Good morning! Or is it afternoon? Or even evening? Just up from my latest nap. Yawn!
I need to address another reason why I call Cherokee disgusting. Before we moved to Phoenix, he was always congested and stuffy. He sneezed constantly. Mom said he had allergies or maybe even asthma. Sometimes when he would sneeze, stuff (Mom calls it snot) would come out of his nose and hang there. He would go all over the house with that stuff hanging off his nose. Mom would try to wipe it off, but he would never let her and would struggle mightily if she tried. Did he think she was trying to smother him, or what? Anyway, it was perfectly disgusting! After our move, he stopped his constant sneezing and usually then it happened only when it rained. Mom was happy that he was better. She was also better, because she had pretty much the same problem, except that she would wipe her nose. She would even blow the stuff out before it had a chance to hang out. She has much better habits than Cherokee ever did.
I believe I told you before about one of his litter box habits. Totally disgusting! Mom said that he was a man, what could we expect. I think for some reason she has changed her attitude since then, though.
Cherokee also loved to wrestle. I believe that I mentioned before that he was always bothering me during my nap times, because he wanted to play and/or wrestle. Often I would get very angry and we would end up fighting instead, leaving more big clumps of fur for Mom to find. She used to worry that we would really hurt each other sometime, but it didn't happen. We were pretty easy on each other, even though we would hiss (mostly I would) and growl (mostly I would) while rolling around on the floor or the furniture. It scared Mom, and I'm sorry that it did, but what could I do?
I don't remember a whole lot about our time in Massachusetts, since one day seemed to be very much like the previous one. Here in Phoenix, though, I remember most of our time. In some ways it is a more interesting house than where we were in Massachusetts, because there are steps. However, there were a lot more windows and a lot more to see in the old place, although there wasn't much place to sit by the window in the winter, when they were closed. Here we have window sills big enough to get on, even when the windows are shut. There just isn't much to see. From the patio doors we can see the patio and sometimes a bird or a butterfly. From the dining room window, we can't see much at all, just the plants growing along the front walk. From the bedroom window, again, not much to see, except a little bit into the parking lot and the garage roof. From the office window, we can see into a few other patios and see more birds and butterflies.
Cherokee always liked to be in the dining room window, because Mom would let the cat's claw vine grow over it in the summer. He said it was like hiding in the bushes. He could see birds and butterflies coming to the flowers along the walk, but they couldn't really see him. He would sit there for hours at a time. Sometimes I would go up there, but later on it got harder and harder to get up there. I think they changed the height of the window! I never could jump as well as my brother.
Well, I'm a little tired right now, and I can't think of the rest of Cherokee's disgusting habits, so I will leave you now so that I can meditate and think about things, about life, about the past. I'll get to the present soon enough, but I'll leave that for another day.
Yours,
Apache
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Just We Two - Happy Home
M-m-m-m! A nice rest! It's so good to sleep.
"Patchy, Patchy!"
"That's Miss Apache to you. What do you want, Pest? Besides, I'm busy. Go away!"
As I said, the Pest can call me Miss, as I have never been married. Judging by Cherokee, I'm glad I never was. He annoyed me no end sometimes, just like Pest. Mom used to share my view of marriage, saying that she would never get married again. Sometimes men would come over and take her away for a while, but they never moved in. Things have changed considerably, but I will get to that later.
"Miss Patchy! Miss Patchy!"
"What now?"
"Where Mr. Cherokee? I like meet him."
"Well, you can't. Go to sleep, or go play with your tail or something!"
"I think I like Mr. Cherokee. He like play. When he come home?"
"He won't ever come home again, so forget about him. Now, go away."
"Miss Patchy, why you eyes wet? You cry? Why you cry?"
"Just go away and leave me alone. What a pest!"
"I no pest, I think, but I go 'way. We play later."
"Don't bet on it!"
What a way to have a good mood spoiled! There are few enough of them as it is.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the three of us were settled into our home in Phoenix. Mom was home most of the time for a while and Cherokee and I really enjoyed that. We did a lot of cuddling, and she made sure we were fed at the right times and that the litter box was kept clean. She always told us that she loved us and that made us feel so special, because we loved her, too. That's why neither Cherokee nor I would ever have bitten or scratched her. Not for anything! Except totally by accident during rough play. This is one area where Cherokee became a bit of a hero.
After we got settled in, Mom took each of us to see the vet. I sure hated it when I went, but I behaved pretty well. When it was Cherokee's time to see the vet, he was really upset. Mom had to chase him all over the house in order to get him into the box. We had what Mom said was a loft room overlooking the living room. The entertainment center was up against the wall in the living room, just under the open area from upstairs. I think it was twice that Cherokee ran upstairs, jumped up on the half-wall and down onto the entertainment center. From there, he jumped all the way down to the floor. It's surprising that he didn't break a leg or anything. Well, Mom finally got the idea to close all the doors and Cherokee took refuge in the downstairs bathroom. He kept making the same mistake over and over again, didn't he.
She finally got him into the box and took him out to the car and off they went. Mom tells people what Cherokee did there. He was very unhappy and frightened, and put up quite a fight when they took him into the back room. The vet came out bleeding and said that Cherokee had bitten him. Hooray!!! My hero! Mom had to fax a copy of his rabies vaccination certificate from Massachusetts so that the doctor would be a little happier. I think that's the last time Mom took Cherokee to the vet until much later on.
Mom took me to the vet a second time, and they needed, of all things, some of my urine. Ugh! What on earth did they want that for? Needless to say, Mom could not get any from me (she could never be sure what was mine and what was Cherokee's), so they had to take it from me in the back room. One of us was fighting mad and moving around a lot, so some of it got on my fur. Very disgusting! I didn't even want to lick myself clean. They offered to clean me, but Mom said that she would do it at home. She should have let them, maybe I could have gotten in a few bites and scratches.
When we got home, Mom didn't let me out of the box right away, but took me upstairs to her bathroom. She put my box in the shower stall, with me in it, took off her clothes and got into the shower stall, too. She turned on the warm water and opened the box. There was no way I was leaving that box, at least not on my own power. Mom upended the box and I was forced to get out. I got thoroughly wet and was very angry. Mom just would not let me back into the box. She had a towel on the shower door, and after turning off the water, she wrapped me in the towel and held it on me for a little while. I didn't like that, though, so I struggled out of the towel and went somewhere to dry myself off. At least the urine was off me! If I never see another vet, it will be too soon. Of course, I have been a few times since then, but I hope never to go again. It is always unpleasant, to say the least.
One time, not too long ago, Mom took me to a different vet. Again, they took me, struggling, into the back room. I don't struggle when Mom holds me, but they won't let that happen. They say it is too dangerous. For who? Not for Mom. Anyway, I was struggling and screaming for help. They did some awful things to me and then brought me back, screaming, hissing and spitting. Also scratching. They quickly put me down on the floor of the room with Mom and the box and warned Mom that I might hurt her. She just laughed and came over to where I was sheltering under the counter, picked me up and stroked me a little and I let her put me in the box. She knew I wouldn't hurt her and I knew she wouldn't hurt me.
Well, all these memories are making me tired. Maybe I'll see if Mom is eating anything good for lunch that she might share with me, and then I'll take a well-deserved nap. Ya-a-a-wn!
Yours,
Apache
"Patchy, Patchy!"
"That's Miss Apache to you. What do you want, Pest? Besides, I'm busy. Go away!"
As I said, the Pest can call me Miss, as I have never been married. Judging by Cherokee, I'm glad I never was. He annoyed me no end sometimes, just like Pest. Mom used to share my view of marriage, saying that she would never get married again. Sometimes men would come over and take her away for a while, but they never moved in. Things have changed considerably, but I will get to that later.
"Miss Patchy! Miss Patchy!"
"What now?"
"Where Mr. Cherokee? I like meet him."
"Well, you can't. Go to sleep, or go play with your tail or something!"
"I think I like Mr. Cherokee. He like play. When he come home?"
"He won't ever come home again, so forget about him. Now, go away."
"Miss Patchy, why you eyes wet? You cry? Why you cry?"
"Just go away and leave me alone. What a pest!"
"I no pest, I think, but I go 'way. We play later."
"Don't bet on it!"
What a way to have a good mood spoiled! There are few enough of them as it is.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the three of us were settled into our home in Phoenix. Mom was home most of the time for a while and Cherokee and I really enjoyed that. We did a lot of cuddling, and she made sure we were fed at the right times and that the litter box was kept clean. She always told us that she loved us and that made us feel so special, because we loved her, too. That's why neither Cherokee nor I would ever have bitten or scratched her. Not for anything! Except totally by accident during rough play. This is one area where Cherokee became a bit of a hero.
After we got settled in, Mom took each of us to see the vet. I sure hated it when I went, but I behaved pretty well. When it was Cherokee's time to see the vet, he was really upset. Mom had to chase him all over the house in order to get him into the box. We had what Mom said was a loft room overlooking the living room. The entertainment center was up against the wall in the living room, just under the open area from upstairs. I think it was twice that Cherokee ran upstairs, jumped up on the half-wall and down onto the entertainment center. From there, he jumped all the way down to the floor. It's surprising that he didn't break a leg or anything. Well, Mom finally got the idea to close all the doors and Cherokee took refuge in the downstairs bathroom. He kept making the same mistake over and over again, didn't he.
She finally got him into the box and took him out to the car and off they went. Mom tells people what Cherokee did there. He was very unhappy and frightened, and put up quite a fight when they took him into the back room. The vet came out bleeding and said that Cherokee had bitten him. Hooray!!! My hero! Mom had to fax a copy of his rabies vaccination certificate from Massachusetts so that the doctor would be a little happier. I think that's the last time Mom took Cherokee to the vet until much later on.
Mom took me to the vet a second time, and they needed, of all things, some of my urine. Ugh! What on earth did they want that for? Needless to say, Mom could not get any from me (she could never be sure what was mine and what was Cherokee's), so they had to take it from me in the back room. One of us was fighting mad and moving around a lot, so some of it got on my fur. Very disgusting! I didn't even want to lick myself clean. They offered to clean me, but Mom said that she would do it at home. She should have let them, maybe I could have gotten in a few bites and scratches.
When we got home, Mom didn't let me out of the box right away, but took me upstairs to her bathroom. She put my box in the shower stall, with me in it, took off her clothes and got into the shower stall, too. She turned on the warm water and opened the box. There was no way I was leaving that box, at least not on my own power. Mom upended the box and I was forced to get out. I got thoroughly wet and was very angry. Mom just would not let me back into the box. She had a towel on the shower door, and after turning off the water, she wrapped me in the towel and held it on me for a little while. I didn't like that, though, so I struggled out of the towel and went somewhere to dry myself off. At least the urine was off me! If I never see another vet, it will be too soon. Of course, I have been a few times since then, but I hope never to go again. It is always unpleasant, to say the least.
One time, not too long ago, Mom took me to a different vet. Again, they took me, struggling, into the back room. I don't struggle when Mom holds me, but they won't let that happen. They say it is too dangerous. For who? Not for Mom. Anyway, I was struggling and screaming for help. They did some awful things to me and then brought me back, screaming, hissing and spitting. Also scratching. They quickly put me down on the floor of the room with Mom and the box and warned Mom that I might hurt her. She just laughed and came over to where I was sheltering under the counter, picked me up and stroked me a little and I let her put me in the box. She knew I wouldn't hurt her and I knew she wouldn't hurt me.
Well, all these memories are making me tired. Maybe I'll see if Mom is eating anything good for lunch that she might share with me, and then I'll take a well-deserved nap. Ya-a-a-wn!
Yours,
Apache
Friday, April 22, 2011
Just We Two - More About Cherokee
Just up from my nap with the pest.
You may have noted that I usually call Cherokee stupid. There is good reason for that. Just as an example, back in Massachusetts, whenever Mom would move her feet under the bed covers, Cherokee would jump on them. The only problem was, he forgot to be careful and would draw blood with his sharp claws and teeth, even through several layers of blankets. Mom kept telling him not to do that, but he kept on not paying any attention. Finally, she started spraying him with water every time he did it. He would stop for a couple of days and then start again. After numerous sprayings, he finally got the idea and quit - until we moved to Phoenix. He started all over again there. She started spraying again and yelling at him. He finally stopped for good. Took him long enough! Couldn't he tell that it was just her feet under the blankets and that he would hurt her with his teeth and claws? Just plain stupid!
Cherokee also had very long hair and a huge, long, hairy tail, and he was also very skinny. My hair is long, but not nearly as long as his was. I found him to be the epitome of ugliness, but Mom always stood up for him and called him handsome. There's just no accounting for tastes. The pest is black and white, too, but she has a cute little round face . . . She's still just a pest! Anyway, Cherokee was not very good at taking care of himself, so I often had to wash his face for him. His long hair caused me so many hairballs I can't even begin to count them. Mom hates it when I give up hairballs; it really grosses her out. I can't help it, though. When Mom adopted Cherokee, he was very matted because of his long hair and because he didn't take care of himself, and they took him to the vet to be put to sleep so they could comb him out. Well, there was no way to comb him, it was that matted. They ended up shaving him so that he had a Mohawk when he got to the house. That was pretty funny. That's one of the reasons he hid, because he was so embarrassed.
Another of Cherokee's bad habits was that he often would leave a very smelly deposit in the litter box. Whenever I smelled it I would rush to the box to see why there was such an odor. He usually just didn't cover them up. That really grossed me out! I would have to go into the litter box and cover it for him. Who was I - his mother? Thank goodness our litter box is covered, so the smell often did not travel too far.
"Patchy, what's a pest?"
"Go back to sleep, you don't have any place here."
"I liv hear, too. I just lern tipe."
"Go to sleep!!! You need to learn to type much better than that!"
Cherokee loved to eat! Whenever Mom would put our food down for us, he would gobble his up as fast as he could and then he would nudge me away and eat mine. What a pig! He would eat pretty much anything, so if I didn't like something, I knew that it would be eaten anyway. That sort of defeated the purpose of my not eating something, though. Sometimes I felt very sorry for him for being so skinny, and that's why I let him eat my food, too.
Whenever Mom would sit down, we would join her. I would get comfortable on her lap and just start dropping off while she was stroking me, when, of course, Cherokee would jump up and take a place on her lap, overlapping me some. What nerve! I would put on my outraged face and jump down. He would then take over the entire lap and take up all of Mom's strokes for himself. He purred very, very loudly and it was most disturbing. Mom seemed to like it a lot, though. She would always call to me to come back, but I would just turn my back and sleep by myself. The only time Cherokee was of use to me was when it was cold and we would lie together to keep warm. Sort of reminded me of the old days on the wooded hill, with our furry family.
Well, enough for now. For some reason I can't seem to see very well just now, kind of blurry. I'm very tired. More later.
Yours,
Apache
You may have noted that I usually call Cherokee stupid. There is good reason for that. Just as an example, back in Massachusetts, whenever Mom would move her feet under the bed covers, Cherokee would jump on them. The only problem was, he forgot to be careful and would draw blood with his sharp claws and teeth, even through several layers of blankets. Mom kept telling him not to do that, but he kept on not paying any attention. Finally, she started spraying him with water every time he did it. He would stop for a couple of days and then start again. After numerous sprayings, he finally got the idea and quit - until we moved to Phoenix. He started all over again there. She started spraying again and yelling at him. He finally stopped for good. Took him long enough! Couldn't he tell that it was just her feet under the blankets and that he would hurt her with his teeth and claws? Just plain stupid!
Cherokee also had very long hair and a huge, long, hairy tail, and he was also very skinny. My hair is long, but not nearly as long as his was. I found him to be the epitome of ugliness, but Mom always stood up for him and called him handsome. There's just no accounting for tastes. The pest is black and white, too, but she has a cute little round face . . . She's still just a pest! Anyway, Cherokee was not very good at taking care of himself, so I often had to wash his face for him. His long hair caused me so many hairballs I can't even begin to count them. Mom hates it when I give up hairballs; it really grosses her out. I can't help it, though. When Mom adopted Cherokee, he was very matted because of his long hair and because he didn't take care of himself, and they took him to the vet to be put to sleep so they could comb him out. Well, there was no way to comb him, it was that matted. They ended up shaving him so that he had a Mohawk when he got to the house. That was pretty funny. That's one of the reasons he hid, because he was so embarrassed.
Another of Cherokee's bad habits was that he often would leave a very smelly deposit in the litter box. Whenever I smelled it I would rush to the box to see why there was such an odor. He usually just didn't cover them up. That really grossed me out! I would have to go into the litter box and cover it for him. Who was I - his mother? Thank goodness our litter box is covered, so the smell often did not travel too far.
"Patchy, what's a pest?"
"Go back to sleep, you don't have any place here."
"I liv hear, too. I just lern tipe."
"Go to sleep!!! You need to learn to type much better than that!"
Cherokee loved to eat! Whenever Mom would put our food down for us, he would gobble his up as fast as he could and then he would nudge me away and eat mine. What a pig! He would eat pretty much anything, so if I didn't like something, I knew that it would be eaten anyway. That sort of defeated the purpose of my not eating something, though. Sometimes I felt very sorry for him for being so skinny, and that's why I let him eat my food, too.
Whenever Mom would sit down, we would join her. I would get comfortable on her lap and just start dropping off while she was stroking me, when, of course, Cherokee would jump up and take a place on her lap, overlapping me some. What nerve! I would put on my outraged face and jump down. He would then take over the entire lap and take up all of Mom's strokes for himself. He purred very, very loudly and it was most disturbing. Mom seemed to like it a lot, though. She would always call to me to come back, but I would just turn my back and sleep by myself. The only time Cherokee was of use to me was when it was cold and we would lie together to keep warm. Sort of reminded me of the old days on the wooded hill, with our furry family.
Well, enough for now. For some reason I can't seem to see very well just now, kind of blurry. I'm very tired. More later.
Yours,
Apache
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Just We Two - The End of the Journey
Nothing like a good nap! I feel so refreshed!
Well, this place where we were set free at last, was much bigger than the last places and not at all like a garage, but there was nothing there. There were steps! We had not seen steps since our foster home. There were two bathrooms, one up and one down. There were two big rooms upstairs and some rooms (one was a kitchen) downstairs. There was a stove and refrigerator, but there was no furniture! No bed, no chair, no nothing! We looked around a little, but chicken Cherokee hid and I sort of followed suit. Mom later found him on the top shelf of one of the closets. He was always good at jumping and climbing. I stayed a little lower down.
That first night, Mom blew into a plastic thing and put it on the floor with some blankets. She actually lay down on it and slept on it! We joined her pretty soon and it was fairly comfortable. The next day, Mom went out and brought home a TV. She had brought home some food the night before, and after she ate, we watched a movie that she bought when she was out. I still couldn't figure out how she was going to live without furniture and more clothes, but eventually things happened. On our second full day there, some men brought a washer and dryer, but they put them into the garage. Cherokee hid in the closet again, but I can't remember where I was during that time. Probably supervising (safely from the closet).
On our third full day there, a big truck came and several men brought in our furniture and lots of boxes. I didn't actually see them, as Cherokee talked me into hiding with him, but it was noisy and kind of scary with all those strange people in the house. By the afternoon, they were done, and they left. We now had the couch, the chairs, the tables, and the bed. All Mom's clothes were in a big box and it took her a while to put them all away in the closet. We came out later, when she was done working and it was time for our supper. It was an exciting day, and we were all very tired and slept well, after Mom made the bed. No more sleeping on the thing on the floor.
Before long, some more furniture came, brought by more men. There was something to put the TV on (the TV from home) and a place to put the good dishes. Most of the rest of the next several days were spent in the garage, unpacking boxes and putting stuff away. It was very hot, and when Mom had the big garage door open, we couldn't go out with her. She was always worried that we would go away. Fat chance of that! We liked to explore, but we would never forget to come home for supper!
Sometimes, Mom let us go out onto what she called the patio. It had a high wall around it and had some bushy stuff and some weeds growing in it. It was fun, though. There were some little creatures that were kind of green and they ran on the walls. What fun to chase them and catch them! Cherokee didn't catch any - he always left that to me. I would catch them and we both would play with them. Sometimes their tails came off and would lie there wiggling. That really freaked Mom out when she found one on the hall floor - a wiggling tail, I mean.
After a few days, some people came to stay for a couple of days. They slept on the futon in the guest room. I guess maybe they were guests. They stayed a couple of nights and then left. Mom seemed happy to see them, but they took her away for most of one day. Anyway, we weren't so happy to see them and were glad when they left.
Oh, ya-a-a-a-awn! This has really tired me out.
Yours,
Apache
Well, this place where we were set free at last, was much bigger than the last places and not at all like a garage, but there was nothing there. There were steps! We had not seen steps since our foster home. There were two bathrooms, one up and one down. There were two big rooms upstairs and some rooms (one was a kitchen) downstairs. There was a stove and refrigerator, but there was no furniture! No bed, no chair, no nothing! We looked around a little, but chicken Cherokee hid and I sort of followed suit. Mom later found him on the top shelf of one of the closets. He was always good at jumping and climbing. I stayed a little lower down.
That first night, Mom blew into a plastic thing and put it on the floor with some blankets. She actually lay down on it and slept on it! We joined her pretty soon and it was fairly comfortable. The next day, Mom went out and brought home a TV. She had brought home some food the night before, and after she ate, we watched a movie that she bought when she was out. I still couldn't figure out how she was going to live without furniture and more clothes, but eventually things happened. On our second full day there, some men brought a washer and dryer, but they put them into the garage. Cherokee hid in the closet again, but I can't remember where I was during that time. Probably supervising (safely from the closet).
On our third full day there, a big truck came and several men brought in our furniture and lots of boxes. I didn't actually see them, as Cherokee talked me into hiding with him, but it was noisy and kind of scary with all those strange people in the house. By the afternoon, they were done, and they left. We now had the couch, the chairs, the tables, and the bed. All Mom's clothes were in a big box and it took her a while to put them all away in the closet. We came out later, when she was done working and it was time for our supper. It was an exciting day, and we were all very tired and slept well, after Mom made the bed. No more sleeping on the thing on the floor.
Before long, some more furniture came, brought by more men. There was something to put the TV on (the TV from home) and a place to put the good dishes. Most of the rest of the next several days were spent in the garage, unpacking boxes and putting stuff away. It was very hot, and when Mom had the big garage door open, we couldn't go out with her. She was always worried that we would go away. Fat chance of that! We liked to explore, but we would never forget to come home for supper!
Sometimes, Mom let us go out onto what she called the patio. It had a high wall around it and had some bushy stuff and some weeds growing in it. It was fun, though. There were some little creatures that were kind of green and they ran on the walls. What fun to chase them and catch them! Cherokee didn't catch any - he always left that to me. I would catch them and we both would play with them. Sometimes their tails came off and would lie there wiggling. That really freaked Mom out when she found one on the hall floor - a wiggling tail, I mean.
After a few days, some people came to stay for a couple of days. They slept on the futon in the guest room. I guess maybe they were guests. They stayed a couple of nights and then left. Mom seemed happy to see them, but they took her away for most of one day. Anyway, we weren't so happy to see them and were glad when they left.
Oh, ya-a-a-a-awn! This has really tired me out.
Yours,
Apache
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Just We Two - Cherokee
Cherokee Um-m-m-m! Nothing like a good stretch!
When I last wrote, we were all in the car - "happily" rolling down the road! At this point, let me back up a little. You may have noticed that I always refer to Cherokee as clumsy and a klutz, foolish, stupid. Mom was sure I was wrong, but I was definitely not. He was always trying to get me into trouble, too. Let me give you an example.
One night, Mom was sound (and I do mean "sound" if you catch my drift) asleep and Cherokee and I were on the bed with her. For some unknown reason (unknown to both him and me) Cherokee woke up and wanted to play/fight. I'm not sure what he really wanted, but he jumped on me and we began to wrestle. He always had more energy than I and I was tired, so I decided to get away. He gave chase and inadvertently I ran over Mom's face, scratching her on the forehead. She woke up of course, and was very angry. She got out of bed and told us both to get out of the bedroom. It wasn't my fault, why should I have suffered? Anyway, Cherokee raced out the door and I guess Mom thought I did, too, and she shut the door. Well, I was not going to be punished for Cherokee's transgression, so I slipped under the bed in the darkness and Mom did not notice.
After I felt that Mom was comfortable and ready to sleep, I came out from under the bed and got up on the bed with her. She noticed, but didn't say anything, so we both went to sleep. Some time later, I felt the urge to visit the litter box and went to the bedroom door. I am not good with doorknobs, so I couldn't get out. I just sat there staring at the door until Mom woke up, got out of bed, and opened the door for me. Relief! Anyway, I saw from that that I could communicate with Mom sometimes. She was smart enough and open enough for me to reach her. She was pretty amazed, because she said that she knew exactly what it was I wanted.
I have already related the incident in the car. Mom was a little upset later on to find that some of the litter from our box had come out into the water on the floor and had hardened into something resembling cement. I think some of it was still there on the rug when she traded the car in, although I certainly was not an habitue of the car. I only tell you this from hearsay.
So, there we were on our jolly way. I expected that it would be over soon, like when we went to the vet. Was I ever wrong! Only once! Mom stopped the car for a little while and got out. She left us in the car. She came back later, smelling of breakfast. My tummy grumbled a little, but we both continued to hide in the plant forest. We began to roll again and didn't stop for a very long time. Mom got her suitcase out of the car and tried to get us to come out and into the boxes, but we weren't having any of that. We spent the night in the car.
The next day, we rolled on all day. Mom stopped for breakfast and then lunch. Finally, we came to a stop at someone's house and between Mom and someone named Karen, they got us out of the car and into a garage. Our food dishes, water dish, and litter box were put into the garage, along with the boxes and we spent the next day or so exploring in the garage, while Mom got to sleep in a bed, I think. We didn't see her for all that time we spent in the garage and we began to think that this was where we would be staying. It didn't excite either of us much, but sometimes you just have to go with the flow.
Then, one morning, Mom and Karen came into the garage and, between the two of them, both Cherokee and I were put into the boxes and into the car. Everything of ours was packed into the car also. Mom said goodby to Karen and we began to roll yet again. It was getting very tiresome, believe me. Anyway, we both decided not to worry about it and went to sleep. Mom stopped for lunch and then we didn't stop again until it was nearly dark. We were in the car alone for a few minutes and then we rolled to another place very close. Mom took our boxes out of the car and put them into a room with a bed. She brought in all our stuff, too. So this was our new home? Awfully small! Chicken Cherokee immediately hid, as usual, and I sort of stayed a distance from Mom (sort of under the bed). During the night, both Cherokee and I crept up onto the bed and snuggled with Mom. It was a small place in which to live, but as long as Mom was there, everything was okay.
The next morning was a surprise. Once again, Mom put us into the boxes, which we entered very reluctantly. (Actually, Mom had to pick me up and try to gather all my legs together and put me into the box as it stood on its end.) Cherokee resisted at first, but finally gave in and entered the box. Back into the car while it was still dark and back on the road again! Both of us cried until the sun came out full and then we went to sleep. Another lunch stop and another long roll until we stopped at another small house - actually just a bedroom and a bathroom. What kind of people live in these places? I was hoping that soon we might stop for good and find ourselves in a little bit bigger place.
In the morning, after snuggling with Mom all night, Cherokee decided that he had had enough of the car. I had decided to cooperate a little and went into the box almost on my own. Cherokee, however, ran under the bed, which was pushed into the corner of the room. Mom could not get him to come out and ended up lifting the bed up against the wall. Seeing that he was now exposed, Cherokee ran into the bathroom. Mom put the bed down, picked up the box, and went into the bathroom, closing the door after her. She was smiling. The way she tells it, Cherokee had jumped into the bathtub, behind the shower curtain. Mom had the box open on the floor and she opened the curtain. Cherokee told me he was so surprised that she knew where to look. Anyway, he looked at Mom, looked at the closed door, and looked at the box, several times. Realizing that there was no way out, he jumped out of the tub and allowed Mom to push him into the box. Problem solved!
Back into the car for another day of rolling and stopping for meals (hers, not ours). It was quite a surprise when we stopped this time. Mom took us into a place much bigger than the little places we had been staying. Once she had everything in the house, she opened the boxes and let us out.
Oh, yawn! I think I need to sleep again.
Yours,
Apache
Friday, April 15, 2011
Just We Two - The Next Step
Who turned on the bright light? Wow! Waking up is hard to do.
Well, now Cherokee was in the house. I said that he hid for quite some time. During that time, he came out at night while Mom was sleeping and stole food and water and used the litter box. I kept telling the fool that it was okay and that she wouldn't hurt him, but he was never one to believe me or anyone else. Finally he came out - very gradually. The first time Mom noticed him, she woke up during the night and saw him standing in the bedroom doorway, just staring at her. A few days later, she woke up and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. She said later that he looked very big and she wasn't sure what she had got herself into. Many times I've heard her say that most people won't adopt a feral born cat, but that she found us to be the sweetest, gentlest, most loving cats she has ever seen. I'll second that! Also the most gorgeous!
Anyway, before too long, Cherokee was sleeping on Mom's bed, much to my dismay. Sometimes I would go and sleep somewhere else in protest, but no one took any notice. Mom seemed to like it when both of us were there with her on the bed. Cherokee was almost always by her feet, while I was covering her back. I really needed to sleep at night, because it got to the point where Cherokee was constantly playing and bothering me during my nap time. The silly goof! We often got into small battles about it and Mom would come home to large clumps of fur around the house.
There were other cats downstairs from us. We lived on the third floor of a triple-decker and Mom's daughter (would you call her my step-sister?) lived on the second floor. She had four cats, all of them perfectly hateful. They always growled and hissed, except for one (her name was Millie) who occasionally would come upstairs and sniff around a little. The one called "Mr. Purr" was particularly hateful and we truly hated each other.
We used to spend a lot of time in the windows there. We had two bay windows to use, as well as a number of others. It was nice sometimes during the summer to lie in the open window (with screens for safety) and get some fresh air and to snoop on some of the neighborhood happenings. Once in a while, Mom would let us out on the back porch, but she was always afraid that we would fall off the railing and break something when we would hit the ground. Never happened!
One day, Mom went away for a few days. She said she was going to Arizona for an AG (whatever that is). When she got back, she told everyone that we were going to move to Phoenix. It didn't sound like a good idea, but I thought maybe it was a phase and would pass. How wrong I was! I almost never am wrong, but there is always a first time for everything. After a little while, Mom started putting things in boxes, and then a man came and put more stuff in boxes. The next day, some other men came and took all our furniture and all the boxes away. We ended up sleeping downstairs where the other cats were. We had our own room, though. After a day or two, Mom made us get into the boxes (much to our distress) and we were put into the car. Very traumatic! Mom let us out of the boxes after she stopped for some coffee so that we could walk around. I went around the car one way, and Cherokee went the other way. The poor klutz tripped over her coffee and spilled most of it on the floor. He also stepped in the water bowl and got water all over. Sheesh!!! After we calmed down a little, we went into the back where all Mom's houseplants were and settled down on the greenery, as we rolled off down the road.
Well, I feel a nap attack coming on, so I will continue some other day.
Yours,
Apache
Well, now Cherokee was in the house. I said that he hid for quite some time. During that time, he came out at night while Mom was sleeping and stole food and water and used the litter box. I kept telling the fool that it was okay and that she wouldn't hurt him, but he was never one to believe me or anyone else. Finally he came out - very gradually. The first time Mom noticed him, she woke up during the night and saw him standing in the bedroom doorway, just staring at her. A few days later, she woke up and saw him standing at the foot of the bed. She said later that he looked very big and she wasn't sure what she had got herself into. Many times I've heard her say that most people won't adopt a feral born cat, but that she found us to be the sweetest, gentlest, most loving cats she has ever seen. I'll second that! Also the most gorgeous!
Anyway, before too long, Cherokee was sleeping on Mom's bed, much to my dismay. Sometimes I would go and sleep somewhere else in protest, but no one took any notice. Mom seemed to like it when both of us were there with her on the bed. Cherokee was almost always by her feet, while I was covering her back. I really needed to sleep at night, because it got to the point where Cherokee was constantly playing and bothering me during my nap time. The silly goof! We often got into small battles about it and Mom would come home to large clumps of fur around the house.
There were other cats downstairs from us. We lived on the third floor of a triple-decker and Mom's daughter (would you call her my step-sister?) lived on the second floor. She had four cats, all of them perfectly hateful. They always growled and hissed, except for one (her name was Millie) who occasionally would come upstairs and sniff around a little. The one called "Mr. Purr" was particularly hateful and we truly hated each other.
We used to spend a lot of time in the windows there. We had two bay windows to use, as well as a number of others. It was nice sometimes during the summer to lie in the open window (with screens for safety) and get some fresh air and to snoop on some of the neighborhood happenings. Once in a while, Mom would let us out on the back porch, but she was always afraid that we would fall off the railing and break something when we would hit the ground. Never happened!
One day, Mom went away for a few days. She said she was going to Arizona for an AG (whatever that is). When she got back, she told everyone that we were going to move to Phoenix. It didn't sound like a good idea, but I thought maybe it was a phase and would pass. How wrong I was! I almost never am wrong, but there is always a first time for everything. After a little while, Mom started putting things in boxes, and then a man came and put more stuff in boxes. The next day, some other men came and took all our furniture and all the boxes away. We ended up sleeping downstairs where the other cats were. We had our own room, though. After a day or two, Mom made us get into the boxes (much to our distress) and we were put into the car. Very traumatic! Mom let us out of the boxes after she stopped for some coffee so that we could walk around. I went around the car one way, and Cherokee went the other way. The poor klutz tripped over her coffee and spilled most of it on the floor. He also stepped in the water bowl and got water all over. Sheesh!!! After we calmed down a little, we went into the back where all Mom's houseplants were and settled down on the greenery, as we rolled off down the road.
Well, I feel a nap attack coming on, so I will continue some other day.
Yours,
Apache
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Just We Two - My Humble Beginnings
Well, I finally figured out how to set up this blog. If Mom had kept her nose out of it, we might have been set up sooner. Sometimes I think humans are just put on the Earth to mess things up.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Apache, and I was born in Melrose, Massachusetts, many years ago, at least in cat years. I was born in a feral colony in the woods, on a hill in Melrose. I don't remember an awful lot from those times, but whenever it is cold or rainy, or both, I remember snuggling up to my real mom. She would purr and wash us and keep us as warm as possible. There were also a few times when our real mom had been teaching us to hunt, when I caught a mouse or a bird. It was most exhilarating. Most of my brothers and sisters were pretty good at hunting, except for my brother, Cherokee. He was a little klutzy and liked to play more than anything else. One day, some humans came up on our hill and left some boxes with good-smelling food in them. Being exceedingly curious, I went to investigate, and so did some of the others. That was the last time we saw our real mom. We were taken to cages and one day we woke up with cuts in our tummies and we felt pain. We then passed on to a foster home (I learned later what it was called), where there were many other cats waiting for adoption. For two years or more, Cherokee and I were constantly passed over for the house-born cats.
One day in 2001, Mom adopted me. She saw my picture on an internet site and said I was the most beautiful cat she had ever seen! She's really into the internet thing. After adopting me, she took me to her house where another cat lived. His name was Jack and he came from Cape Cod. He was sick and I stayed by him most of the time and cleaned his face for him and tried to purr him well. He just got sicker and sicker until one day Mom took him away in the box and I never saw him again. Mom cried a lot and said she missed him.
Well . . . there I was all alone in her house. I'd been there only about two weeks when all that happened. I grew very fond of Mom, but she was gone an awful lot. We lived in Malden and Mom worked downtown, in Boston. She took me to the vet, who stuck me with a needle and took some of my blood. Some time later, after that nasty vet took some more of my blood, Mom came home with a box containing, guess who - my brother, Cherokee. What dumb luck! At the foster home, I had been pretty much of a queen, I was the most beautiful female there and had the run of the house. Cherokee, being a stupid male, and klutzy at that, had lived in a room with a lot of other males. He was still pretty wild. Mom opened the box and he flew out and climbed almost up to the top of the nine-foot wall. He then ran out into another room and hid. Mom was beginning to wonder what she had done. If she had asked me, I would have told her to take him back, pronto.
As for beauty, I am a gorgeous calico cat. Cherokee was a dumb tuxedo (black and white) cat. Mom said he was handsome, but I guess it's all a matter of taste. Well, I had to make the best of it, since I really had no control over the situation. After some time (I think about six weeks), Cherokee came out of hiding and ended up becoming as fond of Mom as I was, maybe even more so.
Yours,
Apache
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