Self Discovery

Mao critiques her own blog post. "Meh?"

Peace...FINALLY

Sam and Mao wish you Peace on Earth. 
Or, at least, no more hissing and biting.

Mao-Mao Part II

Did I mention that I am NOT a Cat Person? And yet, I type this with a cat on my lap. What happened? Well, as you recall from the previous post, the library staff managed to capture the two homeless kittens, living behind the building. One went home with a co-worker and the other, Black kitty, went off to a shelter. As fate would have it, the shelter was closed to incoming animals on Thursdays, so back she came. "It's a SIGN!" a co-worker proclaimed. Yeah...right. We stressed, worried and pow-wowed about finding a home for her. I staunchly maintained my position: "No way...Sam would freak out...I know nothing about cats...I am NOT a Cat Person!!" but reluctantly agreed to take her home until a forever home could be found. An e-mail was sent out to other branches, along with cute photos, pleading for a home. We received one "maybe." A co-worker agreed to take her home for the night. We were thrilled but I quickly came to the (horrifying) realization that of all the people currently involved in the care of this small animal, I had the most experience with animals and am the biggest sucker. Crap. I went up to work on my day off armed with gloves, towels and flea shampoo to administer my very first cat bath. I was prepared to bleed...heavily. But as soon as I saw how scared she was, I abandoned the gloves immediately so I could comfort her and so she could feel my hands. She fought at first, but the minute I lowered her into the warm water, she relaxed and let me massage her with shampoo. As the fleas swarmed her head, she closed her huge yellow eyes and seemed to surrender herself to being cared for. I wrapped her in a warm towel and she immediately nestled in my lap and purred. Loudly... seriously, it was like a motorcycle. Then she went to sleep. Crap. I sat on the floor in the library workroom with this soggy, tiny thing in my lap and wondered exactly HOW mad Sam would be if I brought her home. Sam, who is fast enough to chase down cats...who has caught three already, and whose ears prick up at the sound of a meow and the thrill of the hunt? In the end, my trust in Sam and in my ability to control him won over and I agreed to take Kitty home until after Thanksgiving or until the "maybe" person could take her. That was a month ago. The "maybe" reneged and Harley (named for the motorcycle she sounds like when she's happy) has a "cautious" friendship with Sam. Neither one trusts each other; Harley is determined to gnaw on Sam's leg and Sam warns her with a teeth-baring snap when she swipes at him. They've finally started playing together. Sam will walk by, a black arm will shoot out and swipe his tail, she'll shoot off and he'll take off after her. Or she'll jump in a reusable grocery bag - Sam will stick his entire head in (duh, Sam!) and jump back when she swats him. And she thinks she's Asian... hiding in the wrought iron of the coffee table until Sam comes by and then silently dropping down behind him to attack. It is the way of Secret Asian Ninja Cat. I no longer worry that he'll hurt her or she, him. Both are too worried that I'll yell. I think I knew it was okay when I came out of the bathroom and both dog and cat were sitting outside, side by side, waiting for me.  It's my fault that she doesn't respond to her name, Harley. I started calling her Mao-Mao when I called her, "Mao?" and she answered, "Meh?" which is our usual routine now because I don't think she knows how to Meow. I say, "Mao, are you hungry?" and she answers, "Meh? Meeeeh" and I hustle to warm her food. If dogs could roll their eyes, Sam would. So Mao-mao is her nickname. Weird or not, it seems natural. So that's how a Dog Person came to own a cat. My sister says Mao-mao looks and acts like "Toothless" from the movie, "How to Train Your Dragon." It's true. In this case, it didn't take a whole village to rescue her but it did take an entire library staff. I'm told that it only takes one cat to change your mind if don't like them. Mao-mao, I think, is that cat. She certainly has won my heart -- but I'm still not a Cat Person. (Visit Mao's and Sam's blogs by clicking on the Blog icons in the right margin -yes, they have blogs. You don't?)

Mao-Mao Part I

I am a dog person. I've always owned dogs and, if I have it my way, always will. Dogs are whip smart, love you unconditionally, are loyal to a fault, and care whether you live or die. Cats are annoying, sneaky, irreverent, and if you are hanging off the edge of a cliff on the precipice of death, may - just may - wander over to see if you've fallen yet. I don't hate cats, I just prefer dogs. No cats! No, no no. And now, I am a cat owner. *sigh* Okay, here's the deal. Around October, the library staff at work noticed a tail-less gray cat and her two kittens (one fluffy gray and the other deep black, but all with bright gold-yellow eyes) hanging around behind the library, hiding under the shed in the back. We were compelled to do, what all animal lovers do, that is, we ran out and bought cat food and crowded by the window to watch them wander out and eat from chipped workroom dishes. Being the aforementioned "Non Cat Person," I participated in the care of the little family, scolded other staff members for forgetting to put out water and kibbles on my off days, and watched from the window during my lunch hour but tried to remain detached. More involved staff members bought kitty toys, tuna fish and spent their lunch hours sitting outside by the shed hoping to lure the kittens out. Mama Cat glared at us through the window, daring us to make a move toward her babies, who delighted us with kitten play. Our library family was drawn together; united toward the care of this little trio. Unfortunately, our worst fears were realized when Mama Cat disappeared, perhaps struck by a car in the traffic that raced alongside our building. Now our concern for the kittens was magnified and we redoubled our efforts to capture them before the weather got cold. Gray was captured in November and adopted by one of us, which left Black alone under the shed and became the focus of our efforts. Only in Texas can you say, "I need to catch a cat" and have six people step forward and offer traps. Traps...eek. The first few tries ended in disaster, with the capture of a nasty, snarling possum and then a huge black adult cat that I dubbed "Lucifer" due to its evil glare from the cage. Where was Black kitty and was she okay? I, the self-professed non Cat Person, went home worried every night. Finally, with the aid of a co-worker's determined dad, who showed up almost daily with traps, small cups of mystery meat and dressed in camouflage, kitty was captured! But now what? Gray kitty's new owner couldn't take in another and no one else was interested. Finally the decision to take her to a shelter (with dubious hopes that she would be adopted) was made and off she went. The right thing to do, certainly. But after all these weeks of worrying and watching, the emptiness was palpable. The library staff turned away from the window and went back to work. (Part 2 to follow)

Who Let The Cat Out of The Bag?

Meet the newest member of our family: Harley. She's so named because of the deep, rumbling motorcycle sounds she makes when she's purring, which I'm told means she's happy. Her story is kinda sad but has a happy ending because we're happy she's part of our family. Sam...not as thrilled, but he's working on it. Maybe later I'll blog about how Kitty Mao-mao (that's her nickname), the no-tail kitten who doesn't know how to Meow, came to be: Secret Asian Ninja Cat. 

Sheltie vs Kitty

Uh oh...