Friday, January 26, 2007

Children of Morning

Well, I thought it might be time to introduce the rest of the family - such as it is. Feline, fickle, and ferocious in turns, they are:
Princess Jonesy Buttercake
Ok, so we mostly call her Jonesy. She is the sweetest child. She lives for belly petting and treats. And meal times. And brushing. Otherwise, it's just sleep and snore. She's a Norwegian Forest Cat and was named Princess Di by the breeder due to her obvious crown. While she maintains her regal nature she never puts on airs.
Ah, sweet baby. Her belly is like the softest, deepest cashmere and I love to put my face in it.

This would be her adopted child, Smoky Doodlebug. She came from Slim Kitty who was a wild thing that lived near my previous residence. She came during an Easter ice storm and mom huddled up by the house with only the Doodle to suckle. I don't know if she abandoned the others or if they'd frozen already. Against my better nature I made them both come inside the covered porch area, a box made with warm snuggly bits in it. Doodle was hardly a palm-full.
When a baby, Jonesy would steal her out of the box when mom wasn't looking and play with her. I have a sweet photo of them that I shall post another day.
Now, she is finally filling out after a few years. Always slender and delicate like her mother, she can leap without disturbing a thing. Very finely carved feet, too. And the smartest cat I have ever known. Mind you, if you leave your paperboard nail file out, she will find it. And it will not be returned in its original state. She was always skittish until the Trooper moved in. Slowly but surely, he turned her fear aside and now she dotes on him. He says she's a Ranger kitty. I tend to believe him...
Now then - where is Mr. Maximus Fatassimus? he is.
This fellow came with the Trooper. When we first met he was about twice that size due to boredom and eating. Not that he was neglected but that he didn't have other kitty friends so...he watched bad TV and ate. The thing about the Mouser (aka Mus) is that he is a hugger. He will put his front "pars" on your pants legs and beg to be lifted up and held like a child does. If you do, he will rub his face on yours and snuggle under your chin, his paws to either side of your neck like a big hug.
Trooper says that he'd gone to the pound for a dog, didn't see one he liked and was headed out by way of the cat section when this fellow reached out a paw and snagged his uniform sleeve. He removed him from the cage, got that trademark hug and it was all over. He protected me when the Trooper was in academy, never leaving my side and sleeping nearby each night. Now, the bed is a bit more full so he is relegated to sleeping over my head on a pillow, poor beasty. Still, he's my little man and I adore him.
And the other part of the morning and cats is this - the humble oatmeal bowl limned in the first light this part of Texas has seen in a month.

It was given to me as part of a floral arrangement - miniature red roses, it was - from my sister. I always loved the size and heft of it and the French language (which may be the only thing good about the French for another decade or so).
Me and my bowl, we greet each other every morning. It's the long cook kind of oatmeal, too. Jeez, people, that nasty sugary crap you nuke cannot compare at all. A few blueberries and some honey (that whipped honey with lemon is fabu with the berries, BTW) and it is a fine way to start the day. It does get other things started, too, of course. Ahem.
So that's about it. The light may have been brief but I actually got to enjoy it and I have to tell you - it was a beautiful thing. Thank you, Texas. I really did need that.

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