The Door Cracked Open

Stardate:  Last day before the door-opening ceremony.  Ship’s log:  On course.

First up:  I am flat-out flabbergasted at Fangie’s high-octane jet-fueled play-mojo. Finally on Friday night I had a chunk of time to spend with him.  I was determined to go the distance.  I simply could not.  I went into Base Camp at 6:00.  Three solid hours later, with but one, I repeat one, five-minute break only – and I know regular readers may, with good reason, be skeptical about my powers of exaggeration, but this is the gospel, believe me, I timed it – he was still going hell for leather.  I simply caved.  I hadn’t eaten, I needed to use the facilities, and I was dropping-down-dishrag tired.  I fled the scene at 9:00.  I could hear him in there, still going at it, for another half-hour or so.

Fangie loves his shoelace.

The inexhaustible shoelace.

Guess he’s feeling better.

Never mind the expensive “Da Bird” toy – the string got chewed through in a jiffy, there was no interest whatsoever in the fancy feather feature – but the fishing-rod assembly and the improvised shoelace tied to it?  Kitty mojo heaven.

Saturday:  Rinse, spin, repeat.  Four hours on Saturday.  Four hours.  Have any of you ever tried to play with a kitty for four hours?  As Bast is my witness.

Sunday morning:  The dawn was greeted with a rousing call-response gospel-stomp.  Fangie took the castrato soprano voice, into the extreme upper registers, with something like scrreeeeerrrr wheeeerrrrr snick snick scrreeeeerrrr wheeeerrrrr, pause, repeat d.c. al fine.  Bugsy replied with his basso profundo interpretation of “Dixie” – he is, after all, a Suthrun confederate-gray cat – with the “look-away, look-away” portion of the chorus, downbeat on “look” and “awaaaay” held long and wide for the rest of the phrase.

So since they were showing such interest in each other, I thought I’d seize the moment and play trade-the-treat under the door.  I was so seized, however, I forgot I should not do that with Bugsy.  Poor sensitive little soul that he is, if he gets too excited over treats before breakfast, yak city is the result.  Duly yakked.  OK.  This, I felt, could be taken in stride.  You see how I’ve grown.

Here’s Bugsy crouched by Base Camp door.

I know I yakked my treats.  That was then.  Where are they now?

On the outside looking in.

I smell something fishy.

Ha.  I thought so. You again.

Get back here and answer the Paw of Doom.

No dice.  Fangie’s no dummy.

Why must we go through this?  I am just farklempt over here!

Editor’s NotePedro seems to have captured Bugsy’s number, with this comment last post:  “I think this softer, sweeter side of Bugs might be just a bit of insecurity. That’s not always a bad thing, especially since he’s finding comfort in you instead of doing something destructive.” 

And let us say, all together now, amen.  As the minutes tick by and Opening Ceremony tomorrow approaches.

London’s got nothing.

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About nadbugs

Anita loves cats. This must be because she, too, has had nine lives. She’s been dancing since she could walk, she was a commercial artist and advertising producer, she earned a third-degree black belt in Aikido, she is a drummer with the Afrique Aya Dance Company, she is an attorney, and she’s a meditator and a devoted student of Nonviolent Communication. She also spent one lifetime sidelined with a devastating back injury in 1992. Since then – FELDENKRAIS METHOD® to the rescue. The FELDENKRAIS METHOD is all about dreaming concretely – thinking intelligently and independently by way of a gracious and kind physicality. The work affords all who study it a process by which to reach, with movement, into the mind and the heart, to make nine lives into one whole being.
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34 Responses to The Door Cracked Open

  1. Beware, Bugsy. It looks like your mom bean is about to unleash an unstoppabul force on you in pertackular and the house in general. Get a good nights sleep tonight, kittie.

  2. Dianda says:

    ‘paw of doom’. Hahaha!

    But seriously. Four hours? My cats are tired/get enough of it in an hour. They’d be knock out and in a coma after 2 hours.
    Are you sure Fangie is a cat? And not running on duracel batteries? 😮

  3. lahgitana says:

    Did Chrystal know about Fangie’s amazing energies? Or is he drinkin’ out of that gin bottle I think I see in the 2nd picture?

    Can’t wait to hear more, but I’ve gotten tired out just thinking about playing with a cat for 4 hours! Neither of ours has that kind of attention span! Lucky Bugsy–a nonstop playmate!

  4. Wazeau says:

    Good lord four hours! If my two get fifteen uninterrupted minutes from me they don’t move all afternoon. Of course the thirty minutes they spend elephant chasing each other all over the house probably contributes to their coma.

    Cannot wait to hear how it goes when the wall comes down.

  5. I’m very excited about the opening of the door! I hope you’ll have some time to keep us posted on how things are going… Hopefully they’ll play hard enough to wear each other out. While you get a little time to just breathe.

  6. Well, aside from the yakking and total human exhaustion, it sounds like things are going well! Even the paw of doom (which is a great picture by theway! MOL) doesnt seem like a problem. They will probably whap at each other, that’s natural. But since they really really want to see each other, it probably wont last too long. fingers crossed!
    Can’t wait for the door opeing ceremonies! Make sure YOU get enough sleep, as well as Bugsy! MOL

  7. Oldcat says:

    Yeah, the swatting when he knows full well the door is stopping him is more symbolic than meant to be taken seriously.

  8. CATachresis says:

    I guess you could end up with one of them all farkrimpteh punim!! And you could be “gay shlog dayn kup en van”.

    But four hours???? Oi! Gevalt! That is mishuggah! The paw of doom for sure!

    You hang in there. Sounds like I’ve swallowed the Yiddish dictionary, but you are doing good x

  9. MTVA says:

    Finally it is Monday, and the countdown begins in earnest – make sure you have a good breakfast for strength, and pick out a safe out of the way corner to observe all the racing and chasing. We’re clearing the decks here, getting out the popcorn and ready to watch the show unfold! Best purrs for a happy and friendly meeting of the meowers!

  10. Too funny…..we have an 11 month old foster here right now…and his batteries NEVER seem to run down. 🙂 He got going the other day and mom finally gave him a 5 minute time out in the bathroom in the hopes of resetting his brain (thankfully that worked). We have NO DOUBT that things will progress…just remember, name calling is ok, blood shed is not.

  11. Herman says:

    Great story! I’ll be following your blog. Glad to be here.

  12. Marcy Benham says:

    LOL! Gosh Anita, sounds like you’ve got your paws full with those two! How fun! I’m holding positive thoughts and energy for the 3 of you as the door swings open on a new world! Do keep us posted!

  13. Good luck tomorrow! It’ll be grand 🙂

  14. ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .

  15. Melanie says:

    I can’t wait to hear how it goes tomorrow!

    When we had the kittens in the house, I had in my mind a short comic strip, which I would totally draw if I had any talent in that area… in the first panel, there would be a human saying, “I’ll just sit in here and play with the kittens until they get tired.” The next few panels show the sun rising and setting, the moon rising and setting, and the sun rising again, and in the last panel, the person asleep in a heap on the floor, covered in still-frolicking kittens.

    LOL. It sounds like Trex is hanging onto his kittenhood as long as possible!

  16. Melanie says:

    Er, sorry. Trex no longer. Fangie. I knew that.

    Blame my cold. Bleah.

    • nadbugs says:

      Oh noes, Melanie, not a respiratory thing. In winter. Bleah indeed. As for Trex? dang if I don’t still do it myself. When I’m not calling him Bugs. Brainless over here.

  17. Pingback: Rabbit Holes & Moving Vahhns | catself

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