Ozma of Corvallis

A bit more than a month ago I talked about the cat that adopted me, here. I'd love to post a picture, but I don't have one. She's a fairly typical grey and black tiger stripe. Easy food has made her a little chubby, I guess, but not too bad. She still jumps up to the porch, six feet, almost silently- so she's not too heavy.

Like most cats, she wants attention when she wants it, but not when she doesn't. She's perfectly happy to sleep most of the time, though since she moved in she has shown that she wants to keep me in sight, even when her eyes are closed. I've decided to call her Ozma, after the Princess of Oz.

As I mentioned in the previous post, I was pretty amused and flattered that she brought a cheeseburger- yeah, it was half eaten, but not by her. Well, she has brought me two more present since then, and frankly, it's a little weird. A couple of weeks ago I got up and walked out to the living room, and there was what looked like a pile of dog poop that had been stepped in- brown, flat, dry, and curled up at the edges. Ugh. So I went and grabbed a paper towel, wondering why the hell a cat would bring me dog poop: she's got food, water, shelter and affectionate scratching when she wants it. What'd I do? When I picked it up, it was obvious that it wasn't dog poop. I looked a little more closely...

Two dried up pieces of pastrami, with solidified cheese between them.

I guess she likes me.

I have what amounts to a cubic meter of plastic grocery bags stuffed into the closet where the water heater is, next to the kitchen. Occasionally, she'll yank one out of the pile and play with it. I assumed she liked the noise. About a week ago, she walked over toward the kitchen where her food is, and simply disappeared. I got up to figure out where she'd got off to, and as I walked by the closet, a paw shot out of the bottom of the pile of plastic bags and swatted my ankle. She has dug a lair, or perhaps set up an ambush location, about a foot into the base of the pile.

I have heard her jump up onto the porch at night then crunch away for a few minutes, so I'm pretty sure she does catch the occasional rodent. I've never seen any physical sign, but it sounds like little bones being eaten. She has several times brought in good-sized moths, and spent 10 or 15 exuberant minutes playing catch and release. When she's playing, she has a way of snapping her head from side to side that reminds me of a dog playing tug-of-war with a rope, except she holds the object down with one paw- whether it's a moth or a plastic bag, gapes her mouth and bares her fangs, and just snaps her head around. It's a hell of a show, but I can't help but wonder if she's just posturing to scare her victims. I don't think she's ever eaten any of the bags, but I'm certain they're absolutely petrified by her. With the moths, she finally forgets the "release" part of "catch and release", which sort of obviates the "catch" part, too. There are never any little moth corpses left that I've noticed.

She was out and about when I got up this morning. I noticed something in lumps by the porch door. It was wet and cold and smelled like chicken; I looked more carefully and it looked like rice pilaf. There were several lumps, each about the size of a peach pit. She had to have made multiple trips.

How the hell does a cat understand what kinds of things people might eat? I wonder if I could teach her how to wash dishes... nah.

Speaking of "chicken odor" one of the funniest things I've read in a while is over at Happy Jihad's House of Pancakes. His stuff is always entertaining, but you know, like Orwell said, some posts are more equal than others. The first portion of the post, before he starts talking about his plans to torment students in a class next fall (I kid... sort of), is what you need to read- though that part has its moments too. Down to the word and a half, "-esque proportions." Keep a straight face. I dare ya.