It has been over a year since our dear Zoey died.
Over a year that the evil cat Xena joined our family and almost a year since Hoss joined our family. Oh what a year.
Xena is a little terror. Her nickname is last cat. She rules her little kingdom with an iron paw. Her wishes must be met or she goes on a rampage. She wants to be fed at 6 am. I want to sleep until 7. 8 would be good. We have learned to sleep with our bedroom door shut. At 6 am I hear her outside the door meowing. Softly at first and then louder and louder. In her past life she must have been a banshee. Her wailing would wake the dead. She keeps that up for around 10 minutes and if she doesn't hear us stirring she starts to hurl her 9 and half pounds at the door. The noise she makes sounds like she has gained 30 pounds. Solid wood doors, she is sure she can break them down. I put the pillow over my head and groan. Morning has broken..........
The rule is she doesn't get fed until 8 am. We refuse to let her train us to get up early and feed her royal pain in the butt. For that hour she causes havoc. Every time you go into the kitchen for coffee she races ahead, jumps on the table and snags you with a needy paw. Feed me she whimpers. I so hungry......... When you leave the kitchen she races ahead of you and goes straight to the sofa where she starts agressively scratching the fabric. Knock it off you say. So she jumps to a shelf and starts to slowly push your fragile items closer to the edge. Looking at you the entire time, pat, stare, pat pat, stare. Daring us to stop her. Her pupils large and black, the tip of her evil tail whipping. Start to stand up and she leaps off to jump on the couch and purring loudly she climbs on your lap and rubs her little head on your hand. You start to pet her and she bites you! Not enough to break you skin, just enough to remind you what she is capable of if you don't feed her soon.
You break in and get the food, her madly weaving in and out of your ankles. Like she hasn't eaten for a month. Meowing loudly the entire time. Yes, I knew I could convince you to feed me early. Triumph in her voice. You put the bowl down. She leaps at it and eats 3 tiny pieces. Then walks away. It was never about the food, it is about the power, of bending us to her will. She wins. Every time.
This is the sweet starving kitten we rescued. Evil ruler of our home. Prone to weird habits and mannerisms Destined to drive us crazy. Give her a house full of toys, not good enough, she will pick pieces of Hoss's food out of the dish and bat it around the kitchen like mad until it ends up under the fridge or stove. There is proabably a bags worth of food. She will get her poo out of her litter box and pat that around, thus training me to clean her litter box each and every time she goes.
When we first rescued her she purred all the time. So sweet and affectionate. Tiny little ball of sweetness and love. Now she is 20 claws and teeth of terror. What happened? But, she is the hunter of every spider and cricket that finds it way into our house. She will spend hours stalking them and then, like the true monster she is, she will torture them for as long as she is amused and then send them to death. I must admit to liking not having any crickets or spiders anymore.
So this is life with our rescue cat Xena. Her Royal Highness pain in butt part of our family. She awes me.
Hoss on the other hand is the opposite. He is a fawn colored lazy laid back goofball. Also a creature of habit he sleeps in until 9 or 10. He goes to bed at 9. He naps off and on around 7 hours. Imagine getting that much sleep. Then he slowly gets up off whatever bed he decided to claim that night and comes into the living room. There he stretches, rolls, scratches his back, stretches again and exhausted naps in that spot for another hour. Then out for a leisurely walk around the yard. First he has to stop in the doorway and lookout. Checking for rain, which he won't go out in, letting the cool air out in the summer and cold air in in the winter. Standing there looking out, and looking out, and looking out. I think he might have fallen asleep on his feet. Hoss, come on snapping him out of his zoned out place and finally he will move.
As usual I am always and forever trying to stay fit and active. It gets harder and harder the older I get. Walking Zoey you kept up a brisk pace. Until the last few months when she was sick she was always a fast walker and could walk for miles. Hoss. Cold weather bothers him, hot weather bothers him, he is a trembling lump of shaking fur in a thunderstorm.
When we walk, being a male dog, we go 10 steps, he stops, smells and pees. Another 10 steps, repeat. On and on. But not for long. If we get a mile in it has been a good perfect day. Usually it is about a half mile. He goes slower and slower until I feel like I am leading a horse. Him dragging behind me. Slow plodding steps, only broken when people pass, then he sits. And if I stop to talk to someone he takes that moment to lay down. And if the person looks interested in petting him he rolls over making his tummy available. He has never met anyone he doesn't like and will stop and roll for a tummy rub no matter where we are.
Being so sweet and laid back we get to take him into the pet stores and out and about because nothing makes him happier then people fussing over him. He especially loves children. All my grandkids were here this summer and he was a happy dog. Every morning he greeted each and everyone of them with a face licking and a boxer wiggle, his butt going a mile a minute. Then when he could get away with it he would be a lap dog.
Out weighing my granddaughter by 27 pounds is of no concern to him. He thinks he is a lap dog. His favorite perch in on one of our laps.
2 things he loves. Riding in the car and going into the stores. Rick and my granddaughter were at Safeway shopping. They heard a commotion and looking to the front the store saw one of the employees with a big dog. Hoss! He had figured out how to open the hatch of the van and decided to come in shopping with everyone else. He found the cheese isle right away. Now when he rides he is hooked on a leash tied to the bench seat. He just can't understand why everyplace wouldn't welcome him.
In the almost year we have had him I have heard him bark maybe 5 times. I have never seen him so any aggression. I have never convinced him that water isn't his enemy. I bought him a pool, he wants nothing to do with, play with the hose! He acts like I am beating him. Try to get him in the tub for a bath, he becomes a 80 pound block of cement. Unmovable. Which is how Hoss handles anything he doesn't want to do. Doesn't want to come in the house, lay down and don't move. In your spot on the couch, big lump you have to physically pull off the cough. Doesn't want to leave the pet store where all the kids are petting him, lay down and make us drag him by his collar out of the store or pick his big body up and carry him out to the laughter of the kids and employees. What a ham.
My new job is going well. We have days when we run ourselves ragged and days when we only see a few patients. I love it though. Except working so often. We are a small unit. I work most days and pick up extra. I miss my long stretch off. But, this is so much easier on my ole bod. I am happy with it.
So that's it, the kids were here all summer, they were angels, the pets are pets and I am still fat and sassy. Another year..
