Domestic Cats are the World’s Most Extreme Hunters

Tis true. Saw it on Animal Planet, which has reentered Mandrina’s (and hence my) TV watching rotation. Has something to do with the fact that cats are fed by humans, so they don’t have to hunt purely for purposes of nutrition.

This morning, though, I had to stop a kitten’s hunting instincts.

Mandrina’s 8-year-old cat is rather… well, slow and plodding would be mean, so we’ll stay with Mandrina’s comment of a “pillow you have to feed.” Meanwhile my 10-month-old Glitch is (affectionately) referred to as “Hellion” or “GLITCH! NO!” depending on whether he’s doing something cute-bad or bad-bad. Glitch likes to play. Likes to play a lot. On his terms, of course. He’ll chase balls, bat at anything dangling (and I do mean anything!), knock paper-towel tubes across the floor… he’s a wee bit energetic at times. Of course, he wants to play with Mandrina’s Bella. Which at times is cute… but mostly, not so much.

So this morning he corners her and starts to pounce on her. She’s declawed, he’s not. Not exactly a fair fight. So I push him away, he gets confused and runs off. Two minutes later he’s back up the stairs, looking for trouble. I grab Glitch, pin all his legs while holding him tight, and bring him over to make nice with Bella. They sniff each other, and they both seem okay. So I put him down, and he walks over on his own and rubs up against her. She wanders down the hall, because, well… she’s a cat, she does whatever she wants. Glitch crouches down, and decides he’s had enough being nice, and is going to pounce (I can attest for two reasons. The more obvious one follows immediately, but the less obvious reason is that Glitch always wags his rear before pouncing). Glitch leaps!

And I grab him in midair. He didn’t like that one bit.

I opened the bedroom door and let Bella into safety, and left Glitch out with me doing fun things like playing, “I know I have some clean underwear here somewhere…”

But poor Glitch. His hunting skills must be getting stale. A mere human catching him mid-pounce? Just shameful.

Signs of Adulthood…

It clicked last night how lame adulthood is. Admittedly, I am not a huge fan of some of the “pre-adulthood/post-adolescent” behaviors — parties focused on drinking come to mind — but being an adult really is rather… well, pathetic.

My list (and expect this to be randomly updated):

• Planning in August for what you’re going to be doing in November. (Okay, so this is my own fault, but I’m going to finish my NaNo this time.)
• Checking your email repeatedly — to see if you’ve gotten something from your mortgage broker.
• Going clothes shopping — for a wedding. (Not mine, never fear… not yet, anyway.)
• Hearing about your car being used for potential vehicular homcide (it was a theoretical conversation), and thinking, “I don’t think that’s covered by insurance…”
• Having a friend talk about being unsure what to do when their son comes to visit for part of the summer, as per the divorce settlement.
• Listening to friends talk about the gas mileage they got over the weekend — and then building an entire conversation around it
• Being jealous of the friend’s gas mileage, even if you love your Audi.
• Considering it a matter of normalcy to be receiving more snail mail bills and spam than actual mail and email put together.
• Deciding that your work day has had enough stress before you get there, so sure you can write a post to your blog…