Cletus Trying to Sneak a Few Zzzs – Photo: L. Weikel
The Sleep Vibe
Every single creature in our household is in some form of recline or repose at this moment. The ‘sleep’ vibe is utterly irresistible. It seems like they’re as affected by this sudden swing of temperatures as I am. At least, that’s what I’m attributing it to!
When I get this tired, it’s best to just call it a night.
One thing I can share with you, though, is the recent desperation experienced by Cletus. It’s probably mean that I’m chuckling at his efforts to find some privacy, but considering how he wakes us up at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. by stomping on us and mrrrowing loudly in our faces, I’m not feeling much remorse.
Cletus – awakened from his slumber – Photo: L. Weikel
Cletus’s Desperation
We’re still keeping the crate we bought for the puppies in our living room so it’s easily accessible. They never spend a great deal of time in it, but it’s good to have in case they need a little space to themselves. We probably use it the most when we need to leave the pups at home by themselves. There’s no way our house would survive if we ever left them unattended.
So we have this crate taking up significant floor space in our living room. It’s almost become invisible to us, albeit an obstacle to be negotiated daily.
What’s the point? – Photo: L. Weikel
Imagine our surprise the other day when we realized Cletus was fast asleep inside the crate. We have no idea what prompted him to curl up on the blanket in there and take a snooze. It seems like an odd place for a cat to find himself, especially should the pups spontaneously decide to run in there to squirrel away a toy or a chew stick.
As I was thinking about how ironic it was that he took refuge in the dog crate, Brutus bounded into the room and immediately ‘sniffed an intruder’ in the crate. I swear I could hear Cletus roll his eyes.
Once the pups realized Cletus thought their crate was the hot place to be – well, naturally, they wanted in on the excitement. This of course ruined it for Cletus. It immediately lost any and all cool status.
Not coyote bait tonight (Cletus) – Photo: L. Weikel
Coyotes
Just the other day, Karl and I marveled at the number of times random people brought up coyotes in casual conversation lately. Seriously. And the references have been eerily similar: “Watch your small animals. Coyotes are close.”
If we were in Arizona or New Mexico it would be one thing. But here we are, living in a suburb, if rural, (is there even such a thing as a rural suburb?) of Philadelphia.
When I was growing up, we never heard coyotes. I’m pretty sure they didn’t live in Pennsylvania – or if they did, I’m virtually certain they didn’t live in eastern PA. I distinctly remember being in my 30s before hearing my first coyotes, and we were in New Mexico at the time.
Probably wouldn’t mind a snack, but not a scratchy one
Things Change
Luckily for coyotes, like eagles and hawks, they seem to be making a huge resurgence into our area. This brief video report states that they’re now located in all 67 counties of the commonwealth. And a bit unsettlingly, it sounds like the coyotes that migrated here from out west over the years engaged in some ‘layovers’ (and illicit dalliances) with wolves along the way. Genetically speaking, at least some of the coyotes that are establishing populations here in Pennsylvania are part wolf, too.
I first mentioned coyotes in this post, back in 2019. And I’ve occasionally encountered them howling in the distance while out stargazing.
But over the past several weeks, mostly since the new year, we’ve heard their eerie howls echoing off the steep cliffs lining the Tohickon at least half a dozen times. One time was particularly humorous, because they were echoing and mimicking the wail of the firehouse siren a few miles away.
Coyote – Photo: Wikipedia
Past Two Weeks
But over the past two weeks, we’ve had at least four conversations with neighbors or hunters in the area. Everyone is starting to notice them.
Karl and I thought it seemed a bit over the top to hear people warn us to be careful of our animals. They made their comments with knowing glances toward the pups. I have to admit, I couldn’t imagine a coyote threatening Pacha or Brutus. Why would they go after them when there are so many deer and other wild animals around? Game that’s not attached by a long cord to a human seems a lot more desirable.
But you know what? Karl just came inside after taking Brutus out for a quick refresher. When he came in, he looked spooked. He heard coyotes in the field quite close, he said. They were howling and carrying on.
And while the ‘call of the wild’ didn’t seem to perturb Brutus in the least, we both decided to keep Cletus inside tonight. There’ve been too many random people telling us to protect our babies to turn a deaf ear to the warnings.
The cold front pushed through as we were finishing up our walk late this afternoon. Or would you consider 5:00 p.m. to be early evening? Either way, as we descended the hill toward home on the last leg of our journey, the wind picked up and shifted dramatically, and the temperature dropped a good 15-20 degrees within moments. It’s plummeted even further since then. Time to batten down the hatches and engage in serious snuggling.
I know; I know. Weather-related posts are inherently boring. But it’s all I can think about. It’s tough to write about anything else when I’m suddenly feeling an overwhelming desire to burrow into a soft furry blanket and read a book.
The puppies are snoring; Tigger and Precious are curled up, perched on the backs of the couch and loveseat, respectively, and obviously immersed in the Dreamtime. Cletus is outside, going out of his way to howl and carry on over his inherent conflict between desiring (and demanding) his FREEDOM and realizing that he doesn’t actually want to spend the evening in the barn (or wherever else it is that he loves to frequent).
He thinks he’s a tomcat – all badass and whatnot – and forgets that he’s Cletus the Pampered (not to mention neutered) Jerk. I’m not about to argue with him. He’s foul.
Brutus and Cletus – Photo: L. Weikel
He’s All That
The way this post has taken a turn toward Cletus reminds me of how I managed to snag a rare photo of him holding court with the pups earlier today. He’s definitely the one who schools them in their naughtiest activities. Sometimes I swear I catch him looking on with an expression of pure evil – I mean joy – especially when we’ve caught the pups engaging in particularly egregious activity.
For all his foul expressions and ways of being, they adore him. Surprisingly, he rarely lashes out at them, even though their enthusiasm can get the better of them fairly often.
It’s especially annoying to me that he’s so forgiving of the pups when he acts like such an unbelievable jerk to me. Every single night he demands to be put out. (This is how I know he loves to fancy himself a cat-about-town.) And every single night he sits under the kitchen chair closest to the door and lunges at me as I go to open it. How he can consider this to be a game is beyond me. He growls and spits. Lunges with claws unsheathed.
And then the next morning he’s my best friend in the whole world. Most of the time, at least. Purring, rubbing his head against my hands, mrrrowing, and demanding to be petted. He’s a psycho.
I know he can (and probably will) shoot me a claw without warning. But the puppies adore him. We all do, in spite of himself. Or is it in spite of ourselves? Either way, I need to go let him in. Even the great cat-about-town wants to hunker down ‘in-house’ tonight.
You know, it’s hard being an older sibling. Not that I have any personal experience in that regard, mind you. I don’t. But I imagine it must occasionally feel like a weighty burden to shoulder.
I watch the sibling relationships between the felines and canines in this household and marvel at how much they ‘get’ each other. The whole cat/dog mythology is mostly, in my opinion, an extension of the male/female propaganda box we put ourselves into. There’s a lot more playfulness and actual caring going on between species than we care to admit.
Just this morning I was treated to a prolonged interaction between Cletus and Brutus. It probably seemed longer to me because at any moment I expected Cletus to haul off and whack Brutus into next week. And it’s in those moments when I’ve witnessed the most startling acts of gentleness.
But there are also some nuts and bolts training going on as well.
“I love you, Cletus!” – Photo: L. Weikel
Knock It Off
I led this blog post off with the photo above because it made me laugh. I hope it had a similar effect on you as you begin this mid-week of December. There’s a lot going on in the world. We need to remain limber and loose as we head into the final few weeks of 2021.
Of course, Brutus thinks Cletus is an icon. Perhaps someday Brutus can aspire to grow his black and white hair as long and luxurious as Cletus grows his. Of course, when he realizes his idol isn’t running away from him for once, he leans in to give him an impulsive, if utterly sincere, smooch.
Cletus, shocked by the youngster’s lack of decorum exercises restraint, but can’t help but whisper some advice into young Brutus’s ear. Whether it’s appropriate for the rest of the world to hear is debatable.
“I’ll tell you what…” – Photo: L. Weikel
The Way of the World
Judging by the expression on Brutus’s face, I have a feeling Cletus schooled the pup in some classic naughty words. It’s the way of the world. That’s what older siblings do. They pave the way for our growth, intentionally or otherwise. A well-placed claw can be one of the first hard lessons of the cruelties facing us in the outside world.
All in all, though, watching their relationship develop is an absolute delight. And I love imagining their conversations.
Look at the photo above. Brutus is flirting with disaster. And Cletus is providing an almost irresistible target. No matter which way you look at it, trouble seems to be the most probable outcome.
While the expression on Brutus’s face is kind of cute, the energy of this photo sort of captures how I’m feeling at the moment. I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it almost physically painful to even look at headlines.
With all the harbingers of a truly horrific downfall of our country beating us over the head, day after day, I am gobsmacked that a handful of people are essentially holding us back from taking a huge leap forward in reclaiming our status as an enlightened country. It literally hurts my heart to contemplate how selfish and bought these so-called representatives (Senators) are to be refusing to allow progressive ideals even the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives.
Honestly, I find myself without words and feeling despair in my heart.
Anyone Else?
It just feels like we’ve been through so much – and there’s no respite, no blue sky. We never get the chance to see our ideas and ideals implemented. We never get to see what exercising compassion at the root of our country’s actions would yield.
And all the while, the rich not only get richer – they get obscenely richer. And two people who profess to be part of the party that wants to implement change for the vast majority of our country – just two – have the power to derail what millions of people voted for last year.
There’s no point in me even writing about any of this. I know. And that simple fact takes my breath away.
That Light
I don’t know why I’m compelled to write from such a dismal place this evening. Thank goodness I’ve had puppies to focus upon lately, I guess. Because Spartacus’s sudden death knocked the wind out of me. And the utter intransigence we’re witnessing in Washington D.C. right now is having a similar effect. It’s sucking the hope right out of my sails.
The light I think so many of us felt last November is turning out to be, in all seriousness, the headlight of an oncoming bullet train that’s going to demolish the United States – at least the U.S. we were raised to believe we were.
I feel powerless to stop it and – damn, I have to say – I loathe feeling powerless.
Something needs to change. The system as it exists now has been so corrupted by dark money (and light money – and money of every shade in between) that the country we thought we had no longer exists. And if hope is extinguished in most of us?
One unexpected consequence of the arrival of Pacha and Brutus has been Tigger’s protest and the manner in which it manifests. While Cletus has been brutally frank in his intolerance of these interlopers, there’s actually been a form of détente reached. It’s rather astonishing to see Cletus greet the pups with a playful, “Mrrrrow” when he sees them on the porch – and even deign to a dance of mutual nose-and-butt sniffing.
Of course, the sniffing is always fraught with the potential for escalation. The seemingly innocuous (and almost deceptively friendly) greeting can devolve into a fracas at the slightest whiff of the lack of proper deference being offered on the part of the puppies. Cletus demands deference.
The weird thing is, Cletus slashed at both of them the first couple of days, especially when they played or even just existed anywhere near his food. And when I say slashed, I mean it. He drew a few fine scratches on both of them. This makes his acceptance of them now all the more puzzling.
Dreaming Brutie – Photo: L. Weikel
Back to Tigger
Tigger, on the other hand, has been the epitome of patience. They tackle him and act all fierce, wriggling their butts in the air and barking little yips at their erstwhile big brother. They practice ferocity on Tigger. And as they grow bigger and bigger, and obviously feel more and more comfortable in their new home, their bullying only grows worse.
But beyond the bullying is the distraction they provide. Tigger has recently taken to slyly slipping out the kitchen door when we’re herding the puppies in or out. While he has always been permitted to come outside and sit around with us, especially taking up a watchful position beside me on the glider, he also knows he is not supposed to go off the porch.
While we’re obviously paying more attention to the little ones, Tigger is leaping off the back of the porch and stalking prey in the bamboo between us and the neighbor. Worse, however, is that just today I discovered two completely swollen ticks stuck to his neck. Ugh. I loathe them.
So for his trouble (or lack thereof), he’s getting eaten alive by blood sucking parasites and bullied by a pair of 12 week old puppies.
Spartacus: “I don’t feel well, Mommy” – Photo: L. Weikel
Off His Game
I’m distracted this evening. I’m worried about my Spart-man. As soon as I woke up this morning, I noticed he was ‘off his game.’ For one thing, he hadn’t come back upstairs to cuddle with me after his morning rendezvous with the elements. (Karl lets him out early, but Spartacus always – always – come back upstairs to cuddle with me. Every morning. Without fail.)
Anyway…when I came downstairs looking for my cuddle-bug, I found him outside, just standing underneath the bird feeders looking…lost. And forlorn. And frazzled, to be honest. The hair along his backbone was standing on edge – the way it looks when we walk past his buddies the wolfhounds and they talk smack to him.
It’s fine when his hair bristles at the abuse by his wolfhound buddies. It’s quite another when there’s no discernible…anything…going on.
His position the entire day – Photo: L.Weikel
Off His Game
I knew immediately that something was ‘off.’ He looked at me and the usual joy that beams out of his eyes wasn’t there. It was as if he was distracted, which perhaps he was. I think he was feeling ill and didin’t know what to do with those feelings.
I called him and chirruped in my most enthusiastic voice, but to no avail. He acted like he didn’t even want to climb the three steps to our porch. He did so, eventually, but not without exuding a sense of extreme malaise. There wasn’t even a hint of tail-wagging to be observed.
He drank a bit of water, but had no interest in food. I think I can count on one hand the times this boy has ever been disintererested in food. But…ok. Things happen. I was not going to get worried by a little stomach growler.
Things Only Got Worse
As the day wore on, Spartacus became more and more lethargic. Basically, he slept the entire day. But beyond that, he barely moved. That wouldn’t bother me all that much if the sleeping yielded even an ounce more pep. But it did not. We couldn’t even coax him to stand up.
Several more hours went by. The sun was setting and the moon was rising and it was time to take our walk. Spartacus, my baby. Can’t you shake this bug off yet, bunny?
I put his harness on in the hopes that it would inspire him to at least give a walk a try. Our walks are legend. And besides, I figured if he ate something that disagreed with him he might have to ‘get things moving’ in his innards and a walk might be just the ticket to his recovery.
Alas, no dice. He barely stood up long enough for me to secure his harness before immediately resuming his prone position on his massive pillow. Undaunted (and a bit shameless, I’ll admit), I offered him a treat. Nope.
Even the Wolfhounds Sensed Something
Even the wolfhounds recognized his absence. Entirely uncharacteristically, they turned their backs on me as I walked past them. Their buddy Start was nowhere to be seen. They couldn’t be bothered with his human.
“Bah. Where’s the little guy? We’re out of here.” Photo: L. Weikel
While I was walking, Karl brought him inside and tucked him into his softest dog bed. Once I came back, I had a feeling he might need to go to the bathroom. We took him out and he wandered a bit in the dark, but overall, it seemed to be a fruitless endeavor. Fruitless, except perhaps for a bit of some almost-dry heaves. (I’ve wracked my brain to think if he snuffled up anything on our walk last night, but I cannot remember anything unusual. And yes – he walked four miles with me yesterday…)
This is NOT the way Spartacus ever behaves.
Tigger: “What’s wrong with Spart, Mommy?” – Photo: L.Weikel
Present Status
Right now, Cletus is watching over his big brother. They’re both curled up, asleep on the mega pillow we have on our porch. Honestly, it’s the cutest indication of brotherly love. It’s fascinating – the cats all seem a bit perturbed. There’s definitely a disturbance in the force.
I’m not sure if Spart has a bit of a fever and feels better sleeping outside in the coolness of the night air, or what his motivation is for remaining outside. Is it just too much trouble to get up and come inside? It’s unsettling.
Believe me; once I write this and get it posted, I’m going outside and carrying him up to bed. There’s no way I’m going to let him sleep outside when he doesn’t feel well.
He’s my baby. And if he’s not acting more like himself by the time I wake up tomorrow morning, he’s going to visit his doctor. We can only hope it’s just something that needed time to work itself out.
Thanks for listening and maybe even sending some love to our pup.
Cletus – Right foreleg backwards – Photo: L. Weikel
Stuck in Waiting
I’ve been feeling a weird vibe over the past few days. It’s been most noticeable when I sit down to write my nightly post. The best way I can describe it is that I feel like I’m stuck in waiting.
I can’t even begin to describe what I’m waiting for, which in some sense makes this feeling even weirder. If you were a fly on the wall in my living room (I’d probably go after you with a swatter) – but besides that lamentable aggression, you’d see me on the prowl. I’m looking for something that feels worthy of sharing with you and I keep coming up empty-handed.
Current Events
Let’s face it; aren’t most of us just fed up to here with the world? It’s a mess on so many levels. And for the most part, unless we’re health care professionals or active-duty military people, we probably can’t actually do a lot to pro-actively tackle the problems. Of course I’m exaggerating. There are actually lots of other people doing ‘front-line’ work addressing the societal woes that go beyond ‘just’ the delta variant or Afghanistan. Firefighters. Teachers.
Pretty much everywhere we are, we’re doing our best to keep ourselves together and life progressing. I’m reminded by circumstances I see in friends and family how nearly impossible it is to secure mental health support. How tragic in these monumentally stressful times.
Neither Oracles Nor Astrology
Nothing I read or look at right now feels like it lends itself to a post. To be honest, I feel like this is the calm before the storm. But I’m also not wanting to try to pin anything down right now. It’s hard to describe, but the best I can say is that nothing feels like it wants to be defined or addressed in this moment. Everything’s in flux. Another word might be chaos, but that feels a little too strong. Chaos could be coming; but right now, we’re just sort of stewing.
Most of us are hoping for the best. Whatever that may be…
Cletus – left foreleg backwards – Photo: L. Weikel
A Cletus Puzzle
So I’ll leave you with these two photos of Cletus. They were taken within five minutes or so of each other. In one, his right foreleg and paw are splayed out backwards, behind him, in what appears to be an extremely unnatural position. In the other, his left foreleg and paw are extended in a similar extremely vulnerable position.
I may have written about this before as it freaks me out when he does it. I suspect he slept like this in the womb, shifting and tucking his little legs to make room for his kitten siblings.
Nevertheless, he’s such a weird cat. And that’s the thing I find most pleasing to write about tonight.
I Dare You to Try Putting Me Out – Photo: L. Weikel
Changed Our Tune
Oh, how we changed our tune. The photo above is of a cat that is saying, “If you try to put me out, I will become feral in a way that you’ve never seen before. You will regret your decision and require stitches for the gaping wounds I intend to inflict upon you. You will rue your decision; of that, I am certain.” Don’t be fooled by that coy expression on his face. Trust me when I tell you, the flicking of the tail is deadly serious.
And it’s true. For the last four or five days, I’ve had to struggle to ‘put the cat out’ before I came to bed, and most of those nights I’ve failed spectacularly. Meaning I’ve given up and gone to bed, resigned to the fact that the beast will wake Karl up and demand to be let out when it’s more to his liking.
As I’ve written before, Cletus fancies himself a badass, Philly-style, and yet nothing could be further from the truth. He excels at getting his own way. And it’s not just with us. He wields his massive, long-haired tail like a scepter – or something more dangerous.
This Happens Occasionally
This refusal to take his normal dark-hour pilgrimage is initially perplexing. But it’s happened before, so it’ll likely happen again. After all, we have a lot of wild creatures living in our midst. And it only stands to reason that sometimes things can get a little scary for our handsome boy.
And yes, I do believe it’s his handsomeness that is making his nightly forays less desirable. He’s attracted a suitor and it’s not to his liking.
Karl and I both noticed his weird behavior as he approaches our kitchen door lately. Clearly, it’s that time of night and his wanderlust has once again risen unbidden. He wants to go out. He needs to go out. He begs, he yowls, he follows us around and asks to go out. He pulls the massive wooden door to our kitchen open with his paw, creaking as it swings open.
But when we walk toward the door? He backs away. He hisses at us. He acts as if it’s our idea that he go out and play with others. If I manage to corral him safely enough toward the kitchen door that I feel I can nudge him into outside, he furtively looks both ways as he almost holds his breath and plunges out the door. It’s the weirdest thing. He almost looks like a cop bursting into an abandoned building, his handgun cocked and ready for anything.
It’s quite obvious he’s been spooked and is afraid he’ll get ambushed yet again.
Could Be Anything – But I Think It’s Love
As I’ve mentioned, even just sitting here on the couch, I’ve heard foxes yipping and owls calling in to each other in the trees. Coyotes live in the vicinity as well – and there have even been a few bear sightings recently. Opossums routinely munch on the sunflower seeds.
But it was last night that I discovered a clue. I’ve made it a habit to turn on both the porch light and the garage’s floodlight before I let the cat out. Just in case, I want to scare anything away.
Last night Mr. (or very well may be Mrs.) Gorgeous was back on the premises. I saw it hanging around the garage.
Aha. It’s Pepé Le Pew! Cletus has a suitor! And a pungent one, at that.
Spooning, cuddling, call it what you will. I venture a guess there are only a few people out there who don’t find immense comfort in the ritual of holding or being held. Or, as in our case, switching off in the middle of the night by mumbling a barely recognizable, “Hold or be held?” and then adjusting ourselves according to the wishes of the one being asked.
At least we take turns giving each other priority preference.
But the pleasures of spooning do not end with homo sapiens in our house. No sir. As can be seen from my photo, above, even two of our three cats were recently caught spooning with each other.
Cletus and Tigger
A few weeks ago I managed to take this photo of Cletus and Spartacus sleeping sort of adjacent to each other (more sharing a pillow than cuddling – with Tigger hanging out on the periphery). Precious, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She tends to sleep by her self, often choosing to perch on the back of a couch and snoring so loudly you’d swear it was another human.
Cletus, Spartacus, Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel
While the animals definitely have affection for each other that genuinely seems to be more than mere tolerance, it is nevertheless rare to have two male cats (albeit neutered) who are completely unrelated to each other actually cuddle up.
But then you give the whole scenario some perspective and you realize just how potentially stereotype-shattering this whole ‘spooning’ exercise really is in our household.
Perspective
Ah yes, there it is again: perspective. It really is fascinating just how much of a role our perspective plays on everything we perceive. Our perspective – or the overall context in which we perceive creatures or anything, shapes and colors our entire experience.
It was with this truth in mind that I pulled back from my closeup of Cletus and Tigger spooning in order to give a wider view of the potential sleeping arrangements available to our pets.
Many rooms at the Inn – Photo: L. Weikel
Clearly, there was a deliberate choice to share a deluxe pillow together, as there were a plethora of beds available for them to sleep independently.
I’m left to wonder, in all honestly, just how much comfort and reassurance our cats require in these strange times. How similar are they to us when it comes right down to it?
No matter how you look at it, it’s pretty adorable.
