Today is International Cat Day

Clawdia at her window, and Kiki kissing me.  They are my most recent cats, so I have photos of them online (and on the sidebar to the right).  I'm also celebrating Duchess, the gray cat I rescued from a mud puddle when she was a kitten and I was only nine years old.  And then there's Jack, the gray and white cat who lived on the mountain with us.  I don't have a photo of him to share.  Sorry.  If you have (or ever had) a cat, please share a name or something about your cat in the comments.

Weekly Mews for Caturday

I love this photo!  I found it HERE, and decided Caturday (the day after Friday) needs a refreshing photo of a kitty cat like this.  So this is my Caturday post with the Weekly Mews.  Hmm, do I have any catty news?  It's hard to do this without the help of either Kiki Cat or Clawdia Cat telling me what to write.  See pictures of my BFFs (Best Furry Friends) on the right sidebar.

Today's news ~ or mews ~ is that I'll talk to my friends with cats and dogs and see what's going on in their lives.  And maybe by next week I will actually have something to say from a cat's eye view of the world.  Meow for now, and . . .

Kiki was my cat before Clawdia

Kiki was a reader (aren't photos proof of that?) and reviewed books on some Caturdays.  (The book above was Dewey: The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron.)  Her hobby was bird watching out our bedroom window.  She also had her own way of ending her Caturday posts:  "Kiki Cat, signing off."  Kiki died in 2012.

Idea for a children's book

My cat Kiki died in 2012.  In my recent move, I ran across an idea I had for a children's book (starring Kiki) that I emailed to my artist friend Jane Yelliott.  I needed an illustrator, but it was not to be.

Here's my proposed title for the idea I had:  Kiki and the Rain Room.  First, cats hate water (I think we all know that), and rain is water.  What would seem like a "rain room" to a cat?  That place where humans make water come down from above.  We humans call that place a "shower" — and we also call a light rain from above a "shower," don't we?  (Oooh, I love playing with words!)

I lost my potential illustrator.  (Do you know a good one?)  Click HERE to see Jane's blog, which is still there though she died over a decade ago.  I still have it on the right sidebar of this blog, and it now shows "11 years ago" since her last post on ramblings of an artist ~ Jane.

A novel idea, continued

What happened to our novel idea from last Sunday?  Four people commented:

Mark said:  "The biggest question I have is what genre is our character in.  That's going to determine who they are and what drives me.  I usually read mysteries, so the biggest driver there is wanting to make sure that justice is done.  Quite often that includes clearing a personal friend who is a suspect.

Deb said:  "I'd recommend choosing a character who is like you, but is a better or worse version of you.  Or I'd choose a character who is based on someone you have met in your life who you found intriguing."

Shelleyrae said:  "Hmm…revenge is always a good motivator, or perhaps atonement."

Helen said:  "The main character should have a cat who is almost a character in itself.  Perhaps the main character is animal-driven (think crime or murder at the local ASPCA)."

So Mark and Shelleyrae and Helen seem to lean toward making this a mystery or thriller, but after reading several of the cozy mysteries on my friend Donna's Kindle, that doesn't interest me.  If the main character is like me (as Deb suggested), she isn't into murder and mayhem.  My "problems" are more mundane, like how to get through this week.  Or even how to get through today!

  

I notice that Helen says that "the main character should have a cat."  She's been reading my blog so long that she probably remembers Kiki (on the right), the cat I had before my little black cat, Clawdia.  Excellent idea, Helen!

If every end is a new beginning, let's incorporate that into our novel.  What has ended, and what is beginning for our protagonist?  As you make suggestions, remember that what I want to compose is a literary novel — not a cozy mystery or thriller or romance novel.  So what is literary fiction?  It does not fit neatly into an established genre, but is character-driven rather than plot-driven.  It examines the human condition, someone said.  Let's do that.

So here's what I think so far.  The characters are BJ (that would be me, though "I" need a name in my novel) and her best friend DC (Donna also needs another name).  Let's call them Betsy and Diane.  Betsy has a cat; what shall we call her?  The cat, I mean.

Now let's decide this:  What are Betsy's goals, and what would she risk losing if she is unable to meet those goals?

The Cruelest Month ~ by Aaron Stander, 2012, thriller, 262 pages

This book I'm reading now has a dog in it named Roxy, but no cats that I know of.  I'm having a hard time getting into this book and have to keep starting over, because I forget what I read yesterday.  I may abandon it.  Maybe it's more fun to write a novel than to read one.  Yay!

By the way, that photo at the top shows A Novel Idea, a bookstore in North Chattanooga that sold used books.  I worked at A Novel Idea for a short time before Donna and I opened Book Buddies, a bookstore several miles north of there in Red Bank, Tennessee.

Sunday Salon is hosted by Deb at Readerbuzz.

Caturday collaboration

This black cat reading looks to me like Clawdia with a book, yet I first posted the picture back in 2010, before I met Clawdia.  Okay, I know it's a drawing, not a photo, but bear with me here.  .......  Whoops!  Wait!  Back up!

Umm, I meant to say my former furry friend Kiki posted the drawing above on a Caturday in 2010.  Before she died in 2012, Kiki wrote about the books she read, books she found on my lower bookcase shelves because that was as high as she could reach.  Of course, she could read!  She was a smart cat, and she always ended her posts this way:  "Kiki, signing off."

Clawdia, on the other hand, is more scientific.  Her interests lean toward why the white and red spots she chases (and sometimes catches) cannot be felt beneath her paws.  Why?  Why?

I have just learned that June is National Pet Microchipping Month.  Let's celebrate our pets and keep them safe by microchipping them.

Cattitude

Kiki was a book reviewer.  In this photo, she was reading My Cat, the Silliest Cat in the World by Gilles Bachelet.  She reviewed the book in 2011, saying, "This is my favorite book ever! I give it a 10 out of 10."  Click on the title to read her review.  I first discovered this drawing and saved it in a draft, back when Kiki owned me.

Looking back over hundreds of drafts that never got posted, I found this one that was labeled "Caturday" and "Kiki," the cat who wrote her own book reviews way back when.  It's been years, but now you can enjoy these ten cats in all their cattitude ― along with a couple of mice who seem to be wondering why they're in this picture.  In case you can't read all the words scattered among the cats:

• You're the cat's meow.
• It's all about the cattitude.
• 1 2 3 ... I (heart) U ... C A T.
• Dogs have masters.  Cats have staff.
• Meow.  Cheers!
• Hope your special day is purrfect!
• Here kitty kitty....

Now I belong to Clawdia, and Caturdays are Clawdia's domain.  She's into adventures and "scientific" ponderings rather than book reviews.  This photo shows her a couple of years ago studying those strange reflections on the wall, wondering about their origin, marveling at the properties of light.  I'm sure she was having a purr-fect day!

Writing prompt ~ happy?

I happened upon this writing prompt while looking for something else, and it appeals to me.  Let's try it.  I'll write in this post about what makes me happy today.  You can either write in the comments or write on your blog and come back to link it in the comments so we can come read it.  What do you think?  Would you be willing to try it with me?

What makes me happy today?

Clawdia 5-26-17

― Here's where I'll post my happiness list.
― Maybe I'll keep adding to it all day, as new things occur to me.
― Having three children, seven grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren makes me happy.
― Clawdia makes me happy ... most of the time ... well, except when she doesn't.
― Living at the Crown Center for Senior Living makes me happy.
― Seeing people helping others makes me happy, and a lot of that sort of thing happens here at the Crown Center.

― Flowers around the Crown Center make me happy.  Thank you, Schnucks and residents who helped make the flowers into bouquets for the lobby, the Circle@Crown Café, the dining room, the offices, the hallways, the link desk.
― Fried okra makes me happy; it's my favorite food, but only if it's fried in corn meal (not flour) the way my mother used to make it.
― Blogging makes me happy.  I blog about books because I read, so I should add.......

Kiki 10-9-10

― Reading makes me happy.  I'm the kind of person who would, of course, have cats who read, too.
― Kiki made me happy.  She's the cat who lived with me until she died in 2012.  Read what Kiki wrote about my happiness.
―
―     Evening update:
―     Nobody at all commented,
―     even though I did share
―     this link on Facebook.
―

Caturday ~ introducing myself

This is currently my favorite spot.  Signed, Clawdia   >^. .^<

I've lived with Bonnie three whole weeks now, and she's only just now told me the last cat who lived with her (Kiki) used to blog here.  I didn't realize Bonnie would allow me to use her laptop to do my own thing.  Wow!  And just today, one of Bonnie's friends asked if she had taught me to read yet.  Please!  I'm six years old and have been reading for years.

Bonnie thinks she has re-named me Clawdia.  Really, though, you humans cannot articulate the correct pronunciation of my name in my own cat language because your vocal cords are not made right.  So she can call me Clawdia if she prefers, and I'll call her what I've always called all the humans in my world:  "FeedMe, FeedMe, FeedMe."  Sometimes she's a little slower about feeding me than I would like, but she'll do okay.  I just have to keep reminding her, all day long, starting usually around 5:00 in the morning.  I have to walk on Bonnie's pillow and meow a reminder that she's slept quite long enough and should "FeedMe, FeedMe, FeedMe."

My signature will be:   >^. .^<
It's a cat.  Can you tell?
It's a cat peeking over something.
Okay, the whiskers are a bit high, but it's a cat.

Library Loot ~ cats and physics

Windows With Birds ~ by Karen Ritz, 2010, children's, 10/10

A cat discovers a new world.  The cat loves its home, a house with places to climb, places to hide, windows to watch, and a mouse to chase.  There’s a boy who fills his water dish and scratches him in just the right spots.  Best of all, the windows have birds.  One day the boy takes the cat to a strange, new home, high above the ground.  The cat hides, and cries, hoping the boy will bring it back to the old house.  In time, however, the cat discovers that this new world has wonders of its own.

That's from the author/illustrator's web site.  The summary on the book's copyright page is more succinct:  "A cat adjusts to its new home in an apartment, high above the ground, after living in a house."  I walked into the library, turned left to pick up the book on hold for me, and brought to a stop by this book on display.  First, the artwork, which I love.  Second, the cat on the cover.  My Kiki cat, who died in June 2012, loved to watch birds outside our windows, especially one baby bird on the windowsill.  The intriguing "coincidence" is that I'm agonizing over wanting to adopt a 13-year-old cat named Sienna who paws at the glass wall for attention when anyone comes near.  She misses her owner, who died, and obviously misses having a home and someone to love.  I live in an apartment six floors up, just above the treetops.  I would love her.

The Elegant Universe: Superstrings, Hidden Dimensions, and the Quest for the Ultimate Theory ~ by Brian Greene, 2003, physics

Brian Greene, one of the world's leading string theorists, peels away layers of mystery to reveal a universe that consists of eleven dimensions, where the fabric of space tears and repairs itself, and all matter ― from the smallest quarks to the most gargantuan supernovas ― is generated by the vibrations of microscopically tiny loops of energy.  The Elegant Universe makes some of the most sophisticated concepts ever contemplated accessible and thoroughly entertaining, bringing us closer than ever to understanding how the universe works.

Library Loot may no longer be a group thing, but I've decided to share what I found at the library occasionally anyway, even though I have nowhere to link up with other readers.

CORRECTION:  Linda @ Silly Little Mischief has set me straight (see the first comment below).  Library Loot is still going.  Claire @ The Captive Reader has this week's Library Loot.  Okay, I'm ba-a-a-ack!

TBT ~ one of Kiki's posts

I used to walk on Bonnie's desk, back when I first moved in with her.  Kinda like this cat on Hemingway's desk.  Bonnie doesn't have a nice clean desk like this, though.  She has papers on her desk.  I would cross the desk between the twin beds, occasionally taking time to nudge a pile of papers onto the floor.  That accomplished two things:

1.  It was fun to watch paper flutter to the ground.
2.  It always got Bonnie's attention, no matter how busy she was.
2-1/2.  It always got Bonnie's attention, even when she was asleep on one of those beds.

It did NOT always convince her to get up and feed me, so now I don't bother.  Besides, those papers are piled too high to walk on now.  If I tried, I'd slide off the desk and have to scramble to land on my feet.

I'd rather take a nap.

Kiki Cat, signing off

Footnote from Bonnie:  Some of you may remember that my cat used to help me blog and review books.  This is from Kiki's notes that I found under the green chair after she died.  It may have been among her earliest musings, since that "desk between the beds" thing happened back in 2001 shortly after my friend Carol thought I needed a cat and 13-month-old Kiki came home with me.

Sammy's obituary ~ on Caturday

Sammy began life as an abandoned kitten, not yet weaned.  One of Donna's co-workers found her on the parking lot where they worked, and Donna was the one willing to take her home and care for her.  Sammy was afraid of bare feet, making me think she must have been kicked by someone's bare feet before that someone tossed her out on a parking lot.  Donna had to feed her with an eye-dropper and eventually teach her how to eat food.

One highlight of her life was the bird in St. Louis who would come "talk" to Sammy through the screen in the open window.  Sammy made her own special sounds to the bird.  When she and Donna moved to Chattanooga, Sammy met Kiki, but the two were never close friends.  They did learn from each other, though.  Kiki learned to "drink" from a tall glass, after Sammy would sample Donna's water that way.  Before long, the cats had their own "red glass" to drink from (see the photo above).  And Sammy learned from Kiki.  Donna wrote, "She taught Sammy how to love to the best of Sammy's ability.  Sammy has lost much of her feral nature because of watching you and Kiki's so very special relationship."

On her birthday a few days before she died, I gave Sammy a new food dish.  At 19 years old, Sammy was in pain from arthritis in her spine and possibly her kidneys shutting down.  The mobile vet and her assistant came to the house on Thursday, May 28, 2014.  I was stroking Sammy when she died, telling her how much I loved her.

A few hours later, I lowered the blinds, which Donna and I had left permanently open at the bottom for Sammy and Kiki to be able to look out of their house-bound world.  They could see our patio, grass, flowers or rain or snow, people walking by on the sidewalk.  In other words, they could see the "beyond" outside those window panes.  This photo shows Sammy staring out toward where Kiki had gone, making me think she was looking for Kiki to return.  Sammy, too, is now on the other side of those windows.  And the blinds have been lowered.  Rest in peace, Sammy.

TBT ~ "When I Grow Up"

Kiki sitting among boxes from an earlier move

Sorting through old papers and boxes to move has only one redeeming value.  Occasionally I run across something that makes me smile.  Here's what my daughter wrote toward the end of third grade, using her very best penmanship.

When I Grow Up

When I grow up I want to be like my mother.  She doesn't go to work, but she does work.  She works for a man.  He teachs music.  My mother plays the piano very well.  My mother is a room mother this year.  She enjoys having partys for us.  I think I would like to be a room mother when I grow up.  Sandra L. Jacobs

April 29, 1969

That man I worked for, the man who taught music, was A. R. Casavant, well-known in the marching band world.  I played in concert band and marching band under his direction when I was in high school.  When she wrote this, the work I was doing for him was drawing pen-and-ink illustrations for his books on marching bands.  My drawings were used in at least two of his books published in the 1960s.

Here's the Chattanooga High School marching band in action.  I played the glockenspiel, but I can't tell which one is me in this routine we filmed late one afternoon in the fall of 1957 at the stadium of the University of Chattanooga (now the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga).

By the way, my daughter did grow up to be a room mother.  All through their elementary school years, she worked with her children's teachers and school staff.

Caturday ~ let's have a mid-May event

That's your assignment for today, if you choose to participate in this mid-May event on Bonnie's Books.  You didn't really expect it to be strenuous, did you?  Simply share a name or two or ten to answer the question, What have you named your kitty?  Any kitty, no matter how recently or how long ago.  What name did you choose?  For even more fun, tell us why you chose that name or tell us how you happened to get that particular cat.  I'll start.

She looked more bedraggled than this.

(1)  Duchess ~ When I was nine years old, a neighborhood boy and I were splashing in rainy puddles when a bedraggled kitten found us.   My mother said it looked like a drowned rat (well, mouse ... the kitten was very small), and Micky's mother wouldn't let him bring it into their house.   After due consideration, Mother decided to let me keep the kitten.  I named her Duchess, and she slipped right into our family like she had always belonged there and grew to be very regal indeed, a beautiful soft gray cat with white paws and a white spot below her chin that moved like a dog's tag when she walked.  Duchess had her first litter of kittens in my drawer on top of my socks and underwear; it must have been the softest place she could find at the time.   When I was in high school, we rode the regular city buses to school and home again in the afternoon, yet Duchess was always at the bus stop to meet me.   How did she know which of the buses that ran every 20-30 minutes all day would be the one I rode?   I don't know, but her internal clock was set and there she was, waiting to walk home with me.

Jack grew to be a big cat and looked a lot like this one

(2)  Jack ~ When my twin daughters were five and my son was two, they found twin kittens from the same litter under our tree on Christmas morning, one male and one female.  I have never been able to tell one from the other until cats grow up, but we told our children which we thought was which.   We were, of course, mistaken.  Before we learned we had mislabeled the kittens, the children had chosen names from among their favorite stories, and the fur babies became Jack and Jill.  Or Jill and Jack.   Within a few months one darted under the wheels of a car and "Jill" lived on ... until the day it was undeniably clear that "she" needed to be renamed Jack.  I'm sure Jack was totally confused when he received his sister's name, after having been Jill up until then.  But it was clear that he knew the word meant HIM.  Whenever he heard "Jack"  in a sentence spoken between humans, he would twitch his ear in our direction, even if we thought he was asleep across the room.

Kiki Cat in later years

(3)  Kiki ~ My loving Kiki Cat, who was twelve when she died a couple of years ago, was a con artist from an early age.  She was quite good at lying for a good cause.  Her antics were sometimes hilarious.  When my roommate Donna would come home from work, Kiki would show up to tell Donna she had not yet had her afternoon treats ... and Donna’s cat Sammy would come running to jump atop the piano to watch, hoping Kiki could convince the human that the poor starving kitties never got their treats on time.  The only trouble with their scheme was that I was usually right there in the room.  Donna would look at me and say to Kiki, "But you already HAD your treats."  Kiki, the more talkative of the two, would say plaintively, "Maiow mew mew."  Donna said, "Yes, you did."  Kiki protested, "Meow miahow mew!"  Donna would say again, "Yes, you DID."  Getting desperate, Kiki insisted, "Meow miaow meOW, myou."  The cats never seem to notice that humans communicate with each other as well as with them.  Finally, Kiki would give up and plop down on the floor with her back to Donna.  Still watching from the piano, Sammy would sigh and sit down.

I still miss each of you, Duchess ... and Jack ... and Kiki.

Caturday ~ cat resumes

I've seen a lots of photos of cats reading.

I have even snapped several of my Kiki reading.

Kiki read so she could review books.

But here's one that's new to me — a cat who sews.

Caturday ~ Aunty Acid and her cats

I could say the same thing (and I think I will):  "I've forgotten some of the men in my life, but I remember ALL the cats."  (Thinking of you, Kiki.)

Kiki on January 19, 2012