Dig Out Your Snow Boots...

...then proceed to dig out everything else, because that right there is Fort Fiona, and the little kitter inside needs water and food and, after last night's howling winds, probably a lot of reassurance.

I will need boots. And perhaps, a plow.

I don't think there's a newspaper on that driveway, anyway, so let's not even consider shoveling that.

Almost there, honey. It'll just be another, um, half-hour or so.


I asked if she'd be going out today; she couldn't shake her head "no" fast enough. Okay, hon, I'll crack the ice on your water dish and warm up some Fancy Feast...you go on back to sleep...

Key West Cats (and one from Long Island)

While we made friends with the southernmost felines below, our own four-legged Fiona stayed up north, the royally-treated guest of my ever-patient brother. (With this, her second stay, Fiona reached "Purr-furred Guest" status at the Murphy Meow-iott. How exciting!)

This is Pumpkin, a member of the staff at the Westwinds Inn, Key West. He's most attentive during the poolside buffet breakfast. He sees you have too much cream cheese for that bagel, he'd be glad to clear it away for you.

These other two were just passersby in the streets, they didn't have much to say for themselves.

Happy Birthday Fiona!

Since we don't know exactly which day in July Fiona was born, I just pick a random day to celebrate her birthday. Let today be the day!
Can you believe this agile little girl is fourteen already? Look at her hop that fence like a teenager coming home late:

It seems like only yesterday she arrived...

She was a wild little weeks-old kitten, rescued from the feral life (quite against her will) by my sister Janet, who brought her to us on August 24th, 1995. We were still mourning our mild-mannered, highly-affectionate cat, Mouse, who'd died just a few weeks before at the age of seventeen, and darned if this scrappy little furball wasn't the spitting image of him.
Quite literally spitting, at my sister who'd rescued her, at the hand that fed her, and at everyone else in the vicinity. It was a long time before she settled in, and while she's never been a lapcat, she does seek out our companionship, and we know she loves us. In her way.
Anyway, here's how she'll spend her birthday, and pretty much every other day, this summer:

She'll get up early and make her rounds before it gets too warm. (See movie above.)

If the humans are having coffee in the screenhouse, she'll join them there.

She'll eat breakfast alfresco, and wave to us with her tongue as we leave for work.

She'll spend time inside the screenhouse. No, outside. No, inside. No, outside. Wait! Both at once!

There's feline nirvana in this fabric wall, which allows her to be Inside and Out at once.

She'll have a nap. Maybe ten. When she hears the car return, she'll come to greet us/demand dinner. And we, being her humans, will comply.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FIONA!!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!

A Happy New Year (With Cats!)

It was a sunny, freezing cold New Year's day, which we spent, for the most part, reading. I did make a field trip in the late afternoon to refresh the troops at Maison des Chats. Surprised not to be greeted at the door by Legs, I soon found out why; he was still recovering from his last night's celebration:
(okay, really he just likes to watch the water go down)

Molly was unperturbed by my presence, and remained immobile on her makeshift throne.

While Clark, the determined one, was in the basement keeping his New Year's resolution to spend more time with the spinning machine:

Smells Like A New Year

L'Shana Tovah, everybody. We'll be munching honeyed apples and challah at the aBode with the Kugler half of the family on Monday. Hope yours is golden, too.

Summerhouse Living

"Is this seat taken?"

Morning Yoga

Still quite limber for a girl who'll be thirteen this August, Fiona practices her yoga in the garden every fine morning. This particular position is a favorite of hers, one she likes to follow up with a good long stretch and a snack of raw, unprocessed ornamental grasses.

My Kitteh

Poor Fiona looks quite like a giant kangaroo rat or some such here, but in fact she's just enjoying a springtime wriggle on the pavement, not rehearsing a Shakespearean death scene.

Fiona Welcomes Us Back

Since we've returned there's been laundry and weeding and oh, yeah, that getting-up-and-going-to-work thing that takes up so much time. Irritating.

Anyway, there's also been Fiona to appease. She missed us so...

Catsit Chronicles II

Everybody made an appearance today, as though they knew it was the last visit...Clark has of course become my best friend next to Legs, and Molly has now entered the room the last three days, and allowed herself to be pet. Today, for the first time, Betsy entered the room to look out the back door, and allow herself to be pet a little bit.

So that was special, and now we're off to Alaska first thing tomorrow morning!

The CatSit Chronicles

Watching the triplets-and-Legs this week, until we take off for Alaska.

It's shedding season, (when is it not) so everybody needs a little time with the brush; (Clark actually allows himself to be dragged around a little by his...what is that, a mane? that giant bib of chest hair?? )

Witchi-Tai-To

The smell of manure is in the air and the new Kousa dogwood
is glowing in the twilight like a white paper lantern. The first
rhododendron bloom, just starting to open, looks like a hot-pink

flamenco dancer's skirt that's peeking out of a garment bag just a little too small to contain all the ruffles.

Fiona has a new friend, a small all-black cat with a tiny white
throat triangle. Comes to see her, jumps up on the deck box and looks through the window while Fi stares down from the loft inside.
Hmm, come to think of it, the orange cat from across the street
hasn't been around in a little while. Coincidence?