"Properly practiced, knitting soothes the troubled spirit, and it doesn't hurt the untroubled spirit either." ~ Elizabeth Zimmerman


Cat in a Snit

I was going to post beading pics today, but didn't get the stuff photographed yet. When I got home from bead group and running errands, the activities of the weekend (deck stuff) and Monday (we walked almost 3 miles!) caught up with me. I made the mistake of sitting down-and promptly fell asleep. I didn't wake up until 5. So I guess I'll write about my cat, Silver. This is him:

His full name is Silver Woodtheme Park. It is, in fact, sort of a joke. There's a theme park near our home. Guess what it's named?

I helped Silver come into the world the evening of April 26, 1993. He's covered in silky soft short silver hair that actually gleams in the sun, he has a beautiful long straight tail, and glowing golden eyes. He was born of parents named Crook Shank Frank (Frankie for short-looked like Silver 'cept for a crook in his tail) and Inky (solid black, 'cept for a crook in her tail). He's part Manx, part Tabby, and part whatever made Inky black. He is the grandson of Greycat-the meanest nastiest solid grey tailless Manx you'd ever have the misfortune to meet, who belonged to my mother-in-law. She used to hide under the furniture and slash anyone who walked by-just cos she could. If she was laying on the couch--no one pushed her off so they could sit down. No one even got near the couch unless they were in the mood for a blood transfusion. She'd stroll across the street, sneak up, and slash the neighbor out of pure cussedness. Any and all-large or small-feared Greycat. But Greycat loved two people on this earth. My mother-in-law, and me. She was always sweet as could be to me. So I am very honored to have her grandson in my family.

Silver is not mean like his grandmother, but he definitely has her "I own the world" attitude. In fact, I think in another life he was a Lion. He is a relatively affectionate boy. He loves to have his chin, head, and tummy scritched. Most of the time he's in a fairly even and fair mood. He's brave, proud, rascally, fast, sneaky, extremely smart, clean, and royal in his bearing.

He is a darn good hunter. He's brought everything from mice and moles to rabbits and wild turkeys home for my inspection, and his culinary pleasure. He eats everything he brings home, except gophers. Gophers give him gas, so he stopped eating them. I thank God for that, or we'd have to invest in gas masks.

He loves to start trouble. One of his favorite things to do is to sneak a live squirrel into the house and let it go. He then jumps up on top of the cat tree and laughs at the chaos that ensues. Dogs barking, Mom screaming, Dad trying to calm Mom down, Chenille yowling, and everyone trying to catch the squirrel. This, invariably, involves tipping the couch upside down in our pursuit. No matter what gets loose in the house, it always seems to end up under the couch. Silver chuckles and snickers. He is never apologetic for what he's done. He does let us know in no uncertain terms when he is upset though.

So, why the title "Cat in a Snit"? Cos he is. You see that pic above? Silver is sitting on the railing of the upper deck. This is his favorite spot to hang out. He sits up there for hours, surveying all his precious territory. We tore the deck down Saturday.

It was a traumatic experience for him. He kept running up to me, then running over to where we were piling the remains of the deck, then running back with a "What the @$#&*% are you doing???!???" look on his face.

After we were done debuilding the deck I glanced over at Silver. He had that look. The one that makes dark heavy angry storm clouds look light and fluffy in comparison. I said to my husband "Silver is in a snit. He's gonna take it out on the dogs in a couple days or so." When Silver is in a snit, life gets tough at the Parkarosa.

This morning the 'war' began. When Silver is in a snit, he is usually angry at me cos, after all, I am the alpha female of his pride and I should know better. He is smart. He knows how to get me back. He sees how much I love the dogs-two creatures he detests and would gladly eat if he could get away with it. He gets at me through them. Oh, he thinks he has me fooled. He's been extra affectionate the last couple days, mugging it up for me-purring and rubbing and licking my face. But I know what he's up too. He's trying to put me off guard. Ah, but do not worry. I have my weapon too. I filled my squirt bottle up with cold water.

He's already pounced on Tommy twice this morning-all claws out. Snag and run. That's Silver's technique. My poor little innocent Iggy's are hiding and shaking in the corner behind Dads recliner (I got the bleeding stopped right away).

After nearly drowning Silver he's stopped attacking. Hopefully the war is done, and I've won. But then again, after he dries out, I may have to refill the bottle and fight another battle. After all, he's the grandson of Greycat.

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