9.5 Lives

Look at that face.

It's sooooo innocent. Not.

Sept. 27 marked the half-birthday of our fluffy friends. 9.5 to be exact. There was no cake or singing; purring perhaps.

It's probably safe to say that we are not really pet owners; I am pretty certain that we are the ones who are owned by our pets.

Aside from dirty litter boxes and stinky wet food, our Maine Coons really do add to our family... stuff like big clumps of fur on the clean laundry; snags on the carpets, clothing, and sofa; hairballs in the hallway, etc.  Oh, I could dust and vacuum every day (which I do not do), and we'd still have cat hair everywhere. 

Home is where the cat hair sticks to everything but the cat. 

We now keep jumbo lint rollers in the glovebox of each car in the Smith fleet. I wear a lot of black clothing, which seems to have a strong magnetic draw for cat fur. Its funny how I never notice that I'm coated in cat hair until I'm in the car, going someplace where I have to look nice.  

I'm not complaining about being owned by Bartholomew and Jemima. Well, not much. 

Bart and 'Mima started out so tiny and adorable nine years ago.

But even at three months old, these two appear to be plotting how to become co-dictators in the Kingdom of Smith. I can see it in their eyes. Their plan is to dominate while maintaining cuteness.

The Smith cats are now jumbo-sized, and of course, they are still adorable, weighing in at 17 and 22 pounds. Large and in charge? I think so.

Although the kittehs are now "mature," they both love to play and even enjoy frolicking in catnip from time to time. I think they will always have some amount of kitten left in 'em.

Did someone say that you cannot teach an old cat new tricks? Or something like that?

Several years ago, we taught Jemima how to shake paws. Or rather, she taught us... It literally took five minutes for her to catch on.  She has now added high-fives and fist/paw bumps to her repertoire.

For years, a forlorn Bartholomew has watched from the sidelines as his sister shook hands and received treats. He finally figured out that something fishy was going on with the unequal distribution of crunchy Temptations. We have always given him sympathy treats as he observed his sister receiving praise and food as a reward for her shaking behavior. Within the past few months, he has finally learned how to shake hands/paws. It just took him A LOT longer to figure things out.

Bartholomew's just special, I guess...

Not only do our pets think they own us, these two think they own everything. They do mark their territory, but it's not like you're thinking... spraying is not allowed! They claim ownership by rubbing, licking, and taking/hiding things.

We have repeatedly left paperback books out on the counter or coffee table, only to discover the covers full of bite marks. Jemima just LOVES a good book. Although she prefers paperback books and glossy magazine covers, she has been known to tear into a hardbound book. We once had to pay a nominal fee to the library in Roseville because our kitty girl ate some of the pages of a newly released book. Thankfully, we were not required to pay for a replacement book. The librarian was amused at the story we told, and it helped since she, too, was a cat lover. She charged us less than a buck for damages. She even wrote in the book, next to the pierced pages, "Cat bites" along with the date. Jemima left her mark, indeed. Every time we visited the library after that incident, we were remembered as the people with the book-loving cat. (I think the librarian recognized me by the globs of cat fur on my black clothing...)

Recently, Mr. Smith received a postcard for a free beverage at S-bucks. I placed it on the desk in the study so he'd be certain to see it. 

'Mima spied it first.

"Mine!"

The old "My cat ate my homework" excuse comes to mind... Wait! Dogs, not cats, usually get the blame for that one. We must have a doglike cat.

The barista loved the story about why the coupon looked the way it did. I noticed that there was cat hair attached to the card when we redeemed it, but I didn't say anything, and neither did he. I hope the fur didn't end up in Mr. Smith's free Frappuccino.

Just this month, the Starbuck's Rewards program discontinued mailing out postcards for free drinks. They've gone electronic. I pretty certain it's all because of us and our coupon eating cat. :-P Ha!

Not only does this beastie have a paper eating fetish, she enjoys making all kinds of noise in the wee hours of the morning. I awoke one night/morning to hear the sound of something that sounded like metal scraping across the hardwood floors only because it WAS metal scraping across the hardwood floors. Jemima had discovered one of our son's belts upstairs in his room. She carried it in her teeth, out of his room, through a hallway, across the gameroom, down a flight of stairs, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into our room, dragging the metal buckle across carpet, tile, and wood floor surfaces. The sound wasn't so bad when it was muffled by carpet fibers, but metal scraping over wood flooring in the still of the night is/was noisy! She deposited her "toy" near the foot of our bed and loudly requested that we play with her. As I squinted at the clock, I made out the time as being 3:47 AM; a purrrfectly normal time for fun and games.

Our dear, sweet Bartholomew is just too lazy to get into much trouble. He usually sleeps through all of Jemima's late night antics. He sleeps though just about everything else, too. Wait! I take that back. He is awake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He's also up and about around 3 AM each and every night to go to the litter box. Ugh!

The litter box is located in the master bathroom's toilet room. This has turned out to be an ideal location, as Mr. Smith and I are the only ones who use that room, and we are highly motivated to keep it tidy. When the door to the "water closet" is opened, it blocks the box from view, but the cats can still get in and out. (No, there are no litter box photos to share.)

After Bart does his business, he vigorously scratches on the walls, the door, the floor, and just about every other surface. However, he completely misses the part about scratching inside the litter box to cover what he deposited there. Duh! He then runs at warp speed, out of the bathroom and through our bedroom. Most nights, I am so tired that I sleep through the commotion, but I do hear it more often than I'd like. We keep saying that we should teach our cats how to use the toilet, but I have a problem with leaving the toilet seat up all of the time. I don't really mind scooping poop, but I just wish Bart would hear nature's call during the daylight hours.

Also in the wee hours, the cats will ninja their way into/onto our bed. This twilight trespassing is fine as long as they do not trample over delicate body parts in the process. Remember, our kitty cats are large-ish, weighty, jumbo-sized, corpulent even. More than a time or two, Mr. Smith and I both have been awakened with a start. Me-OWWWWW!

Bart and Jemima gravitate to MY side of the bed, for some reason, and the most common landing spot is on top of my feet or on my calves. I'm sure they choose me because they love me the most. Yeah, right. Or it could be that the snoring that emanates from my mister forces the kitties over to the the quiet side of the Stearns and Foster.

By the time my tootsies are picking up good vibrations from a gentle purr, I find that my mind is wide awake, and my feet are fast asleep from having a hefty cat draped over them. And of course, once I'm awake I realize that I need to go to the bathroom. I then determine it is not possible to walk on feet that are asleep and numb, so I daren't attempt to stand. Perhaps crawling to the commode is an option. Hmmmmm...

Stretch, turn, shift, trill, purr, cat nap -- I'm glad somebody's able to sleep.

Twenty-plus pounds of cat meat...

Our veterinarian says that Bart is NOT overweight. He's perfect for his massive Maine Coon frame. He truly is a gentle giant. Goofy, but gentle.

These flowers are obviously Bart's. 

All cardboard boxes belong to the cats.

If it fits, it ships.

Possession is nine-tenths of the law.

Yep, Bart and Jemina are in charge at this house. We are clearly the ones who are owned -- or it could be that we are possessed.