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Meet the Queen

This is our cat, Autumn.

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Uh, what?

Autumn is the queen of our household. We joke that if the house caught fire, Dave would grab Autumn and leave me to fend for myself. It’s really not even a joke, but a fact I’ve come to terms with.

Autumn was rescued from the streets of Springfield, Ma, along with her daughter Reeses. My brother Kris and his then-girlfriend adopted them both from an animal shelter. From the beginning, Autumn and Reeses did not get along. It was so bad that Autumn stopped eating because she was so stressed. The vet said that if she didn’t start eating again they would have to put her down.

Luckily, she rallied and ate a couple of bites of food just hours before the deadline. Kris decided it would probably help Autumn to be away from Reeses for a while, so that’s when she came to live with us.

Dave had never had a pet cat before, and he was a little reluctant. I told him it was just temporary, so if he didn’t like her, we could send her back to Kris at the end of the summer. That was 11 years ago.

 

 

DaveLovesHer

I’m the third wheel in this relationship…

After we’d had Autumn for a few years, she began having some issues. The vet did an x-ray to check for a bowel obstruction. There was no obstruction, but they found an airgun pellet lodged at the base of her tail. They performed surgery to remove it, just in case it was causing her pain. She looked so funny with the bald spot on her tail. But my heart ached to think of how much pain she must have been in, and how scared she must have been when she’d been shot!

When Gram died at the end of 2012, I inherited her black cat, Ebony. We felt awkward calling her Ebony, so we renamed her Sophie. Autumn was pissed that we brought a younger, slimmer cat into the household. For months we had to keep them physically separated so they wouldn’t fight. Even today, the occasionally lash out at each other, although very recently they’ve come to share the couch – as long as they are at opposite ends. Progress!

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It’s a jungle in here.

Today, Autumn spends much of her day sleeping. Additional hobbies include eating, pooping, and torturing Sophie.

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Autumn has the terribly annoying habit of waking Dave up multiple times in the night (this is where I’m grateful for being deaf in one ear), and waking me up about 10 minutes before my alarm goes off. She wakes us up in one of two ways.

Most commonly, she will sit in the doorway of the bedroom and make a variety of noises, ranging from huffy little grunts and chirps to operatic crescendos. Sometimes she accompanies her vocal stylings by picking at the baseboard moulding with her claws.

Her second wake-up method is to sit on the pillow and gently, yet threateningly drag her claws across delicate areas of skin, like the forehead, eyelids, and lately, the throat. Of course this wakes me up right away, and not pleasantly.

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I will cut you.

I usually wrestle her off the pillow and get her to cuddle with me for a few minutes, but inevitably she will pop up moments later, claws extended, to try again. Sometimes, if she’s not up for wrestle-cuddling, she’ll get back on the floor and belt out some more tunes.

Living with Autumn isn’t all poop-scooping and fitful sleeps. She is a champion purrer. She purrs louder than any other cat I’ve ever known. She will purr for just about anything, whether you’re simply talking to her, petting her, preparing food for her, or just lying in bed snuggling.

Some of my favorite moments with her are when we are lying in bed, about to go to sleep at night. She will nestle down in between Dave and I, purring gently. Sometimes she’ll lie on my chest, and I will pet her with both hands and she’ll give me little kisses with her cold, wet nose.

Having a cat is a lot of work. It can be tough on the allergies (thank God for Zyrtec), tough on the sleep, and tough planning a vacation. (Our cats are very spoiled, okay?) With that responsibility comes reward, though. The eager greeting upon arriving home (even though that’s mostly about food), the wet-nose kisses, and the soft, soft fur… it all makes every 5am wakeup meow worth it.

CouchCats

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A Mouse in the House

Yesterday was a gorgeous spring day and literally the first day of 2015 that we could leave the house in short-sleeved shirts. Of course we spent most of the day outside, cleaning up all of the sticks that fell through the winter and raking up all of the leaves that had been plastered to the ground beneath all the snow.

Spring is really here!

Spring is really here!

One of our spring cleaning projects was to clean up our sunroom (or Florida room, as my Dad calls it). Throughout the winter, this room acts as our catch-all for anything that we don’t have room for in the house. After the long, dark months of winter, it can get pretty scary out there.

So yesterday, Dave spent several hours cleaning the room and getting it ready for warm weather. His ultimate goal is not that he and I should have a nice place to relax and put our feet up, but that the cats will have somewhere new to sun themselves.

I'm going to touch you!

I’m going to touch you!

In the late afternoon, after we had completed our yard work and various projects, I went into the kitchen to begin making dinner. Dave left the sunroom door open so the cats could explore this room that they hadn’t seen since last fall.

As I laid the cutting board on the counter and prepared to cut vegetables, I saw Sophie (the black cat) walk into the kitchen in my peripheral vision. Absentmindedly, I greeted her. I turned to look at her and saw that she was holding something in her mouth. Something brown and plump, with shining, beady black eyes. My first thought was “Wow, that’s a realistic looking mouse toy! I wonder where she found that?”

Then, unconsciously, I began to scream. The screams rose up out of my chest like they had a life of their own. I couldn’t stop myself. Sophie dropped the mouse on the floor and began batting it around like a toy. I screamed louder and pranced around like I was barefoot on hot coals.

Dave, meanwhile, was in the shower and could only hear a hint of my screaming. I imagined that he would come running out in a towel, dripping wet, to rescue me, but he did not. (Good thing I wasn’t actually being attacked!)

Finally, I came to my senses and grabbed Sophie from behind. She struggled and fought, but I was able to get her away from the mouse. I threw her into the living room and returned to see the mouse escaping beneath a cabinet.

I have always thought (quite proudly) that I was not one of those women who would scream and make an exaggerated fuss when exposed to a flying insect or spider. I’ve taken entomology classes. I know insects can be beneficial and harmless. In fact, we have a spider that lives in our bathroom, and I let her reside there because I’m cool like that.

But somehow, a cute little mouse in my house will cause me to lose my mind.

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