I is for...
by Whiskers, INFAMOUS Matriarch of Mischief aka IMPISHNESS
Good day dear friends. I am here to ILLUMINATE your lives today... though how I'm to do IT eludes me. I don't have the qualities needed to brighten or to enhance your day... as I'm more of an IMP not an ILLUSTRATOR.
What I can do IS IMPLICATE my fellow felines of Mischief and Mayhem Central IN the mayhem we create on a daily basis. I'm not so sure they will be pleased at my efforts, but then when have I ever worried about that! NEVER!
IN this household we are comprised of only six bodies - five feline and 1 bi-ped….. our Grammy but at times the neighbours must think we are a INIMITABLE herd of IMPALAS. But let me reassure you. There are only five of the quadrupeds in the house... and there is only one INDIVIDUAL, yes one, who gallops around this place and sounds like a horde of marauding INFIDELS. That one is Sweetie. Our beloved youngest IN the family is a noisy and INVETERATE chaser of INVISIBLE INTRUDERS.
That's right. We don't see what she chases but she patrols the perimeter of the INSIDE of the condo from one end to the other, seeking out any and all who attempt to INFILTRATE. Those INVETERATE beings are then systematically dispatched to INFINITY. IN doing so she is prone to heavy-footed galloping, leaping up walls to great heights and of course landing with a loud thump on the floor again to dispose of the critter(s) forthwith - thus the herd of IMPALAS reference. She must be doing a fine job as we've never been INVADED, INFILTRATED, or overrun yet. Our wee Sweetie is INVALUABLE to our family.
Mousie, my dear sweet INFANT and the characteristically shy one is quite the opposite of our noisy Sweetie. Mousie prefers the quiet life. Curled up behind/under her blanket or IN the eerie on the Kitty Condo, she dreams of her Cheffy Dearest. But, she has her moments. Yes, siree. When least expected our wee Mousie will climb down from her throne on high, and join the family. This starts with a gentle, silent drop to the floor and a canter across the bedroom, a perfect arc of a jump through the door-flap. On landing hall-side the wee one takes a quick look around, checking for the INSTRUMENTS of torture known as Etude and Rondo before clicking her claws across the tiles to the water fountain. IF someone notices her in the main part of the condo she makes a hasty exit back to her safe haven IN the bedroom. If unnoticed she'll proceed to Grammy's chair for a few kisses and a cuddle before retiring again. Sweet little Mousie, our sweet little INTROVERT loves her peace and quiet where she can ponder life's INCONGRUOUS INCONSISTENCIES.
Well, dear friends, dear old Grammy ISN'T up to this blog stuff at the moment so she's cut us off with our blog barely half done. How dare she! So, here IT IS... the INCOMPLETE blog.
At least we can share a photo of our two youngest. Mousie and Sweetie.
Comments are welcomed especially if they are light and funny.
H is for...
by Rondo, poet and choirmaster.
HELLO, dear readers. HERE I am... ready to tackle the letter H. HOPE it goes well, though why shouldn't it? As poet and choirmaster I HAVE been leading this choir for years. This year I HAVE HIGH HOPES for the HENS and chick who live in the HOOD.
HAVING posted posters asking the neighbourhood finches, HOUSE sparrows and their cousins the HARRIS' sparrows, nuthatches, HUMMINGBIRDS, red-winged blackbirds to join our choir we are still a little short on the deeper voices. Etude refused to be the only tenor in the choir so I HOPPED the transit down to the waterfront and invited the HORNED grebe and the HERON in the marshes and considered the HAWKS since we need some bass voices. You may relax. We asked them to sign agreements that food sources would not include members of the choir or their families. Even then I have been a little HESITANT and on my guard.
Mr. HAWK and HIS family were a reluctant but acquiesced, assured us they would HUNT further abroad because it would be an HONOUR to be in the choir. WOW! An HONOUR! Who'd HAVE thought?
And so, we have our choir... and what a treat. Now, every morning through spring, summer and autumn we gather on the window ledge, inside and out, at the crack of dawn to sing our HEARTS out as the sun rises above the HORIZON! *Giggles* Grammy isn't so HAPPY to be wakened from her nightly HORIZONTAL HIBERNATION. But what fun to torment HER. Of course, once HER HEART returns to a normal beat she can lay back and enjoy our HEAVENLY singing. *Giggles again* It is such fun to HARASS the old girl.
And now, just a little repost of a poem from last year.
April in the City
The leaf it buds upon the tree
It makes me hum; I feel such glee
That snow is spent; now grasses grow
Amid the flowers, a verdant show.
Outdoors I’ll be in spirit, though
For in big city we cats don’t go
Beyond the sill and window pane
It isn’t safe so we home remain.
But there we listen with deep intent
To birds a-singing, We are content
To watch them soar as they go past
Delighting in their joy. Spring, at last!
© Whiskers, Mouse, Sweetie, Etude & Rondo - Mischief and Mayhem Central
Published originally in blog posted April 30, 2018
So dear friends... on that note I'm calling it a wrap...
We love to hear your comments... especially if they are funny or better yet, HILARIOUS HUMDINGERS!
A Feline Retrospective
by Whiskers, Matriarch of Mischief and Social Butterfly
Good evening, Friends.
This is going to be a short blog this week. Grammy isn't up to taking a long dictation or doing a lot of thinking or mental gymnastics.
We are going to share photos of the three members of Mischief and Mayhem Central who have passed on. They are PussPuss, Grammy's first kitty, Malcolm who was adopted to keep PussPuss company, and Montague aka Monty who was adopted after PussPuss passed when we found out he needed a home and Malcolm was lonely.
PussPuss arrived as a 14 month old mischief when she needed to be rehomed. She chose Grammy by tapping her on the shoulder and meowing. She demanded to be adopted and taken home INSTANTLY! Once there she settled in quickly at Grammy's apartment and spent the rest of her years getting into a lot of mischief some of which you can read about in the series Into the Archives.
Malcolm was adopted about a year later to keep PussPuss company while Grammy's job took her on the road. While Malcolm loved his big sister, PussPuss was less enamoured of the little black squirt. That didn't stop him from snuggling up to her when she was snoozing. But, when Grammy was home Malcolm clung to her. He loved to be held, cuddled, danced around the room and played with. He was full of mischief too. There were times Grammy couldn't find him. He'd tuck himself in amongst the LPs and books on various shelves and blend in to his surroundings. He'd give Grammy such a scare... and would have this little mischievous smile when she finally found him as if to say... fooled you, Grammy.
Malcolm lived to well into his 18th year... was blind for the last three years. He adapted so well to it that it was quite a while before Grammy clued in. AND despite his blindness he never had an accident but... In his latter years he often howled at night, possibly disoriented/lost in the condo. But as soon as he heard Grammy's voice he'd join her and settle down for the rest of the night. Sweet Malcolm. Read more about Malcolm in another Into the Archives post.
Malcolm and Grammy missed PussPuss when she passed but didn't realize how much until they brought another needy kitty home. That sweet boy was Montague, aka Monty. He'd been left at his vet's practice with instructions to euthanize him. The vet in all conscience couldn't do that with such a young, gentle and sweet cat. Word got to Grammy who went to see him, immediately adopted him and brought him home.
Monty had his issues... the result of a bullying kitty sibling in his previous home. It took a few months but eventually he overcame his fears and his behaviours. Grammy attributes that to Malcolm's super laidback nature and Grammy's soft reassuring voice... allowing him to relax and realize there was nothing to be afraid of.
Unfortunately, he passed young from a heart defect... but his last 18 months were happy, mischievous and filled with love. Monty had the softest coat, the sweetest disposition and was the cheekiest of the three kitties. You can read more about Monty here.
So dear friends, I hope you enjoyed this look into the distant past.
Comments are welcomed... especially if they are funny, mischievous and/or cute.
Moth Day Revisited
by Etude (aka Mr Attitude, aka Pinky, aka FuzzyBritches)
Friends, we thought we would be generous and give the ol' girl a break considering. So we went back into the archives to our first blog... and decided to share it with you once again. This is the blog that started off all our nonsensical writings. ENJOY!
Does anybody know what Moth day is? Well, let me tell those of you who don't know and for those who do I want to have a commiseration pity party – but someone else will have to host it because the stench around here is unbearable despite the windows being opened to the winter chill.
Today was Moth Day at our house!! I shall always remember October 1, 2014 as MOTH DAY for the rest of my remaining 8 lives – yes 8, for my siblings and I all lost a life today, I’m sure. It was and is horrible, worse than horrible. It was down right NASTY.
Here's the background story...
Grammy has arthritis and used to (note the used to) sit on sheepskins to ease the pain. Well, two sheepskins, 2 chairs, 1 Grammy and one preferred chair lead to one chair and 1 sheepskin not used for about a bazillion years. That was a mistake let me tell you. Never leave a sheepskin unoccupied or idle for more than a day. Keep it busy! Give it homework, sums, memory work, anything but don’t let it idle. An idle sheepskin will get up to unspeakable mischief. Yes, lambs may be innocent, sheep may be innocent but those skins... not a chance...
A moth, well, it might have been a host of moths but all it would take is one moth ventured into our condo and selected the unoccupied sheepskin to lay its clutch of eggs! The moth man told Grammy they only lay up to 400 eggs in their lifetime, but we can attest to that being inaccurate – more like a million, possibly a terrabillion.
Grammy didn't notice this moth (they are sneaky little beings, quiet as field mice, actually quieter. They are quiet as moths, yep. Interesting isn’t it... a moth is a quiet as a moth. Now how’s that for logic?) Well, back to the story...
Those lucky little eggs hatched into larva which feasted on the sheepskin. Then they mutated, or maybe it was rotated, or it could be they agitated into more moths and they, being unaware and having a perfect food source right there in the sheepskin continued to procreate ad infinitum. That means forever... may not be spelt correctly but you get the drift.
Finally, one of the wee beasties being an adventurous Indiana Jones sort ventured out, discovered a brave new world and returned to tell his buddies of the great outdoors of Mischief & Mayhem Central. That’s all it took. Out came Indiana Moth and the others followed – the great Moth exodus. How wonderful! Flitting here, flitting there doing their mothy things. Delightful!
Well, that was the point when we entered the picture.
Grammy suddenly noticed us doing strange things, bouncing off walls, waving paws in the air and chasing the invisible. At first she said, Oh isn’t that cute! They’re playing. It’s so nice to see them entertain themselves. And her nose returned to her book, her knitting or her computer. And, this went on for days, weeks, maybe even a lifetime – well, definitely a lifetime of a moth when suddenly a friend said, Oh, I see a moth!! WHAT? WHERE? No, you’re hallucinating! Well, she wasn’t! Those moths had been having a grand ol’ time and so had we! But, let Grammy figure it out we were staying out of this one.
Scooting her friend out the door with a See ya! Don’t believe ya, but just to appease ya, I’ll check the house! and the great Moth Hunt began...
Now, Grammy’s a neat freak! Vacuums regularly! Scoops litter twice a day! Makes her bed! Dishes in the dishwasher! Clothing goes where clothing belongs – in closets and drawers with said closets and drawers closed... None of this throw it on a chair stuff, because she knows five furry felines will gravitate to and vie for that one piece of clothing that isn’t hung or put away and layer it with a coating of fur and a dollop of scent gland before you can say, Jack Robinson. BUT, Grammy had neglected to attend to the unused chair. But, to be fair, why would she? ... it’s unused!
Well, Grammy vacuumed, washed the floors, dusted the already dusted bookshelves, did her usual clean and NOTHING! Nary a moth! Then, quite by accident, well maybe not accident (should I say, serendipity), she decided to vacuum the chair she used and thought, maybe whilst she’s at it, just for good measure she should do the same to the other. Out came the chair from under the table and bingo! There right under her nose those little beasties were active in their sheepskin nest... procreating, incubating, eating and pupating right before her eyes. NASTY!
Out came the green garbage bags! In went the thought-to-be unused sheepskin. Of course, it had been used but unbeknownst to us. In went the beknownst in-use sheepskin. AND in came the paranoia! Major paranoia! Everything not washable and/or suspected of hosting even a single moth, egg, larva or pupa followed the sheepskins into the bag. Out went the bag and a second bag. And just to be sure, out went the two old rickety chairs.
So now we’ve had the great Moth exodus, followed by the great furniture and fabric exodus. What next? Well, the paranoia continued. Each and every book was removed from the bookshelves – and we’re talking a bazillion books. Each and every book was vacuumed; covers and spines were washed and dried. Once the bookcases were emptied, they got scrubbed front and back, inside and out. Next the walls behind and floors beneath were scrubbed too until the whole living-room was scrubbed top down!
This marathon of paranoia continued to bottoms of sofa, armchair, hassocks, dressers and closets. Yes, closets were emptied, every bit of fabric, towels, bedding, clothing washed, dried and all stored in vacuum packed plastic. Cupboards, kitchen and bath, not an item was overlooked. So, now those moths were licked! Or were they? Just to be sure all the bases were covered... Grammy set up clothing moth traps. Done! Paranoia on hold, have a cuppa joe and relax.
For two weeks all was quiet on the M&M front when one night while reading her book Grammy was suddenly distracted. Something had skittered past her nose! No, it wasn’t the nightly Sweetie doing her leap arm-to-arm-across-the-sofa training! Much smaller. MUCH smaller! What could it be? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! There in the moth trap – a single solitary moth! The paranoia resurfaced! Where there’s one... there’s a potential for a terrabillion.
Imagine Grammy’s plight! What to do, how to conquer this foe? ... so, the marathon began again. Another massive search was on for the source but unfortunately none was found. Over the next few weeks more moths congregated and met their demise in the moth traps. Despite everything she done there was no other option... it was down to... call THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR. And ... this is how we lost one of our nine lives. NASTY!
Yesterday, Grammy began surreptitiously preparing for THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR due to his imminent arrival. (Note that 'surreptitiously prepared' means while we’re stuffing our faces and too busy to notice.) A few extra kitty carriers were removed from the closet and assembled. Snuggly blankets were placed in each. A doggie cage was set up on the balcony. Bathmats readied to line the bottom and two litter boxes lined with fleecy blankets ( we use these as beds) were also set by the balcony door. Well, carriers are always around – Grammy keeps a couple open and lined in fleece or fluffy towels for our snoozing pleasure – so when we’d finished eating and noticed them we thought nothing of it. That is, until this morning.
Suddenly, a coffee under her belt, Grammy went into Ninja mode... not Ninja Turtle but Ninja Hare mode. She picked me up. I thought – oh boy, cuddle time, but noooo. I got whipped out into the surreptitiously prepared doggie cage on the balcony... like a sack of potatoes... dumped in the open air. I could have died from exposure! Next, Rondo, poor fellow.... the same thing! Whipped into her arms and whisked outside, squirming (gotta love the boy for trying!) while Grammy opened the cage door to toss him in. In the ensuing turmoil – Whoopee! I escaped back into the condo. But poor Ronny... stuck in an open air cage on a frosty (60°F.) Wednesday morning, with nothing to keep him warm – well almost nothing... only two snuggly litter boxes with nothing but fleece liners in them. How will he survive this? Will he be scarred for life?
Then the Grammy/Etude chase was on... behind the bed, under the end of the bed, into the livingroom... it was great fun though I don’t think Grammy was enjoying herself much. Let my guard down for a moment and suddenly I was scooped and tossed into a carrier, door closed and a big sigh of relief – no, not from me, from Grammy. I howled as loudly as I could... You must have heard it! The desk sergeant left his post to come out of the police station a block over to check on the sonic boom. Fortunately, he’s a little hard of hearing and couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the sound but he sure felt the vibrations. Not only into the carrier but unceremoniously dumped on the balcony! NASTY – About to die of exposure, again! Then suddenly – a blackout. Blankets thrown over our cage and carrier – supposedly to keep the draft off, but more likely to hide the horrors to follow.
Now where were the girls during all this? Sweetie was playing! Can you imagine it? Not one ounce of concern for our plight... and Mouse – snoozing on the chair. Such caring, sweet sisters! NOT! Little did they realize... yes, they too were being banished to the balcony but did they fuss? Nooooo! Grammy picked up Mouse, put her in the carrier and closed the door...not a peep, not a squirm, not a wiggle! Harrumph! At least Sweetie howled... gotta give her that, but again, picked up and set in the carrier and the two of them, Sweetie and Mouse plunked above Ronny in the great outdoors, carriers wrapped in blankets and left to freeze to death.
And that left Whiskers, old, plodding, stodgy Matriarch of Mischief. Shouldn’t be a problem! The old dear! Haha! Did she give Grammy a run for her money or what! You had to be there! It was priceless! I’ve never known either old stick to move so quickly in all my 3 years. Into the bedroom, under the bed, move the bed, under a chair, move the chair... caught... into the carrier. No! Feet splayed and one good wiggle and she was free again. Back into the bedroom Whiskers disappeared... livingroom, bedroom, repeat exercise three or four times until she eluded Grammy completely! Well, almost. Grammy found her hunkered down between the sofa and bookcase with no escape except past Grammy herself. This time Grammy outsmarted her, tucked the tail under and lifted her butt and set her in through the top hatch of the carrier, slammed the lid and DONE! The fifth furry dumped and covered on the balcony with moments to spare before the arrival of THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.
So there we were howling to the neighbours for assistance, plotting our escapes if only we had had opposable digits and feeling betrayed. Grammy joined us, chair, folding table, phone, iPad, kitty treats and she had the gall to chat at us as though all was right with the world! Could we be bribed with treats? NO! Not a chance! Well, maybe! Oh, alright then, if I must I’ll eat them... but only because you insist, and I won't be happy about it!
The only one in all this kerfuffle unaffected by the mayhem – Mouse – our timid, afraid of her own shadow, doesn’t like change Mouse! She nibbled her treats, looked around in interest at all the activity and even ogled THE MOTH EXTERMINATOR.
I tell you after days, okay, a bazillion hours, well, maybe it was a couple of hours waiting for the stink to dissipate we were allowed back inside... but the windows are open to the winter chill, the stink persists and we’re living in it. But at least we are indoors.
No more outdoor adventures for me, thank you very much!
That whole exercise has taken one of each of our nine. NASTY! ... and we think maybe a couple of decades off Grammy as well. Now, let’s hope this is the end of the moths... because if it isn’t Rondo and I are searching for a new family to rule. Anyone out there with a moth free home? Harrumph!
Comments are welcomed. Let's keep them moth free and funny.
Five Cats, Five Personalities, One Goal - Mischief & Mayhem.