Why My Cats Could Be Characters in a Tolstoy Novel

A few years ago, one of my students decided that for the new year, she was going to read one chapter of Tolstoy's War and Peace every day. "There are 365 chapters of War and Peace and there are 365 days in a year," she told me. This sounded manageable, so I immediately decided that this would be my New Years' Resolution, too.

Like all of my resolutions, this was short-lived. I think I got maybe a quarter of the way into the book before I gave up, not because I didn't like it, but just because I got ennui. Anyway, while I was reading War and Peace, I thought to myself that my cats could be characters in the novel because, like Tolstoy's characters, each of my cats has many names.

Lucy Belle

Our cat, Lucy, has had many names in the four years she's lived with us. When she was dropped off to our house, she was Lucy Belle. She then became "Lucy Belle Bongo" for a short time, "Lucy Smells", when she did something bad in her litter box and "Lucifer" when she was naughty. Somehow, her name has morphed to be "Lulu Jones,"* which sounds like a character from a 70s action flick. 

On occasion, I call this particular cat "Cheese Girl" because she has a meow that sounds like the squeak from a fresh cheese.

An old picture of Truman Capote. She looks so resigned.

Truman Capote, our other cat, usually goes by "Trumie" because it takes a lot of effort to call "Truman Capote" when you need to see the cat. 

When I was reading War and Peace, I made up a story about how the cat was actually a countess during the Bolshevik Revolution and had to flee Russia with her diamonds sewn in the the hem of her dress to start a new life in another country. ** So, I decided her name would be "Madame Trumaniski". This became "Comrade Trumaniski" for some reason; then "Minski" because...well, just because. "Minski" became "Minced Meat" because they sound similar and then "Minced Meat" became "Meat" because it is shorter. 

So, I call this particular animal "Meat Girl" and tell her that she "is made of meat."

The sad fact about the Meat Girl is that she is sixteen, going on seventeen years old.*** My husband and I think that she might have feline dementia because she walked into the bathroom one day and meowed angrily at the toilet for a few minutes. Mark researched feline dementia online. One of the symptoms of feline dementia is the cat will sleep a lot. We can't tell if she really is demented because she always has slept, like, 20 hours a day. She could just be old and tired. Anyway, she comes when I call out either "Meat Girl" or "Truman", so she has some awareness.

I still have a good five days left of Christmas break. I think I may start to rewrite War and Peace and feature my cats as the main characters.

*My son and I sing "Lulu Jones" to the Counting Crows "Mr. Jones".

** Yes, I know War and Peace takes place during the Napoleonic Wars. It's just a story I made up for no particular reason, okay?

*** My kid read this post and said that I needed to make sure my readers knew this was a reference to The Sound of Music.

Science Don't Care About You

Before I get started on today's post, I suggest you check out this post from my brother on his blog. It's insightful, funny and talks a little bit about what it's like to be a pro wrestler. 

N. Tesla. Despite the fact that it looks like he doesn't care, he cared very much about science. However, science never cared about him.

It was either Christmas Day or shortly thereafter, when my husband, son and I had a discussion about science. Mind you, we talk about science all the time, but this discussion sticks out in my mind because the topic was about how science doesn't care about us. In fact, my child wrote a song called "Science Don't Care About You". As he was singing it, Mark said, "Just because science doesn't care about you, doesn't mean that you shouldn't care about science."

I added, "Yes. If you stop believing in science, you will start to float around the house, because you don't believe in gravity."

My husband sighed. "No," he said, "You can doubt stuff like gravity, but that doesn't mean it won't exist. Science governs our every day life."

"I still think it would be cool if the cats started floating around the house," I said. "After all, they don't believe in science. It is against their religion*."

Mark does have a point. It is important to know about science, even if it doesn't care about you. After all, a knowledge of basic science helps us avoid things like mixing bleach and ammonia.

I'm such a big fan of science that I have tried to insinuate myself into our school's science department, telling them they should let me in because I have a degree in science (okay, it's library science, but are we really going to split hairs here, people?).

In conclusion, science doesn't care about you. Not one single bit. But you should care about science because it will help you stay alive.

*Honestly, I don't know about my cats' religious beliefs. I never had theological discussions with them. However, I do assume they believe in sacrificing to appease a higher power, as I find the toy mouse by the food dish when it is empty.

Don't call it a comeback, or The Last Three Weeks of My Life

I had in my head that I was going to take an indefinite break from blogging because I felt that I had really have nothing to say and, besides, who reads blogs anyway? With some encouragement from my friend, Amie*, this weekend, I'm back blogging.

Much has happened in the past few weeks. First off, I've done a lot of crafting. I used to crochet all the time, but I found that I burned out on it. I've since been doing embroidery. I think I like embroidery better because I have to focus on it more. There are pics of recent projects on my Instagram. My proudest recent project is the polar bear I stitched for my cousin in the UK.

Second, I found out that the dojo where Charlie and I go for karate is closing its Brighton location at the end of the month. I credit karate with my change in attitude (I'm much more positive then I've ever been) and my change in fitness. When we received the letter, both Charlie and I were very upset. We are now trying to plan out what our next steps are. I don't want to give up exercising. I actually enjoy it!**

Third, and this is a minor point, our cats have colds. I mention this because cats do not have good hygiene, so they don't cover their noses when they sneeze. I've caught them sneezing into the communal food bowl. One sneezed in my face. This circles back to the Tabby Lobby, I'm sure, in some way. Anyhow, two of the three cats have colds and sneeze all the time and have runny noses.

Fourth, I went to a used book store this past weekend. That will be a story for another day.

Thanks, dear reader, for taking the time to read my blog. I appreciate it.

*Thanks for your encouragement, Amie. I appreciate it.

**I never thought I would type that sentence. It's true, though.

Cats, part the Second, or Where I Expose the Tabby Cat Lobby

Not too long ago, my husband and i came up with this concept of the Tabby Cat Lobby. Tabby cats are very vocal, at least the two I've had in my life. I think somehow this translated into the fact that tabby cats have a powerful lobby where they petition the government for things like kitty treats, longer naps and lower inheritance taxes.*

We figure if the Tabby Cat Lobby combines forces with the NRA, it would be the most powerful lobby in the US. Plus, the idea of crabby tabby cats with guns is a little scary.

I have been building photographic proof of the Tabby Cat Lobby on my Pinboard, Tabbyspotting. Here you will see tabby cats with some of the most famous people of the world.

Am I paranoid? You bet. Our tabby sleeps next to me at night. Who knows what she could be thinking?

*This is a reference to Cats, Part the First, where I posit that those little old ladies who leave all their money to their cats when they die--those cats invest in a PR firm that promotes cats as clean, smart animals.

Cats, Part the First

Our cat, Lucy, whom I also call Lulu Jones. Photo by my son.

I knew eventually it would come to this: I would blog about cats. I apologize to you, dear reader. You see, before I married, I was pretty sure I was going to end up alone in my big ol' house with a hundred cats and tons of old books. Since I married, we moved to a smaller house. I don't hoard books so much anymore. However, I still have cats--three of them, instead of the hundred that I figured I would amass by now.

Anyhow, my inspiration for this post is that I just came home from work, went upstairs to change into pajama pants and, lo and behold, on my bed, someone blew lunch.*

As I was changing the sheets, I thought about how cats are really gross little creatures. I know that many of you may be under the impression that cats are clean animals. That's what the cats WANT you to believe.

You know those little old women who leave their life fortunes to their cats?

I'm pretty convinced that the cats take the money and hire some really good PR firm. The PR firm has sold the American media on the idea that cats are clean, smart, independent animals that are easy to care for. 

LIES! Blatant lies! I have witnessed said cats run into the bathroom when I open the door to drink out of the toilet. I have witnessed said cats eat stuff off the floor. I have witnessed said cats get their heads caught in empty cans and run away with said can on head. **

I'm pretty sure the Tabby Cat Lobby will somehow censor this post. You don't know what the Tabby Cat Lobby is? Stick around, dear reader. I will expose them tomorrow on my blog.

*"blew lunch" is a term coined by my dad to indicate throwing up. Hence, the term "lunchblower" is any ride at an amusement park that would make the rider sick to his/her stomach.

**This happened when I lived in Olean. Some feral Olean cat was in our trash. When I opened the front door to see what the commotion was, this cat ran away with its head stuck in a tin can. I assume it got the can off its head. Cats are so freaking brilliant.