Mumbling Madly

The cold has wetly seeped through my thick soled clogs and into my feet. Only smartwools block out the chill. The other morning I was dozing before my alarm went off and I heard a loud whistling sound…sort of like a car that’s dying, only with more wheezing. It was so loud I actually had to put a pillow over my head. It took me a few seconds before I realized that the sound was coming from the end of the bed. Hobbes. She was snoring.

This reflects a growing realization I’ve had about my cat aging…not being able to jump up on things as nimbly as she once could; Walking around with her claws out; Snoring loudly. I remember once associating a certain noise with Josh, a sigh, a hum almost, that I used to hear when fading in and out of sleep. One night Josh was out of town and I still heard the noise. I realized that all these years it was my cat, lightly snoring next to me.

A quick set of pics from a hot day a few weeks ago…

At first glance this is a terrible picture…Josh has taken to playing Uno long distance with his friends.  They all have cameras set up so they can see each other playing. Hobbes was sitting in for Josh during his hand.

Josh and I were taking our standard walk (in the sun!) when a big dog trotted amicably up to us. It became apparent that he was lost. We called the number on his pet license and took him home while we waited for either his owner to call or the humane society to come pick him up. We were concerned his owners might be out of town and we are currently ill-equipped to house a dog for any long period of time. The pet licensees told us his name was “Bear.”

Bear was really happy for the most part. He drank a tupperware full of water and ate kitty treats with no problem. Because he was huge and slobbery we hung out with him on the front porch. Hobbes had serious concerns:

Luckily Bear’s owners called us before the dog catcher came. He was very thankful…so was our cat.

Saturday, I’m typing away on the computer while the rain falls outside. I hear a loud, strange, meow. In a split second I pinpoint the sound of that meow, it distinctly reads: I caught a bird. In my doorway Hobbes drops a sparrow on the carpet. “Nooooo!” I cry as the bird suddenly takes flight with an explosion of feathers. Hobbes chases the bird into the kitchen, loud crashing and banging ensue. Images of the way she beheaded her last conquest flash in my mind. I’m terrified that I’ll walk into the kitchen and see her chowing down. For no good reason, I call Josh and leave a frantic message on his cell phone. Suddenly, all is quiet. I peek into the kitchen…Hobbes is looking around, meowing, no bird in sight. I throw on shoes and run outside. I ring Kris’ doorbell and when he answers I say, “Krriiiis…there’s a situatiiion…” Kris bravely enters the house and the search begins. He looks around the kitchen, looks outside, and looks around the living room. Silence. Suddenly, I gasp: “The bird is hiding behind my plant on the window sill!” Sure enough, the poor little guy appears dazed but ok…no blood. I put Hobbes inside my room. I grab a towel. Kris begins the process of trying to catch the bird while it flies all over the house. Tanya walks in to check the situation. She opens the front door to get Kris’ camera and the bird flies outside. I thank Kris and Tanya…I return to the computer. I leave another message for Josh. It takes me an hour to calm down. Hobbes returns outside and continues her never-ending bird quest.

I’ve taken to reading The Illustrated Dictionary Of Math before bed…I know, can you believe it? This book is such a great resource, and I’m being very diligent: If I don’t understand what I’m reading I read it repeatedly until I feel like I have it absorbed. Hobbes is very blasé about the whole thing, as you can see…

1) The little Asian lady next to me on the bus pulled out the nastiest smelling pastry I’ve every sniffed up my nostrils. It reeked so bad someone nearby commented, “Man, it smells like natural gas in here! Open up a window!”
2) UPS man at the Beautiful Dance Store and I typically exchange few words. Yesterday he regarded me for a split second and said, “You have dimples.” I felt like I was five again, when my dimples were cute and little girl and my redeeming feature. As an adult, getting complimented on the dents in your cheeks is just weird.
3) My cat, Hobbes, has decided she loves Simon & Garfunkle. She sits pleasantly next to my battered cd player and squints lovingly while listening. This is important because I too have discovered a love for them as well, late in life, when I’m too old to blame it on some weird phase I went through in high school.
4) The sky has been crapping and pissing all week…I know that real Seattleites are far over the fact the weather sucks, and only newly transplanted natives complain, but man, where the hell is spring?
All of this is peanuts compared to the showdown that happened today:
5) The BIG Event that occurred was while I was heating up mini-tacos. Hobbes strolled in from outside and into the kitchen with the loudest, muffled, meow I’ve ever heard. Inside her mouth was a dead bird. I tried to keep cool. Ok, she’s a cat, this is what cats do they hunt…and she’s brought her kill into the home with the intent of…what, eating it? Before I knew it Hobbes had found a nice spot in the hallway and proceeded to DECAPITATE and DISMEMBER the dead bird. When I peeked around the corner I saw a tiny bird head and a whole bunch of bloody red guts on the carpet. My cat was hunched over, gnawing away. By this point I had already called Josh, interrupting a business meeting he was having at work by screaming into his speaker phone: “BABE! There’s a dead bird!” His advice? “Dear God, get the camera! Take pictures!” I rejected this advice because the camera was in the spare room and in the path of my carnivorous cat’s chow down. I called my Mom who laughed at me and than did a superb job in talking me through what to do next. I grabbed a broom, hid behind a corner, reached around and batted my cat away from the carcass. She was very resistant to leaving the bird, and it took several tries before I successfully chased her out of the hallway into my room–where I locked her in. My Mother was adamant I needed to get the dead bird out of the house because of bacteria, etc. So I took a really deep breath and assessed the damage: Bird head, Bird torso with guts spilling out, feathers….ok. I really freaked out. I threw a whole bunch of paper towels over the carnage and with a broom, dragged the pile into a dust pan and into a plastic bag. I tossed the bag in the garbage outside. Wow, I really felt I deserved a prize. Than I sat down to a plate of mini-tacos…and at them very slowly and gingerly. (See, the thing was, I was STARVING….but queasy). As I write this I really wish I had taken pictures.

So how did our little cat do on her multiple travel adventure? She did: OK. We didn’t drug her, like was suggested by some but discouraged by the vet. Her soft cage was the sweetest ride, no matter what she claims. (The thing is lined with sheep’s skin!) The airport terrified her. It was a relief when we finally touched down.
Here is Josh with Hobbes looking stoic:

I’m smiling because we’re leaving Colorado in a matter of minutes. This was still early enough into the adventure that jaded cynicism hadn’t fully saturated me:

We finally released Hobbes in the comfortable confines of the Residence Inn. Josh thoughfully placed a chair by the window so she could look outside:

Many of you know that Josh and I are enduring an agonizing wait over where we’ll be living in 2-3 weeks. Most of this is beyond our control and not worth mentioning…let’s just say it’s been nerve-racking. At my Mom’s suggestion I conducted the following experiment to see where Hobbes preferred we moved:

Exhibit A: Wet Cat Food Representing Denver

Exhibit B: Wet Cat Food Representing Seattle

Hobbes was actually extremely suspicious about the entire experiment. She thought we were up to something, (well, I guess we were). Most likely she thought The Cage wasn’t far behind with a trip to the vet. At any rate, I placed her at equal distance between both plates…and she wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t until after we left the kitchen that she made her choice:

Not a huge surprise, considering that’s all I talk about these days. However, Hobbes was born in Summity County, Colarado at the impressive altitude of 9,000 feet. It impresses me that she would want to leave her birth state behind and live at sea level for a while. (Than again, she’s only a cat).