the other girls.

All this boy-blogging. It is only right and fair to occasionally turn our attention to the ladies in our household. That would be ALL of our pets. All girls. It doesn't take Freud to figure out why, I suppose...

Tonight, here is our sweet cat, Zuzu. We've had her over a year? I'd need to check this blog history to find out exactly when, and I am far too lazy for that.
She was named for James Stewart's little daughter in "It's A Wonderful Life" (you know who I mean, right? "Look Daddy, Teacher says everytime a bell rings, an angel gets its wings!") because it is just THE BEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME, bar none.
And she wears a Catbib, which we have to explain to every vistor. It's a triangular flap of neoprene that slows down her coordination just long enough to give the birds a fighting chance at life. She killed 5-6 birds a week, when she was just a kitten. (Sparrows, even! I was aghast. not really. but I've always wanted to say that. aghast.) So this "cured" her. She has worn it for so long now that she treats it as a fifth leg. When focused on hygiene she scrapes it clean with her raspy tongue, as if this purple appendage were perfectly normal. I love her, but it's a special kind of disgusting.

Within an hour of the new couch being set in place, Zuzu claimed this corner of it as "her" spot. It's like her feline version of Command Central. Everything she needs to keep an eye on is within her sight. Myself, at the computer, the birds outside, and her food bowl on the ledge. She sleeps with one eye open to see if any of those three necessities move or alter, in any way. Don't you love how she lays with one fat hindquarter just hanging off the edge? Maybe the key to being totally confident and comfortable in your skin is this type of attitude. Or being boneless. I'm not sure.

Why do they call it the dog days of summer? I think the cats have a harder time of it. I look at our poor cat and imagine having to wear a fur coat, 24/7 and my internal temp starts climbing, in sympathy. In the winter she is curled up in a ball at your feet on the plump ottoman. In the Summer she finds a cool stretch of concrete or bare floor and sprawls out in the middle of a high traffic area, confident that the entire family will just step over her. Which we do.

She was tearing up the edge of the new sofa with her constant claw sharpening. I suspect her of thinking "Someday this bib will disentegrate and I will eat chickadee 'til I'm sick". I couldn't get her to stop. Of course she was clawing, it's corduroy. And you know cats totally have that royalty complex? It's not a sofa, it's a giant cat toy, brought home just for HER. So the problem was solved with this... a cat scratch box from Trader Joe's, only $5.99. I didn't think it would work but was happily wrong, she loves it. Ingenious-a cardboard strip that you sprinkle the enclosed catnip on. Zuzu loves this thing. She scratches on it, she lounges across it, she sprawls with half of her body hanging over the boxy edge and looks up at me with half open eyes, drunk on herbs. with freshly sharpened claws. completely satisfied. For only $5.99.
That we would all be so easily pleased.