While Mazuzu continues his recovery, Jenny shows signs of boredom. Add to that the oh-so attractive scent of freshly laundered socks and she’ll leap into action, ‘sploding the contents of the laundry bag all over the kitchen floor.
She spent so much time rolling in it, biting and clawing, that we actually noticed two colored spots on her gut: a solitary dab of orange and a light blue one where she was, erm…- fixed.
Weird, I know, but there you go. Getting the socks all over the place was just the “apéritif”, and she moved on to paper towel shredding on the bed, attacking our toes and my calves, throwing one of her stuffed toys in the air repeatedly (we had to cover our coffee mugs just in case).
Hours later, the little Hellion’s crashed on the cat tower recharging her batteries while Tito’s out chasing some flying thing, perhaps imaginary.
… What Nurse Jenny does most of the time: keep Maz the Schnazz warm:
The night of Thursday into Friday the 13th, a night of celestial mayhem, turned out to bring Tito and I ever closer…
A storm was moving through the Bay Area, with lightning strikes precise enough to hit not only the Bay bridge but a plane in flight. The plane had to dump fuel and returned safely to the airport.
At home, as we turned off the computer and prepared to do the same with the TV, I caught something strange from the corner of my eye: a rug shimmying straight for the kitchen. A second look showed Tito hugging the floor and running for a kitchen cupboard to hide in.
Maz, while none too pleased, was comfortably wrapped in a heavy blanket on the bed and didn’t budge. Jenny herself was sitting on the bed with a bit more nervous discomfort than he and watched Tito darting away.
While I don’t particularly fear that the sky will ever fall, like my ancestors the Gauls, Tito seems to be afraid of it for the both of us. The only spot he considers a refuge is the lower cupboard in the kitchen next to the stove top and behind a crock pot.
This storm kept on moving through, fortunately, and Jenny helped Tito recover with tender grooming and copious amounts of catnip she shared… Tito the Gaul. Wow. We are kin!
This just happened. Oh, in the last 40 minutes or so.
Maz: “- Mmmmraw…. Meeeeewe….
Rudha-an: – Unnnh.nnuh. Nno baby, wut time is it..?
Me: – Hrrumph… I’ts… Four thirty. Jesus.
Maz: – Hmmraow. Rrrweee. MRAOW.
Rudha-an: – Not now baby, it’s too – (another body landed on the bed)
Me: – T-Tito what the @#$%? [He takes off]
Rudha-an (as a result of being trampled by Maz): – Would you stop..? Christ almighty. No I’m not going in there. ‘Course I love you too but Jeesus.
Me: – [BONK] Sh*t, who did I kick off the bed..?
Rudha-an: – Musta been Tito.
Me: – No it felt lighter than – [cats are heard romping through the apartment: TROMP-TROMP-TROMP-MMMMMREEEWEEEE!-TAGADA-TAGADA-TAGADA-TSOIN-TSOIN! I dunno… Suddenly one lands next to my feet before taking off at warp speed, claws raking my ankles] AAAGH!!! @#$#^%&!!!!! F*****G $%&*&##@@!!!!!!
Rudha-an: – Told you to cover your feet….
Me: – [for the umpteenth time] THEY GET WARM… Joder!!! [Yeah, ’cause I cuss in other languages too…] Bastards!
Maz: – Rrrrrewweee!!! MmROW!
Me: – Hey f***k you pal. [I grab him and wrap him in the blanket against me. As I grab him his legs stiffen out, kicking every which way, like hypnic jerking, one claw nailing Rudha-an in the arm]
Rudha-an: – DAMMIT!!!! $#@^%&*!!!!
I’m holding on tight to Maz, petting him as he tries to burrow an escape tunnel. He turns and MMMRAOWS in my face. I gotta come up for air: I just smelled the entire Seattle fish market fill my nose. Blech.
Jenny, I can tell from the weight before she even utters a chirrup, leaps on my shoulder, slides and rakes my neck with a claw. The Deguello echoes loud in my head. Flesh wound. I’ll live.
From a corner of the room, not sure which, I feel Tito either orchestrating the mayhem or perhaps waiting to come in and save us… Who knows, both things have happened in the past.
YES! He jumps next to me and grabs at Jenny who suddenly takes off!
NO! he climbs on my gut and takes a flying leap from there.
We’ve seen worse, but recent days have seen the thermometer dip to about 40 at night and it takes longer for the sun to warm everything up in the morning.
I took this picture a few weeks ago at about 7 a.m.
That means more cuddling time for Miss Jenny, Marshal Tito and the f****g fascist depicted in the banner, pardon my French…. It also means more noms for calories and Maz has now taught Jenny to wake mommy up for them. Lots of pawing, standing on hips, face-licks with hellish breath, etc…
Tito is the only one not begging for food anymore…
Every so often, I do forget and leave food unattended. Maz never forgets.
Wonder what they dream of… The cat version of “the King and I”? Complete with coo’s and chirrups?
Or maybe they dream of centipede bunnies crapping skittles. Who knows?
Naturally in the real world, cats would devour the bunnies, resulting in… Well, just watch.
It’s 3:40 a.m. and I’m trying to work up a movie review. The boys are pooped and crashed in their spots on the computer desk: Tito in the basket above and Maz in the doggie bed to the side.
Miss Jenny still wants to play and is getting bratty about it. She’s carrying this balled up piece of paper, dropping it in Maz’ bed and steps on him to get a reaction. No dice.
She jumps up to Tito’s lair, almost knocking the desk lamp clipped to the side. I can hear Tito sigh, but he doesn’t budge. Down she comes again, picking up her toy once more.
She bats it into the space between the TV table and the wall and lunges after it, wedging her front end down there while back-pedaling with her rear.
She farts. Oh God she farted.
She comes up victorious with paper in mouth, I guess. I can’t really tell, my eyes watering and the fumes affecting my inner ear: the image and sound on the TV seem out of sync, because sound travels at a different speed after she ‘alters’ the atmosphere. I put my hands down on the desk to steady myself, Jeez… We need to change her diet progressively, but soon. Much depends on this.
All four of our kittoons here have needed a bit of socializing right from the start. It might seem that Maz Whang didn’t, but his universe was turned upside down when we adopted him, as he’d grown up a full year with Sphynx siblings, and a couple other cats and dog.
To be wrenched from his home was traumatic, and the poor beastie gacked and crapped all over himself in the cat carrier on the way to his new digs.
We had to stop, clean him up and comfort him as best we could before driving on.
Sphynxes are social, but on their own terms, which aren’t always easy to decipher. They really are driven by the two related needs of warmth and sustenance, with much playtime in between.
Just like you test the warmth of a baby bottle prior to feeding, you have to ensure your hands are warm enough before petting Maz or he’ll recoil and dart away in shock and horror. I call this “ghosting” because that’s what his reaction makes me think of. We’ve said he’s been very good for Tito (and vice versa), drawing Tito out of his ‘goth’ period following Boober’s passing.
Finally, Tito was able to chase and play to his heart’s content with the streaker, losing excess weight in the process, and bonding with, well, an alien. Even Miss Jenny finds Mazuzu irresistible: both want to nom on Maz, who’ll leap straight up a couple feet in the air and maybe growl if a tooth racks his spine. Mmmmh. Baby back ribs…
Given Tito and Jenny’s “affection” for shoes, I suspect they enjoy Maz’ gym locker smell when it’s time to give him a bath. That’s usually a signal for us to drag him into the tub, but then they love the new cat smell just as much and are all over him again.
Affection? They have it. Tito tricks us into feeding him and leaves the food for Maz, knowing the alien always needs more. Smart Tito…
Maz grooms both Tito and Jenny when he beds down with either in the basket atop the computer desk, later gacking hairballs and meowing his discontent, but what can you do..? Jenny also grooms both, focusing on Maz’ ears in particular, an unexpected boon for us since Maz and Q-tips don’t mix well.
One of the biggest changes is something Maz started and Jenny continues: helping Tito find his voice. Because he never was very vocal at all, this watchful little thing which grew into a big cat. He now trills and coos and meows, although always in the higher pitch of a kitten. And it may be early yet to tell, but I think Jenny’s going to be the same. They both will always sound like kittens.
This may sound like a sign of arrested development but I prefer to think of it as a display of happiness, along with Tito’s joy at being picked up and carried from room to room for a few minutes, purring and discovering a new perspective on his world with wide eyes, rubbing his chin on our cheek as we do so. And Jenny’s happiness at going to sleep hugging my hand to her head, like a pillow.
Our two little feral rescues no longer have to survive on mean streets, they only have to romp and warm each other and their “cousin” from outer space.
Love is in the air and scarcely displaced by Maz and Jenny’s farts. It’s all good.
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…
The darker side of living with a Sphynx, when the madness courses through his veins and he chases the invisible…
On a couple occasions now, Mazuzu let out a blood-curling growl long and deep enough to make the rest of us look at each other and ask in hushed tones “did you hear that?!?”
That’s a new and a bit unwelcome addition to his ‘klakk-klakking” Predator sounds.
Okay, so we truly do live in the jungle, Jurassic Park-like…
And he does look at times like those small rodent looking dinosaurs who ate Newman from Seinfeld after he got out of his Jeep.
But he doesn’t venture into the valleys, no, he sticks with the high-ground at night, meaning us.
It wouldn’t be so bad if his balance was better, or his weight distribution more even, but as he walks on top of us, his paws dig into the flesh, and he then stands atop a shoulder like some Swiss dude in a Ricola commercial, except for some pathetic moans as though he were cold. But if you try to pull him down under covers, he might stay a minute licking himself making strange sounds…. Fnar- Fnar-Shog-shoggoth, as though reciting to…. Cthulu?!? Before bolting out for round two. Or five.
Oh, and the reason he chases the invisible? Because if he could catch it he would snarf it in one big snort.