Tornado swept my living room

Tornado Ginger and Poppy came to my living room last night.

When i woke up at 10am today and went out to the living room, it was like a MESS. Oh oh. Daddy meow's gonna complain. Litter box sand everywhere. Sandy footprints on my couch, coffee table, dining table. Strepsils on the floor! Towelletes on the floor. And fur everywhere!

What the hell?

Well, it normally looks like that every other day. But today's mess is the worst. Cause the night before everything was nice and clean.

The cats had a i-chase-u-u-chase me game. And i wonder how the hell the cat litter sand got scattered around. It's like they started a sand fight or something.

If my mom ever wanted to stay with me, i will fight till i die to NOT let her.

So i had to spend 1 hour to vaccum everything up. Both cats had that nonchalant "I didn't do it face".

I have to rethink that 20 cats thing.

Here's both of them looking a tad guilty after seeing me vaccum for one hour. Nice perspective view, eh?

Of shredded newspaper and chewed aloe

Oh no.
I came back home and there are shreds of newspaper all over the floor. ALL OVER.
The cats had a newspaper war.
What a mess.

I was standing there contemplating whether or not to clean up when the front oor opened. Daddy meow was home.

“Hey, how’s my…WHAT THE HELL?!? Who did this?”

Nmgeowwww…….

That was the brown one answering in a very naughty way. I am not joking. Pops replied immediately after my husband asked that question. No doubt, Poppy-is-naughty. That’s his name.

I looked around and saw something else. A chewed tip of an aloe vera. Some hairball had leapt up to the ledge where I put my two pots of measly aloe veras and had chewed off the tip, carried it in his mouth, got bored and then decided to leave it on the kitchen floor for me to pick up.

Scared the shit out of me for a while cos i thought it was a worm. Yeah, a GREEN worm. Silly me.

Who did it?

Poppy-is-naughty.

Sigh.

Eat your salad

Mothers always make sure their offsprings eat lotsa veggies. Cos greens are good for u.

My boys love to eat grass. But i didn't teach them to do so. (I am not that kooky).

It's nature. Cats NEED to eat grass for survival. Now, it's not all types of grass, certain ones. Like the bear grass that grows wild in my dad's garden. Or another type of taugeh looking grass that the petshop sells, for cats that have no access to outdoors.

Read my blog 'Of furballs and stuff'. No point me reiterating the reasons why they need to eat grass.

Last dinner with my dad, he gave me another bunch of bear grass for his 'grandkids'. Daddy meow wrinkled his nose in dismay. Grass means hurls. Hurls means he has to wipe off the floor. Face it, no one likes to clean up vomits.

Here's the cats eating grass...

Pluck some down for me Pops....

Ah, nevermind, I'll get the grass myself. Yummy...(hey, they both are the same height!)

No Thousand Island?

Wow, it's getting tiring, standing up eating like this...

Eugh, i think that grass is swirling inside my tummy now...am gonna hurl soon.

U still love me if i hurl, rite? I give u my Puss In Boots doe-eyed look....

Cat's belly

I love my cats exposing their bellies to me. The act of turning turtle and baring their soft, mushy bellies is just so adorable, melts my heart away.

I was sitting on the dining room chair typing my blog when Pops flopped over and played dead. Showing me his tummy. And one eye opened slightly to look at me, his tail twitching.

He wanted me to come over and rub!

I feel fuzzy all over now.

I love it because it means they trust u completely to show their most vulnerable spot to u and allowing u to touch it is the best-est reward ever.

Who needs a guy?

Another cat?

I love to sleep.
It's hard to get me to sleep.
It's harder to get me to wake up.
This morning daddy meow was about to bathe to go to work and he came out of the bathroom and said :
"There's a kitten on the roof outside the bathroom"
And i was up like a bolt of lightning.
That was super effective to make me get my lazy bones off the bed.
There was no kitten, despite daddy meow's affirmation that he DID see a kitten on the roof, meowing away.
I think he bluffed me so that i would wake up.
Bloody blistering barnacles.

Visit to the vet

Both boys got their annual immunisation shot today. Pops was first to the vet as i only had one carrier. I never liked the whole ordeal of bring the fuzzies to vet (read blog titled Ticks and u'll know why).

Pops' constant meowing in the car was enough to aggravate anyone's nerves. Especially since i was not in the right mood since yesterday. But things got funny when we put him on the vet's table. 1st jab - he jumped up sky high. 2nd jab - he screammed, used his back legs to burst out of our grasps (i got scratched because i was holding him). Then when it was over and the vet was cleaning up, he looked around angrily as though he was saying :
"Ok, which one of u jabbed me? Huh!? I will kill u, kill u!" All the while with the i-want-to-pounce-u look. 3kg, but ego of a lion.

Pops lost 0.2kg. I think it's probably his fur loss. So we had the vet Frontline-d him to get rid of the ticks and by the time he came out, he looked like a half drenched kucing kurap. Boy, was he even more mad.

Brought him home. Meowz ambled toward his little friend, took one sniff and recoiled in horror, realising that this is VET smell. He scurried away to hide behind the recliner. Once we got hold of him and tried to push him into the carrier, the orange fuzz ball put on heavy breaks on his back legs. It was like pushing a really heavy rock into the carrier.

Meowz gained 1.1kg. He's now 6.1kg - what the hell did i feed him? He was supposed to maintain weight at 5kg, due to the fragility of his bad leg.

As usual, Meowz was an angel compared to Pops. I think any cat seems like an angel if compared to Pops. 1st jab - no feeling. 2nd jab - lalalala. No reaction.

Poppy has zero tolerance to pain. Or that Meowz has no pain receptors.

Till next year...

The alpha male recliner

If only i have a camera now - both cats are on the recliner with daddy meow.
It's a nice picture, sans me. Hubby says the cats just want to be with him, but i think they just want to be on the recliner, which is deemed as the chair for the man of the house. And both cats think they are the man of the house. Meowz jumped onto the recliner first, trampled on top of daddy's tummy and settled down. Then Pops also jumped onto the recliner and sat in front of Meowz, with his arse in front of the orange one's face. Meowz was about to snap at Pops' tail when daddy pulled him away in time.

Now, all 3 are watching tv, sitting on the chair.

Picture perfect.

Of furballs and stuff

Got a text from hubby that says "Euuwww! Pops had a BIG HURL! Can tell it's Pops 'cos it's got brown furballs in it! Yucks!"

Yeah, it's his job to clean up all cat barfs and he's not too pleased about it.

My cats usually barf when they eat grass. Yesterday my dad passed me these long stalks of grass from the garden (as he always does)which the cats love to eat. Well, i don't think they dig eating grass (it's green and raw, darnit), but it's more that they need to eat. Cats ingest a lot of fur daily, from grooming themselves and others (Meowz grooms Poppy sometimes, like a big brother). The swallowed fur then gets clogged up in their stomachs and could pose potential health risks if the furballs are not passed thru the backdoor. They need the grass to induce vomitting, which discharge the furballs.

Contrary to beliefs (or what u see in cartoons), furballs are not dry. They are wet, slimy and grotesque looking. And it was on the floor this evening, much to the dismay of the vomit cleaner, aka husband.

Poor Pops. It's harder for him as his fur is longer than Meowz. Probably that's why he relies so much on me to groom him with the comb. I feel guilty of not doing that daily. Pops has some knots on his belly and armpits due to my lack of grooming. If u buy a long haired cat, be prepared to comb daily!

Another man in my bed?

As usual, once my husband comes back from China, settles down, unpacks a bit, he would next go to the bed to check if there's any evidence of another man on our bed. Man, in this context, means cat. Evidence, means fur. He knows from past experience i used to allow the cats in to sleep on the bed when he's far and away. And usually on his side of the bed, which he's not too pleased about, with all the kutus and fur, and their lack of toilet manners...(wipe, (arse) who wipes?)

After scanning his side, he would still accuse me of letting the fuzzies sleep in the room. Even though the bed has no fur. Sheesh, it's probably hard to pledge innocence when i have done it one time too many....apparently hubby has even gone to such extent to tell me that a feng shui master said not to let pets sleep with u becos they suck all your chi and bring bad luck. What a load of crock.

He seems to be more concerned about cats on the bed. I wonder what he thinks if it were a real guy in the bed instead...hmmm...

Sweater made of fur...

Poppy hates to be held, but he sure loves to be combed. That’s about the only time where I can really hold him, stroke and tickle his soft belly. Everytime I take out his white comb and waves it in the air, he would squeak in delight and amble towards me. He willingly submits himself to be combed! What’s the big deal, u might say? U have to see the difference in him when there is no comb and he refuses to let u hold him. The tyke will squeal like a baby and twist his jell-o like body to release himself from your embrace. My husband cannot even hold the brown fuzzy for 1 minute, much to his exasperation. Too jell-o like. Today, when I combed him, his purrs were so loud it sounded like a car engine. He dissolved into a puddle of boneless fur, (like those fur rugs u see with the bear head sticking out) and purred incessantly while I worked the comb. Pops does not know how to groom himself, so the comb is like a big giant tongue that brushes away his fur knots. By the time I finish, his comb would be full of matted fur, which I would peel off and throw outside the window. The birds pick it to insulate their nests. Pops happy, birds happy too!

Cutest thing also, after Pops goes away, satiated, the orange one would walk up to me and stick his neck out - he wants to be combed too. But not for the same reasons as Poppy, Meowz has a perpetual itch on his neck that needs to be calmed with the steel teeth of the comb.

My husband says that if I had kept all those furballs from the combings, I would by now have a ball of yarn in Poppy’s and Meowzers fur colour. Brown orangey sweater, anyone? I think i still know how to knit...

My next Anya bag

I was given an Anya Hindmarch bag by hubby for my 30th birthday. It's a bespoke bag, one side with Meowz photo with his famous sitting-like-a-human pose and the other side has Poppy perched regally on this pedestal. It's my husband's way of saying now i can have both fuzzies with me all the time, esp when i travel and miss them.


I get quite a lot of stares when i tote the bag around. Some friends were clueless that the felines on the bag are mine, some just knew automatically as they have seen too many pics of the fuzzies on my msn. One time, when i was waiting in line, i turned around and saw 10 pairs of eyes on me. Everyone in the line was looking at almost a lifesize picture of Meowz on the bag. How unnerving.


My brother's girlfriend adamantly refused to believe that the cats on my bag were mine, even though she has seen both of them in real life. Duh.



My husband had just found the next pair of photos for my next bag. No, i didn't bug him for it, he so kindly mentioned it. Take a look at the potential photos of both fuzzies that could appear in my next bag....cute huh?

Fish for the boys!

Since August 8 is also my boys' birthday, both got nice canned fish today! It's like a treat as i normally give them cat biscuits to eat. Meowz as usual, would gobble up his fish in 10 seconds, second nature for a cat who used to live on the street and had to eat fast to avoid his food being stolen by other strays.

Pops, on the other hand, being a pet shop cat, took his own sweet time. He takes 15 mins to eat half of his fish, dropping most of it out of the bowl, then saunter off, leaving the other half for the orange one to gobble down. It's always the case. Maybe that's why Pops never grow - cos he never finishes his food.
Now Meowz is lying down on his side, looking like a bloated snake that has just swallowed a cow. Beached whale.

Happy birthday boys!

Poppy

Poppy is a funny funny cat. He's the epitome of all that is naughty. In fact, his full name is 'Poppy is naughty'. I guess no one can tell thru photos. U have to see the real McCoy to judge for yourself. He has this perpectual worried naughty face. Worried becos he probably just did something really naughty and doesn't want us to find out.

He looks like a cross between a bear and raccoon due to his marbly, black-brown coat. But i also think he looks like Sesame St's cookie monster. Sometimes when he's perched on his pedestal, he looks like an owl.

Poppy is a mixed persian and mainecoon. The real mainecoons can grow up to be really huge, almost a dog size. The shop owner told me Poppy can grow to be as big. But after 3 years, Poppy's still puny. Poppy never grew. But i guess he's cute as he is. My main reason of having him was to keep Meowz amused when we go to work, but i think he keeps me amused more. I can't imagine my life without this naughty, bumbling court jester. Always ready to play, always fetching things in his mouth. He could run around the house chasing for his ball till he flops down onto the floor, panting, like a doggy. How cute is that?

As said, Poppy was probably taken away from his mother too fast. He never really developed full cat characteristics. Sometimes he's more like a dog than cat. And his meows sound more like a lamb bleating than a posh meow. And he has giant bear-like paws. Am glad i bought him, the RM800++ was worth it. I guess he's lucky to have me as his mummy. Who would love him so much? Rub his belly and comb him lovingly?

Many times i've almost lost him due to his mischief. But that's another story....here's a photo my hubby shot when we were both sleeping on the sofa. Excuse for the exposed legs, but isn't Poppy so adorable?

Poppy's stash

Poppy's been stashing money. My hubby has a habit of leaving small denominations on the kitchen table. Lately, the little tyke has been jumping onto the kitchen table, which is another major no-no (the other being the dining table) and taking RM1 dollar notes using his little mouth, going to various corners to hide them. Everytime i vaccum, i see RM1 dollar notes here and there, normally quite suspicioiusly near the places Pops like to hang out. I even found a note under my one seater!

The biggest joke is that we think Pops' been stashing all that money so that one day when he has enough, he's gonna pack his furry suitcase and run away. That's why he needs $$. Haha. Maybe we don't love him enough (not me, my husband) So absolutely adorable. We don't suspect Meowz as the orange one rarely carries things in his mouth. It's the brown one who loves to bite on things and ferries them here and there, looking absolutely adorable, like a little raccoon.
Poor Pops, now all his stash has been found out and daddy's a day wiser, looks like he's stuck with us for a very long time!

Cats talk back

Cats are smart. They know when u love them, they know when u are mad at them. And they talk back to u when u scold them. Today, Meowzers jumped up the dining table which is a big no-no. Obviously, no-nos are yes-yes to them. The more taboo, the more fun it is to do it. Hmm...sounds like us humans.

Anyway, Meowzers was up on the dining table looking his usual insouciant self. I would say No! Go down! And the fuzzy just looked at me and meowed. This was the typical conversation we had :
Down Meow!
Auw...
Down!
Auw!
Go down!
Mrreow!
Down!
Meoow! (really agitated)

This would be the only time Meowz would be so verbal with me. Usually when i talk to him like "Hello MeowMeow, how are u today?" Nothing. No meows. Not even a squeak. He would just look at me, squint and look away. Sometimes, to give face, he would manage out a small "Meow".

But this is different. On the table at this point, the orange naughty has put his anchors on. He would not budge despite my feeble attempts to push him away. The more i push, the more verbal he is. I swat his backside and he meowed louder. My husband is laughing. Says I am such a pushover. Well, we had agreed that i was the nice one and he was the disciplinarian, the alpha male. Hubby got up and went to the table and pointed to the floor, "Down!" The naughty obeyed and jumped down, but not with a reluctant and final "Meow!"

Two important things from this story : cats talk back and i am a pushover.

My heart

My friend asked me once, what was the most precious thing i have in my apartment. This was in context of us talking about maids coming into our house once a week to clean the place. I said without hesitation, my two cats. I was afraid that the maid would leave the door open and they would run out and get lost. I was not even worried of the maid stealing material things.

I have a lot of things that are precious in the apartment - but all i could think of is that nothing is more precious than my two naughties. They are irreplaceable.

Growing up, i have always wanted cats. I don't know why i have such a strong fascination with cats. Love their ears, their furry faces, whiskers and the agility of the feline form. Cats are sexy. Or, as said, perhaps i was a cat in my past life.

I lost MeowMeow once 4 years ago. That was when i was still living at my dad's house. Someone knocked him down and he went missing for 1 week. That one week was the worst i have felt in my entire 27 years of existence. I went looking for him every night after work. At that time, I didn't know a car knocked him, i thought maybe he decided to up and go, or worse, someone took him away. It was heart wrenching, like something in me just died. I was an emotional roller coaster and yet had to put on a normal face at work. At night, I would just burst into tears whenever I closed my eyes. I was a total wreck.

The first day after he went missing and I woke up and saw his water and food bowl, I started to cry and I didn't stop until he came back.

I never thought, a four legged animal could have such an impact on me. My husband (then boyfriend) printed a lost and reward poster and we circulated that on the 3rd day. I offered RM1,000. On the 5th day when no one called, I told my husband I was willing to offer RM5000. He said it's just a cat. I don't think he would say that if it was a baby. After the 6th day, my dad told me to get another cat. I said it wouldn't be the same. It's not my Meowz.

When Meowz finally resurfaced (apparently he had been hiding somewhere), we realised he had a broken leg. It was so mangled that the leg was held by just a few tendons. He had only 3 good legs. I held him in my arms all the way to the vet. At that time, all vets were closed but my husband called his dog's vet, who was willing to wait for us. When he saw how bad the leg was, he said he had to amputate it. I just bawled my eyes out and i think the vet got so alarmed that he said he will try to mend the leg.

And he did. It was a painful 6 months process to heal. Meowz spent 3 months in the vet, in a cage and it broke his spirit. He was always a free roamer. I stop by after work almost everyday to stroke him. Everytime i walk thru the doors, his furry face would lit up in recognition. The vet said "u really love your cat". No one probably visits their pet that often, I guess.

So now, Meowz is safe with me, he still has his leg. It was not easy to reattach, so he has this twisted looking leg. But it works fine. He can still jump, chase after me and do all the things he normally does. In short, it is a miracle. God bless the vet for not giving up.

Meowz is my heart. I don't dare to think of the day he would eventually go up to heaven, but he's with me now and that's all that matters. As for the vet, Asokan, he's miracle worker.

Ticks

Poppy is a kutu (tick) breeder. He seems to attract one type of tick that breeds in his fur and probably eats them, causing him to lose his fur glory. One day he can have a lion's mane, the next few days, he would be skinny and almost furless. I judge this problem via his 'santa claus beard'. The longer the beard, means no tick. When the beard disappears and u can actually see his neck, it means help, he needs to go to the vet to get a tick shot.

Going to the vet is such an ordeal. Fortunately Pops likes to jump into his carrier. No worries on that part. Unlike his orange brother who would run a mile when he sees the cat carrier, Pops would gladly jump in. But once he gets to the vet, that's another story. The naughty one becomes terribly defensive. A defiant, angry little fuzzy who dares to look at the vet straight in the eyes and yowls loudly. Whenever the vet touches him, he would growl angrily. Whenever the vet jabs him, he would jolt violently and turn around to hiss. It takes 3 grown ups to hold a 3kg cat down. And one of the grown up is a really fat assistant. Imagine such dexterity for a small cat. By the time the whole ordeal is over, the vet's room would be filled with floating fur. Like puffs of cottony snow. My husband would be wheezing by then.

And then when i think i don't have to do anything else as the jab would suffice, my vet says, " u have to buy Frontline and spray it all over Poppy once every 3 weeks". Frontline is a topical alcohol based medication that u have to spray onto the cat's fur to get rid of the ticks. Quite effective. BUT, it means we have to catch hold of Poppy. My husband has to hold him down. I have to spray the medication onto his fur. That whole process just sends chills down my spine. Actually, more like dread. Poppy does not let up without a fight. He hates Frontline because the alchohol gives him the shivers. Brrr...Anyway, Poppy just hates to be held down.

Now, because he has tick problems, my poor Meowz has to be Frontline-d as well. I used to think ah well, just do it on Poppy only but lately, with the ticks recurring every few months, my suspicion is that everytime i Frontline-d Pops only, here is what the ticks are probably saying :
"Oh no! Fumigation again! Let's pack our bags and jump into the hotel for a while!"

The hotel in this context, is my orange cat. Poor Meowzers. He's a hotel to the ticks who lives in Poppy's fur. While Poppy gets Frontline-d, they jump onto Meowz and when the medication wears off, it's back to their 'home' again. Why? Cause Poppy has the nicest fur. It's probably like marshmallow to the ticks. The softest, chewiest fur to live in and eat. Poppy's as soft as a cloud. Serious. So, now, both has to be Frontline-d. Poor meowzers. Always the casualty. No wonder he hates the brown one.

Pops is looking a bit skinny now without so much of his santa claus beard. I just received a reminder to bring the naughties for their annual leukemia injection next week. I think i will get the vet to Frontline them himself. Would cost me RM35 extra per cat though for someone else to do the dirty deed. But i prefer not to be the bad person.

Cat claws

Cat claws at everything. One cat can inflict quite a lot of damage on sofas, wooden furnitures, timber floor - and I have 2. Cutting their nails is out of the option, especially Poppy's. The little brown fuzzy absolutely can not keep still. Hold him and he wiggles like worm to oooooze his super lithe body out of your grasp. Even my husband at 89kg cannot hold down the 3kg fuzzy.

Despite a RM100 scratching post, they seem to derive extreme joy in digging their claws into my leather sofa. Ouch. I guess sharpening their claws on a RM7000 sofa is more sophisticated than a RM100 post. Who was i kidding. U should see my husband's face of horror when they first dug their claws into the soft plushy leather. After 2 years, my sofa has suffered so much. I no longer want my mom or dad to visit me - they would tsk tsk in dismay. I get extremely embarrassed when my once a week Indon maid comes to clean the house. When she looks at the sofa, her face says it all.

We've tried the loud 'NO!' accompanied by banging the table to wiping the sofa with lemon (apparently citrus and cats are no no) but both ways did not do much to stop them.

I guess our next sofa will be made of cold hard cement. For now, the cats rule all over the house. Imagine if i had 20 cats.

Bathing time

What am i doing? It's 3.30pm on a Sun and there is a major deadline hanging over my head but i woke up with this urge to blog about my cats. I have two cats - Poppy and MeowMeow and they are my babies. Just 2? I've always wanted 20 cats, much to my husband's chagrin. Poor dude, he's already being dropped to lower rank since these two fuzzies took over my heart, now he's gotta content with fur, cat litter and not to mention that constant fighting over for his recliner with MeowMeow. And er, all the cat vomits are his duty to clean...thank god i have a patient spouse.

Today i got up and decided it's a sun shiny day to bath the fuzzies. Since they have to go for their annual jab next week and after that i can't bathe them, so i decided that it was time to get down to do the much dreaded job. Cats are smart - they have come to recognise their bathing towel, which is this blue and red striped thingy. The moment Poppy sees me taking it out inconspicuously from the cabinet, he lets out a yowl and scurries away like a rat. I caught him and ran to the bathroom before he could dig his talons into my arms. Poppy's the least tolerant during bath time. Even though he's a puny cat, he can yowl and howl big time. At baths, he would sit rigidly on the bathroom floor and stare at me defiantly while letting a torrent of verbal 'auws' to convey his ultimate displeasure of being soaped and wetted. Halfway, when he knows it's useless, he would load up his spring legs and leap frog past my shoulder in his desparate attempt to run to the bathroom door (which is closed anyway, Pops not very smart on that).

By the time he ambles out, Pops looks like a drowned rat. His fluff is matted down, he looks like a string bean. Just goes to show that all that puff is all fur, not meat.

Then i looked for the orange one. He was hiding as usual but usually not very smartly as i could see his tail sticking out from the side of the recliner. Caught hold of him - 5 kgs!

Unlike the brown terror, he's quiet throughout, almost dignified. He would let me soap but gets impatient if i take too long. For a big cat, his meows sound soft, almost feminine. Like a whiny girl. Meowz is all meat, so wet or not, he looks the same all the time, unlike Pops.

Now for the funny part. Meowz is a street cat, a stray with all the right cat instincts. When cats are wet, they would proceed to lick themselves dry quickly. But Poppy is a pet shop cat. We believe, by his lack of cat instincts perhaps he was taken away too early from his mom cat and straight into the pet shop - he's clueless on how to dry himself, among other things. So, whilst the orange fuzzy would be frantically licking himself dry, Poppy does this - he sits on his cat perch and proceeds to close his eyes and tuck in his paws as though he's meditating himself dry. And he would sit there like that for a while. In one hours' time, Meowz's all dry, Poppy's a semi dry rat. And since he's frightened of the hairdryer, we have no choice but to let him air dry. Once or twice, he would TRY to lick himself but in a weird, inefficient kinda way that doesn't dry up his fur.

Thank god it's a sunny day today. As for me, it's time for my bath too as i am all wet and furry from the ordeal.