Caturday: in praise of a bada$$

The World’s Lights dimmed recently when a friend of the blog passed, leaving a deep hole in many hearts. We never got to meet Renfield, but oh we love him. Renfield the unexpected mouser, connoisseur of flying edibles known as “sky raisins” whose love for his humans is fully known only by them, bright and intense as only celestial objects are, and so intensely personal as absolute trust is.

Renfield: It’s MY MOUSE! Very badass
Even a badass needs a nap
He was a badass, but he was daddy’s boy too.

Rudha-an here: Renfield’s family have had 5 sphynx kitties with severe heart issues. 4 of them were diagnosed with HCM (Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy). Renfield was preceded in death by his father, Capt. Darling. Both will be sorely missed. Of the three that are left, Two are in CHF (congestive heart failure) and living on borrowed time. Given how wonderful their humans are, I can guarantee that their time is as full of joy as possible. Now I return you to Lastech:

Over time, months certainly, a couple of years maybe, we here at JBoD got to love our own badass. Titan demonstrated early on he is not violent, but competent. Yes, the slaps and bites and hisses came fast but never furious. That would have been unnecessary. The only times he ever purred, maybe three altogether, sounded like broken English, a barely known and understood language. Once they got familiar with him, Miss Jenny and Tito began to try and socialize. Tito early on tried to play-wrestle the old Marshal by wrapping a paw around him and biting his neck. Tito was on the floor with a loud thump next, having been thrown off by Titan. Because Titan doesn’t play. And after that, he just walked away from a stunned Tito.

The point was made. Titanescu doesn’t run. He might, for food, if in fact he could still run. As it is, it’s a fast-ish shuffle on bad hips. Pepi looks away when he passes. Miss Jenny folds back her ears when he hisses at her for not providing enough body heat quick enough. But… He’s never mean, always stopped short of causing pain once he got compliance. With competence.

Titan looking rather badass

I don’t know why he is still alive but there he is, eating and sleeping and drinking the dog’s water, because he can. He has his own dish of water, but likes to show her who’s boss. The other cats (and us) look at him with awe, frankly. Titanescu is what most of us aspire to be. He gets his, doesn’t go out of his way for anything or anyone, and makes his point with clarity, sometimes emphasis but never cruelty. And without compromise. He doesn’t know how.

Renfield’s passing made us appreciate the badasses of catdom all the more.

Here is a vid made of nice memories of Renfield and Capt. Darling


Requiem: in praise of the Vampir

This week, the extended family of pointy eared people observed the passing of Vampir, a good natured soul with a sweet tooth for rodents. Much like one of the characters from “what we do in the shadows”, Vampir roomed with Nofuratu, Count, Vlad, Captain Darling and Renfield.  Renfield,  who follows in Vampir’s footsteps as a great mouser.

A powerful hunger
Renfield’s powerful hunger

I can easily picture Vampir’s handsome ears and glorious whiskers twitching in the dark, as the “doomed” mice scurried about. His casually interested eyes suddenly waning like a total lunar eclipse before the sacrifice.

Vampir at rest
Vampir at rest

A creature of both darkness and light, Vampir occasionally enjoyed exposing his six (or was it eight?) nipples to sunlight in between nightly pursuits. The warmth helping him digest sweetbreads just recently consumed.

Vampir's belly roll
Vampir’s belly roll

We celebrate Vampir’s transition to the other side of the bridge, where the sun always shines, the moon is always full and mice are plentiful and slower than molasses in winter. Why work at it so hard, eh?

Goodnight sweet Vampir
Goodnight sweet Vampir

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Caturday: Happy and sad

I’m sorry Caturday is up late. We switched from graveyard shift to day shift and back again so it got awkward. We spent yesterday afternoon attending a graduation party for the son of a friend. It was lovely.

Before we get to the pointy eared people, we want to take a moment to remember and honor constables Douglas James Larche, David Ross, and Fabrice Georges Gevaudan. These three members of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police lost their lives much too soon. We’ll not dignify their killer by naming him. Why does it matter? Moncton, located in New Brunswick, Canada is only a wee bit bigger than my hometown and we have friends there. Those friends weren’t just there. They were in the lockdown area and much closer than we care to imagine. You can read about it here. We are happy that our friends are fine, but sad at the loss that their community must endure.

Douglas James Larche, David Ross, and Fabrice Georges Gevaudan will not be forgotten
Douglas James Larche, David Ross, and Fabrice Georges Gevaudan will not be forgotten

Now it’s time for the pointy eared people

Tito playing with one of his paper toys
Tito playing with one of his paper toys
Miss Jenny playing with a toy that was given to her by our friend Grace
Miss Jenny playing with a toy that was given to her by our friend Grace
...and now it's a boy toy
…and now it’s a boy toy
Titanescu resting on Lastech's lap
Titanescu resting on Lastech’s lap

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Caturday: Catso Fascista 2009-2012

They say that when you’re young, you know what you hate and that as you get older, you know what you love and shift your focus.
I think that’s true but I hate disease more and more, disease of any variety, which diminishes those you love until it kills them. I can’t get used to it, and I’m not certain Kitsy’s passing has sunk in even now.
Maybe it’s because he was so much larger than life, that I have trouble thinking of him as truly gone.
Everything about Kitsy was superlative and he was a hell of a model, even though he never managed to hold a pose quite long enough. One thing he liked was getting petted roughly before I blew raspberries on his gut. He’d get up, fold his big flappers of ears back and leap off.
What we had for the past couple months or so was a wasted version of him.
Lately, he had appeared to make some improvement. The weight, however was located in his gut and his spine and ribs continued to show. His muscle mass continued to diminish and he had more trouble jumping in the last few days.
What confirmed what we were afraid to know and discuss, was what the other cats did. They nestled with Kitsy to keep him warm at night, Jenny checked on him constantly, and Tito would lure me to the bathroom were I’d sit on the edge of the tub and pet him on my lap.
New behavior which I took  as offers of comfort from the big cat.
As to Jenny, she accompanied Kitsy wherever he went, literally shadowing him. By then she also looked much bigger than he.
So we had him for two years, and that seems like a very short time…
The vet told us that the disease affected mostly young cats, and what a rotten thing that is.
I will miss his excesses and countless transgressions. I used to joke he was like a shark, an eating machine constantly looking for food to steal, and last night it struck me to see bacon strips on a plate in the kitchen left unmolested. Yet I can’t help thinking that even though he’s clearly not here he is not in fact gone.
I will miss our arguments, me calling him names and him probably demanding noms. He was a great outlet for my frustrations the fearless little bastard who never had a bad mood and would make Tito and I exchange disbelieving looks.
I can’t wait to dream about him.

Maz Whang
Catso Fascista 2009-2012

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream
I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been
To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen
They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed.

Led Zeppelin “Kashmir”


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