Weather prognostication - cold winter ahead

Some people put their trust in the Farmer's almanac, others look at woolly worms' wool, but the domestic cat may also have powers of weather prognostication.  After all here it is a rather cool Sept. 7th., and the kitty girls have decided that they need a blanket to nap on, so they found one.  Also notice how well their camouflaged coats work when they are in their natural environment.  They act like they know that cold weather if ahead. The Weather channel can't do any better.

Ants! Cats!

Ants! You really do have to admire them! Although tiny they function as a super organism, and when you've spent any time in the tropics you begin to appreciate their ubiquity and diversity.  The field station where TPP does research and teaches claims upwards of 500 species live there.  Up here in the temperate zone they aren't quite so plentiful, or so diverse, but we do seem to have lots of them around, and you forget their corporate determination.  Unfortunately one of our kitty girls is both a nibbler and a damned messy eater, so lots of little crumbs are left even if you have a member of your household staff watch over her bowl constantly.  Now the trick will be to find the chink in our stucco armor, actually more like finding which chink in the stucco is the problem area; so it is with old houses.  Actually just so identified the location and it's half way around the house from where the ant problem is manifest. These are little (1/8th inch long), black bitey ants and based on the traffic pattern a nest of a few billion jillion ants probably resides beneath the stucco where it has somewhat detached from the lath beneath (the problem is on the house entropy list, but maybe needs to be moved up), but finding a stucco person, a good one, is not easy as the craft has largely disappeared.  The houses last pretty well, but nobody builds them this way any more.
And then to buy some time you decide to relocate the cat dining area just a few feet, to remove the attraction of food, and put down a nice place mats for messy eaters and not quite so messy eaters, and what a problem you create.
You want us to eat where? But I eat over here, where I am now. In unison: Which bowl is mine (although relative positions and distance were maintained)? Where did my bowl go?  Why? Why? Why? Ants? What ants? Gads, somethings are in my bowl!  This is intolerable!  Who runs this place?
Cat confusion and indignation knows no bounds when it comes to feeding time, and place. Good thing it wasn't new food to boot.

Highly palatable to cats

Highly palatable.  When this phrase is found on a box of cat meds our only reaction is to laugh and say, "sure".  As in the "highly palatable" meds will be left in the bottom of their bowls for sure. When you think of synonyms for palatable you think of words like tasty, appetizing, savory, toothsome, agreeable, pleasant to the sense of taste, but they are not using the cat dictionary where it must mean different, suspicious, avoid at all costs; heck they don't care about taste, such morsels never ever make it past the lips. Every bit of regular food down to the last speck will be removed without ever touching the medication which in this case is to assist with hair balls during shedding season. And neither of our kitty-girls are particularly fussy eaters, but anything that might be good for them somehow registers as highly inedible, a complete opposite of highly palatable. 
The manufacturers might mean well as opposed to being downright deceitful, but you have to test palatability using pampered house kitties, not some half starving, half feral feline volunteers. TPP grew up with a variable number of "outdoor" farm cats; they had their own residence hall with personal apartments within. Feeding time was pretty a raucous affair, starting with a race from the back door to their residence to choose their favored places for din-dins reflecting the current pecking order. And they would eat anything especially if served in a warm soupy stew made with leftover gravy, chopped, bite-sized leftovers of our meals, along with  the kibble de jour. Their definition of highly palatable was pretty different than our pets, and they would have appreciated being food test subjects. As a semi-random sampling, none of our cats would ever spontaneously eat something like that.  

Breaking long time resolutions and not your back

Quite a few years ago, quite a few apartments ago, and quite a few roommates ago, TPP swore he was not going to move any more hide-a-bed couches up or down stairs for the F1. This was just a common sense, survival sort of resolution so TPP had be good at keeping it. So it generated a certain degree of dread and foreboding when Mrs. Phactor announced that a loveseat hide-a-bed had outlived any limited usefulness it ever had and would not survive the transformation of a small bedroom/library into her retirement office. With the exception of a long-haired kitty-girl, no one ever found this particular piece of furniture very comfortable for sitting let alone sleeping, again with the exception of afore-mentioned feline who wisely eschewed the seat and mattress for the pillow top back.  So this seat is not as impossibly heavy and awkward as a full-sized hide-a-bed, but balanced against its smaller size is the fact that TPP is a lot older since his last hide-a-bed move. Part of the problem is the particularly odd door to this room, narrow and set at an angle to purposely make all ingress and egress difficult. Getting it in the room took a certain amount of brute force combined with an ignorance of physics and geometry, getting it out was no different, but fortunately the stairs are quite wide so standing the seat on its end and sliding it down one stair at a time did not require hefting its bulk. This proved quite successful, but then at the bottom you end up having the whole thing just hulking there, much to the pleasure of said cat who decided she could happily live with this new arrangement and perched herself upon the upmost end for  gazing out the window. Hopefully later today a couple of hulking brutes, or at least younger backs, will come to haul the object away for a new gig with someone needing just such a seat, probably one of 3 people in the known universe. Most happily TPP's back will survive this glad parting. And Mrs. Phactor is pleased with the outcome.

Santa's helpers - elves not cats

Today not much was going on.  TPP was to obtain provisions for a dinner party, a Christmas breakfast, and a dinner for two. So why not take a little time to wrap presents? A whole bunch of little things needed to be organized and then wrapped so it took a little time, but TPP had so much help. One of the two kitty-girls decided to help.  Crinkly paper, ribbons, especially when wrapped around something soft and of just the right size, like a pair of mittens, are just so much fun; they can be pounced on, bitten, clawed, tossed, and just in general played with like the cat toy they are not. I'm sure everyone involved will understand if their gift package is a bit rumply and a litte perforated. Needless to say the whole thing took considerably longer than estimated. Wrapping paper is hard to cut to the right size when a cat is upon it, or under it, or grabbing at it or worse the scissors. And in the end you understand why Santa uses elves for helpers not cats. But she is cute and funny.

Compassionate mousers

Mrs. Phactor noted a very realistic cat toy at the bottom of the basement stairs; it looked real because it was real.  Every now and again a mouse finds its way into the house and if noticed it gets the kitty-girls very excited. This came to TPP's attention because of the number of decorative items that got knocked over during the excitement and some general house disarray. The extent of the excitement wasn't apparent at first because everybody was taking a nap (necessary after a good workout)  by the time TPP got home. Mrs. Phactor wanted the carcass removed and it was in quite good repair and as it turned out it wasn't actually dead, just exhausted. As mentioned before our thoroughly domesticated pets have no killer instinct although their stalking, chasing, and pouncing instincts are quite good.  So even after being pounced on by well-armed, terribly big predators some 200-250 times bigger than itself, the mouse was undamaged.  So it would appear that neither of our kitty-girls learned how to kill prey. And so this blog ends well for the mouse who is back outside probably living quite well on spilled bird seed.

It's a cat's life

Our cats really have it made. Being home for several days during the holidays you get to see the extraordinary activity level of the typical domestic cat first hand. Yes, if ever one of those cat-cams were afixed to our kitty-girls, the resulting video would only be slightly more exciting than one obtained from a 3-toed sloth. First, be it noted that both cats sleep on our bed, mostly, confining the smaller of us to much less than half the bed, and on occasion actually claiming the entire half for themselves. Now breakfast is certainly the most important meal of the day, and it must be served no later than 7:30 am because by 8 a cat could starve to death. Therefore as the critical must-feed time approaches greater and greater efforts must be employed to roust one of the two slugs whose primary function in life is to feed the cats. On regular work days this is no problem, but the concept of sleeping in, even on New Year's Day, is lost on cats, and a paw in the face is hard to ignore. Rousting the feeders is a duty undertaken by the senior member of our duo while the other waits serenely. The cats do perform a nice singing and dancing duet while you prepare their breakfasts, and then they and their breakfast both disappear even before you get your first cup of coffee. Both will be found back up on their bed, or some other piece of cat furniture, for their uninterrupted morning nap. It's a rough job, but someone has to do it. Later on there will be some long sessions of wildlife watching. And then when the feeders are at home, two or three hours of regularly reminding anyone in the kitchen that dinner time is rapidly approaching, or actually their grave concern that the clocks are in error and it is much later than you think. After dinner is the younger cat's chief period of activity, while the older cat wedges herself between TPP's let and the arm of his chair until eventually it's bedtime.  What a tough life these cats have. 

Epic battle of wills

An epic battle of wills is shaping up here in the Phactor household.  Mrs. Phactor purchased a small throw rug to place at the bottom of the stairs leading to our basement. Every time she goes by she says, "Who crumpled up this rug?" And she straightens it. Every time a certain cat goes by, she says, "Who straightened out my play rug?" And she crumples it up to her liking. Some things are just more interesting in 3D than 2D. Note the milk bottle ring, always a favorite cat toy. Thousands of them reside under our refrigerator because they usually have a "lost my playtoy" half-life of about 5 minutes. The other toy is flannel blanket that is loaded with catnip between its two layers, a much loved toy too. So far neither party has missed an opportunity to score, and neither seems to have tired of the game as yet. This contest may go into extra innings. BTW, both players take almost exactly the same amount to time change the preferred setting on the rug, but the cat seems to be having the most fun often turning in a prolonged and conscientious effort. 

Does a pet share your bed?

A rather shallow study concludes that you get a better nights' sleep if you don't let a pet sleep on your bed.  You must be kidding?  Like it's your decision!  Like it's your bed!  Yes, the kitty-girls do sleep with the Phactors, mostly in the winter, and usually one at a time; most non-sibling cats won't tolerate a second cat on the bed. Tuesday night the cat who is scared of thunder slept with us for comfort as storms rolled through the area.  Last night was very cool, so the cat who likes the warmth of snuggling slept with us. Yes, one of our cats, a big lug of a Maine coon cat used to take up a lion's share of the bed at times and he snored or at least breathed very heavy, and he could push you out of bed too. And one likes to check to see if you are really asleep my poking your nose with her paw.  And you might think that banning such activity would allow you to sleep better, but what planet are you from?  How many times do you think you'd have to throw a cat off the bed only to have them return the second you drift back off to sleep?  Well, cat tossing will keep you busy instead of sleeping.  OK you say, just close the bedroom door.  Sure, if you like sleeping without air flow in an ACed isolation chamber of a bedroom, maybe, but if the Phactors closed their bedroom door, which probably doesn't latch anyways, there would be two cats working very hard, and noisily, trying to open the door, and whining and crying when they can't.  One of our cats is surprisingly persistent and quite confident of her ability to open doors. If pulling doesn't work, try pushing, especially using both front feet.  Jump up and grab the door knob. Pull the door against the jam over and over: bump, bump, bump...  Stand up and use your front paws to scratch at the door vigorously. Try sleeping though some of that. The only thing that TPP can conclude is that this "pets off the bed" advice is from a pet-less nimrod whose knowledge of the real world is so limited that taking their advice on anything is not advised.  Yes, and make sure a soft blanket remains on the foot of the bed because we's likes it there.  Did TPP cover everything?  (A cat is looking over my shoulder, and if this isn't written right, TPP won't be getting a decent night's sleep.)

Standard cat time

It's funny what difference an hour makes and even the 1 hour day-light-savings time/standard time shift causes some discomfort and disorientation.  Resetting all the time pieces in the house, not to mention the car, is quite a bother; there are more than you realize. Then you have to remember the "fall back" "spring forward" helper or you end up 2 hours off.  This isn't all that hard, but in our household there are two fixtures that do not reset so easily, two black cats although the color probably doesn't matter. They have no buttons or stems to twiddle (yes one clock still has a stem to reset the hands (Hands!?)).  The kitty girls have a very accurate tummy alarm that only gets turned off by pouring in kibble. So it really doesn't matter when the time is reset because the kitty girls don't reset so quickly; it takes a couple of weeks.  In the meantime, inquiring paws poke at your face to find out why you are so very, very late with something so very, very important as feeding time. 

Eradicat in New Zealand

Eradicat?  Eradicate cats?  In New Zealand?  In one sense this fellow is right.  Cats are hard wired to hunt and kill anything furry or feathery thing they can get their paws on.  And they are very good at it.  This can and does harm wildlife.  While all of this is true, it still does not follow that the solution is to eradicate cats.  Clearly this fellow likes a good suck-up pet like a dog, but that's on him.  The Phactors have a wildlife friendly yard: plant cover, water, food, and yes, every now and then some wildlife must be relocated because in general woodchucks exceed our yard's carrying capacity.  But our kitty girls don't harm any wildlife even though they dearly would like to.  The reason cats harm wildlife is because of irresponsible owners.  One, cats are pets, and all the best people have them.  Two, as pets as opposed to purposeful breeding stock, they should be neutered.  Three, cats should be indoor animals unless supervised.  The idea that it's cruel or mean to keep cats inside (incarcerate?) is pure BS.  Our kitties only venture out of doors when harnessed and attached to a long lead, or like the F1 who has a tall fenced yard and a lazy cat.  Let's face it, you really can't walk a cat, but you can let a cat prowl around, explore, and get some exercise without turning them loose.  Would you turn a 5 year old loose in a big box store?  Of course not, to do so is irresponsible.  Even still every so often a squirrel with lower IQ or a less attentive attitude, neither good for survival, has come close to letting our mightiest hunter get her paws on them and improve the local gene pool.  So far it's only been good clean fun allowing both parties some exercise.  We can agree with the concept of eradicat by eliminating the circumstances that allow them to go feral.   

Indoor cats

The kitty girls that currently reside with us are indoor cats.  Outdoor cats get into trouble as does any cat anywhere when lacking supervision.  One of two, and one of the previous two were privileged and allowed outdoor romps, but only when securely tethered by a long, strong cord.  So generally no one is going out in the winter because who wants to supervise a cat walk in the winter?  So in spite of magnificent winter coats, our girls are weather marsh mellows, the kind of cat who turns tail and runs for a nice warm arm chair after just one little puff of cold, snowy winter in her face.  They cannot understand why that stuff is so cold/wet, and you certainly don't want to put your paws in it.  So this video of a cat discovering snow was most certainly not filmed using any of our cats. 

Cat physics

It always makes the Phactor feel good to see that other people study things of little apparent utility for the sheer joy of finding things out, like studying the physics of cats. Utility is much overrated. If only the calculus lobe of my brain had not failed to develop, physics would have been a lot of fun. And while having no doubt at all that cats obeyed, and here this term is used not in a manner to insult them, the laws of physics, it's still fun to figure out how they manage to do what they do. Of course to study the physics of cats, you first have to get them to do something physical!

Lamarckian evolution of cat thumbs

The Phactor has long contended that what prevents cats from becoming lord and master of all they survey is lack of an opposable thumb, which didn't stop one of our long term companions from working on door handles, cupboard doors, lids of containers, closed boxes, and the steel reinforced combination locked kibble safe. If ever obsessive desire and need for a thumb could result in thumbs, well, this cat would have been all thumbs. It has been a long time since a commercial this funny has come along. You keep expecting one of them to say, rhetorically, "Got milk?"

Herding Cats

“Like cats, professors tend to be highly intelligent, deeply self-actualized, and fiercely independent. They need to be stroked occasionally, but only on their own terms and in their own good time.” (R. Jenkins, CHE, 4-16-10) And of course everyone at one time or another, particularly if they hang around college and university administrators, will have heard that getting faculty to do something is like “herding cats”. What I particularly like about Jenkins’ essay is his answer, “What’s wrong with that?”
Not all administrators think cats need to be herded, but my experiences with chairs, deans, provosts, and presidents (quite a number have come and gone during my decades in higher education) puts the ratio pretty close to 50:50. Rather than trying to “herd”, some actually try to “lead”, and some even have a goal in mind. And no question about it, the “I’m a cat” attitude of faculty drives those administrators who regard us as merely employees quite mad. We ask why and want data or studies that back up the positions and policies being proffered, and if you present analyses quite contrary to these, it is treated as an act of insubordination rather than an exercise in critical thinking and evaluation. You’d think they’d be pleased with my interest. The Phactor is not a contrarian, but my knack for finding a flaw in a plan has not necessarily always been greeted with enthusiasm. It took years of nominating one of these herdsmen for other jobs before some suckers took him off our hands, but others have just been more ambitious, and as they have moved on to bigger and better jobs, perhaps the Phactor has taken too much delight in seeing so many exemplify the Peter Principle. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to curl up with some research and purr.

Dialing for drinks

Ring! Ring! Hello. Who’s this? Phil. Phil who? Philodendron.
Do I really want my house plants calling me to say they need watering? The Phactor is not overly fond of cell phones (doesn’t have one) and other invasive, pervasive, persuasive, wa-disturbing technologies. The general vegetative state of house plants is one of the reasons plants are never as annoying as cats, who can get your attention at 4 AM (must be breakfast time somewhere) without a cell phone. Cats with cell phones! That's too horrible to contemplate!

HT to GL.