100!

Mrrrrr Friends,

I've been working on a pathbreaking treatise for my next blog, but then I realized: this is my 100th post!

Who would have imagined, when I first set paw to keyboard almost 3  years ago, that I'd be blogging my way into so many human, feline, sciurid (that's marmot and his cousins), and canine lives?

Here I am working with my art director on a recent blog. Layout is exhausting.

I write my own stuff and usually work late at night. The new immortal portal aluminum cat has a keyboard without an umbilical cord and a mouse without a tail. The mouse without the tail is a bit of a problem, as it's hard to stay focused and not slap it around the house like a hockey puck.  Anyway, I can put out a good draft, but the html editing foxes me.

The other part of my team is my editor. He tends to work alone, bouncing stuff back to me after he's sliced and diced it. After a couple years of patient correction, I'm just beginning to understand the comma....don't get me started on the semi-colon.

It's been a pleasure sharing the virtual scratching pad with all of you. Thanks for keeping up with my cat-antics. For goodness sake, keep writing and commenting and, for the computer savvy among you: follow me!

In celebration of 100, I've gone into my private video archives and rustled up a special clip. My art director has also gone to some lengths to improve your video watching experience!

Here is my uncut 2008 Catolympics trial in Bathtub Gymnastics. It's true, before tree-scaling became my dedicated sport (okay, except for paw hockey, tail-chasing with Alex, and hiking) back when I was younger, more energetic, but generally lacking focus, I engaged in a wide range of cat-sports.

The goal of Bathtub Ball, the more common name, is to play wildly with the bouncy ball so that it is (a) either constantly in danger of bounding out of the tub or (b), for the more mature and physically adept cat, always on the verge of spiraling into the drain. Much like Olympic gymnastics for humans, Bathtub Ball pushes cats to engage in challenging but graceful, physical pyrotechnics with the illusion of ease and, all the while, skirting the edge of disaster - in this case, the danger of the ball going down the drain! Notice my careful final positioning of the ball at the end of the routine.

Enjoy!

Born to Climb; tree-scaling revealed

Mrrrrr Friends,

The world of tree-scaling continues to occupy my time here in Upper Jay. I have a host of new trees and species varieties to work with and have set some goals for myself as cats around the world prepare for the 1402nd bi-annual Catolympic Games to be held in Australia this December. Primarily, my new home is allowing me to hone my trunk skills. As those of you who follow the blog know, I am better known in the cat world for my small-branch paw skills.

Here’s a very quick video previewing my latest work. Unfortunately, the cameraperson was not quick enough on the start button to capture my lightening 30-foot sprint up to the base of the tree in question, but she recovered herself just as I started my ascent.

Look at the base of the Linden tree in the video, then click the play button and you’ll see my tightly coiled black form spring to life. Not only will you see my no nonsense climb, if you watch closely, you’ll also catch a glimpse of my radical head down descent. Since its introduction at my 2007 debut at the Catolympics, the “Diesel Dive” is catching on!

I was born to climb.

Catolympics & Catastrophe

Mrrrr Friends,

Last weekend I attended the 1,401st bi-annual Catolympics in Needles, CA. It was quite an event, with cats of all shapes and sizes in attendance, and hosted by Muddlepuddle, one of the wisest cats in the universe. There were a lot of felines like me but there were also lynx, cheetahs, lions…cats of all shapes and sizes. (Yes, Snoopy’s brother Spike was there too…a few individuals from other species do attend.) I did some tree climbing there.

Cats aren’t terribly competitive, you know, at least not just for the sake of being competitive. It’s different, for some cats, when, for example, a mouse is involved. But at the catolympics we don't do prey items and there isn’t much scoring and trying to win…it is more a sharing of methodologies. I am satisfied to say that I awed more than a few cats with my tree-top paw work. I, in turn, was truly amazed by some of the tree-trunk management skills of my feline friends. If you’ve ever seen a squirrel climb up a tree trunk going around and around, then you’ll just begin to understand the variety of strategies for climbing a tree. And yes, since you are wondering, there were all different sizes of trees too.

Interestingly, getting back down is a problem shared by many of my fellow felines.

A great time was had by all. We ate tons of “Cowboy Cookout” – that wonderful canned entrée by Merrick – washed down with a good St. Emilion that our French cat amies brought and followed by long, yowling caterwaul-alongs with a lovely single malt courtesy of our Scottish Fold colleagues. Some nights there were cans and bottles strewn about…morning required a lot of cleanup and recycling.

You’re probably wondering how I managed to get the time away without my people knowing. We cats have our ways. You know all those hours of sleep we get in? Sometimes we’re really just not there. I can’t say more…cats have codes. But, in this case, the folks were up in the Adirondacks, and my pal Alex was having a spa weekend with her Granma.

Alex needed the spa weekend because she nipped out to Gstaad for a big cat ski party the weekend before Thanksgiving. Again the people were away and the cats did play. Unfortunately, Alex had a skiing accident…not the kind I usually have après-ski with the Scotch, but a real live “agony of defeat” kind of accident.

She hurt herself…ACL injury or, in cat terms, a torn cruciate ligament in her right rear leg. We think it happened while landing after a particularly long or slightly off-pitch jump. She’s had a full work up now by a cat surgeon specialist in Westbury, NY, and we are all discussing the surgery versus no surgery options. It’s a difficult time. Alex is bravely powering through, but we all know there is a limitation. The ligament cannot heal. It is torn for good.

The question is can Alex’s supercat body compensate and build scar tissue quickly enough and in a way that will give her a good long-term quality of life? The risk is that she will blow her meniscus – the pad in her knee between the two long bones. Then, she will definitely need surgery. Or, the vet lady surgeon can go in now and replace Alex’s ligament with a fancy plastic line that is, basically, thick fishing line. We all want to know what kind of knot she’ll use.

Cats don’t like surgery, let’s be clear. We are not like dogs. Dogs usually yowl and whimper when they are hurt. We rarely do this. We dig deep and try to act healthy. We don’t want to be fooled with or fussed over at this level. Sometimes this is a good strategy, sometimes it is not. Alex wants time to fix herself by sleeping and taking it relatively easy. A cat would rarely choose surgery even when it might be the best path to healing and staying healthy. We might need to consider some human intervention here.

I’m doing my part for Alex by licking her forehead a lot and working with her to develop ligament friendly games: door jamb paw hockey is our favorite right now. I’ll keep all of you up to date on developments.