It's been awhile since you've seen Layla

So, here she is, taking in what the cats call "A Good Morning Sun-Nap".

She loves to sleep on tote bags (our last Bengal loved to pee on them, so I don't argue with her).

That bag was hanging off the back of the chair until she pulled it around and down onto the seat to make a proper bed for her.

I haven't worked this hard for a relationship since I was 16

So. Layla. I've left you wondering too long. First of all, she's a cat, so she's a little nuts. Second of all, she's a cat with an unhappy childhood, so she's a lot nuts. After a couple of weeks, I started letting her have free roam of the house 24/7. And the first night that I was Oh So Benevolent as to unlock her from her jail... She scared the pee out of me in the morning when she jumped off of the tippiest toppiest of my kitchen cabinets and ran under the dining room table. This is where she spends some alone time. On top of the cabinets I have not dusted in 5+ years of marriage. She's still cleaning my house for me. Go, Layla! She's roaming the house a lot more, and Lucius has finally acknowledged her existence, but I don't think he's too crazy about all the butt sniffing she does (nice visual, heh?). He sits down every time she sniffs at his rear, and then she backs her rear up into his face, and he gets a "really? Again?" look before he walks away. At which point she follows him and repeats the entire thing. Then they chase each other around for 3o minutes, until he conveys the point that "no, really, I'm lazy and don't exercise". Then they both sleep for hours. But last night she got in bed with us for a couple of hours...so I continue to hold out hope that one day I'll be able to touch this fiesty, shy, adorable cat.

You've Got Me on My Knees, Layla

[Warning: Very Long Cat Lady Post Ahead] I think we may have picked the most appropriate name ever for a cat. Yesterday, we got a new cat. A Bengal. A Bengal who has not been loved and properly worshiped. She's 2 years old, and grew up in a breeder-turned-cat-hoarder's house. The neglect has clearly made her what she is - under-sized for a Bengal and afraid of everyone. (technical details: she's an F3 marbled Bengal, gorgeous - but about half the size she should be).

Riding Home, it took an hour for her to come out from underneath her towel.

She's breaking my heart already. I have not heard the first sound - cry, purr, growl or hiss - since we picked her up. She does not react at all to anyone, unless you touch her. Then she darts from whatever place you've crawled under to find her to an even more inaccessible place. Well, that's what happened the one time I touched her side. I inched my hand ever closer to her face and she didn't move. I wanted her to sniff me, but she didn't do anything. No facial changes. It's like she didn't know my hand was there, and my finger tips were eventually less than an inch from her face. The second time I tried, I actually petted the tip of her tail - and got no response. It was like she didn't even know I was there.

Behind the dryer. On top of the dryer hose. To-do list now includes replacing the dryer hose.

She's had me on my knees a lot. After she moved out from behind the dryer, she found her way under my bed. So The Bestest Friend & I went in a few times over about 3 hours and laid down on the floor looking at her. One time she was in the bathtub, but we didn't try to get in there with her. Overnight she moved behind my dresser. That's a point in her favor: she's going into all of the dark corners I don't dust often enough and probably pulling out half the dust on her fur. So the other half of the equation: Lucius. Of course you're dying to know how he's handling all of this. He was locked up in the bedroom when we got home, and when I opened Layla's carrier she went immediately behind the dryer. When I let Lucius out, he found her carrier and crawled all in/over it, sniffing. Then he sniffed her out behind the dryer, but he can't get back there (too big to slide by the wall, to lazy to go over the top). So he went out in front of the fireplace and took a nap. Seriously, that was his response. He got up a couple of times and investigated anything that smelled like her, then went to the couch for another nap. I kept Layla in the bedroom with us last night and locked Lucius out of it. This morning he came in and sniffed out her location behind the dresser (another place he's too big to get behind). Looked at her for a second. Then followed me out to the living room to - wait for it - take a nap. I'm convinced there's a sweet, lonely cat in that beautiful little body. I don't know if we'll ever be able to reach it. But we've got all the time in the world.

Behind the dresser, cleaning out my dust problems.

What'll you do when you get lonely And nobody's waiting by your side? You've been running and hiding much too long. You know it's just your foolish pride. Layla, you've got me on my knees. Layla, I'm begging, darling please. Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind. I tried to give you consolation When your old man had let you down. Like a fool, I fell in love with you, Turned my whole world upside down. Chorus Let's make the best of the situation Before I finally go insane. Please don't say we'll never find a way And tell me all my love's in vain.

Circle of Life

The Professor and I have started on a grand search to get a new cat. We've decided we definitely want another Bengal. Sultan was so wonderful and neurotic, and I know another Bengal will be neurotic in its own way, but I'm hoping it will be neurotically-related to Sultan. And so, for the first time since I wrote it, I went back and revisited the post I wrote about him when we had to put him to sleep. And unexpectedly, he was here again. I'm not a person who has to take their pet on trips, or dress them up (have you SEEN some of those cat outfits?!?!), or treat them as a baby in other ways (I laugh, derisively, at those people, truth be told - a cat is a CAT, for goodness sake!). But all of a sudden, the days after that one were HERE again: when I'd walk in the house and automatically look for 2 cats instead of one. When I would sit on the couch, ready to hear the sound of a cat not getting the attention He Deserved, and realize that He was gone. When I'd open the bag of food and not get attacked. It was surprisingly hard to read that post. I'm ready to be attacked again.

A Very Loud (and Long) Weeping and Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

A week before That Blessed Date when The Professor and I legally linked our lives together, we went to fill out the requisite paperwork at the county courthouse. I knew that on the way home, we’d be passing the local shelter, and I spontaneously asked The Professor if we could stop and look at the cats. His reaction was a little more … dramatic than I expected: “Damn it woman, I was going to surprise you! Are you going to be two steps ahead of me for the rest of our lives?” {Hint: The answer is yes. But I digress} And so, The Professor got me the best wedding present in the world: A cat. There weren’t a whole lot of cats, and I really didn’t want one of the babies – those are always the top pick and have the best chance of getting adopted. I wanted a young adult. The choice was between two cats: A steel grey charmer, who purred and rubbed against our hands, and a sulky exotic looking cat who cried nonstop and didn’t want to be touched. The Professor made the decision very quickly – he wanted Mr Sulky (named “Shelby” by the shelter) because he was convinced an unaffectionate cat wouldn’t get adopted by anyone else. The shelter told us he had been left on their doorstep in the middle of the night that Hurricane Ivan blew through town. Being this far from the coast, a hurricane isn’t as bad as it could be – but it was still a hurricane when it got here. And Mr. Sulky had spent the storm alone, in a box. We debated what to name him while we filled out the paperwork and waited for the volunteers to bring him to us. “Shelby” didn’t seem right. It just didn’t fit, but we couldn’t think of anything better. When we got in the car, the song “Sultans of Swing” was playing on the radio – and we both yelled out – “Sultan”! Sultan immediately made it known that he was not a quiet cat. He paced, prowled and yowled non-stop. So much so that on the first visit, we asked the vet if we should be worried that something was wrong. He just laughed and said that he was almost positive Sultan’s a Bengal – and Bengals have amazing voices. We left him at home when we went on our honeymoon, leaving The Bestest Friend to come by to take care of him. I think that's when she started referring to him as "Senor Mau-Mau", because of his crazy voice. Halfway through the week, he was hoarse from talking so much. A few months later we introduced the Ever-Fluffy Lucius to the house – and Sultan never talked himself hoarse again. “Crazy Cat” is probably too gentle a term – “Spastic” may be better. But there’s no way to describe a cat to someone who hasn’t met him, except to say “WOW”. Also “Makes Stinky Litter Box”, but then, what cat doesn’t? He warmed up to us very quickly. He claimed The Professor, and every morning he's on the floor for the hour that The Professor does his morning workout - laying down next to him for The Professor to put out a hand and pet him as he does his 100's of crunches - this goes on for about 30 minutes every morning. At night, he's either curled up behind The Professor's shoulder to watch TV, or lounging in front of the fireplace if it's the correct season and we're treating him right. Two weeks ago was the annual checkup, and there was a bunch of fluid coming out of his eyes. He’d also lost 3 pounds in the past year, but he just seemed a little tired lately. The vet put him on ointment for the eyes and scheduled a follow-up for 10 days later (this past Monday) – by which point he’d stopped eating and lost another 1 ½ pounds. We did blood work and some other tests, but couldn’t find anything conclusive, so we scheduled some x-rays. And now, because the past 24 hours are interesting only to a very few people, we still aren’t completely sure what’s wrong. But we do know that it’s one of two Very Bad Things – a tumor that I can’t afford to A) find out about, or B) fix if it’s there; or FIP . The vet is pretty sure it’s FIP, and at such an advanced state that there’s no way to even make him comfortable for long. He hasn’t eaten in a week, so he’s literally wasting away. You know what’s coming… I went to visit him this morning, and I can honestly say it’s the most heart-breaking thing I’ve ever done. He’s lost another half pound this week. I knew then that this afternoon would be the end, but seeing him at half the weight he was just 2 years ago hurt more than I thought. He’s not talking anymore – he doesn’t even make a peep when a large dog barks on the other side of the wall. He just snuggled down into my lap and closed his eyes. In my head, I told myself that he was asking me to make him better. And all I can do is stop him from getting worse. The Professor just left to go be there when they put him to sleep. I had planned on going up to the minute it was time to walk out the door. And I couldn't. For once, I let myself back out of something I didn't want to do. And now...it's time to go buy more wine. I drank just about everything in the house last night, and an empty wine rack is a sad wine rack.

Look! Cat Pictures!

Because they are so much more soothing than watching the news.

To Keep my brain from exploding in a rainbow of political ramblings...

Here's the obligatory post of the cats getting their annual dose of the first fire of the season. I got the camera in hand before we turned it on, and - Honestly - this was 90 seconds after the fireplace was turned on for the first time this year: What are they getting from the fumes that I'm not? Jealous? Absolutely.

Playing Chicken with the Birds

There are 3 birds outside, chasing each other and doing who-knows-what other kind of birdly activities in my bushes. All Lucius and Sultan know is this: if they combine the terrifying power of their direct, compelling and oddly supernatural stares, they will surely lure the birds through the glass and into their waiting clutches.

What do you get when you cross a yellow tabby with a green sneaker?

This is a video from The Original Redhead's birthday weekend. It's a long story as to why it hasn't made it up before now, and most of it involves error messages from various google services. But all's well that ends well. Unless you're a green shoe that's just been molested by a large male cat.

Help Me Solve a Very Important Question

We got Sultan at the Humane Society 3 years ago this month. He's ... an interestingly neurotic sort. I could go on for days. He refuses to eat out of a metal bowl. He prefers to get his drinking water from the toilet. He does not know how to relax. He knows that someone out there is just waiting for him to put his guard down so they can steal his favorite toy. Except for the toilet thing, he is the perfect companion for The Professor. But none of that solves the problem at hand. My vet, when I first brought Sultan to him, convinced me that we had found a pure bred Bengal at the pound. Here's a picture of one from catcraze.com: But then, about every other time we go to the vet, he asks "How's my favorite Ocicat doing?" An example of an Ocicat from the CFA website: In the grand scheme of things, what kind of cat he is really doesn't matter. He'll be my overly-crazy, desperately-in-need-of-Prozac cat for the rest of his life. But this is the kind of thing I can spend entirely too much of my time trying to figure out by looking at picture after picture of cats online. Which inevitably leads to me looking at pictures of kittens. Which makes me want one. Luckily, I am a smart woman, and I realize that there is only room for either The Professor or a 3rd cat in the house. While the cat would eat a lot less, it wouldn't pay the mortgage for me. And I am a practical woman, as well. So, what do you think: Bengal or Ocicat?

It's that time of year

They won't make a peep for the next five months. As long as we give them their gas fix.

Masters of My Universe

Sultan likes to be the center of attention by spreading out on the floor in front of the TV and stretching all over the place. Usually in a completely graceless way that involves being on his back with his legs spread. I think he might have worked in a brothel in a previous life. Lucius likes to sleep. And he knows if he does it in a place we walk by often (on the way from the couch to the beer, and vice versa), we will be unable to stop our fingers from petting his fluffiness. And he is illegally fluffy.

Cats By The Fire

It's a pretty quiet household around here tonight. It's cold enough to have the fireplace on, which the cats love. The fastest way to make them happy - and quiet - is to turn on the fireplace. We get so spoiled by this instant pacifier that when Spring comes and they start going nuts, Hubby and I look at each other like "Now What?" It's SUCH a good thing we are not having children together. Somehow, I don't think they'd respond as well to the magic of the gas logs.

Limited Blogging

Lucius
Originally uploaded by lildebbie_77.

Ich! The powers that are in charge of what my computer can and cannot do have now blocked Blogger at work! That means that my penchant for posting on coffee and/or lunch breaks must stop, unless I use the public computers. I'm going to look at having that changed, though. I had just talked my boss into starting a blog along with our new website (Whenever those elusive computer powers ever deign it worthy, that is). I've been making trial posts for a few months, and he really likes the way it looks. So hopefully, we'll be back to normal.

I hate having restrictions on what I can and cannot look at. It's all supposed to be to keep us from accidentally going to sites that could give us nasy viruses....but it's still annoying. Luckily for me, I can post through Flickr...until the gurus figure that out too. Until then, however, you may have to deal with random pictures of my life along with my random thoughts.

Lazy Saturdays

...with my cats The weather has been perfect for having a lazy Saturday; all of the windows are open and Sultan and Lucius haven't left the windowsills in hours.