Home for Christmas!

When I blogged about cat dreams last week, I had no idea my own dream was so close to coming true: I got a forever home!

I'd had my eye on the Cat's Cradle treasurer for sometime, but Peggy was already an eight-cat woman. Getting into her home required some tactical maneuvering. I mean, you have to be super-adorable to become the ninth cat. The first point in my favor was that she had a weakness for longhairs, so I always kept my fur fluffy and soft. But the deciding moment was during the last board meeting when I made my intentions blatantly clear by curling up on her lap for an hour. I guess this proves that the wiggle-worm-of-love approach is irresistible.

One advantage of moving into an eight-cat household is that the human is already so well trained. They have the right food, the right beds, the right toys, and a smattering of cat language skills. You can't expect them to understand all the complexities of the meow dialect, but it's important to have some interactions on a higher cognitive level. It's going to take some time to break in the other cats, but I know they'll be compelled to appreciate my charms eventually.

I got to meet Peggy's family the other night at a Christmas celebration. I was nervous about being around so many new people, but it turns out she comes from a long line of folks who know how to appreciate cats. Good breeding always shows.

The other good news is that my best bud Benny is back at the Adoption Center, much improved after being pampered back to health by Ashton. Now that my own dream has come true, I'm going to put my feline dream skills to work to find Benny a forever home, too.

But before I return to work in what might appear to be a luxurious holiday slumber, Merry Christmas to all – and to all a good cat!

Freddie Returns!

This is Freddie and I want to tell you right off the bat that it is not my fault this update is late. I was going to write as soon as I got back to the Adoption Center but heavens to murgatroid! From the moment I entered the door I couldn't get a moment's peace. The staff was all over me, picking me up, petting me, scratching me, and talking, talking, talking. It was exhausting.

And, of course, they wanted to know everything about my best bud Benny. I told them he sent his purr-regards and would be back as soon as his skin gets better. He's a sensitive fellow, you know, so we have to be extra careful. For now, Josie and the staff will just have to make do with me as the center of their universe. I must say they're doing a pretty good job.

I'm also happy to report that they did an excellent job taking care of the Adoption Center while I was gone – with one glaring exception: no one stepped up to the plate to assume my responsibilities. I know they're only human, but really, they could have made an effort. Was one catnap a day too much to ask?

Okay, I understand that humans don't have as much stamina for sleeping as felines. In fact, it does me proud to say there is not a mammal on this planet that works as hard at sleeping as cats. We are the masters! And for goodness sake don't bring up hibernation. That's practically a coma AND you have to forgo eating AND, well, have you ever tried waking up a hibernating bear? Talk about grouchy. Now when I wake up, I rise and shine, sweetly, daintily, a symphony of luxurious stretches, every move a work of art. One reason is because I know that while I slept, the Adoption Center humans were able to bask in the presence of my majesty. It's what you call a symbiotic relationship, least that's what Benny says.

And believe me, cats don't spend two-thirds of their lives sleeping for nothing. We are very busy in the dream world. I can't tell you any more until Benny returns. He's the studious one and can explain it better. I'll just say this: if we didn't dream so much, this world would be very, very different. Nuff said.

Well, it's time to get back to work. Usually, I put in thirteen to sixteen hours of shuteye a day, but obviously I have some catching up to do so I may go pro for a bit and hit twenty. A cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do.

Late

The senior management “At the Center with Freddie and Benny” regrets the late appearance of the blog. We were delayed because… um

...we were abducted by aliens who realized that tuxedo cats were the most intelligent life-forms on the planet and wanted us to mediate intergalactic peace efforts and the flying saucer just dropped us off.

No, no, no too crazy. Well, not the ‘most intelligent life-forms’ part. But humans don’t like to be reminded.

…we were trapped in a helium balloon shaped like a flying saucer and went careening across the Midwest.

Been done. Something more local, maybe.

We were hiking on the Appalachian Trail without telling anyone, especially our nearest and dearest, where we are.

Sounds fishy. And not in a delicious way.

…Freddie invaded Rockingham County where the natives hailed him as a god and he could only tear himself away by swearing, paw-on-heart, to return.

Possible.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Oh, hi, Benny. I’m just coming up with a plausible explanation for why our blog is late.”

“Late? Our blog was late? Oh no! It’s a disaster! Call the board! Send all the volunteers to Siberia for cultural reprogramming!”

“I don’t think it’s really any big deal. We say we’re sorry and move on.”

“I don’t think so, Freddie. There’ll be hearings. We may have to resign. Our carriers are in ruins! Oh! I’m panting.”

“Here, use this paper bag!”

“Thanks!”

“I meant to breathe into, not to play with. Oh well, whatever works. Feel better?”

“Yeah. Thanks! Hey, why don’t we tell the truth? Our typist is a bit of a flake.”

“We could, I ‘spose. Honesty being the better part of not having to remember what you said later and all that. There’s just one problem.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“We’d have to get her to type it.”

I heart NY

On what seems to be one of a series of gray Tuesdays, my esteemed colleague Benny and I were having a wash and a nap. Truth be told, we were feeling a little forlorn. Much as we loved living with Ashton, we felt stranded between our customary place at the thick of the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center and the certainty of a forever home. We lacked the certainty of one and the excitement of the other.

“And nobody had cc’d me on the most recent fiscal report. I don’t even know which grants are due when.”

“Yes well, excitement is in the eye of the beholder.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not a thing, Benny. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“I’m not happy. That’s my point. I’m out of the loop.”

“Which was my point.”

“Which you weren’t making.”

“Life is short and art is…”

“Not as interesting as spreadsheets.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t look at me like… what’s that noise?”

“Just the mail. It’s never for us. Ashton says it’s because we’re cats.”

“She’s right. Most cats trade e-mails. It’s hard to hold a pen, even with both paws.”

“Hey Freddie, I know some cats who took the trouble to hold a pen. We have mail!”

“Oooh! From who?”

“Remember Minnie, Merlin and Boo?”

“The black kittens who our volunteers…”

“Transported to the North Shore Animal Rescue League on Long Island- a group which practices Cat’s Cradle’s compassionate approach to ending pet overpopulation and has demonstrated marked success in the vast area surrounding…”

“New York City! Benny, we got a postcard from New York City!”

“Yes, well as I was saying.”

“Oh, put a paw over it. Listen”

Dear Freddie and Benny

We arrived safe and sound. Speaking of sound, you wouldn’t believe the noise here. Merlin hid in his cage for two days! But it didn’t matter because we all got forever homes! And Minnie is auditioning for Cats.

Love,
The Kittens


“Feeling less out of the loop, Freddie?”

“I love New York!”

The Purrfect Costume

It was a dark and stormy night…

“No it wasn’t. I mean, it was dark, but it’s always dark at night. That’s why it’s called ‘night.’ You don’t have to say it. It’s implied. If it’s a dark lunchtime, now that’s worth mentioning.”

“Benny, hush!”

“Also, it wasn’t stormy. It may have drizzled a little. But stormy?”

“Benny! This is the Halloween blog entry. By international statute, all Halloween blogs begin ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’ Even at the South Pole where there are only about six hours of darkness this time of year, all the cats begin their Halloween blogs that way.”

“Oh. Sorry. Go on.”

It was a dark and stormy night when Benny and I began to feel of the call of darkness. Wisps of fog trailed across the Shenandoah Valley as two intrepid cats streaked through the night searching, always searching for that ineffable something that comes of mystery…

“We were looking for Halloween costumes!”

Well, yes, we were looking for the ineffable mystery that comes of disguise. For Halloween we would be transformed, transfigured. Would the effect be wonderful or terror beyond telling? Who could tell?

“There’s this shop on just off of 81 and they kind of don’t know cats can sneak right in through an old air vent after they close.”

“Um, Benny, perhaps we’d better not mention that part. Er… …too many details… detract from the um… and our legal team did say…”

“Is there something in your eye? Oh, right… …you’re winking. Legal team. Gotcha.”

When we reached the site of transformation many strange and wonderful things began to occur. Our killer instincts reared there heads.

“I dressed up as a mouse and Freddy tried to hunt me.”

We came close to flight.

“Freddie dressed up as an angel with wings and everything, but he tripped when his halo slipped down over one eye.”

Yet nothing seemed to suit each turn of our delicately calibrated psyches.

“Or fit. These were human costumes.”

Then it struck us: What inspires awe? Brings Love? We knew what we would become. Nay! What we were.

“For Halloween, Freddie and I will be dressed as tuxedo cats.”

And it will be a dark and stormy night.

A (very) Little Help from My Friends

No matter how dedicated one might be, the running of an organization such as Cat’s Cradle can sometimes leave one feeling like she’s at the bottom of a dog-pile of work. Such was the case this month with Cat’s Cradle director Josie.

“Benny, you’re going to have to give me a few days,” she sighed when I called to see if she’d broken down Cat’s Cradle’s budget by foster family, kitten, and phase of the moon the way I recommended. “I just have too much on my plate.”

“Ooh! Like tuna fish? Maybe I can help.”

“Too much to do, Benny. Work. Not food.”

“No tuna?

“No.”

“Well you don’t have to sound so grumpy about it.”

“Sorry, Benny. It’s just that we’ve had the auction last weekend, and we re-opened the Adoption Center, and I had a huge grant to write. And well, I’m tired. And…”

“And?”

“Well, you always call at 3 a.m.. Humans aren’t nocturnal, Benny.”

“That explains why you never take naps in the kitty gym at the Adoption Center. You sleep at night!”

“I try to.”

“What’s that noise?”

“My husband. He wants to know who I’m whispering to at three in the morning.”

“Oh, tell him it’s Benny, one of the cats, and say hi for me.”

She sighed again. “I’ll do that.”

After we hung up, I apprised Freddie of the situation. He cocked his head in concern. “Gee, that’s too bad.”

“I couldn’t agree more. We should help.”

“I know! We could take over the newsletter. You know, What’s up, Pussy Cat. Write it for her.”

“Freddie, you’re a genius.”

“Too true, Benny. Too true. I see it now…”

“What?”

“Headlines, Benny Headlines: Cat Save’s Baby from Burning Building. Kitten Wins Snowboarding Championship at Massanutten. Freddie Crowned… Roommate Gives Freddie Weird Look. What’s wrong?”

“The stories in the newsletter are supposed to be true.”

“All of them?”

“’Fraid so.”

Sold!

In retrospect, I should have realized getting Freddie more involved in Cat’s Cradle’s long-range strategy and fundraising operations was a bad idea. But I didn’t. As they say, live, learn and calm your overly drama-prone roommate down. In my defense, all I did was show him a flyer which Cat’s Cradle is having an auction on October 19th.

“Benny!” he cried, dropping the flyer in the water bowl, “they can’t do this!”

“Now Ashton’s going to have to clean up after you,” I chastised. “Anyway, do what? Sell baked goods? Just because humans have this strange preference for chocolate over tuna fish doesn’t mean selling them unappetizing foodstuff is wrong.”

“Oh Benny, you’re so naive! Foodstuffs, indeed. It’s obvious the humans have caved in to temptation.”

“Would you either stop ranting or make sense? Both if you can manage it.”

“It’s obvious. What’s the most valuable thing they have?”

“Ooh! Did they get new digital scales to weigh kittens?”

“No, dolt! Us. Cats! Tuxedo cats in particular. They’re going to raffle us to the highest bidder! No adoption contracts! No background checks! They must be stopped! I’m sending e-mail to PETA!”

“I think somebody better lay off the catnip. I mean talk about paranoia!”

“Paranoia? Look at this flyer! There’s a picture of two black cats right by the list of stuff for sale.”

“You mean Cat’s Cradle’s logo above the list and to the left of it?”

“Oh. Logo. I knew that.”

“Of course you did. ’Oh’ is right.”

“Um, Benny? When we get back to the shelter, would you mind not mentioning this little misunderstanding to Josie?”

“No problem, Freddie.”

“Should I read the board minutes now?”

“Really, Freddie, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

A Friend in Need

So there I was, having a nap on the bottom of the kitty gym, when the mewing of a distinctly distraught roommate called me back from sleep. I was not entirely surprised. Benny had just come back from the vet, which is enough to tweak anyone’s whiskers. Yet the degree of distress seemed to indicate a difficulty beyond annoyance. Besides, he was muttering.


“Lost! Alone! Oh no. Oh dear.”


“Benny, what’s wrong?”


“Freddie! Oh let me look at you one last time. I don’t know if I can stand it!”


“What? Stand what?”


“The vet said I have a skin condition and I need to go stay with some humans for a week or so while it’s treated!”


“Well that’s not so bad. I did the same when I had that cold. They were lovely. Not that I didn’t miss you,” I added quickly.


“But Freddie, I’m not brave with people like you are. And I don’t think they have other cats!”


“Do you want me to come with you?”


“You’d do that for me. Really?”


“Really. Just let me talk to the director.”


I snuck into the back room at the adoption center and sat down on Josie’s keyboard so she would notice I had something on my mind.


“Freddie,” she said, “how’d you get back here?”


“Paws. Listen, you can’t just ship Benny out. He’s not as intrepid as some of us. He can’t go alone. Send me too.”


“That’s sweet of you, but you’d have to have baths and medication so you didn’t contract his condition.”


I gulped. “I can do baths.”


“You’re a brave cat, Freddie. Let me just e-mail Ashton and make sure she has room for two.”


“Ashton? The JMU student? This is going to work out just fine.”

Cats on a Mission

It has come to the attention of the staff here “At the Center with Freddie and Benny” that this blog, in its inception, was meant to highlight the work done at the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center and… …what, Freddie?

“Speaking of attention, Benny, did you see all of the JMU students who have stopped by! Oh, my paws, it was one big cuddle- fest! I mean to say, when one is a tuxedo cat of extraordinary lovable-ity, one has occasion to enjoy more than the occasional head scratch, but this week was something special. One wonders…”

“No. This is the problem! It’s never ‘one wonders.’ It’s Freddie who wonders. That’s all you write about. The purpose of this column is to let people know about the important work that the Center does.”

“Well, if your going to be like that- The important volunteers unlocked the front door so that many JMU students, all of whom seemed to be missing their cats at home and in need of a little feline therapy could come in and scratch my ears. Oh, what’s wrong now?”

“Well, it’s kind of more of the same. I mean Cat’s Cradle puts a lot of work into the principles and practices which are making the Shenandoah Valley a places where all cats…”

“Have JMU students! Great idea. It reminds me of the time when I was a kitten and…”

“No. Enjoy the safety of a community empowered to act on their compassion. Oh for the love of laser pointers! Could you just shut up and let me finish?”

“Well, Benny, that doesn’t sound very compassionate.”

“In a second here I can think of one area of the Valley which isn’t going to be safe either.”

“Benny!”

“Sorry. But this is important.”

“I know that! But listen, the column is called ‘At the Center with Freddie and Benny,’ not ‘At the Center with Principles and Practices.’ I mean, would you really want your picture next to that?”

“I see what you mean.”

“So we do what we do best! Be winsome. Be handsome. Charm.”

“We are good at that. But no board minutes?”

“Have you actually gotten around to reading them, Benny?”

“I meant to, Freddie.”

“I know, Benny, I know.”

Et Tu, Benny

It’s so good to be back at 124 W. Main Street. Cat’s Cradle’s adoption center may not be a ‘forever home,’ but the undeniable comforts of a familiar kitty gym, ping pong ball and patches of sunlight lead me, Freddie, to bound from the cat carrier when I returned from the dark grasp of illness. I was all the more eager to see my dear friend…

“Na,na,nananana, Catman!”

No, not ‘Catman.’ Benny, who, despite certain rumors of disloyalty reaching my ailing ears, greeted me most enthusiastically. I hardly even noticed Ethan (who’s name means he-who-moves-in-with-your-best-friend-the-second-you-turn-around) in the background as…

CRASH!!!!!

“Benny! Why, for the love of catnip, did you just jump off our cage and onto the volunteer’s desk? And why do you have a dishtowel tied around your neck?”

“Isn’t it brilliant? Ethan thought of it! I’m Catman and he’s my ward, Kitten Grayson. It’s a publicity stunt.”

“It is not brilliant. First, nothing Ethan does is brilliant. He has the approximate IQ of a concussed canine. Second, who does publicity stunts when the adoption center is closed? And last, a publicity stunt for what?”

“Didn’t you get the e-mail?”

“I didn’t get any e-mail! Maybe Ethan stole it. He steals lots of things.”

“So, you don’t know??”

“Yes. I mean, no. Know what?”

“We’re moving!”

“What??? First, my best friend takes up with some strange kitten. Then they find forever homes together. No one even tells me. Treachery! To think I…”

“Freddie, no, no, no! you know I wouldn’t leave without you! We have a pact! I wouldn’t break it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

"Then what's all this about moving?”

“It’s the column that’s moving! At the Center with Freddie & Benny will now come out on Tuesdays. Ethan just wants to do some publicity for it because he’s a HUGE fan of your work.”

“He is?”

“Yup.”

“I always said he was a bright one. Come here, kid, let Uncle Freddie help you with that cape. “

Going to the Dogs

Hello Gentle Human,

Benny here. Normally Freddie, my colleague, roommate and confidant, issues these Friday columns but he is unavailable. He developed a touch of ague earlier in the week. When we fall ill, one of Cat’s Cradle’s foster families takes us for a few days, soothes our fevered brows, scratches that place between our eyes, and keeps our roommates from becoming ill (which is greatly appreciated, let me tell you).

Actually, I was the one who noticed Freddie wasn’t feeling up to scratch. He was lying in the tube at the bottom of the kitty gym looking abstracted and slightly more miserable than one’s average Tuesday warrants. I crawled in with him and nuzzled his head.

“Hey, Freddie, you okay?”

“That depends. Is my head actually incased in cement?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Well it feels like it. My head feels so stuffy I can’t think.”

“Can’t think, hmmm” I began to make some mental notes. “What else? Excessive drooling?”

He nodded. “Little bit.”

“Feel like you smell wrong?”

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No, no, no! Just asking. Trying for a diagnosis, you know. No judgment. Honest.”

“Well,” he closed his eyes, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have this sort of… well…”

“Heavy, dank overpowering odor?”

“Yes! Benny, what do you think is wrong with me??”

I thought for a moment, hoping not to have to confirm the worst. “…inability to think, excessive drooling… repugnant odor.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Regrettable odor?”

“Better.”

“Well, there’s no softening the truth. Freddie, you’re becoming a dog.”

“WHAT???”

I nodded. “I know. We always assumed we would grow from kittens to cats, but perhaps it is not always so. I mean, dogs do have to come from somewhere…”

“Puppies, Benny, puppies.”

“Oh. Right. Um, Freddy? You want me to get our humans? One of them is a retired doctor. That’s not quite as good as a vet, but she might know something.”

“Thanks, Benny.”

“And Freddie? I’m so glad you aren’t becoming a dog.”

“Me too, Benny. Me too.”

Walkin' on Sunshine

It was a gray day here at 124 S. Main; the kind of day which sits heavily upon the feline soul. Even the youngest kitten could not muster the will to bat the ping-pong ball around its track on the toy middle of the adoption center’s floor. Your intrepid author felt that while art is eternal and life brief, he might be better served by a nap. Yet a cat of courage knows that all who…

WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

“No, Benny, we don’t.”

“but…”

“We go back up to the top of the kitty gym and let me finish in peace.”

“No. You have to hear this”

“I have to finish writing my melancholy yet worldly-wise…”

“Listen,”

"Do you know why Einstein was able to discover the Theory of Relativity? Why Tennessee Williams was able to write Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? It’s because their roommates went to the top of the kitty gym and left them alone.”


“But, Freddy, it’s about you!”

“Well, if it’s important…”


WE INTERUPT THIS BLOG TO BRING YOU THIS IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Freddie has a sponsor! Steve & Christine Cornwell from Kentucky couldn’t bring Freddie home with them so they decided to pay his bill!

“Really?”

“Really.”

Writing to our director, they said, “We have Freddie's picture framed above our computer, at our home desk.”

It was a glorious day at 124 S. Main! Not even the grey skies could dampen the spirits of the Cat’s Cradle Cats. Everyone, from senior to kitten purred with contentment. It was the kind of day which stirs the feline soul with gratitude.

Definitely NOT a Dead Mouse”

Benny likes to sleep late. Not that I’m complaining. As delightful as it is to live with Benny, I, Freddie, like a little quiet in the morning. When the first light comes through that high bank of windows at 124 S. Main, I stretch, wash and have a little breakfast before my roommate has even opened his eyes.

But this morning, right after a bit of grooming I went to the water bowl. It was entirely blocked by Benny’s head. He was staring at his reflection in our dish. Without moving so that anyone could get so much as a sip of water, he began to talk.

“Do you like my face better from the front or the side?”

“I like your face over by the litter pan so I can have a drink.”

“Come on, this is serious.”

“So is dehydration. Now scoot.”

“Just answer my question.”

I foresaw a day of thirst if I didn’t capitulate. “You, Benny, have a majestic profile.”

“Seriously? Thanks!”

“Eh hem..”

“Oh. Sorry.” he moved. “It’s just that it’s picture day.”

“And?”

It is often picture day. When one lives in the public eye as Benny and I do here in the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center, the woods (as it were) are thick with photographers. I am particularly fond of one taken by downtown photographer Deb. It happens to be of me, but no matter.

Benny wasn’t the least put off. “And? And I need a picture to send to Kaitlyn!”

“Ah. It’s all clear now.” It was. Kaitlyn was the lovely young lady who had come in the day before. She and Benny had become so taken with each other that I feared my roommate would be leaving in her coat pocket. Fortunately, it’s hot outside, so she didn’t have a coat pocket. She could not take him home, but so wonderfully did they understand each other that she left Cat’s Cradle a generous donation so that the two of us could maintain the high style to which we are accustomed.

Benny was agitated by a thought. “Or does that look too arrogant? I mean, I could send her something else. But I don’t know what she reads. Or if she’s allergic to flowers. I need to send something anyone would want.” He paced a bit, stopped and began to purr. “I know! I’ll send her a dead mouse!”

Tact was called for. “I think,” I said, grooming his ears for him, “a picture of you would be perfect. In any case, since she is a young friend of the two-legged variety, definitely NOT a dead mouse.”

Allow us to introduce ourselves…

As two impeccably groomed young gentlemen in tuxedos moved into the rear penthouse at 124 S. Main St. (Editor’s note: the cat cage next to the volunteers’ desk in the Cat’s Cradle Adoption Center ), Harrisonburg wonders, who are these cats? And who is their tailor? Where did they come from? Are two such…

“Why do you always end up sitting on my head?”

“Shh, Benny! That is not what all of Harrisonburg is wondering. No one is wondering about you being sat on, primarily because no one cares.”

“Um, all of Harrisonburg would be wondering if, every time they closed their eyes for a cat nap, they woke when the business end of Freddy caught them right between the eyes.”

“And yet no one is asking because nobody wakes up to that every time they nap. Even you. Stop complaining.”

“I mean, I don’t sit on you.”

“Do you mind? Trying for a tone here.”

“Okay. Okay, just admit you sit on me, say sorry and I’ll be quiet.”

“I’m sorry I sat on you. Now… …may I?”

“By all means.”

Are two such dashing young dandies available? Receiving callers? What is Freddy’s secret ambition?

“I don’t know anything about a secret ambition. What do you mean, secret ambition?”

“Secret! Defined as: Not told to Benny. That kind of a secret.”

“Oh. Okay. Go on.”

All these questions and more will be answered (hopefully without interruption)…

“You mean me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

..in the new Cat’s Cradle blog: At the Center with Freddy & Benny.