Less Fat Cat

Enver used to weigh 23 pounds. Now he's down to about 18, thanks to a strict diet. His sister gets her food separately, in the top of the cat tower, which Enver is afraid to climb.

In the wee hours this morning he woke me up with his weird obsessive sheet-licking. Rasp, rasp, rasp.

I shoved a pillow at him and he promptly leapt off the bed and began sharpening his claws on the scratching pad. Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Then he walked around and mewed piteously. Mrr-owwww. Mrrrowwww!  Nosed around his food dish. Clink, clank, clunk.

Then he got into the litter box in the closet and started re-arranging the litter. Scritch, scratch, scritch.

Enver could very well be a children's picture book character in his next life.

Or a muff.

Biological pest control, marmalade edition

As I noted before, the neighborhood cats have figured out where the little rat bastards are congregating. I was out in the yard yesterday with Jackson and spotted this handsome fellow guarding the tomatoes.
Luckily Jackson was oblivious, so I put him inside and grabbed my camera for a portrait. Mr. Marmalade reluctantly turned away from his thoughts of deeelicious rodent snacks.
He was quite friendly, as it happened, leaping over the greenery to get a good skritch. It was hard to get a decent picture of his wiggly self in the overcast light.

He soon went back to hunting mice, and I filled my apron with more green tomatoes in anticipation of another freeze warning. Which was yet again a false alarm, darn it.

Many of the green tomatoes I harvested last week are now ripening on the counter, so I was able to make another pan of roasted tomato sauce to freeze. And there's enough basil to make a nice batch of pesto.

Biological pest control

There aren't a lot of loose cats around the neighborhood, but we do see a few. They come into the yard for the big pot of catnip the Sergeant cultivates for our two felines. I suspect they stay for the mice.

While I was photographing the little rat bastard the other day, in fact, the dogs found this pretty creature up in a tree that overhangs the yard. We've had one previous encounter; he or she is very skittish and might be a genuine stray.

Next year, maybe we'll put pots of catnip in the vegetable garden. I know people try very hard to keep cats out, but we'd rather have cats than mice.

Cold war

We really had hoped that the dogs and the cats could reach some sort of detente. So many people told us, "Oh, they'll work things out!" But at least one friend reassured us from bitter (and deadly) experience that they don't always.

So here's how the animals spend much of the day. The dogs watch cat TV and the cats watch dog TV.
I'm now talking to woodworkers to get a permanent, attractive gate built at the bottom of the stairs so we don't have to step over something every frigging time we go up or down.

On the bright side, it confines the cat hair to the upstairs, so people with allergies can still come visit.

Enver and Reba

The kitties get short shrift here on The Kittalog, despite the feline-friendly title. Not because I don't love them, but they're much less willing to sit still for photos.
Reba is a dilute tortoiseshell. Her brother Enver is a tabby. They both came from a feral colony and were almost too old to socialize. Hence the notched ears: When cat rescue folks do catch-and-release of ferals, they will notch the ears to show the cat has been fixed.

When I first met Enver and Reba, they were exceedingly skittish. It would take them several days to warm up to me enough for me to even look at them without them fleeing in terror.
Now Reba runs into the bathroom and hops on the window seat to ask for petting when I am there. That's her safe spot, where jealous Enver won't hassle her.
Enver is a total glutton for petting. He's also a very big boy, at 21 pounds to Reba's 13. He likes to have his belly rubbed. He purrs loudly, meows and makes biscuits. I am careful not to startle him; he's got wicked claws.

Waiting for Santa

Or kitties. Whichever comes first.

Animal planet

We're still encouraging Jackson to go in the water. Lucy, too, but she's made it pretty clear that she suspects treachery, so we don't push it. Plus, the weather's gotten colder.

Which means Lucy seeks out sunbeams.
Both dogs also seek out the cats, when they can. The cats know it's not safe to come downstairs. The dogs know they will risk our wrath if they go upstairs. So there's a lot of mutual eyeballing through the spindles.

Srsly?

Reba questions my taste in Christmas decorations.