Feline Funnies

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): Gracie and Ben Meet Isaac

 

 

                       

                       Don't fear Gracie!  I, Benjamin Bunny, will protect

                      you from Hurricane Isaac while you rest in the

                                              White Tower.

 

 

                       

                         It might help if you could scoot over a bit though.

 

 

Until next time, remember...

 

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.  Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.  Walk beside me and be my friend.

- Albert Camus

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Power of a Nickname

 

 

                     

                                            Benjamin "Bunny" Benoit 

 

 

I have always found the connection between someone’s nickname and actual personality interesting.  Maybe, it is because once you know the nickname you begin looking for clues as to its origin.  I had a friend in high school whose nickname was “Toes”.  I thought that was odd until I saw her feet.  She had the longest toes I had ever seen.  Thus, her brothers created a nickname to match this interesting physical feature, and it stuck.

 

Benjamin’s nickname is “Bunny”.  I began calling him “Bunny” after coming across an old copy of The Tales of Benjamin Bunny by Beatrix Potter.  It just seemed to fit him especially since he seems to hop instead of run when he picks up speed.  It never occurred to me that giving him a nickname could possibly influence his personality as a human’s nickname often does.  As usual, I was wrong.

 

My kitchen must have been designed with watchful cats in mind.  The main counter space also serves as the border between the kitchen and the family room.  It is shaped like an angled letter L and is backed by a taller counter that serves as a deli-style eating surface.   This creates a great viewing space for my cats since they can observe my cooking catastrophes from slightly above the danger zone.  

  

Several nights ago, I decided to “attempt” to make Mediterranean Chicken Breast and Wild Rice.  It seemed simple enough, and the prep time was only supposed to be 20 minutes.  Confident that success was eminent, I launched into action.

 

If you ever watch me cook, you will see my years of teaching science shine through.  I line every ingredient up in the order of use on the counter, measure the amounts needed, and place them in little glass bowls in front of the original bottles, etc…  As soon as Benjamin Bunny hears the clink of glass hitting the kitchen counter, he always “hops” into the kitchen and assumes his post on the tall counter overlooking my cookbook stand. 

  

                  

  

Except for the occasional dropping of a hairband into a bowl full of  casserole ingredients, Bunny has rarely left his post.  He just seems to enjoy watching me make a mess and occasionally panic when things start boiling over or smoking.  I should have learned by now that there is always an exception to the rule.  (Note:  No matter how long you cook them; hairbands are NOT a great addition to any recipe.) 

 

This particular dish called for the addition of several different vegetables:  carrots, celery, corn, and red potatoes.  Out came my handy dandy cutting board with veggie chopping mat, bowls to put  sliced or diced vegetables in, and the vegetables themselves.   At this point, everything was moving along normally…except Bunny did seem a little intrigued with the bags containing the carrots and celery.

 

Now as some of you know from previous posts, Bunny’s attraction to bags and boxes is nothing new.  So, I didn’t really give his interest in the vegetable bags much thought.  With all vegetable ingredients in place ready to be chopped, I turned away from the counter and prepared to walk the few steps across the kitchen to retrieve my chef’s knife.

 

Before I could even take one step, Benjamin jumped down from his observation post, tippy toed over to the plastic bag containing the celery, and began trying to pull the celery out of the bag.  Dumbstruck, I stood staring blankly for the first few seconds.   Then, I picked him up and plopped him on the kitchen floor.  
Within minutes, Bunny leaped from the floor to the counter where the bags of vegetables sat.  This time he attacked the bag of carrots –  licking the end of a carrot that was sticking out of the bag. 

 

                          

 

It took several rounds of this scenario - with Bunny alternating between celery and carrots - before I was able to distract him long enough to cut up the vegetables.  I think I just finally wore him down.  Leaping from floor to counter top over and over again without achieving your goal would drain the strength from even the most physically fit feline.

 

It was while I was mixing the chopped vegetables in with the chicken that the connection between Benjamin’s nickname and his behavior in the kitchen came to me.  We have been calling him Bunny since he was just a few weeks old.  Bunnies and vegetables go together like peanut butter and jelly.  Could it be possible that Benjamin’s behavior has been influenced by this reference to a rabbit?  And if so, have I damaged my cat’s mental wellbeing?  All of these thoughts came rushing at me in rapid succession.

 

But then, I looked down at my beloved Bunny playing with his favorite toy – a life size catnip carrot.  Maybe I had it all wrong.    Maybe he would have been attracted to vegetables no matter what nickname I gave him.  Maybe I just happened to pick the right one.   Definitely food for thought!

 

Until next time, remember…

 

Reality is the other person’s idea of how things should be.

- John M. Shanahan

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): What's For Lunch?

 

 

                        

                         I think I'm going to brown-bag it this week, mom!

                     Do you think you can fit my lunch in one bag?

                                  I have a spare if you need it.

 

Until next time, remember...

 

Never eat anything that has to be explained.

- Snoopy (Charles Schulz)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): You Are Bugging Me!

 

 

 

                       

                                             Ewwww!  What is this?

 

 

 

                                

                                              Yuck!  Shoo!  Go Away!

 

 

 

                       

                      This does not make me a happy camper.

                 Someone needs to call an exterminator - NOW!

 

 

 

 

Until next time, remember...

 

 Reality continues to ruin my life.

- Calvin and Hobbes (Bill Watterson)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Only 1% Chance" Curse

 

When someone tells me that there is only a 1% chance any problems will occur, every muscle in my body tenses up.  I don’t know when it happened or who imposed it on me – but I have the “only 1% chance” curse.  I always seem to experience the side effect 99% of people don't when using a medication or buying a product.

 

It’s bad enough that this curse impacts the strictly human aspects of my life.  It never occurred to me that it would affect the feline related areas also.  But after my latest experience with Gracie, I fear that it is true.

 

Gracie has always enjoyed gnawing on anything rubber, such as rubber cords and doorstops.  This eccentric behavior necessitated the removal of every doorstop in the house.  Thus, we have several walls with round dents in them. 

 

She also likes gnawing on metal items, such as cabinet door handles and faucets.  This particular eccentricity, which few cats possess – probably only 1% -  has resulted in the nightly routine of placing heavy towels on every exposed faucet.  As inconvenient as this may sound, it has provided a temporary solution to the problem.

 

I suppose most of you are saying try Bitter Apple and other such concoctions.  Most cats (probably 99%) are supposed to be repelled by them.  Well, I have.  Gracie doesn’t seem to mind the taste when applied to metal objects – thus the need for the nightly towel routine. 

 

But, they do seem to be working with rubber cords…so far.  Now instead of chewing on rubber cords, she bats them against furniture as hard as she can. But at least she isn’t chewing on them.

 

Between Bitter Apple for rubber cords and towels on metal objects, I thought our gnawing problem was solved for the moment.  Wrong!  I underestimated Gracie’s ingenuity once again.

 

Benjamin Bunny and Gracie occasionally play hide and seek under my bed while I am sleeping.  During a game the other night, Gracie discovered several industrial staples sticking out from the back of the headboard.  (Please note that my husband purchased this bed while I was temporarily living across the state.  Rest assured they would have been removed if I had known.)

 

As you would expect, she immediately began gnawing on them creating a sawing type noise.  Annoyed by the noise, I rolled out of bed – literally- and peeked between the headboard and the wall.   Gracie stared back at me with a look of satisfaction on her face.  I sank to the floor in frustration.  How on earth was I going to get what she was gnawing on?

 

I attacked the problem first thing the next morning.  My plan was to find a way to move the kingsize bed away from the wall.  Being a very petite person I knew there was very little chance of success.  But, it was worth a try.  No matter how hard I pushed and pulled, I couldn’t even get the mattress to budge.

 

I reexamined the location of the staples and decided that I might be able to reach them if I could wedge myself between the wall and headboard.  Pliers might enable me to yank them off.  An hour and several bruises later, I removed what I thought was the last staple.  For a few moments, I felt victorious in my battle with the bed. 

 

The sawing sound started again about 2 am the next morning.   Gracie had managed to find the one staple I missed.  There was no way to get at it without moving the mattress far away from the headboard.  And, I knew that wasn’t going to happen at 2am.  If my husband wasn’t going to get out of bed when I thought we were being burglarized, he definitely wasn’t going to move the mattress so I could pull a staple from the headboard.

 

Feeling a bit desperate, I went downstairs to the kitchen hoping Gracie would follow me.  I figured I could at least get her away from the staple.  That is when the solution came to me.

 

It was time to try out my new X-Mat.  I had ordered one from a pet products catalog several weeks before but hadn’t actually tried it out yet.  This was the perfect opportunity.  If I could place the X-Mat directly under the staple in the headboard, I should be able to prevent Gracie from getting to it. 

 

For those of you unfamiliar with an X-Mat, let me fill you in.  It is approximately 2 feet x 2 feet, made of plastic, and covered with over 850 “discomfort” bumps designed to help keep most cats (probably 99%) away from dangerous areas in a house.  It kind of resembles an upside down car mat. 

 

Once back in the bedroom, I slid the X-Mat under the bed and made sure it was directly beneath the staple.  It wasn’t long before a new noise began drifting up to my tired ears – crunching.  Unreal! 

 

Flashlight in hand, I peeked under the bed only to find Gracie calming attempting to bite the tops off of the “discomfort” bumps.  To make matters worse, she was actually laying on top of the X-Mat - like it was a cushion.  Acccck! Only my cat – also known as the 1% - would LIKE laying on the X-Mat.  I couldn’t believe it.

 

To top it off, she refused to get off theX-Mat when I tried removing it.  It was like playing tug-of-war.  The harder I tried to slide it from under the bed.  The farther she crawled on top of it.  I didn’t want her to hurt her teeth trying to nip off the top of the “discomfort” bumps, so it was imperative to win the battle.  Finally, I slid both the mat AND Gracie out at the same time.

 

I felt completely exhausted by the whole ordeal and collapsed on the floor.  Gracie, however, stood up and stretched before walking nonchalantly out of the room, tail sticking straight up.  It was over.  I had lost.

 

It took a lot of effort by everyone in the family, but we finally removed the staple from the headboard.  Gracie, of course, seems to have forgotten they were ever there and that anything out of the ordinary ever happened in the first place.    

 

Until next time, remember…

 

The mathematical probability of a common cat doing exactly as it pleases is the one scientific absolute in the world.

- Lynn M. Osband

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): Eager Coworker

 

 

 Happy Wordless Wednesday!

 

                        

                                              Happy Monday Morning, Mom!

                           I, Benjamin Bunny, am ready for work.

                                  What are we writing today? 

                                      Do I get a pencil too?

 

Until next time, remember...

 

Cats are dangerous companions for writers because cat watching is a near-perfect method of writing avoidance.

- Dan Greenburg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog Hoppers: Welcome to Feline Funnies

 

I'm E. H. Benoit, a forty-something (emphasis is on the something part) mother of two exceptional daughters.  I met my husband on a blind date over 25 years ago, and we have managed to stay together ever since despite my eccentricities.

 

Almost three years ago, I made a decision that has impacted my life in more ways than I could have imagined.  It has brought laughter, tears, stress, scratches, and joy.

 

It was the week before a new school year began which meant meeting new students and their parents.  I enjoy greeting the students, but meeting with all the well-meaning parents at once can be somewhat overwhelming.  My eldest daughter, Leigh, was getting ready to return to college and begin her senior year there.  And, last but not least,  my husband had recently taken the job of a lifetime clear across the state.  I reluctantly opted to remain behind so my 17 year old daughter, Rae, could finish her last two years of high school.

 

To help quell my fears for the impending days ahead, I decided to go take a peek in Talbots unaware that some incredibly sneaky mall designer had recently placed an SPCA mini-store right next door.  Leigh had volunteered at the main SPCA location in town all summer.  So of course, she wanted to go to the SPCA mini-store while I shopped in Talbots.  Rae just wanted to put as much space between her friends and me as possible.  So, she meandered several stores down to Claires.

 

After looking around Talbots unsuccessfully, I made my way over to the SPCA store.  That is when the word "GULLIBLE" must have appeared on my forehead.

 

The time between entering and leaving the SPCA store is still mostly a blur.  I vaguely remember agreeing to hold a small grey furball with a pur that sounded a little like a motorboat in overdrive.  She snuggled up against my neck, and my heart melted.

 

In the back of my mind a voice suggested that I should consult my husband about adopting a cat.  Its a good thing I never listen to that voice.  Besides, why start something new this far along in the marriage.  So, on an emotional whim I adopted my first cat, Gracie. (Originally her name was spelled Gray'C, but I changed it after someone thought it was pronounced GRAACK).

 

 

                        
                                                             Gracie Benoit

 

 

At the time of adoption, I became a major monetary contributor to my local SPCA.  Caught up in the excitement of the moment, I felt the need to purchase anything and everything related to cats in the store - except an owner's manual.  The one item I needed above all else as you will discover in future posts.

 

After my younger daughter recovered from the shock of my latest whirlwind decision, she helped her sister carry the contents of the SPCA store to my van.  I, of course, carried Gracie, a deceivingly calm kitty.  For a few shining moments, I was a "cool" mom.

 

What about my husband you ask.  Needless to say, he was a bit surprised.  But in my defense, I actually informed him of our new family member over the phone.  I found out that he had purchased a new house for us across the state in a text message.  But, that is a tale for another day.

 

My second cat, Benjamin or Bunny (The origin of the second name will be revealed in future posts.) was adopted a year later in a similar fashion.  The sneaky mall designer person allowed the mini-SPCA store to move closer to the movie theater at the other end of the mall.  During a rare weekend home, my husband and I unwittingly walked past it on the way to the movies.  Like a giant magnet, it pulled me closer until my resistance crumbled, and I was dragged inside with my husband in tow.

 

Just inside the door was the most adorable kitten. He looked like he was wearing a tuxedo.  His big ears and wide eyes captivated me.  I knew that he was the missing member of the family.  That was when my husband made his fatal mistake.  He encouraged me to hold Ben.  The rest is history.  We became a two cat family. 

                                        

 

                   
                                           Benjamin "Bunny" Benoit

                             

 

And once again, I made a significant monetary contribution to the SPCA.  I relieved them of numerous cat related items.  If I had only known then that Ben's favorite toys would be a brown paper grocery bag and a small mylar ball.

 

The posts that follow will detail the many humorous adventures (funny now - not necessarily at the time they occurred) that I have had with Gracie and Ben.  It is my hope that reading about them entertains you as much as it entertains me to tell them.

  

Until next time, remember...

 

Happy is the home with at least one cat.

- Italian Proverb

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): Spelunking

 

                       

                        Oh my...what is this?    It looks like a cave of some sort.

                 I, Brave Bunny, love caves. I must investigate it at once.

 

 

                       
                     Without fear I, Brave Bunny, now enter the wrinkly cave!

 

 

                       
                                     Opps!  I hope this hole was already here.

 

 

                       
                                   At last, I see light at the end of the tunnel!

 

 

                       
                       I, Brave Bunny, have reached the end of the curly cave,

                           ...and it looks somewhat familiar.  How odd!?

 

 

Until next time, remember...

 

Imagination is more important than knowledge.

- Albert Einstein

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Big Bad Bunny To The Rescue

 

Both of my feline friends have access to all but two rooms in my house – the bathroom my daughters use when they are home and my walk-in closet.  I don’t let them in the bathroom because my daughters tend to spread out their numerous grooming products and have a different version of cleaning than I do.  Apparently, a good flush of the toilet is equivalent to cleaning the toilet in some cases.

 

My walk-in closet is where my clothes live prior to being exposed to cat hair and claw holes.  It is where I store undergarments that I do not wish dragged through the house as kites or mangled during predatory practice tug-of-war games.  It is my one private space in the house.  At least it was until recently.  

 

Like many cats I know, Gracie and Benjamin Bunny consider nighttime to be the best time to race through the house like they are on fire, act out their own version of  Ultimate Fighter, and engage in any other type of behavior that would be discouraged if I was awake.  Since my walk in closet has a sliding door, I have never really worried that either cat would be able to get in when I was not around. 

 

Granted I described Bunny’s ability to open cabinet doors with “I” style handles in a previous post, but this was completely different.  There are not any handles on the sliding door.  I even have trouble opening it when in a hurry.  So, it must be safe from intrusive cats.  As usual, I was sooooo very wrong!

 

Several nights ago, I awoke to an unusually LOUD banging sound.    Not fully awake, I had difficulty discerning how far away it was. Concerned that someone was trying to break into the house, I attempted to wake my husband.  Note the word "attempted".  He leaned up on his elbows and appeared to listen for noise.  Once satisfied I was mistaken, he fell – literally- back onto his pillow sound asleep.

 

I, on the other hand, was still concerned for the safety of my household.  It was time to search for the source of that noise.   I checked every room in the house, but no luck.  Everything was just as it had been when I went to bed – except for my closet door.  It appeared to be slightly ajar. 

 

Still feeling the after effects of interrupted sleep, I assumed that my husband had forgotten to close it before coming to bed.  He had gone downstairs to get his phones after brushing his teeth.  So, maybe he had gone into the closet too.   Satisfied with this explanation, I slid the door back into place.

 

Before I could even put my head on the pillow, the banging began again.  This time it sounded close by.  So close in fact that I jumped out of bed without thinking and raced towards the bedroom door nearly colliding with Bunny.  It took a few minutes for me to remember that Bunny hates loud noises.  He bolts to my bedroom and hides under the bed whenever he hears one.  What was he doing just sitting outside my closet door with this racket going on around him?

 

I took a few steps out of the bedroom and hid just outside the door.   My curiosity superseded my need to catch an intruder.  I just knew Bunny was up to something. 

 

The moment I was out of sight, Bunny began launching himself against the closet door.  The sliding door moved away from the frame just far enough for him to wedge his front paw in the newly created space.   He continued to pull on the door with his little paw until he was able to fit his face in between the door and the doorframe.  At that point, he forced his body through the space and into the closet. I now understand how the term “cat burglar” must have originated. 

 

Annoyed that my safe haven had been violated, I stormed into the closet - only to be shocked once more.  Bunny had not been intent on disturbing the sanctity of my closet.  He was trying to rescue Gracie.

 

The first round of banging I heard was caused by Bunny’s efforts to “break” into my closet and “enter” a forbidden domain.  He exited the closet upon hearing me stumble out of bed.  Gracie was so engrossed in her exploration of my closet that she failed to safely escape when she had the chance.  Instead, she was trapped when I innocently closed the sliding door on my way back to bed.  Bunny was left with no other choice but to break into the closet AGAIN to save his best friend.  How could I be upset after such a display of devotion? 

 

I think Bunny was more distressed about the situation than Gracie.   Once he was able to gain entry into the closet, Bunny raced over to Gracie and nuzzled her excitedly.  She allowed this display of affection to continue for a few moments.  Then whipping her tail up behind her, Gracie strolled out the closet door as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.  It must be nice to live in her mental world sometimes.

 

Needless to say, I have given up any notions that my personal belongings are safe from “cat burglars”.   It is a burden I am willing to endure if it means having feline friends in my life.

 

Until next time, remember…

 

Intelligence in the cat is underrated.

- Louis Wain

Feline Funnies Photo Post (FFPP): Undercover Surprise

 

 

 

                        

                                                        Good Morning Mommy!! 

                               We've come to wake you up for OUR breakfast. 

 

 

Until next time, remember...

 

Cats know how to obtain food without labor, shelter without confinement, and love without penalities.

- W. L. George