More good than harm

I’m so sorry to my handful of followers: a recent storm here in Ohio has knocked out my internet for a few weeks, so I’m only able to update via phone.  They’re finally moseying out here tomorrow, so more updates in around 12 or so hours.


Chalmers and Spaghetti were, and still are, best friends.  They bonded like you wouldn’t believe.  If Chalmers walked in the room, you could say “1…2…3….” and there would be Spaghetti.

If you look closely, you’ll see that they’re holding hands.  Spaghetti would even sit in the litter box while Chalmers did his business.  No photos of that, though, because I have boundries.

If Chalmers hadn’t been neutered when he showed up, I’d have been convinced that they were father/son.

All this time, though, I still had my girl Vanessa living outside.

I justified it, because it was warm outside and she never left the deck except to bring me chewed up critters, and about once a week I’d find her covered in burrs.

It was awful, though, because every time I’d go into the kitchen, she’d run up to the sliding glass door and start meowing.  It got so bad that if I was grabbing a snack or something to drink late at night, I’d leave all the kitchen lights off and do everything in the dark so she couldn’t see me.

So now I had two cats.

The basically ignored one another on the deck, only getting this close when food was involved.  I decided to bring Chalmers in, and see how things went between him and the pugs.

He settled right in.

So, here’s where things get downright nutty.  One morning, my partner and I are watching Tabatha Takes Over, and hear this ear-splitting meow come from somewhere.  I check on Chalmers, and go to the sliding glass door to see if Vanessa is doing OK.  What do I see?

Crap.  I knew I couldn’t take my time like I had with Chalmers and Vanessa.  He was living under the deck, and had been coming out after I would feed Vanessa, and leech off of her plate.  So over the course of a week, I would put food out under the lip of the deck.  Then sit 20 feet away while he slowly came out and ate.  Then 15 feet, then 10, until I could grab him.

He freaked out when I grabbed him, so I ran him inside and he hit the ground and took off.  I figured I would let him hide and calm down, and about an hour later I went looking.  He had backed himself under a dresser in the bedroom, and looked terrified.

I’ve since learned that what I did next was the wrong thing to do, but it worked for me.  I took Chalmers, who hadn’t seen the kitten, into the bedroom so the little guy would know that other cats were there, too.  The baby immediately came out, started playing smacking games with Chalmers, and they were instantly inseparable.

But we need to backtrack a little.  While Chalmers was still living outside, something interesting happened, and not just him showing off his cat taint.

As you might notice, he’s already neutered, which made me realize that he was someone’s cat at some point.  I didn’t realize at the time that it was somewhat common for terrible people to drive their unwanted cats to the country, find a farm, and let them go.  Sick, sick, sick.

Anyway, Chalmers liked to sleep on the deck.  One afternoon I saw him out there while I was cooking, and decided that when my lunch was finished, I’d take him some food.  When I went outside with a plate of cat food, he was gone.  I called and called, but he didn’t come.

Then, I spied a cat far off in the distance, crouching under a bush and watching me.  I could tell that it wasn’t my boy, so I shouted “Want some food?”, and she cautiously trotted the acre of so to the deck, and waited for me to set it down.  I did, and went inside, and watched her eat up.

She pretty much never left the deck.

So now, I had two cats.  Jesus Christ, what have I started?

Also, I wish I could figure out how to make my images not look squished, but if you right click and view image, it looks normal.  Solutions, anyone?  More soon.

The story so far…

I’m mostly starting this blog for my goon friends, because posting to them directly became too complicated.  So pretty much everyone reading this probably knows the story so far, but here goes:

I’ve never been a big fan of cats.  They’re huge dicks that only put up with you because you know the secret of the pull tab can.  As it would turn out, that’s exactly what I love about them the most.

My partner of 12 years (this weekend!) and I bought a farm in Middle of Nowhere, Ohio, around 5 years ago.  It’s got grapes, apples, pears and goats, and loads of outbuildings.  I had fooled myself into thinking that I had left the farm life years ago, but reality caught up with me and I moved back into my native terrain.

We had three very farty pugs, but nothing else.  So, two years ago, it was sort of surprising to see a little gray cat watching me from around the corner of my house while I took out the trash.  It was just after an ice storm, and we don’t have neighbors for at least a mile, so I knew something was amiss.  Especially when I said “What up, cat?” and he came running to me meowing.

He was missing his tail, and I immediately knew that an owl had snapped it off, because owls are even bigger dicks than cats.

I really didn’t want a cat, but he chose me as his human and moved into a heated barn on the property, and within no time I was feeding him several times a day.  He would wait in the drive for me to get home every day.  Being helpless without the internet, I immediately took to my favorite forum to ask advice.  They convinced me to bring him in, and even named him for me; SuperNintendo Chalmers.

After a few months of feeding him outside, I realized (because the forum instructed me to realize) that it was time to bring him in.

My whole world changed…