Blogging with Freya

Freya is sitting on my lap as I type this. She's purring like a muffled V-8 engine where one of the cylinders is missing a stroke. Or maybe it's more like the slant-6 on the old Plymouth Valiant. Anyway, it's loud for a cat.

I'm playing easy to get and lavishing her with attention so that she won't feel the need to sleep on my head tonight. Not that she slept on my head last night. She found somewhere to hide instead. This morning, the only evidence I had that she hadn't run off or gotten trapped down in the caves was that her food was gone and her litter box had been recently used.

But I hear that if you play hard to get with cats they sleep with you. I'm all for having a cat on my lap. It's one of life's true pleasures. But there are certain intimacies I prefer to restrict to my own species.

Perhaps it's because of a trauma I suffered many years ago in my youth. I was about 29 when a friend went away for a week. In exchange for looking after her cat, she let me drive her sports car. The cat was just a young thing, a street cat my friend had taken in. Let's call her Stella. Stella had been in for all its shots, but they were waiting until after she'd gone into heat the first time to do the operation that would prevent unwanted kittens.

As it happened, Stella experienced her first estrus while she was in my care. I knew the signs well having spent some time in a place where cats were encouraged to multiply. But I had never seen a cat in heat who wasn't allowed to run out and take care of her needs. This poor kitty was in distress, yowling and writhing. I called the animal hospital and described the situation. "Is there anything I can do to make her more comfortable?"

"Well," said the young woman, "you could take a cotton swab, like a q-tip, lubricate it with something like vaseline, and stimulate her vaginal opening. That might make her more comfortable and even help it end sooner."

Did I do it? Did I create a tiny cat dildo and then manually stimulate a kitten to the point where she got what she needed?

On one side of the issue was potential humiliation. On the other side was leaving a poor creature in distress. When I have a choice like this, I have a motto: The Dwarf does the difficult thing.

Was it good for Stella? I don't know, but she seemed a bit calmer afterwards.

As for me, there's a reason that I didn't have q-tips in my house even before they turned out to be deadly.

Now I'm a Kitty Blogger

Here she is. I wasn't blowing smoke last week. I am the proud host of a famous Ottawa blog cat. Do you recognize her? It's Freya, the friendly hunting cat who shares an apartment with Megan of Asteroideapress. Megan is away looking for g-spots or something and kindly offered to let Freya stay with me for a few days.

Unlike less sophisticated cats, Freya travels in a cosy backpack rather than in an uncomfortable plastic crate.

She seems to be settling in well. I am hoping she will get along well with the rodents and other creatures who share the place with me.

Cryptic Word Cop: A chewy fruit cookie?

Or did you mean Pure Milk Chocolate Covered Mint Oreo?

* Baylinkbot is a Fig Newton of my imagination.

* No longer a fig-newton of my imagination, Our Lady of Weight Loss: Miraculous and Motivational Musings from the Patron Saint of Permanent Fat Removal - is HERE!

* No doubt a Saxon stronghold in the 10th century, the Normans built the substantial keep in the 11th century. ... In the late 20th century the castle emerged as a fig-newton of my imagination.

* Please explain or better yet show me that coydogs and lynx cats can not exist. I have ridden a mule, was that a fig-newton of my imagination? Give us just one fact Carico, just one.

* I’m sure you wish it were so, good nurse, but alas: Lanny is merely a fig newton of my imagination.

Word Cop: have need of or desire for?

Or, did you mean WONT?

*I looked him up on the internets as I am want to do, and found out he was later in a well respected hardcore band and was even a Versace model at one point.

*After driving Dave nuts for a few weeks he created my blog then as I am want to do, I did nothing with it for another few weeks.

*I was sitting at work, muttering to myself as I am want to do, nibbling on a pistachio nut and avoiding the interminable data entry part of my job

*I'm still combining poorly, but I am taking it slow, so as not to become militant, as I am want to do with eating choices, making it difficult to stick with it.

*She was so personable and kept talking to me about all sorts of things, her piercings and experiences, and I kept babbling as I am want to do in these kinds of situations, and after a few minutes I felt completely at ease – as if it was normal for me to be lying half-naked on a table with a woman cleaning my inner labia.

Buckyblog #4: sayonora

Roasted Cat Curry

- One large cat, deboned, roasted, cubed
- 2 1/2 cups coconut milk
- 10 cherry tomatoes
- 1 cup eggplant, cubed, or sweet spring peas
- 6 pieces of rambutan or pineapple, cubed
- 4 fresh kaffir lime leaves, shredded
- 1 tsp sugar
- 1/2 tsp sea salt
- 2 tbsp Thai fish sauce
- 1/2 cup water or stock
- 1 1/2 tbsp vegetable oil
- 3 tbsp red curry paste

Preparation
Pour vegetable oil into a wok over medium heat and add red curry paste. Stir well. Add 3/4 cups coconut milk and stir to mix thoroughly. Add cat and stir well again. Pour mixture into a pot, add the remaining coconut milk, water, tomatoes, rambutans or pineapple, eggplant or sweet peas, kaffir lime leaves, sugar, salt, and fish sauce. Bring to a boil and remove from heat. Serve on a bed of noodles.

Ummm, ignore the above text. I can't seem to get rid of id... er, it. Must be a Blogger glitch. Don't know where it came from. Anyway, Bucky has left the building. No idea where he went. Nope. None. Inevitable, I suppose. I loved that cute little guy, but we got along like, well, cats and dogs. A teensy tiff last night, and when I woke up this morning, his closet was empty except for a pile of dirty brown socks. His suitcase was gone, and his bicycle wasn't in the driveway either. Didn't even leave a lousy goodbye note, the insensitive jerk.

We had plans for taking the Elgin Street Irregulars to the very edge of the kittyblogosphere. He coulda been a star! Who knows what'll happen now? The manner of our parting was deeply deliciou - ummm, painful. It has left me completely satisf - ummm, shattered. We shall not speak of it again, from this day hence.