She talks to wolves...

For a while now, I've wanted a dedicated writing space. I operate primarily on a laptop - sadly, my laptop is getting incredibly long in the tooth and, well, it's sometimes difficult to remain focused on a machine I use so often for enjoyment and with such easy access to the Internet.

We realized a couple of months ago that my husband's old desktop was still sitting around, so we pulled it out and set it up with a new monitor. We reclaimed a table in our tiny dining nook that had previously been used mainly by lounging cats, and I outfitted my new nook with the required writerly paraphernalia, from reference books to a Death Star Pez dispenser and "Don't Piss Off the Fairies" plaque to one of my favorite James Jean art prints. With the recent addition of an old computer chair donated by my close friend David, it's fantastic.

There's just been one hitch. One large, fuzzy hitch.

See, Tiger Jack doesn't believe the table was cleared for rezoning. He also believes that David brought the computer chair over especially for him, as the immediately ubiquitous orange tufts of fluff indicate. Thus, we've been having somewhat of a trying adjustment period.

This is what happens when I try to work:


Candid photo is dark! Sorry about that.

Tiger actually has several strategies. There's the insert-head-under-hand technique while I'm typing. There's the tump-in-front-of-the-keyboard, pictured above. Then there's the obstruct-the-mouse gambit, where he curls up on said mousepad, back to me and tail lashing. He also enjoys the let's-hide-the-screen, where he just stands in front of me, bumping me with his head and sniffing my face as I try to see around him. He tried a new one tonight: I was consulting a book I'm reviewing, when he reached one paw over my arm and began "digging" into the surface of the page. Sometimes, when none of these result in cuddles, he will try my favorite strategy: perch all Sphinx-like on the absolute edge of the desk, back to me and completely out of the way.

He engaged in every strategy in his book tonight, until I laughed and came in here to write this blog entry. I informed him very solemnly, however, "Don't go thinking you've won, Mr. Tiger Jack! This is merely a retreat, not a surrender."

He just kept purring and sniffed my keyboard, before reasserting his dominance over my comfy chair.

P.S. I should add that I often respond as the towering giant I am, picking him up bodily and putting him on the floor. He just keeps coming back, though. It's a game we play. -_-

Andy and I (and my bros, yay!) did, in fact, manage to see Elizabeth: the Golden Age today. There was much excited squeeing, though I internalized the majority out of respect for my company. I couldn't help a number of nudges and whispered comments ("I know!" "That was the first thing I looked for!" "I totally called that!") and barely-strangled chortles over parts of the film though.

I am so pleased at how they handled the relationship between Queen Elizabeth and Walter Raleigh. I was slightly a-feared they were going to depict a torrid love affair. Instead, we were treated to a believable and estranged love that died ere it began. It was actually quite human and vaguely heartbreaking.

They did an extremely good job in showing us what Elizabeth had to bear up under. They qualified her loneliness in a series of telling social moments, sadly embarrassing scenes of vulnerability and weakness, and stirring images of symbolism. I truly ached for Elizabeth, for what she had to bear and give up to maintain her position and achieve the great things that she did.

This isn't an exhaustive review, but I'd like to mention the film's biggest flaw (in my opinion): they completely threw out the Speech to the Troops at Tilbury. Oh, there was a speech. And it was given to the troops. At Tilbury. And Elizabeth was resplendent in armor, riding astride a white horse. ...And then the writers threw us Generic Pre-Battle Speech #79. They didn't even take the real speech and modify it, as they could have, to fit the film's dialogue and storyline. They just completely threw it away. What bullshit!

Also? I want fully half of Elizabeth's wardrobe. Including her wigs.




After the film, Andy and I stopped in at PetSmart to find some toys for Tiger. We've been more concerned with him recently, as I mentioned: he's staying home alone for longer hours and acting out in new (worse) and exciting (worse) ways when we're home. We found him an amusing plastic ball and a wavy-fluffy batting toy on a spring.

And we also looked at the cats for adoption. We didn't remember they were there until we walked in, and then we thought it wouldn't hurt to look. There was one grey cat in the window who immediately looked at us, slightly gruffly or disdainful, I thought, and said "Mao." We moved along. We were attracted to a tiny calico kitten. I figured it wouldn't hurt to hold her.

Well, the calico kitten was terribly skittish and Not Having With Us. She was brought in as a stray and we fear she may have been a stray for a while, or possibly abused. We didn't press the issue with holding her. As I shut her kennel-door, however, I decided to check out the grey cat who was now sitting at her bars. She desperately wanted to say hello to me, rubbing against the door as she was and putting her paws through to touch my hand. As soon as I opened up the kennel, she immediately climbed up my body, settled into my arms, and lightly dug her claws into my shoulder. She also commenced purring and waiting for the body-rubs.

I held her for a bit and then passed her over to Andy, where she repeated her loving behavior. We talked with the PetSmart employee who told us that she'd been in the shelter for four months. She was brought in by her previous owner, apparently, who complained that they were allergic to cats. She's had all her shots and she was spayed just after she was brought into the shelter. She's loving, a lap cat, and well socialized.

She also didn't want to let go, and I have to admit that we quite melted with her in our arms. And it bothered us that she'd been sitting in the shelter for four months and not been adopted-- why not? And how much longer would she have?

We didn't walk into PetSmart to get another cat. We are still very wounded from Willie's death and no other cat will ever replace what Willie was. But this cat was so loving and in need and ready to go home. And we've been increasingly worried about Tiger's social/emotional health when we start having to work holiday hours at our second jobs. He needed a companion. We needed another companion as well.

So even though it felt a little like betrayal and didn't come without worries, it also felt a lot like the right thing to do. We brought the grey-and-white lady home with us. Her attached name was Sassy, but she hasn't been responding to that. We re-christened her "Kaylee" after that adorable engine mechanic in Firefly: after all, both Kaylee's are laid back, have expressive and happy faces, are unapologetic about what they want, and like enclosed places.


Kaylee, meet Livejournal. Livejournal, Kaylee of the Maneki Neko Smile.
(She totally has a Maneki Neko face when she closes her eyes.)

She initially ignored Tiger Jack and then obviously suffered by him and then hid from him because he just wouldn't let her try to cope with her sudden shift in living space. We shut him away for a little while, though, and she much improved. Now she's actually making overtures to play with him and we feel comfortable with how things are progressing.

P.S. On the last picture I link to, look at the size of Tiger Jack vs. Kaylee. Tiger is only about 8 months now; Kaylee is supposedly over 12 months. Tiger Jack is a big damn cat.

Andy and I had been talking about getting a second kitty for some time now. We had agreed that we wanted one, but thought we might want to wait until we moved to a new place: that way we could trick our Lady Wilhelmina the Queenly (also known as Willie) that the new place and the new cat went together. She wouldn't have to go through the indignities of getting used to a kitten in her current demesne.

Unfortunately, once we'd made up our minds, it kept getting harder and harder to wait. I haven't had my own kitty in many, many years and I really longed for a little bundle of furry joy. I kept resisting, trying to keep to our original schedule; however, moving is a year away. I really couldn't resist any longer when my grandmother died and I said to Andy that two of my grief responses were to go comfort-shopping for books and to snuggle a kitten. I already had a Barnes and Noble bag containing Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett and Interworld by Neil Gaiman. So Andy said, "Well, why don't we? Let's do it." on the kitten.

I felt that we should get a kitten from the Humane Society, especially since our local establishment is a kill shelter. Still, in the interest of checking out any retail catteries, we called around to a couple of stores before we headed out to the shelter. We discovered that there seems to be an over-abundance of puppies right now and a dearth of kittens. We also discovered that the Humane Shelter takes their cats out to PetSmart and puts them on display for adoption.

While we were at PetSmart, we checked to see if blueinsideout was working. She didn't seem to be, sadly, and we didn't linger long when we realized they only had adult cats on display. (Although, if we were looking for an adult cat, there was an absolutely majestic long-haired grey cat there. She was ever alert and a queen surveying her realm: her name was Madonna.)

We drove all the way across town to the shelter and entered the cat room hopefully. As I walked through the door, I saw a flash of orange leap upward in the confines of its cage, twisting in the air to play with some toy. I immediately zeroed in on the orange and white tiger-stripe cat (who bore the unfortunate arbitrary moniker of "Mello Yello"). He was fabulous, meowing at me and immediately reaching through the bars to bat at and play with my hands.

Andy was crouching down next to a voluble little tortoiseshell, dark and comely. He was also quite keen to play with us. And then we were called across the room to another kitten, similarly marked, who wanted to cavort among us new humans. She was the first one we got out ("Weezy"), but we discovered that she was entirely too stand-offish once she was free of her confines. (Stand-offish isn't quite right... maybe just too uninterested in humans once she was free).

As we were trying to play with "Weezy," a cat I think of as "Mama Cats" just came up behind us and started demanding loving. She was an adult cat, a rich and darkly patterned cat (part tortoise-shell, part stripes...?). She was completely awesome. She rolled over and played with my hand, climbed all over me, rubbed her face against mine, and pressed her nose to my lips. She played with my hair, snuffling my ear, and was altogether too fabulous for words. If we'd been looking for an adult cat, she would have been mine in a heartbeat. I feel really bad about not taking her home, still.

My attention kept coming back to "Mello Yello" and I pushed Andy into looking at him more closely. He had a few reservations about him being male and about how his attitude might change when he's neutered. Yet, when Andy took him out and held him, he was completely sold. The orange tiger-cat just turned into completely boneless love in his arms, snuggled, purring, and content. Same when we transferred him to my arms. And, when we put him down again, he immediately pepped back up and began entertaining himself with an errant piece of paper and his own tail.

We had to take him home. We filled out the application (good to see they're so careful and detailed), paid our fee ($75, since he was over six months and technically not a kitten), and brought him home. After reading through the paperwork, I see that he was a stray discovered in a parking lot of a motel. They guesstimated his birthdate as February 14th of 2007. He was brought in seven days ago-- I'm shocked that he lasted that long, kitty fantastico as he is.

So he's got an appointment for shots and neuter-scheduling with the vet on Friday. He loves everyone he meets. He's curious and active and mellow.

Willie, our dear Queen, is most upset by all this. We are heartened by the fact that they didn't try to attack each other, but she's still warning him off and she's so pissed at us that she's not letting us pet her much. Right now, she's sitting on the far side of the room and carefully watching the couch, where I sit and the kitten sleeps on the back. Poor Willie. I hope she finds it in her heart to come around soon.

We're not entirely sure this cat is going to respond well to names. I initially wanted to call him Jack... because Jack is an awesome name, plus I love the concept of the Jack from de Lint's novels, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Jack the Pumpkin King. (We have orange and black kitties now-- Halloween colors, as my dear brother pointed out. I'm in love.) However, Jack doesn't seem to fit him. As cliche as it is, Tiger seems to fit this kitten much better. So his full name is Tiger Jack! the Explorer. Hopefully one of these names will end up sticking.

Tiger Jack likes attacking everything that dangles; including, so far, my necklace, Willie's fishing line cat toy, and the strings on my pajama pants: