Fishing on the Snake River near Wawawai: The Video

My husband made a video as he piloted Companion Star on her trial re-launch on the Snake River and I fished.

Effie’s Daring Leap II: The Movie

As Effie sprang to the top of the refrigerator this morning for her leap to the pantry,  my husband was prepared to record the high-action thriller, this time in video.

Effie’s Little Drinking Problem

Effie maneuvers a hi-tech faucet and pours herself a drink, and one for the floor, as well.

Effie and the Mouse Drawer: The Movie

Bag Star Wars. For a big-screen season spectacular, here’s Effie, opening my desk drawer and selecting a new mouse after losing the one she retrieved a day earlier. I implemented the Mouse Drawer because it is so much easier than retrieving her errant mouses from beneath cabinets, organ pedal boards, etc. Besides, the drawer is the most appropriately advanced toy I have found for our genius kitty.

Effie AeroCat: The Movie

My husband took this footage as I encouraged Effie’s estrangement from terrestrial gravity. She’s always very much at home in hyperspace.
For reference, the seat of the chair behind her is 19″ high.

Dancing with Mouses

I decided to assemble a slide show with highlights of Effie’s adventures with her interactive kinetic toy. I also decided that it was okay to use a photo that I had just published with another post, because, (a) it was in its proper context, and (b) I like the photo a lot.

And, some updated information concerning the toy: I have found it a good idea to stow it at night in a place where Effie cannot access it. The squeak, the squeak–it’s cute while she’s playing, but kind of an acquired taste throughout the night. . . .

Watching Effie Watch Things

I spend a fair amount of time taking Effie outside because she loves to go out. Mostly, I watch her watch things. She watches birds, bugs, the space between grass blades–all kinds of things–and I, her affectionate keeper, watch her watch them. Sometimes she also eats the things she has been watching, especially grasses and bugs. What a blessing it is to have the spots of time to keep vigil on my cat’s vigils! Several times a day, I dedicate somewhere between 15 and 45 minutes to our vigils together. Here are some highlights from our 45-minute outing this afternoon. It’s less than a minute long, I promise.

Vigil from Lauren Bottomly on Vimeo.

Effie’s Pig Pen Jaunt

Too sturdy to take down, the old 4-H pig pen constructed by our property’s former owners has finally found its highest and best use: intriguing Effie.

Coolidge: A Tribute

Coolidge lived a life of protected luxury and taxing health challenges for the 17 years we were blessed to enjoy his company and inspiration. He inspired my two volumes of poetry, Glamorgan’s Tales and Glamorgan: He Who Would Be Cat. He was the inspiration behind my first blog, Mrs. B and the Cat, that I started in 2006; it morphed in 2007 to Oikos mou, and finally this blog in 2010, when we moved from Puget Sound to the Palouse. Coolidge was on board through the entire journey, until his passing four weeks ago, on August 13, 2015, at 3:45 in the morning, in my arms, from advanced renal failure.

Coolidge was diabetic for the past nine years. Every day of those years, at 6:30 AM and 6:30 PM, I tested his glucose and gave him an appropriate dose of insulin. He developed hyperthyroid, a very sinister condition for cats, in his seventh diabetic year. I put methimazole cream in his ear twice a day.

When he first became diabetic in 2006, he developed hepatic lipidosis and needed a feeding tube for nine weeks. He yanked it out so many times we quit taking him to the vet’s ER. My husband simply stitched the tube back in place when Coo pulled it out. After all, our cat could not know the tube was where his belly snacks came from. I cooked chicken breasts, pulverized them in a food grinder, and syringed the food into the feeding tube six times a day. Coolidge wore a body sock, supposedly to secure the tube. We called him Coodini, for his way of slipping off the sock so cleverly over his head.

Y2K wasn’t Coolidge’s best year, either. He was two, and he somehow broke his hock on a routine indoor prowling mission. A veterinary orthopedist operated and put his foot in a cast for 10 weeks. He had to remain in a kennel cage in the house to keep from running, jumping, or using the stairs. I put an advent calendar up on his cage so I could better stand my poor cat’s captivity. It wasn’t much help.

Coolidge was born into a feral pride behind a travel agency on Vashon Island, Washington. Once rescued, Coolidge was always an indoor cat. I had promised his rescuers, the Vashon Island Pet Protectors heroines, that we would not subject him to the hazards of the outdoors, and we kept our word. He had lungworm and a hernia from a raccoon gash when he was rescued at four weeks. He was the sort of kitten I could dedicate my life to keeping safe.

He wasn’t always cooperative. But a ripe age and natural causes, as horrible as renal failure is, presented God’s challenging assignments in a gracious light, and we were given the motivation to take up each new challenge.

Coolidge was a trooper and an unforgettable companion. He’s a hard act to follow. But little spritely Effie is taking up Coolidge’s charge as her peoples’ champion. I adore her to pieces. She’s no replacement–she’s the Cat of the House. God’s mercy astounds me.

The Beauty and Entropy of Steptoe Canyon