into feeding Maz even more.
But that’s just Tito being the Big Brother, the Paraclete. Three in the morning, Maz digs at my wife, standing on her for effect. Claws are always out, by the way: he always has that sense of urgency about him, like Indiana Jones pressing his face in the wall as he is about to get crushed: “we-are-going-to-die!”
The rule is, though: no canned food until six a.m.
Which means that for Rudha-an, the window from 3 to 6 a.m. is a preview of purgatory, pummeled by this mace wrapped in leather while I (mostly) sleep soundly and justly. The way of the world is the way of the cat, perhaps especially one that looks like David Bowie in “the man who fell to Earth”.
Okay, in truth, Maz is more Richard Widmark than Bowie, but he is a star.
Good thing, then, that Maz’ naked ambitions are checked by the crème brulee that is Miss Jenny. We used to joke that Maz was nuclear powered, watching him streak through the apartment, up and down the furniture and hanging from the cat tower like a monkey. But she matches him step by step and then some. And that’s no small feat.
So while the Whang does his thang, the blue-eyed she-devil chases after him to steal… Well, kisses, actually.
That’s right, she nuzzles both boys and grooms them to the point that we thankfully no longer need to use Q-tips on Maz’ flappers.
Maybe she can be enticed in tackling Maz when he starts his food dance at three in the morning…? No.
Nope, she’ll stand right next to him waiting for noms, maybe even egging him on. She dances to her own tune, that one: if noms aren’t forthcoming, she’ll just force Maz into a high-speed chase or chew on his leg while Tito watches from the shadows in the hallway, always waiting.
So… “Jules and Jim“, or might a “Pact of Steel” be in the works? All I know is even I often wake up from being hit by a high-speed feline cannonball, making me yell “F****G FASCIST!!!” like Jeff Lebowski…
After 40 days and nights of Jenny and Maz farting through the wilderness, which is still ongoing, and being relentlessly tempted to misbehave, Tito finally gives in…
Sure, sure, the other two are so much fun to romp and wrestle with, and so… Nommable.
Sure, Maz steals food and likes to plant his arse and naughty bits in our faces when we sleep (I found an egg roll on the kitchen floor this very morning), while Jenny attacks anything that moves or she thinks is moving, farting up a storm as I lean to pet her.
Tito started by playing alone behind the drapes, as he likes to do. once in a while stopping to see if the others were enticed to come and check him out. This took some time, as Maz was busy looking for something to steal, or “liberate” as he calls it, in the kitchen and Jenny herself was stalking him, fascinated as she is by his spectacular nakedness ( she often looks back at us with a WTF is that look on her face).
Suddenly the noises from the window became a racket and we both turned to see that Tito had climbed up the drapes all the way to the ceiling, his head rotating almost 180 degrees, “exorcist” like. This was a first… The climbing, I mean. I’ve seen him do the head thing before when he’s tripping on catnip.
… Los Bastardos, those high priests of malevolence, Maz “the mace” Whang and Miss Pirate Jenny, continue their re-enactment of “children of Dune” on an 18 by 24 inch stage…
No spice and no worms (thank Ceiling Cat), only disastrous leavings draped or laid in odd places like the edge of the litter box or the floor. I’ve actually watched Maz back up in the box and drop a load on the floor…
I wonder whether Salvador Dali had cats… That could explain this:
Cleaning up these messes is no fun and brings Rudha-an close to horking. Sigh… So I’ll do my best to try and keep my cookies down as I pick up the horrid turds.
Yes, Miss Jenny is a kibble tosser. She has made an art of it. Sadly, our feet are suffering. Kibble just isn’t fun to step on in the dark. It took a while before we saw how she did it. We knew it was her because we never had to clean up kibble before she came to live with us.
One day, I walked into the kitchen and caught her in the act. She stands IN the kibble bowl to eat. When she’s done eating, she makes a large leap to get out and the kibble flies everywhere. What a silly little kitty.
Another Friday night rolls around and it’s time for our kitties to shine. Miss jenny continues to make changes in the household. The morning and evening rampages are a sight to behold. They also sound like a herd of elephants. When they aren’t rampaging, they like to hang out in the kitchen and soak up the sun.
Another Friday night has rolled around and it’s time for our pointy eared people to have the spotlight. Ok, it’s only Friday afternoon, but what the heck. Here they are enjoying their favorite pastimes. We have always had happy kitty cats. I think they are even more happy since Jenny’s arrival.
Now we would like to share this happy dog video. I think happy is an understatement.
Paraskevidekatriaphobia, the irrational and morbid fear that something really, really, but really bad is going to happen when the calendar turns to Friday the 13th.
Irrational? But there is a greater fear about a more definite and immediate threat of getting your head ‘sploded by cats. And there’s no name for that yet.
Even Miss Jenny was excluded from their conversation… Whatever, man… ‘Spect the ‘stache…
Eventually, Maz ambled back into the living room and “parked” himself in front of the television until…
Maz being nothing if not excessive, he ‘sploded another head, lifting his paw under the strain. Either that or he was passing gas.
For those who haven’t mastered their powers yet, and I pray they don’t, Tito recommends starting with something easy like the photobomb…
It’s Friday night and time for our pointy eared people to shine. Miss Nightshade Jenny is now fully integrated into the JBoD household. Tito and Kitsy are completely wrapped around her little paws. The cooing and trilling around here is enough to make person ill with the overwhelming sweetness of it all. In other words, they are happy. It’s all good. Our boys were happy before she came home with us. They are happier now.
We have always said that our kitties earn their names. As a result, we don’t normally name them right away. In Miss Jenny’s case, we did it differently. Her name at the SPCA was Nightshade, a perfectly poisonous, yet wonderful plant. It can be so deadly and yet it gives us potatoes and eggplant, not to mention chile peppers. The name Jenny came from the Three Penny Opera and the Pirate Jenny song. Miss Jenny has now shown her true colors and her name is perfect.
Don’t let her innocent face and lovely blue eyes fool you. She can be murderous. We have found the evidence. It’s appalling, I tell you. We didn’t really do anything for the holidays. We did get something for our pointy eared people. It was a couple of catnip fish with feather tails. I’m sure they are designed to totally confuse the kittehs, but that’s another story.
I awoke the other morning to total carnage. Miss Jenny had wreaked havoc upon the toys. The destruction wasn’t quite complete, but it was awful.
I know it was Jenny. I caught her in action and here is the evidence.
Albert Camus said it best:
Murder is terribly exhausting.
He was correct.
To see why the Pirate Jenny song is so perfect, just follow along below the fold to read the lyrics.