Happy birthday, Baxter! (With photos, too!)

It occurred to me today that most people who rescue their pets from shelters probably don't know their birthdays. Murphy, for example, was found on the streets of the Bronx (does that give him any street cred?) and no one even knows how old he is. Crazy Cat Lady said three years, his paperwork said one, and the vet estimated somewhere in between.

But Baxter, lucky Baxter, has his birth date written right on his paperwork from the ASPCA, and today makes him two years old. Does this mean I'm now raising a toddler kitty, or do we convert his age to human years (does that work on cats?) to mean that I'm raising some sort of teenage kitty? He's certainly moody like a teenager....

But anyway, how does one celebrate a cat's birthday? I suppose for the "normal," non-obsessed folks, the answer is simply: you don't. But since I clearly don't fit into that category, given the fact that this blog exists in the first place, I've decided to mark the occasion in a few ways:
-Feed him tuna for both breakfast and dinner
-Publicly wish him a happy birthday via this blog (never mind the fact that cats don't use computers)
-Keep a photo record of Baxter through the years
-List my three favorite things about Baxter:
1. The way he follows me, wide-eyed and curious, from room to room
2. His clean/organized eating/bathroom habits (thank you, thank you--I could not deal with two messy cats like Murphy)
3. His special features, such as his "socks" and goatee. So cute.
4. The way he always curls up in the same spot on the bed at night.
Ok, that's four favorite things, but dammit, Baxter is awesome.

And so, without further ado, I present pictures of Baxter on the day I got him (which was shortly after his one year birthday) and Baxter today.

Happy birthday, kitty! And many more!
=^. .^=


Baxter, day 1 (3/4/06)


Baxter, 2nd birthday, 2/26/07


And not to leave out Murphy, because he's cute too (and don't worry--he will have a "birthday observed" in June), here are some bird watching pictures. Did anyone else know this is a two-cat activity? I love how they are both fixated on the same bird.

My kitties, my protectors

When I was five years old, my mother started reading all the Little House books out loud to me. Every night, I'd look forward to hearing another chapter...unless it had to do with wolves. In fact, I was so terrified of wolves--chasing the girls around or prowling outside their log cabin at night--that my mother had to replace the word "wolf" with "hmph" each time it was mentioned.

So tonight, in much the same way, as I tell my tale of terror, I will be referring to "those awful black/brown insects that are notorious for creeping their way into city apartments" (and if you really can't figure out what I'm talking about then I can't help you because I refuse to call them by name) as "whatzits".

I first noticed something was strange when I saw Murphy sitting in the corner, staring at the wall. I thought he was just being a weird cat so I tried to ignore it. But then an hour went by, and I couldn't stop wondering what was going on in the corner, where Murphy still sat, staring fixated at the wall. He wasn't sleeping, and there was a certain tenseness in his back. I got up and sat next to him, trying to see the wall from his perspective, but there was nothing to see. I walked away, confident that Murphy was just crazy.

But then a few minutes later Baxter went and sat with Murphy...and then started clawing at the base of my floor lamp. I suddenly knew something was there, but I didn't want to admit what it might be. See, in nearly six years of in New York City, I've only found two whatzits in my apartment, which, by NYC standards, is really impressive. It doesn't matter what floor you live on, how clean your apartment is, or who lives next door. Whatzits are inevitable, and I was pretty sure I was about to face my third.

I walked over to the lamp, grabbed it by the stand, lifted it off the ground, and there I saw the whatzit, lying on its back flailing its arms and antennae in the air. Terrified I slammed the lamp back down and ran away. I didn't know what to do, and before anyone makes fun of me for being afraid of a bug let me just say that I have no problem with spiders, ants, or flies, but when a bug is two inches of ugly, I run the other way.

I knew that I'd need to kill it, but I also knew I needed some support, and watching the cats paw at the lamp wasn't helping, so I called a friend. She sympathized with me and suggested that in addition to putting on shoes and grabbing some paper towels, perhaps I should grab something to spray at it.

"Perfect!" I said, looking under my sink. "What do you think will work better, Tilex, Windex, or Resolve?" We settled on Tilex, and I'm not quite sure why, but it sounded poisonous enough. (Let me also add that I'm slowly switching my household products over to biodegradable, non-poisonous, earth-friendly brands, but I was really, really glad at this moment to still have something toxic lying around.)

I went back to the lamp and my friend on the phone had to give me a pep talk to get me to lift it up again. After putting the phone on speaker and setting it on the windowsill, I quickly lifted up the lamp and began dousing the whatzit with Tilex. "It's still alive!" I screamed into the phone. "I'm spraying it!" I must have sprayed that thing six or seven times, and yet it lived. I slammed the lamp down on it again, out of breath and unsure what to do next. "Maybe if I let it suffocate in the Tilex for a minute it will die," I suggested. But when I revved myself up to lift the lamp once more, it was still flailing. I sprayed it over and over again and then, in fear that it would escape and go create some sort of immortal whatzit-Tilex breed, I finally grabbed it in the paper towel. "I got it! It's in a paper towel now but it's still alive!" I screamed, running into the bathroom, and throwing it in the toilet. "Flush, flush!" my friend screamed back. And I did.

It was all incredibly dramatic and horrifying and I may still be shaken by it, despite the fact that about an hour has passed. But if it wasn't for my kitties and their strange behavior, who knows where the whatzit would have gone next, after freeing itself out from under the lamp.

I gave the boys treats, and thanked them for watching out for me. Unfortunately they then continued to patrol the area for a while, causing me to constantly lift up the lamp expecting to see horror underneath. But I am nearly positive now that the horror has passed for tonight, and Murphy has gone back to normal, snoozing away in his kitty bed.

But Baxter's still sitting in the corner, looking out for me.

Good kitty.

Note to self: It's winter!

So, it never really got cold last year. I never had to use the heat, never had to wear a hat, and didn't bother taking out the humidifier. This year was looking to be the same, after we hit 70 degrees in January, but alas, it's cold now, and consequently my body is completely out of whack.

I've had this cough since Christmas, and a few weeks ago, a wheeze began accompanying it. Then, about two weeks ago I started having difficulty breathing and was starting to wonder if it was possible to get asthma as an adult. Turns out, it is, but luckily I don't have it. According to the doctor I have "asthmatic symptoms," but not asthma. Um...ok. So this means that I have to use an inhaler now until I can breathe again and my lungs stop hurting. Joy.

And so, as an ode to breathing, I thought I'd comment on some of the songs in my iTunes about this unconscious act we usually think so little about.

Breathe, by Anna Nalick: Made popular by Grey's Anatomy, I really liked this song before it started playing EVERYWHERE. Now, enough already.

Breathe, by Michelle Branch: Totally cheesy, makes me feel like I'm 14, and I love it.

Breathe, by Faith Hill: I loved this song in college, and after a recent episode of My Name Is Earl, love it again. Seeing white-trash Joy belt out "her girl Faith" while smoking a cigarette and erupting into a coughing fit right as the word "breathe" comes on? Priceless.

Breathe, by Kylie Minogue: Kinda random and Euro-poppy, but also oddly catchy. I got this song as a CD mix giveaway with a Glamour Magazine I bought in London about four years ago. See? Random.

Breathe, by Telepopmusik: I don't know why I have this song, but it's also random and Euro-poppy. Good if you want to pretend you're in a club...or something.

Breathe In, by Frou Frou: I only have this song because I got the Frou Frou CD when everybody else did--after Garden State came out. Can't say I've ever listened to it, but previewing it now, I don't think I've been missing anything.

Breathless, by The Coors: Totally makes me think of high school, or a cheesy 90's romantic comedy. But I still love it.

Barely Breathing, by Duncan Sheik: A true classic. I feel like I shouldn't still like this song, because it's total 90's soft rock. But having not really listened to it in a decade, it's not bad.

Harder to Breathe, by Maroon 5: I HATE, I repeat, HATE Maroon 5. Overplayed, bad, annoying, not catchy, or rather TOO catchy so that their stupid songs stay in your head for weeks. This one included. I will not even give it a listen for the purpose of writing this blurb, lest it inhabit my brain for the next week.

Every Breath You Take, by The Police: Classic, quiet, and lovely. A must-have, but for some reason I don't. Time to do some downloading...

Here's hoping that soon I'll be able to breathe, too.