The 'Butt Abides

So, I’ve got this cat. I know what you’re thinking, Jesus Christ, she’s reduced to blogging about her cat. What can I say? It’s been a slow winter.

Anyhoo, my husband just absolutely adores our cat. Anything Tiggerbutt does is just the cutest, smartest, most dog-like thing he’s ever seen. The ‘Butt knows this. He cultivates the man’s affection as meticulously as a backwoods Arkie tends to the “herb” patch. The cat contentedly snoozes in the spouse’s lap for hours on end. He will reach up to my standing husband begging to be scooped up and nuzzled – not unlike a toddler, minus the runny nose and zwieback. He will adorably pound on the glass door while my husband is showering – always from underneath the towel hanging on the door’s rack so that his ears are invisible making him all the more irresistible. Their’s is a warm, loving relationship.

I know that, unlike dogs, cats are capable of having different relationships with different people. Mine and the ‘Butt’s relationship is a bit more complicated. We play mind games with each other. He loves to awaken me by planting both front feet firmly on my sternum while shifting all his weight onto those two small paws. You know how on the hospital shows, docs will ball up their fist and rub an unconscious patient’s sternum to check for responsiveness? I now know why.

The cat also begs for me to pick him up in the same irresistible way that he begs my husband. Only with me it’s 50/50 how he’s going to react once I’ve been sucked into his little game. If I’m lucky he wallows around in my arms flopping from over the shoulder to perched on folded arms. If I’m not lucky, he flops over my shoulder then suddenly looks at me as if seeing me for the first time, wraps his front legs around my neck and goes for my throat. I’m ready for this, you see, and I use a blocking maneuver not unlike Curly’s when keeping Moe from poking him in the eyes. I pry the cat loose and drop him – which really gets his dander up. He lays his ears back, swishes his tail, crouches, and wiggles his ass*. During all this I’m backing up while he fakes me out, forcing me to hop from foot to foot yelling, “No! Don’t do it! Don’t you dare!” The yelling just pisses him off more and he leaps, wrapping around my leg, anchoring himself with claws and teeth. Only the rattling of a plastic bag can get him to let go.

The cat loves to play “fetch” with me. It goes something like this:

The cat jumps onto the couch where I’m sitting watching TV. He has a cat toy in his mouth.(Usually a ball with a bell or rattle in it)
Cat perches on sofa arm and drops said ball.
Cat stares at me with the flames from the fireplace reflecting in his eyes (whether we’ve got a fire going or not).
Cat continues unblinking stare and begins telepathy saying, “Thrrrrow eet. Thrrrrow eeeet,” (Rolling his “r’s” ominously like Stefano Dimera – nevermind) “Prreferrrably in that farrrr corrrnerrr wherrre it can’t get away and I can beat it senseless against two walls.”
I toss the ball into the corner whereupon the cat races madly after it and frantically bats it around until convinced it’s dead.
Cat brings the dead toy back to me for reanimation.
As he stares maniacally I pick the ball up and cradle it in my cupped hands.
Cat: “Dooo eet, dooooo eeeet.”
I dramatically blow into my hands.
Cat: “Yesss, yesss! Make it alive again!”
I throw the zombie-ball and the process repeats.

In the mornings, before getting out of bed and after ‘Butt is sure I’m awake (see above). He does the most adorable thing. He lays his face right on mine. Usually in the nose, mouth area. He was nuzzling me this way one morning when it suddenly dawned on me, “Wait a minute. Isn’t there an old wives’ tale about cats sucking the breath out of babies? Is this how they do it?” I removed the cat, placing him on my sleeping husband where the 'Butt immediately curled up on his stomach. I began worrying about what would happen should we ever have a grandbaby sleeping at our house. I envisioned all-night vigils at cribside. Doting parents come to pick their little angel up and spitting a cat hair out after giving their baby some sugar. The cat perched on top of the couch behind them. “Thrrrow eeet. Thrrrrrow eeeeet.”

*The difference between a dog wiggling his ass and a cat wiggling it’s ass is that, with a dog, ass wiggling is usually followed by piddling on the floor, especially if it’s a dachshund. A cat’s ass wiggling is usually followed by bloodletting.

Hibernation

I am cold. The sky has shed its color along with the trees and grass. I look out the window to see the chill shades of gray, lifeless tan and dormant black green. I am not a winter person, can you tell? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the change of seasons here in Arkansas. My perfect winter would last two weeks and be covered in snow. I would have plenty of firewood, hot cocoa and a sled and I would not have to go to work.

It’s been quite a while since my last blog. I blame it on the cold. All I’m inclined to do is snuggle up under an afghan and read or watch movies, oh … and eat. I’ve had an enormous appetite since Christmas. I’ve gone from two meals a day to a hearty three. They are all hot and heavy and my clothes are getting tight. So, as soon as I get home from work, I get out of my restrictive work clothes and don stretchy pants, tee shirt and hoodie.

I saw “There Will be Blood” yesterday. Daniel Day Lewis’ performance is hard to describe. We couldn’t figure out his voice. We knew we’d heard it before but it wasn’t until today that we realized it was John Huston. I wonder if that was intentional. Paul Dano was brilliant. His portrayal of a slimy evangelical prophet was anything but cliché’d. The way those two actors subtly displayed their characters’ recognition of themselves in each other was captivating. It gave a real basis for the animosity between them.

We saw “Juno” last week and both loved it. It’s been quite a while since I’ve heard such well-written dialogue. I almost hated to laugh because then I would miss the next line and they were all golden. And, the adult characters weren’t lame cliché’s -- something almost unheard of in movies that feature a teenage main character. Two weeks ago we saw “No Country for Old Men.” Javier Bardem was amazing, as was Josh Brolin. Tommy Lee Jones is always good in this sort of role.

I have to start working out again. We have a big trip planned in a couple of months and will be doing a lot of walking. Geez, how pitiful is that. I have to train to walk. I’m not taking a class this term, so I should have plenty of time for the gym.

There are huge building projects going on at the university medical center where I work. But then, there always are. I wonder if there will ever come a time when TPTB will say, “I think we have enough buildings now.” The largest project is a new hospital. Get this -- they fucking forgot to put any food services in. I kid you not. And, it’s too late now to fix it. I guess they can continue using the present kitchen and cafeteria but it’s about half a mile from the new patient rooms. These dumb asses are so frantic to throw up buildings on every available piece of grass, nobody noticed that a pretty vital part of the hospital was missing. Oh yeah, and they actually have the balls to send fund raising letters to their underpaid employees. I think it’s pretty much a no brainer that you can save the postage and not ask your staff of working poor to donate their money back to you. They obviously got geniuses working in fund raising too.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. ~Edith Sitwell