A Weighty Matter

It wasn't long before someone commented on the last post about my inability to judge weight. Meredith scoffed at my estimation, saying Gus was 10 lbs. if he was an ounce. I scoffed right back thinking that she was way over the top. So....this morning, Wayne got on the scales and then I handed him Gus. My first shock was how much my husband weighs!!! (that will remain a secret since he is the master of retaliation!) The second double-take was what the cat weighs..and that I will share since Gus is probably proud to be "husky": 14 lbs!!!! Gus' only comment/concern when he viewed this picture of himself was "Do you think these stripes make me look fat???"

All Creatures Great and Small...

The fog comes in on little cat feet...Carl Sandburg had that right! Cats can be pretty stealthy. Gus weighs maybe 5 lbs. Our dogs are 40 and 60...there is usually no doubt to their whereabouts (usually padding around behind me hoping it's 5 o'clock and FEEDING TIME!). I am used to large animals that if you can't see them at least you can smell them!! But the cat...you had better be looking before you take your next step. I learned the hard way the first week Gus came to live with us. I must have stepped on him 4 or 5 times...first time in my hard clogs...the next in my very substantial running shoes. Wayne nicknamed me "Cat Crusher." Paranoia set in to the point where I was afraid to wear shoes in the house. Nevermind that the temperature was frigid (inside and out!). I padded around in socks for a week hoping that at least I would feel his little paws before all my weight got him! Didn't work too well. We bought him a collar with a bell (I know...I resisted but better to have him "belled" than to have to amputate his paw!). Works ok but actually I think that Gus got wise and knows to stay out from under those tall two-legged creatures. However, he has taken to biting toes, especially when one is on the toilet and indisposed. Bad cat!!! But he definitely hates shoes...

In the beginning....

"I don't want a cat!!" That was my response each time my daughter gingerly brought up the subject of adopting one of her older foster animals. That answer worked for me for a while. But I knew I was in trouble when my husband began to whisper with her behind my back. Soon the tactics changed from gentle hints to outright requests. I was doomed when she "brought Angus by for me to see him "... a get acquainted-type visit. I didn't think he was that cute...he skulked around the house like a something was going to jump out at him any moment - paid me absolutely no mind and wasn't one bit lovey like Dan the Dog - our Border collie wannabe. So how did I wind up with this cat whose mother was a Snowshoe Siamese and his father a drifter? They plain wore me down...little did I know what was in store for us...life hasn't been the same since "Gus" (we decided that Angus was the name of a cow) came to rule the roost. So this is the life and times of a teenage turbo-charged cat...and the humans he owns. The picture shows Gus when he first came to live with us...in a rare pose - still.