If any of you are allergic to cats… stories, feel free to jump to the end, to the Saturday Question part.
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We all have witnessed that scenario in real life, on TV or maybe even participated in it from one of the two sides: a loving mother would tell “a funny story” from the past about her grown-up child, and the said child would be wincing with embarrassment or displaying his/her discomfort one way or the other.
Luckily for me (and him?), Rusty does not read my blog (as far as I know), so I can get off telling his kittenhood stories scot-free.
Hiding and Jumping
The apartment where Rusty spent his first year didn’t have too many places a kitten could hide. Rusty had discovered one great spot: in the corner behind the sectional sofa (on the photo below, it’s where the floor lamp stands). The spot was perfect in all respects but one: Rusty could easily get down there from the sofa, but since the bottom was too close to the floor, he couldn’t get out that way, and since the backrest was too high, Rusty couldn’t jump back up. So, once he would get bored hiding there, he would start crying, and one of us would lie on that backrest and fish him out from that corner. It wasn’t easy: that backrest was high. And one day my vSO managed to hurt himself trying to free Rusty. At this point, we gave up and moved the side of the sofa that was under the clock away from the wall, so that Rusty could get out on his own. I think that spot lost its appeal soon after that.
Speaking of the clock. It’s hard to think of what was happening in Rusty’s head: the clock didn’t have a second hand, so there wasn’t any noticeable movement. But he kept watching it for days. Then once, he stepped far away from the sofa (probably to somewhere close to the point of view for the photo above), then ran-ran-ran, jumped on the sofa, then on the back, uuuuup to the clock… What happened next looked exactly like the Glass Smack and Slide move from a cartoon: Rusty smacked into the wall under the clock and then slid down, behind that side of the sofa that we moved away from the wall. Silently. We thought that if he didn’t kill himself then definitely injured. But several long seconds later, Rusty walked out from behind the sofa, demonstrating with his demeanor that nothing had happened, and it wasn’t even him who had just fallen… He ignored that clock from that day on.
Sudden Attack of a Shopping Bag
In the same apartment, under the entryway console table, we kept a paper shopping bag that we used for recycled paper. Magazines, papers and store ads went into it as is, and for mail that one wasn’t supposed to just throw away my vSO worked as a human shredder. Rusty loved hunting in those bags. He would dive into it, find the most interesting piece of paper and play with it for a while, until either it went under the sofa, or we put it back into the bag. It went on for months, until one day Rusty managed to get his head through the bag’s handle, got spooked and started running with the half-empty bag “chasing” him. It took us some time to catch up with him and free him from that paper monster. My vSO called it “a sudden attack of a shopping bag.” It took Rusty a long time to forget about that incident. But in a while, he got over it and now considers those bags as a type of a box and either gets inside or sits on them.
Unexpected Effect of the Drought
With umbrellas, it was the opposite. For the first couple of years of his life, Rusty was fascinated with umbrellas, so whenever we would bring one into the house and open it to dry, Rusty would sniff it, sit under it or play with it. And then because of the 5-year drought we had in our area, umbrellas disappeared from Rusty’s life. And the next time he saw it, he unexpectedly got scared. Since then, as soon as he sees me carrying an umbrella, a closed one (!), he runs away. So, the only proof it hasn’t been always like that is those rare photos I managed to take when Rusty was much younger.
I have many other stories about Rusty – both from years ago and from yesterday, even though he got much smarter with age, learned a lot and taught us many things. But I’ll leave those stories for another time. Today, for his 13th birthday, Rusty got to spend quality time on our bed, enjoyed Ricotta cheese for breakfast and turkey breast for dinner (in addition to his regular meals), and was rewarded with plenty of treats for compliments he got from my readers and Instagram followers. I hope he stays healthy for many more years, keeps his kittenish mien and brings joy to us, our friends and everyone else who knows him in RL or online. And to all of you, from Rusty, my vSO and me (that photo was a collective effort):
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Saturday Question #96:
Do You Have a Pet (and Does You Pet Like Your Perfumes)?
I know about pets companions of many of my loyal readers. Some of them virtually visited Rusty on his 10th Birthday. But I don’t know everyone’s pets, and I’m sure that many of you do not know each others’ cats, dogs, rabbits or rats (If you named your fish, I would consider those as pets as well) – so, please share your pets’ names, links to photos (if you have them publicly online) and, if you’re sure they don’t read my blog, any stories that they would have been embarrassed to hear.
What do your pets think about your perfumes (if anything)?
My Answer
As a kitten, Rusty didn’t mind any of my perfumes. Then later he started cleaning my wrists when I tested some perfumes. As he grew older, he started avoiding stronger scents if I apply them to my wrists: he might come to sit on my lap, but then he smells perfume from my wrist and runs away. So, when I know that he would be spending some time with me, I try not to scent my wrists (neck is OK).
Do You Have a Pet (and Does You Pet Like Your Perfumes)?
Undina's Looking Glass 