Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Meet the Nommers - Part III of III
We didn't plan on having any more cats after Big Nom & Little Nom. In fact, Pappa Bear and I had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
Until C-baby suddenly moved back home, after her second attempt at living on her own, after adopting not one, but TWO barn cats from her friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend.
I distinctly remember having this chat with her when she moved out this last time:
V: "No cats! No dogs, either!"
C: "Yes mom."
V: "Good. You didn't take care of the last cat you adopted, at the first place you lived."
C: "Yeah yeah yeah."
That lasted about a week. Until her and her deathly allergic roommate visited a farm and her roommate decided that, hmmm, maybe she wasn't so deathly allergic after all, and wouldn't matching kittens, one black tabby, one brown, one for each of them, just be the bomb?
And so my dear daughter left the farm that day with two kittens in her luggage (darn it, those farmers must’ve had the same plan we have!).
Until C-baby suddenly moved back home, after her second attempt at living on her own, after adopting not one, but TWO barn cats from her friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend.
I distinctly remember having this chat with her when she moved out this last time:
V: "No cats! No dogs, either!"
C: "Yes mom."
V: "Good. You didn't take care of the last cat you adopted, at the first place you lived."
C: "Yeah yeah yeah."
That lasted about a week. Until her and her deathly allergic roommate visited a farm and her roommate decided that, hmmm, maybe she wasn't so deathly allergic after all, and wouldn't matching kittens, one black tabby, one brown, one for each of them, just be the bomb?
And so my dear daughter left the farm that day with two kittens in her luggage (darn it, those farmers must’ve had the same plan we have!).
Thus, Zoey & Romeo took up residence in C-baby's apartment. MUCH to my disapproval. Don't ever think that your 19-year-old-living-on-her-own daughter will listen to anything you say. Let me save you that disappointment right here and now.
So yeah, Zoey & Romeo lived happily ever after with C-baby. Until her roommate decided that, hmmm, maybe she was deathly allergic to cats after all. And hmmm, maybe she and C-baby should just get in a big fight over getting rid of the cats (would that be a cat-fight?), so C-baby would move out. And maybe C-baby would show up on our doorstep at 5:00am one morning with a kennel full of kittens.
So yeah, Zoey & Romeo resided in a large kennel in our garage. So that C-baby will find homes for them. Except now, C-baby doesn't like the name Romeo.So he tries on the name Jack for awhile. Until one day Pappa Bear says, "He's brown. He should be called Chocolate Moose." And so it was. It just fits him so much better.
But a house full of four cats is just a little too much for this Mom nom. C-baby has to find a place for at least one of them. My sister stepped in to save the day. We beguiled her daughter with Moose and his goofy crossed eyes, cow-hocked legs and chubby kitten Buddha belly. Little Nom's charm must've rubbed off on him a little bit, too. It all worked. Moose went home with my sister and niece on Thanksgiving.
One down.
Baby Nom is a character. She has a wiggle in her hind-end due to her cow-hocked legs. (C-baby asked me one day, "Why they call them 'cow-hawk' legs? Why two different animals?" Ahem.)
Baby Nom is adorable, as only a cow-hawked kitten can be. Her tail flips all the way up to her head when you pet her. She has amazing green eyes. The tips of her ears flair out. She looks very exotic. And she has a purr bigger than Texas.
So yeah, Zoey & Romeo lived happily ever after with C-baby. Until her roommate decided that, hmmm, maybe she was deathly allergic to cats after all. And hmmm, maybe she and C-baby should just get in a big fight over getting rid of the cats (would that be a cat-fight?), so C-baby would move out. And maybe C-baby would show up on our doorstep at 5:00am one morning with a kennel full of kittens.
So yeah, Zoey & Romeo resided in a large kennel in our garage. So that C-baby will find homes for them. Except now, C-baby doesn't like the name Romeo.So he tries on the name Jack for awhile. Until one day Pappa Bear says, "He's brown. He should be called Chocolate Moose." And so it was. It just fits him so much better.
But a house full of four cats is just a little too much for this Mom nom. C-baby has to find a place for at least one of them. My sister stepped in to save the day. We beguiled her daughter with Moose and his goofy crossed eyes, cow-hocked legs and chubby kitten Buddha belly. Little Nom's charm must've rubbed off on him a little bit, too. It all worked. Moose went home with my sister and niece on Thanksgiving.
One down.
Baby Nom is a character. She has a wiggle in her hind-end due to her cow-hocked legs. (C-baby asked me one day, "Why they call them 'cow-hawk' legs? Why two different animals?" Ahem.)
Baby Nom is adorable, as only a cow-hawked kitten can be. Her tail flips all the way up to her head when you pet her. She has amazing green eyes. The tips of her ears flair out. She looks very exotic. And she has a purr bigger than Texas.
She plays fetch with her favorite mouse. I toss it down the basement stairs, and she retrieves it and drops it near me. Over. And over. And over. Apparently in her last life she was a black lab.
She is the first of the three noms to find your warm lap and crawl up into it. She is also the first to follow us to bed at night, and will stay all night long, no matter how much egg-beating your legs are doing. Baby Nom is relational. I’m getting a wee bit too much attached to that little nommer.
It doesn’t help that Little Nom has taken a shine to her as well. Big Nom has never been one for inter-cat-affections, despite Little Nom’s many attempts, but Little Nom and Baby Nom, well, once they got over all the tail-poufing-hissing-growling-introductions, they like each other just fine. Baby Nom snuggles right up to Little Nom on the bed in their favorite sunny spot, then Little Nom wraps her paws around Baby Nom’s neck and starts grooming her, and that big ‘ol Texas purr wells up in Baby Nom and her eyes close in pure bliss. And my heart wells up with affection that only a mother can feel when witnessing that kind of maternal instinct.
So, I wonder when C-baby will be moving out, again? I sure hope she takes Baby Nom with her… (crossing my fingers behind my back).
Purrr....
She is the first of the three noms to find your warm lap and crawl up into it. She is also the first to follow us to bed at night, and will stay all night long, no matter how much egg-beating your legs are doing. Baby Nom is relational. I’m getting a wee bit too much attached to that little nommer.
It doesn’t help that Little Nom has taken a shine to her as well. Big Nom has never been one for inter-cat-affections, despite Little Nom’s many attempts, but Little Nom and Baby Nom, well, once they got over all the tail-poufing-hissing-growling-introductions, they like each other just fine. Baby Nom snuggles right up to Little Nom on the bed in their favorite sunny spot, then Little Nom wraps her paws around Baby Nom’s neck and starts grooming her, and that big ‘ol Texas purr wells up in Baby Nom and her eyes close in pure bliss. And my heart wells up with affection that only a mother can feel when witnessing that kind of maternal instinct.
So, I wonder when C-baby will be moving out, again? I sure hope she takes Baby Nom with her… (crossing my fingers behind my back).
Purrr....
Friday, February 5, 2010
Meet the Nommers - Part II of III
continued...
We didn't plan on having any more cats after Big Nom. In fact, Pappa Bear and I had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
Kali, aka “Little Nom,” showed up in our back yard, in the fall of 2008. A very tiny, very squeaky, very hungry kitten. PB and C-baby canvassed the neighborhood, posting notices on every mailbox, knocking on doors, crossing their fingers behind their backs, hoping nobody would claim her.
We didn't plan on having any more cats after Big Nom. In fact, Pappa Bear and I had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
Kali, aka “Little Nom,” showed up in our back yard, in the fall of 2008. A very tiny, very squeaky, very hungry kitten. PB and C-baby canvassed the neighborhood, posting notices on every mailbox, knocking on doors, crossing their fingers behind their backs, hoping nobody would claim her.
(please imagine a short, adorable video of Little Nom on her first day with us here. i tried uploading it, three times, on three different computers. all it did was run and run, for hours and hours and hours... and hours.)
Nobody claimed her. I cannot fathom why. She was the most adorable kitten I had ever met.
We all agree, there is something magical about Little Nom. She casts a spell on you, until you forget all of the other beautiful cats you've ever met in your life. She looks at you with her peach and black double moustache as if to say, "Who, me? Couldn't be!"
All wide-eyed innocence, that one. Kinda like C-baby. Only fuzzier.
I knew she was smart (Little Nom. Well, C-baby, too). I could just tell. So I taught her to sit up for treats. This took about two days. Soon she was sitting on command. It was adorable. She looked like a gopher, a calico-striped gopher. To top it off, she would offer up one paw slightly higher than the other, and tilt her head just slightly. At that time, she was fed downstairs, in the laundry room.
About a day later, I was in the kitchen, prepping my lunch. I glanced down at her. As soon as she saw me looking, up she went into "gopher-pose," one paw up, head tilted.
I melted. How can you resist cuteness like that?
I can't. She got the treat. And when she begged again, she got another piece. And another. Yes, it's true, my Little Nom trained me to give treats at her command. In less than 5 minutes. But you would, too, if she gave you the "gopher-sit-one-paw-up-tilt-head" pose. Don't even try to deny it.
Everything Little Nom does is adorable. The way she prefers to drink water out of a guinea pig bottle strapped to the dog gate. Or, if the bottle is unavailable, the paw-dip-lick-technique. Or the stand-in-the-water-dish-with-three-feet-dip-one-paw-and-lick technique.
The way she busts in on me when I’m in the shower, waiting until the water is shut off so she can sneak behind the curtain and rub cat hairs all over my wet legs. The way she jumps onto my lap and settles down with a big purr when I am reading a catalog on the privy (hey, it’s the only time I spend reading catalogues). The way she loves hiding in cardboard boxes and suitcases. The way she climbs to the top of my clothes drying rack, clearly the Queen of her domain, as neither Big Nom or Baby Nom will follow her up there.
The way she sneak-attacks Big Nom, inciting him to WWF moves on her. The way she wrestles gently with Baby Nom, taking care not to hurt her. And the way she holds and grooms Baby Nom, something Big Nom never allows her to do.
Only one problem about Little Nom. Now we're double our previous nom capacity. I am worried about what the landlord might say. We only have permission for one cat. We're definitely stopping at two. Until we get the farm.
Then we’ll splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
To be continued……………..
Nobody claimed her. I cannot fathom why. She was the most adorable kitten I had ever met.
We all agree, there is something magical about Little Nom. She casts a spell on you, until you forget all of the other beautiful cats you've ever met in your life. She looks at you with her peach and black double moustache as if to say, "Who, me? Couldn't be!"
All wide-eyed innocence, that one. Kinda like C-baby. Only fuzzier.
I knew she was smart (Little Nom. Well, C-baby, too). I could just tell. So I taught her to sit up for treats. This took about two days. Soon she was sitting on command. It was adorable. She looked like a gopher, a calico-striped gopher. To top it off, she would offer up one paw slightly higher than the other, and tilt her head just slightly. At that time, she was fed downstairs, in the laundry room.
About a day later, I was in the kitchen, prepping my lunch. I glanced down at her. As soon as she saw me looking, up she went into "gopher-pose," one paw up, head tilted.
I melted. How can you resist cuteness like that?
I can't. She got the treat. And when she begged again, she got another piece. And another. Yes, it's true, my Little Nom trained me to give treats at her command. In less than 5 minutes. But you would, too, if she gave you the "gopher-sit-one-paw-up-tilt-head" pose. Don't even try to deny it.
Everything Little Nom does is adorable. The way she prefers to drink water out of a guinea pig bottle strapped to the dog gate. Or, if the bottle is unavailable, the paw-dip-lick-technique. Or the stand-in-the-water-dish-with-three-feet-dip-one-paw-and-lick technique.
The way she busts in on me when I’m in the shower, waiting until the water is shut off so she can sneak behind the curtain and rub cat hairs all over my wet legs. The way she jumps onto my lap and settles down with a big purr when I am reading a catalog on the privy (hey, it’s the only time I spend reading catalogues). The way she loves hiding in cardboard boxes and suitcases. The way she climbs to the top of my clothes drying rack, clearly the Queen of her domain, as neither Big Nom or Baby Nom will follow her up there.
The way she sneak-attacks Big Nom, inciting him to WWF moves on her. The way she wrestles gently with Baby Nom, taking care not to hurt her. And the way she holds and grooms Baby Nom, something Big Nom never allows her to do.
Only one problem about Little Nom. Now we're double our previous nom capacity. I am worried about what the landlord might say. We only have permission for one cat. We're definitely stopping at two. Until we get the farm.
Then we’ll splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
To be continued……………..
Meet the Nommers - Part I of III
Let me explain something. We like to make up words in our house. Or take words that exist and morph them into something they were never intended to be.
Like "nom." Nom is a slang word used on LOLcats to denote eating, biting, or food. Lolcats "nom" their cheezburgers. Cheezburgers are good “noms.” My kitten Zoey “nom, nom, noms" my shin through the blankets. Get it?
This makes perfect sense to me. When you eat something, it really does sound like you are "nomming" it. So we adopted this slang verb into our everyday language. And then mutated it another step. Into a noun (adverb? I never was much good at grammar).
I now own three "noms."
What I mean is, three "noms" live with me in this house. I'm not sure anyone ever "owns" a nom.
Their "real" names are, in order of oldest to youngest, Mojo, Kali and Zoey. But mostly we just call them "Big Nom," "Little Nom," and "Baby Nom." It's easier that way. Too many names to remember, and old brains.
"Little Nom" used to be "Baby Nom" when she was a kitten, so I always get her confused with Baby Nom now. But they just deal with it. They all still come running, no matter what we call them.
Or not. OK, mostly not.
When we moved to the country in 2008, we had one nom, Big Nom - Mojo. Or, as we used to call him, "Mojojo." I'm not sure why it's so fun to have three syllable nicknames, but it is.
Mojojo
Kali-Cat
Zoey-oh-ee-oh (ok, so that's 5 syllables... never was much good at counting, either).
Big Nom is Pappa Bear's cat. He picked him out from a rescue litter. His previous name was Nova. (Mojo's, not PB's). That just didn't fly with PB. This cat needed a better name. One with a touch of humor. "Bad Mojo!" "Gooood Mojo!" PB gets a kick out of things like that.
So Big Nom came home with us on Halloween in 2004. He likes to eat. This is his #1 priority. He has the softest, whitest belly, which has shrunk a bit since we started measuring out his daily allotments. Now his Buddha belly just swings below him like a half-empty sack of potatoes.
He has seven toes on both of his white front paws. Veritable catcher’s mitts. When he grips you with his paws, you could swear he uses them like opposable thumbs. He is very grippery.
He loves to curl up on my side of the bed, right under my armpit. That way he can wake me up bright and early to feed him. PB will sleep right through it. Big Nom knows this, he knows which side his bread is buttered on. If he sleeps on the wrong side, no butter. One time we switched sides of the bed. Just to mess with him. He slept by Kelly. But only that one night. It takes a lot to pull one over on a cat.
We didn't plan on having any more cats. In fact, we had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
To be continued.............
Like "nom." Nom is a slang word used on LOLcats to denote eating, biting, or food. Lolcats "nom" their cheezburgers. Cheezburgers are good “noms.” My kitten Zoey “nom, nom, noms" my shin through the blankets. Get it?
This makes perfect sense to me. When you eat something, it really does sound like you are "nomming" it. So we adopted this slang verb into our everyday language. And then mutated it another step. Into a noun (adverb? I never was much good at grammar).
I now own three "noms."
What I mean is, three "noms" live with me in this house. I'm not sure anyone ever "owns" a nom.
Their "real" names are, in order of oldest to youngest, Mojo, Kali and Zoey. But mostly we just call them "Big Nom," "Little Nom," and "Baby Nom." It's easier that way. Too many names to remember, and old brains.
"Little Nom" used to be "Baby Nom" when she was a kitten, so I always get her confused with Baby Nom now. But they just deal with it. They all still come running, no matter what we call them.
Or not. OK, mostly not.
When we moved to the country in 2008, we had one nom, Big Nom - Mojo. Or, as we used to call him, "Mojojo." I'm not sure why it's so fun to have three syllable nicknames, but it is.
Mojojo
Kali-Cat
Zoey-oh-ee-oh (ok, so that's 5 syllables... never was much good at counting, either).
Big Nom is Pappa Bear's cat. He picked him out from a rescue litter. His previous name was Nova. (Mojo's, not PB's). That just didn't fly with PB. This cat needed a better name. One with a touch of humor. "Bad Mojo!" "Gooood Mojo!" PB gets a kick out of things like that.
So Big Nom came home with us on Halloween in 2004. He likes to eat. This is his #1 priority. He has the softest, whitest belly, which has shrunk a bit since we started measuring out his daily allotments. Now his Buddha belly just swings below him like a half-empty sack of potatoes.
He has seven toes on both of his white front paws. Veritable catcher’s mitts. When he grips you with his paws, you could swear he uses them like opposable thumbs. He is very grippery.
He loves to curl up on my side of the bed, right under my armpit. That way he can wake me up bright and early to feed him. PB will sleep right through it. Big Nom knows this, he knows which side his bread is buttered on. If he sleeps on the wrong side, no butter. One time we switched sides of the bed. Just to mess with him. He slept by Kelly. But only that one night. It takes a lot to pull one over on a cat.
We didn't plan on having any more cats. In fact, we had agreed, "No more cats until we buy a farm." Then we would splurge and have a bunch of barn cats to catch the mice in the hayloft, and leave kittens strewn around for the visiting children to take home in their luggage.
To be continued.............
Jade 'n Me
I can’t believe how grown up my niece Jade is now, only 17 days away from turning 10 years old.
Jade is at that wonderful age where she is learning lots of really cool stuff – stuff even adults don’t always know. Like, Greek mythology. Who remembers all of those stories and relationships? Not I. But Jade knows. I love that about her. She’s old enough to have an adult-like conversation with you, and talk about real things. Or mythological things.
I also love that Jade has always remembered who Kelly is, even though he left WY when she was just a baby. Even though he has only gotten home about once a year since, she always knows her “Uncle Kelly.” (Ok, so sometimes she called him “Auntie Kelly,” and me, “Uncle Vicki” when she was younger, but she still knew who she was talking about).
It is such a joy to have nieces and nephews. I am blessed by many, on both sides of my family. To watch them growing up, into the potential people they are becoming, it is one of my greatest pleasures.
The night I met Kelly, he told me about Jade right away, who was just a wee little thing back then, only 6 months old. He mentioned she was one of the only reasons he would hesitate to leave WY (where he lived) and move directly to MN (where I lived). At the time, he didn’t tell me she was his niece – I think, hoping for dramatic effect, I would assume she was his daughter. He didn’t leave me wondering for very long though, I guess he really wanted to move, and didn’t want me worrying that he was leaving his daughter behind.
Jade is at that wonderful age where she is learning lots of really cool stuff – stuff even adults don’t always know. Like, Greek mythology. Who remembers all of those stories and relationships? Not I. But Jade knows. I love that about her. She’s old enough to have an adult-like conversation with you, and talk about real things. Or mythological things.
I also love that Jade has always remembered who Kelly is, even though he left WY when she was just a baby. Even though he has only gotten home about once a year since, she always knows her “Uncle Kelly.” (Ok, so sometimes she called him “Auntie Kelly,” and me, “Uncle Vicki” when she was younger, but she still knew who she was talking about).
It is such a joy to have nieces and nephews. I am blessed by many, on both sides of my family. To watch them growing up, into the potential people they are becoming, it is one of my greatest pleasures.
