Thursday, August 3, 2017

Who is the Cutest?

I have a t-shirt that I have been wearing for years.  It says" Owner of the world's cutest cat."  Of course, I think Thunder is as cute as can be.  Every cat mother thinks they have the cutest cat, but I  have to be honest.  Ellen's cat, Stormy, is cuter.  Thunder is the handsome, elegant one.  Storm is just 100 percent cute.  Here are some pictures of both.  What do you think?

Friday, July 14, 2017

Red Blanket

Red Blanket

A couple of years ago, Ellen got me the neatest gift for Christmas.  It is a small electric blanket--about 6x6.  It is just perfect for a chilly house like mine.  I like to keep it in our TV room.  Thunder, over time, has become very attached to it.  One of his favorite activities has turned into watching TV.  Actually, I don’t watch much TV at all--it has been months.  I sign out TV series from the library, instead.

Thunder has become obsessed with Red Blanket.  I usually don’t have it on, but he still keeps bringing me to it.  I walk up to him, and he trots away, with his tail up in the air--his signal to follow him.  He brings me to Red Blanket so I will sit and pet him, or give him pieces of dry cat food, one at a time.  

He rolls, stretches and purrs.  He begs for pets.

This happens many times a day.

He likes it so much that he is more tolerant of me grooming or brushing his teeth on Red Blanket than anywhere else.

I have taken to sitting on red blanket--instead of my favorite chair to read in the quiet part of the afternoon.  I turn it on low, and he gets so content.  Anything that makes Thunder happy, makes me happy, too.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

10 Years!

Today is our 10 year anniversary.  Ten years ago, my life got brighter and happier, and he has continued to be the brightest light in my life.  I dote on Thunder, constantly.  Good thing he is a cat who likes to be the center of my attention all the time.  He never complains of me helicoptering.  He wants me to!  

In honor of our anniversary, tomorrow evening we are having a cat party.  I will get some fresh nip, and we will cuddle or play.  Maybe we will do both.  Whatever he feels like, that is what we will do.  That’s how cat parties work.  

I can’t wait

Thursday, May 11, 2017

My Book

My publisher is downsizing their warehouse.  Consequently, I now have several cartons of books at my house that I want to sell.  

“Trail Training for the Horse and Rider” is a highly readable, how-to book for trail riding.  I cover training the green horse, retraining the spoiled horse, negotiating difficult obstacles and terrain, conditioning, dealing with difficult weather and more.

It costs $20.00 plus $4.00 to ship.  If you are a local person, we could arrange to meet to save shipping costs.

Friday, March 17, 2017

Thunder Drama - Hairball

Thunder had a hairball this morning.  At least it wasn't a big one.  Most cats just vomit it up, and they are done with it.  That's not the way of Thunder.

First he wants attention-lots of it.  That isn't all that unusual, so it doesn't guarantee that a hairball is brewing, but there is no hairball that he doesn't go through this stage.

The bigger the hairball, the more demanding he is.  This morning's hairball was small.  He just wanted me to pet him and cried when I left.  The big ones seem to come at night.  That is when he will wake me up with purring, ramming my face, biting my nose.  When he purrs, he trembles.  Those days, I know for sure the hairball is coming.  This could go on for an hour.  It was a problem when I still worked.

With a bad hairball, he starts to cry, emphatically--and then, it is done.  Today's hairball was mild, so he didn't cry.  I am so glad.  It tears my heart to pieces when I hear that cry.

After he expels the unwelcome pile for fur, it isn't over, yet.  Next, he need comforting.  I have to pet him and console him.  He is relentless in his demands.  The bad hairballs usually end up with him trembling in my arms, purring and purring.  After about a half hour, he gets hungry, and it is over.

I always feel bad when one occurs, and I'm not home for him.  That is one more reason that I had to retire.

Friday, March 10, 2017

Thunder--High Maintenance Cat

This week, Kevin has been away babysitting.  Though it means that I have to spend extra time taking care of his horse, it also means I'm not spending time with Kevin.  Consequently, I am spending a lot more time at home with Thunder.

I thought he would start taking me for granted and not be as demanding, but I was wrong.  Aside from his time during deep naps--a necessity for all cats--he is more demanding.  He wants to spend all his waking hours with me--and prefers to spend his sleeping hours with me, too.  He is simply attached to me most of the time.  If he is sunning himself, he wants me to sun with him.  He wants to play, he wants to watch DVDs on his electric afghan with me, (Maggie likes that, too,) he wants to cuddle and on and on and on...

He wants me to sit with him when he eats.  He wants me to feed him pieces of dry cat food--one piece at a time.  He doesn't want me to clean, cook, eat my meals and he hates the computer.

He is sleeping with me nearly all night instead of just part of the night.  He is waking me up at night because he wants pets.  He is chasing Maggie away from me.

Of course, I just love all this.  I can't get enough of Thunder time.  I guess I shouldn't have been surprised this happened.  He has always been such a dependant cat--not independent like most other cats.

I hope he can adjust back when Kevin is back in my life.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Thunder's Name for Me

Thunder can't say my name.  It is even doubtful that he knows it. After all, we were never formally introduced.  Besides, when I got him, I changed his name.  He may have done the same for me.

He calls me Me-OW.  The second syllable is much higher and louder than the first.  He uses my name whenever he wants me.  He is not the kind of cat to follow me around if he wants to be with me.  He wants me to come to him.  I am supposed to be following him around.  He will just sit in the dining room and call me.  "Me-OW!"

I come running.  I seldom get through a meal without him calling me.  It was worse when I used to work.  I would come home and he expected me to talk to him--not eat my dinner.  "Me-OW!"

My name is so specific, that either he thinks that is my name or that meow translates to, "I want."  I am not sure.  It may be that they now mean the same thing.

He has many other meows, but this is the one he uses to call me.