Scapecat

Lucy is guilty. Mostly because she does a terrible job of defending herself. You would think she would voice an occasional, "Who me? I didn't do that!" She does not even try to blame anything on Sasha, so ultimately she takes all the blame. 

Latino once destroyed a measuring spoon with the garbage disposal. He could have gotten rid of the evidence, but he proudly presented it to me and told me that Lucy had chewed it up. I scolded Lucy for a half second, until I realized that was some awfully hard plastic for her to take a bite out of. The sad thing is if he had blamed Sasha I never would have believed him. He has also displayed quite a large burn on his hand and said that Lucy bit him. My personal favorite is that whenever an unsettling noise comes from his posterior region, he claims it was Lucy. Purring. Sometimes he even says, "Wow, Lucy, you purr loud!" I couldn't make this stuff up.

 These are just a few examples, but they clearly illustrate that Lucy is the designated scapecat. It dawned on me the other day that I do the same exact thing! When I drop something I always call out Lucy's name like it was somehow her fault. Perhaps it is some form of classical conditioning that developed in her early years. She would wake me up, every night, by sitting on the nightstand and pushing things off of it until I jumped out of bed. Sometimes I would open my eyes and just watch her. Lucy would push an object a little bit, look at me, and then push it a little more until it fell to the floor. Now, years later, I guess I still associate hearing things drop with Lucy shoving them off the nightstand. I don't think I was her intentional Pavlov's dog, because it certainly backfired on her. Also, it took me longer than I care to admit to just remove the items from the nightstand, but I did so eventually. She soon discovered another way to wake me.

I'll admit I am guilty of blaming incidents on Lucy when it is not her fault. The difference between Latino and me is that, while he blames everything on the cats, he believes all is ultimately MY fault. Why, you ask? Because I brought the cats into our lives, so whatever they do is indirectly caused by my actions. That's like double-scapegoating, if there is such a thing. Maybe I can show him and get a couple more cats for him to blame.

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Donation for Sale

Latino is quite philanthropic. He drives a certain route where he knows there is a large population of homeless people so he can bring them some food and donate money. It's just a little bit here and a little bit there, but as the saying goes, "Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can change the world." ~Howard Zinn

Latino's main goal in bettering humanity involves none other than Lucy and Sasha. He really would like to donate them. He has been wanting to do so for years now, and I am a stumbling block in his plans. Latino tells the cats that we can find them a new home where they will be so happy. Every so often when I'm frustrated with Lucy jumping on the table or I'm vacuuming up cat hair, Latino will remind me of his idea. "Maybe there is a possibility you could reconsider donating them."

Lately he came up with a new plan. "We should give Lucy away. If someone gives us $2 million, then we'll give them the cat." I replied, "I love her, but even I'm not sure she would be worth that kind of money to someone. They might not even pay $10 for her. She's feisty as heck!" Latino explained that I was misunderstanding him. "No, they would not be paying $2 million for her. It's like if you donate $5 and you receive candy in appreciation for your donation. You know the candy is not worth that much, but it's about donating. She would be the appreciation gift for the donation." He then redirected his statement to the cat. "You're worth $2 million, Lucy. We just have to find the right candidate."

Now accepting: $2 million
Donator will receive an appreciation gift*
*not a cat

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Incognito

It has been said that a picture is worth a thousand words. This is a synopsis of what I said when I viewed this picture of myself:

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT I LOOK LIKE  A SPACE ALIEN?!"

But mostly, I just shook my head in disbelief. Because when you realize your face has mutated into the configuration of a Star Trek character, words have a way of escaping you.

There is a story to accompany the picture, but there is sadly insufficient explanation. Latino and I joined some friends for a canoeing trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in northern Minnesota. (Side note: If you get the chance, go there. It's a beautiful and unique experience. Just be sure to bring observant friends. And lots of Benadryl.) I left instructions for my friend who was taking care of Sasha and Lucy for the week. When we were halfway there, Latino said, "Shoot! I forgot to tell the cat sitter to leave the door open! You won't be mad at her if the cats escape."

The journey was a memorable one. There was beautiful scenery, multiple lakes to paddle across, campfires, the distinctive calls of loons, and quality time with Latino and our friends. The most memorable event happened on day four. I rubbed my eyes in the morning, and thought that my face felt a little strange. I had no mirror to see for myself what was going on, so I mentioned to Latino that the area around my eyes felt weird. He glanced at me and said I looked fine. I periodically would rub my eyes to try to ascertain what was going on. However, I was not too concerned because Latino said I did not look any different. Another male friend reaffirmed what Latino had said as well. This went on for a few hours as we were paddling and portaging back toward the car. I rubbed my eyes, asked my husband and our friend to look at my face, and was reassured there was nothing wrong.

Enter the only other female on the trip. She took one look at me and proceeded to yell to her husband, a doctor, that I was having an allergic reaction. FINALLY! Someone to verify that there was something wrong with my face! My doctor friend gave me Benadryl and Ibuprofen and continued making sure I took a dose every four hours. By the time we got back to a vehicle with a mirror, I had taken two doses. When I timidly peered into the side view mirror, I started freaking out. I could barely recognize myself!!! The bridge of my nose that had once been a mountain between my eyes had sunken into a valley of a swollen mess. It was like a glacier had formed right above my nose and was gliding across my face, protruding in front of my eyes. I was later told that before the Benadryl, my whole face, ears, and neck were also swollen. Thank heavens no one took a picture of that. The photographic evidence I have is plenty bad enough to haunt my dreams. Also, it took three days for me to look normal again, so it was really fun explaining to everyone what happened to my face.

More unbelievable than the fact that my face exploded was that Latino did not notice it. He said it was because I had my glasses on. Apparently my glasses provide a Clark Kent like disguise that can even help space aliens go incognito. I really need to be a spokesperson for these glasses!

It is a mystery to me what caused the allergic reaction. I thought I got a bug bite the night before on my forehead, but I was also sunburned. This was not the end of the story. I had a similar reaction in South America recently when I was sunburned. I noticed it pretty early on and asked Latino if my face was exploding like it did in the Boundary Waters. He confirmed that it was. I started taking Benadryl right away so the swelling did not get as bad that time.

At least he is learning. Or I must not have been wearing my Clark Kent glasses that time.

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Mopping Around

It took years for us to discover this, but it turns out that Sasha actually does want to extend a helping paw around the house. (The jury is still out on Lucy. I'm pretty sure she thinks she deserves the royal life, watching us humans bend to her every whim in humble servitude.) Sasha likes to mop the floor, though not via the standard method. Even though I am certain she has the best of intentions, what she brings forth in ambition she lacks in opposable thumbs.

In typical form, it was Latino who discovered her mopping ability. Sasha was meowing and begging for his attention on the kitchen floor. He began petting her and she flopped onto the floor. He then must have seen a look in her eye indicating that she wanted to help us. She stretched out her body and Latino began pushing her back and forth and in figure eights across the floor. She remained motionless, letting her body do the work. He is the handle to her mop head, and she is putty in his hands.They are quite a perfect match in cleaning partnership, or if nothing else, cheap entertainment. I mentioned to someone the use of Sasha to mop the floor, and she said Latino is practically a scientist for figuring that out. Latino's head is big enough; I don't want him to take the credit for Sasha's generosity.

Unfortunately, she only is proficient in dry mopping at this moment. As soon as Latino can convince the cats to shower perhaps we can move on to wet mopping. That is the subject for another day.

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Sasha Meme #1

It's a Circus!

For a long time, I have been telling the cats that they need to start pulling their weight around here. Instead of napping all day, they could sweep the floors, cook, or at the very least pick up their fur. I have even suggested that they could get a job and make a little cash. Grumpy Cat is doing quite well for herself. Lucy and Sasha have no excuse!

Almost by accident, Latino and I discovered that Sasha does have a marketable talent. She has an affinity for circus performing. Latino is her "trainer" because even though I have tried to train her, she refuses to do what I ask of her (even though it is the exact same thing that Latino does). He will stand by a chair and she will jump onto it, meowing and begging for his attention. He will pet her and she will flop over in complete submission. Then Latino will stand by the next chair and she will jump down and then jump right back up onto his new chair of choice. They can repeat this circus act multiple times, until she decides that her fur is very dirty and must be attended to immediately. As the weeks have gone by, she is getting quite good at this performance, so Latino encourages her to increase her speed. Now Latino's plan for getting rid of her is sending her away to the circus. I don't think he realizes he would have to go with, because I am certain she would not perform this for anyone other than him. She worships the circus floor that he walks on.

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Please click to view video of Sasha's performance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJ9qBVPV2cA&feature=youtu.be

  

Where There's Smoke

A few years ago, there was a fire in my condo building. I safely got Lucy and Sasha out of the building and we waited for hours to be let back in as we watched the black smoke billowing up from the other side of the building. The cats and I have never recovered from that incident. It was also that day I learned that I need to have two cat carriers. While a duffel bag does work in a pinch (zippered enough to prevent escape but not all the way so as to let in air), it is not ideal for cat transportation.

There was an incident last month in which the alarms started going off again. The cats panicked at the noise and hid under the bed as per usual. It was a struggle, but I rescued them from their hiding spot and put them in their respective carriers. I started heading toward the door, carriers in tow, and told Latino we were ready to go outside. Stubborn as can be, he told me goodbye and said he was not going out because he didn't see fire or smell smoke. It was this day I learned that I need a carrier big enough for him. Sasha and Lucy and I headed to safety to join the small group of other residents with animals congregated outside. A few minutes later I noticed Latino standing on the balcony, waving at me. I proceeded to ignore him because there was no way I was admitting to these people that was my stubborn husband refusing to join us outside. Of course it ended up being a false alarm, but the fact is the cats and I were safe. Moreover, had we not gone outside, we would have missed the opportunity to meet the woman with her cats who was adorned with a cat shirt and cat earrings.

Since the fire alarm incident, Latino has been blowing his own smoke. He keeps telling them, "I'm sorry about your mama. She put you in a cage and took you outside and you were so scared. I'm really sorry about that." He likes to think of himself as the hero who would have let them stay inside where they are comfortable. Never mind how much the ear piercing alarm terrifies them. Or the fact that if there was an actual fire they would have all burned up together. Apparently that still would have been better than the scary situation of putting them in cages and taking them out into the unknown!

Genetic Link

A vet once told Lucy she was a little too roly poly. I believe the words "pear shaped" were also used. I took a little offense, for Lucy's sake, as no woman ever wants to hear negative comments about her weight. Truth be told, Lucy is not a very motivated exerciser. Also, it should come as no surprise that sleeping twenty hours a day is not good for weight loss. Regardless, she is still pretty cute.

Latino doesn't mince words when it comes to Lucy's weight. "Lucy, you're chubby!" As mentioned in a previous post, he had a plan to feed her excessively so she would have a heart attack. Latino's latest theory is that Lucy is going to get diabetes. After declaring that he became suddenly unsure, and he asked if cats can in fact develop the disease. I agreed that it is possible: my brother's cat is diabetic. He paused before responding, "Wait, your brother who is diabetic has a diabetic cat?" I confirmed that was the case. "Is it genetic?" he inquired.

I think this makes it clear that Latino thinks cats are true members of the family.

Meowing...Penguins?

Sasha is the sweetest cat, but she is not always the brightest bulb on the tree. Her meowing is incessant, and sometimes she meows at inanimate objects. Particularly closed doors. I think she used to do this on occasion, but there seemed to be a dramatic increase after Latino entered her life. We have a spare bedroom where Latino keeps some of his things. We keep the cats out to try to have one allergen free space. Sasha always wants to go in there with him and she likes to sit right outside the door when he enters that room. She likes to make sure that he knows she is there.

Then Sasha developed a habit of howling outside the door at random times Latino was nowhere near that room. Latino refers to it as "meowing at the door". After witnessing this a couple times, I hypothesized that she thought he was in the room even when he was not. Sure enough, when he called her name from the living room, she ran as fast as she could to the sound of his voice. I don't know why she assumes he is in that room when he is not. I have read that cats over a certain age can get dementia, so of course Latino says that she is afflicted by that. I think she is just really not that observant.

We saw some penguins at the zoo recently. We watched them for a few minutes, enjoying their antics. Then Latino pointed out a door along the far wall. Standing right outside was a penguin facing toward the door. Latino said, "That penguin is meowing at the door!"

How sweet! He was thinking of our cats when he was watching other animals at the zoo. He must really love them!

What IS That Smell?

A few years ago I had a cold for over a week, and along with it I lost my sense of smell. When I finally started regaining the use of my nose, I unlocked the door to my condo and was almost knocked over by an awful stench. It took a few minutes of investigative work to finally locate the source: a partially liquefied potato. Even after removing what was left of the potato from the premises, its smell lingered for a time and its memory burned into my mind. If you have smelled partially liquefied potatoes, I am sure you understand.

This experience has led me to be a bit paranoid when I have had subsequent colds. I can imagine an army of bacteria waging a similar attack on what used to be my produce, while I am none the wiser. So after my most recent cold and several days of sub par smelling abilities, I was cautious when I was able to start smelling again. I began walking around the kitchen and smelling everything, convinced that there was a strange odor somewhere. When Latino walked in, I asked if he smelled anything. He denied it at first, but I persisted that there was a bad smell in our place. "Something smells here. What is it?!" Sasha chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen and meow. Without missing a beat or saying a word, Latino pointed at Sasha.

Well played, Latino. I should have known better than to ask.

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Auction

Latino and I recently attended the Saintly City Cat Show as part of the Saint Paul Winter Carnival. Despite his endless claims that he does not in fact like cats, he did not object to going. He did, however, object to the $4 entrance fee. "Who would pay to see cats?!!!" As I suspected, it turns out that thousands of people do indeed pay to see cats. Lots of very interesting people pay to see cats.

Latino always seeks new tricks to play on Lucy and Sasha. It came as no surprise that he was inspired at the cat show. Latino is not an auctioneer by trade. That did not stop him from running his own little mock auction last week. What was he trying to auction off?

Sasha.

He had seen the cat judges at the cat show holding up the cats one at a time with their bodies stretched in an extended position to examine them. Latino held Sasha up in the way he had seen demonstrated at the show. Somehow this prompted him to feel like an auctioneer.

"$1? Can I get $1 for her?"

"How about $2? Anyone?"

"$3? $3? Sold!!!!"

With that Latino put her down and walked into the kitchen. She followed him, acting like the little duckling that she is. He said, "Why are you following me? I sold you already!"

I wouldn't be surprised if he started to charge admission for people to come see her.

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