Of Cats and Stains and Biscuits and Jam

 I was talking today with a friend about talking to myself and to various animals at times when I've had animals in the house, and found I'm far from alone in that.  I do have conversations with myself frequently, partly because it helps me think, partly because if you don't use your vocal chords, and people alone have little opportunity when they are not telephoners, it's not good for your voice.  This is the kind of thing you don't think about unless you've lived alone for years, which some of us have.  Happily, for the most part -- this is not a complaint-- but there are adaptations to make.

And I used to have conversations with my own cats, and in earlier times, when I had a home petcare service, with client animals of all kinds, cats being the most conversational. 

Over the 12 years of the service, I knew literally hundreds of animals, many cats, since my typical clients had multiple animal households, far too complicated to board them when the humans had to be out of town, and certainly for corporate travelers, away two and three times a month, impractical.  Also many of them were single women who loved to come home to happy animals already there and fed and generally pleased to see them.

I developed a certain amount of knowledge of different cat temperaments, too.  As you know, chromosomes not only affect fur colors, but temperament that goes with it.  I literally never knew a ginger tom, they're mostly male, who was not a good guy, very laidback, very forgiving, just a nice feller even if you had to stick needles into them, and a number of my clients needed twice daily injections, the sort that the owner could do. 

And there were tuxedos, black and white cats, who were up to all sorts of shenanigans.  I never knew a tuxedo that wasn't planning some sort of caper at all times.  One turned on the electric can opener as I came in on my first visit.  He heard me come in, thought, oh the food lady, let's get this show moving, folks.  The owners had left it plugged in, and he knew I would head for food cans for him and his brother.  I made a practice of going round the house on my first visit unplugging items that the rush of departure had left plugged in.  Hairdryers, irons, can openers, a lot of things that are better unplugged anyway.

This tuxedo's brother used to leap into the fridge at the first opportunity when I'd opened the door and was distracted by another cat for a moment.  I learned always to count cats before I left and to re-open fridges, anything I'd opened and closed, to make sure nobody was trying to do themselves in.   They thought it was a great game. One used to get into the sleeve of my coat, which I'd put down when I came in, in the hope of an adventure traveling with me. So disappointed every time I tipped her out.

Then there were tortoiseshells, almost always female, who were a law unto themselves. Charming, actors, high strung, always at fever pitch of emotion, but didn't get mean, just very self centered and needy. And elegant and beautiful.

And calicos, also female, the only ones who ever seriously bit me.  One used to do a pre- emptive bite, as I came into the house, knowing the first task was to insert a pill into her.  Then she'd flee at top speed and hide while I got out the food and water and dreaded pill.

We did get to be friends, more or less. 

Then there were the ancient cats, who had their owners totally under their paws.  One, Wellington, aged 22, used to love drinking from a dripping tap.  So I'd put her in the sink first thing, start the tap, then get her food and water organized.  Her owner had explained she couldn't jump that high any more, and always had to be lifted. No problem.  

Then one day I was a bit slow getting to the sink, and she leapt in gracefully and patted the faucet  asking me to get a move on and turn it on..I told her owner that, and she fell down laughing, explained they'd been picking her up for years, thinking she couldn't manage.  I did pick her up, though, because she loved it.  I pretended I didn't know it was all an act.

One of the reasons I got on well with cats was that I have quite a soft voice, fairly high, and I would start talking as soon as I opened the door.  Animals like that, and respond fast, because they want the company and conversation.  Birds are particularly happy with women's voices, I found.  

And on my first visit with a new client it became a regular thing to have the owner explain I would never see their cat at all, too shy, so here's a picture just in case you're interested. At which point, said shy cat was already climbing up me and one made it to the top of my head and started grooming my hair to straighten it, cats not approving of curly hair.  At which point the owner would say, well, I think this is going to work just fine!

My own cats had a lot of debates with me, and each other. So now that I am catless, I have to fill in their parts, too. Except for my weekly visit from Handsome Son.

He visited today and got me all mixed up as to the day, since he usually comes on Sunday. I had baked a batch of hot biscuits with walnuts and golden raisins.  These went over well, split, buttered, and with cranberry jam, which he was surprised to find he liked. 

After he left I found ample evidence of cranberry jam on the linen napkin I'd used as a cloth, and got to use Boud's Handy Dandy Stain Removal Method for Red Fruit, or Wine, Stains, on natural fabrics.

This consists of a large bowl or pot, a big rubber band, and you set the cloth drumtight on the bowl using the rubber band, in the sink, then pour, top speed, boiling water over the stains.  Which not only gets them out, but is fun to do.  Then you use the boiling water for something else. In my case the dishes waiting to wash after the tea ceremony. No charge for this invaluable Pro Tip.