October Ordeal part 3

With Flora safely and I devoutly hoped securely in the carrier, the next question was, "Which cat to try for next? Who would be greedy enough to go for treats when fleeing would be the best option?"

"Are there treats in here?"

Actually, there were two choices:  Elmer and Ellen.  Elmer just happened to be closer.

As I drove to the vet's, I kept glancing in my rearview mirror to see if there was an emergency vehicle following me or if it was just Flora doing her imitation of a siren.

It was Flora.

I made it to Jones Animal Hospital and signed in.  They were sweet as always, apologizing because I would have to wait since I didn't have an appointment.  I figure that's the price I pay for not getting an appointment but since my ability to catch cats at one appointed time is iffy at best, I usually go the drop in route.  Besides, the one time I called for an appointment, Elmer apparently heard  his name mentioned and the cat I thought totally preoccupied with birdwatching bolted from the room and headed for parts unknown.

At least that taught me that Elmer does indeed know his name.  I had my doubts.

We settled in the waiting area, or rather I settled, Elmer cowered and Flora alternated between howls and growls.

I opened the carrier and tried to comfort them both.  I had no takers.

As usually happens, I saw someone I knew there.  We'll call him Mr. Smith.  He's a very nice gentleman who has been on our Library Board.  He ambled over to say hello, explained he was picking up something for his Goldens, and reached in to pet Flora who was making sounds like gravels grinding.

"Not happy, is she?"  he asked.

I think I answered in the affirmative.  I was too busy holding my breath, hoping she wouldn't slice and dice him.  She tends to be more sound and fury but cornered in a box, I wasn't sure.

Yes, more to come.

Elmer: What's in a name?

This is young Elmer, about eight months old.

Full grown Elmer

As a young rascal, I thought perhaps Elmer should be named Arthur.  A bit more regal, or at least a bit more distinguished.  Mom, wise cat woman that she was, said he was more of an Elmer. And when he gets after poor Bonnie Kate, the tiny gentle fuzz ball,  his name is "ELMER-LEAVE-BONNIE-ALONE!"

Mom and were both wrong about his name, really.  I just was more wrong. He isn't any sort of dignified Arthur.

 Elmer is actually the feline incarnation of Jethro Bodine.  Handsome, well-built, and with a secret dream of bein' a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon or one of them double-ought spies. 

We need an Uncle Jed needs to have a long talk with that boy.

But I love him anyway.

 Most of the time, at least.

ELMER!LEAVEBONNIEALONE!

Bonnie--Kitty Cornered

"I' m a kitty and I'm in a corner.  Does that count?"

"Well, it's got corners, but that's not a kitty.  That's a book."

"Go 'way, Elmer!  This is my corner!"

With apologies to Emmylou Harris...

"It's all right, 'cause it's midnight, and I got two more bottles of wine!"

(Just a plug for a local winery in Wise, Virginia.  Mountain Rose Vineyards is located on the site of an old strip mine and they produce some wonderful wines.  If you like muscadine grapes, by all means try their Sweet Mountain Rose wine! Elmer doesn't imbibe, but he likes to drink by putting his paw in the water dish and then licking the paw.  I thought the water bowl was leaking for awhile until I saw him one morning.)

Elmer: Happy New Year!

It's Chinese New Year.  It's supposed to be the year of the dragon.  That's some kind of big lizard. I think it should be the Year of the Elmer Cat.  In fact, all years should be the Year of the Elmer Cat.

Have I mentioned my name is Elmer?

The MomPerson says she wanted to call me Arthur like King Arthur  but that I'm really more of an Elmer and that looks can be deceiving.

I don't know what that means.

She didn't use my whole name, though, which is Elmer-Leave-Bonnie-Alone, but the MomPerson says that doesn't matter because I never answer to anything anyway, except for the pop of a catfood can. Or the sound of a door opening.  I'm big enough that occasionally I can push my way out while she's trying to close the door-- she says I'm like a little fuzzy mac truck.

I don't know what that means.

For some reason, MomPerson doesn't like for me to be outside in the front. She lets me out back, but there's a fence there.  The fence doesn't seem to stop my sister Flora or Freddie, but I don't know how they manage to get out.  MomPerson says she'd like to keep it that way.  I see that front porch cat BeeGee out there, and that orange cat JJ and that big orange cat who looks like Melon but all orange and fluffy out there, and I see birds, and. . . . I forgot what I was saying.  Oh, the MomPerson won't let ME out front.  Something about "doesn't have the sense God gave lint."

I don't know what that means.

I'm a big help around the house.   I keep all the food bowls cleaned out and help keep the bathroom floor clean by turning over the water bowls.  The MomPerson isn't big on mopping and this encourages her. She has to get that water up somehow!  I think I was grown before I saw her do that, and I thought it was some new game.  She said some interesting words when I tried to catch the mop. Then she allowed that I was a great excuse NOT to mop and cheered up immediately.  Hence the water bowls.  I actually like to pick up water in my paw and lick it up from there.

Anyway, here I am being a big help as usual.  The MomPerson wants to stick bottles on a post so I'm working on emptying them for her.  *hic*

"A bit dry for my taste.  And citrus. Grass would be better. "

"These are sweet, light, fruity. Very nice for you, but I'd like something with a fresh catnip nose, perhaps with undertones of chicken and a hint of salmon."

Christmas presents!!

We had company for Christmas. We weren't sure about extra humans, but these seemed capable of petting and one even discovered how to free deli turkey from the cold box, so they turned out to be A-okay.  They also brought something with them to go in our back yard.

Not one but TWO new scratching posts!! Wow!  Are these thoughtful humans or what??  We're not sure about the bottles, but we were too polite to say anything.  Oh, and we're supposed to call them "bottle trees"  not scratching posts.   Suurre they are (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), yep, they're "bottle trees" all right.

"Here, birdie, birdie, birdie!"