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Bye Bye Birdie

Jan 2nd, 2010
by 2much.
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Show Pigeon [starring in The Visitor]

American Show Racing Pigeon

Another bird![???]

Bro was returning from a food run when he saw a hawk take this bird from sky to asphalt. We know it’s “the way of the world,” but it is so very hard to watch and do nothing.

Bro pulled the van to the side of the road, jumped out, and rescued the pigeon.

It was in a state of shock, but relatively unharmed. We quickly traced the band to a racing club in Savannah Georgia — but it was Christmas Eve Day, and they’d flown their coop.

Google told me we shouldn’t feed him or he’d never leave, but we gave him some apparently much-needed water and he went to town. BTW, did you know that pigeons use their beaks like straws and water dishes must be a couple of inches deep so they don’t hurt themselves? Ah, the wonders of the internets.

After having him caged for 24 hours [with no response from the pigeon racers], we set him free, hoping he felt rested enough to get home on his own. Off he flew, into the wild blue yonder…and back he came at nightfall. We could see he was losing weight, so — google be damned — we bought seed and fed him. Let him loose a couple more times and weren’t surprised to see him return…

Then we received word from the racing club! The pigeon was registered to someone in Hialeah. That’s 70 miles from here, but nothing compared to the distances homing pigeons can travel. We called the owner, he told us he’d sold the bird to someone in this area but had lost their info. Also said he’d been trying to contact them so he could get one of the males back for breeding. He was going to come get this pigeon, but three days later we still hadn’t heard from him.

One doesn’t keep pigeons and cats in the same house [the cage came in every night so the bird wouldn't freeze] unless one is a masochist or a sadist, and we are neither, so it was time to find a local pigeoner. Eureka! It only took a couple of days to find him a new home in Jupiter, followed by a 2-day wait for pick-up. We didn’t let him fly again after speaking with his new family because they said these pigeons are never allowed to fly freely at this time of year. It’s hawk season [duh]!

They came and got him yesterday, and it was immediately obvious who the “professionals” were. Reached right in the cage, picked him up, turned him upside down, and took him to their van. He seemed to know he was in good hands and we are thankful to have been part of this happy ending.

We love birds and wish we had space for an aviary [since we seem to get them fairly regularly], but we’re thrilled to now have someone we can call when we get such visitors. HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone!

Posted in: the Wildest Things.
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Happy Homos & Their Favorite Diva

Jul 22nd, 2009
by 2much.
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Always & Forever

Always & Forever

Who’s Yer Daddy was the wildest of toms, and Greylian was a close second. They were muy, muy macho and too clever for their own damn good. It took years of trying before we were able to catch them.

Daddy remained scarce, but once a year he’d show up in front of the house, so covered with mange that he looked like a giant ball of greenish-grey fungus.

We’d inject fresh chunks of swordfish with ivermec, he’d eat them. Incredibly, he’d return [right on schedule] a couple of weeks later for a second round, eat his medicated fish steaks, and then disappear for another year.

We saw even less of Greylian than of Daddy, though noticed him in various hiding places over the years. We caught him a time or two, but he always managed to escape after eating whatever goodies had graced the trap.

A Love Story for the Ages

A Love Story for the Ages

One day Daddy showed up, half dead, and just walked right into the trap. Say what? “This can’t be good,” we thought — and since he had little interest in eating, we immediately gave him a big bowl of water and a bowl of olive oil with fish flakes.

As hoped, he drank the water and the oil…and then began puking his guts out. 24 hours later, he’d barfed up a dozen strips of black plastic garbage bag and seemed to be feeling much better.

Taking a chance, I put my head and hands into the trap. He made a quick grab [with both paws] for my right arm, pulled it toward his face, and just as I was expecting the nastiest of chomps — he began rubbing his head and mouth all over my hand, drooling and purring. Eureka!

Though we didn’t release him, we moved him to a larger cage and plied him with delectable morsels. Greylian came late at night to suss out the situation, and then let us catch him, too, and we put him in the cage with Daddy. As far as we could tell, they’d never been “friends,” but that changed, overnight.

Who's Yer Daddy & Greylian Holding Hands

Who's Yer Daddy & Greylian Holding Hands

We had them neutered and then “released” them. The vet and animal care and control insisted their left ears be clipped, just in case they chose not to stay with us, but they’ve never wandered. And remain inseparable.

When they could still go outside [at the original Bad Cat Cottage], they walked while leaning against each other. They’re always touching each other, in some manner.

It’s the sweetest thing, but we have a feeling that when one goes, the other will follow close behind. That will be a very sad double-header. Hopefully, they still have a lot of living to do, but they’re at least 15 years old, and had very difficult “childhoods.” We shall see…

It’s hilarious to remember how butch they once were. It was even funnier to watch them gravitate to the fag hags. They are closest to Barbra Streisand and Bette Midler, though they get along with everyone.

Barbra Streisand Has Something to Say!

Barbra Streisand Has Something to Say!

Here’s Babs giving us a piece of her mind. She’s just about our chattiest Kathy.

We’re still running our BREAD 4 BREAD campaign, trying to get funding for food, meds, litter, and — in our dreams — fencing which would allow them to go outside and play. Won’t you help?

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*** ** ***

Somehow, the following wound up as a solo page during the last wordpress upgrade. Now that I finally have time to do some work on this blog, I needed to find a new home for it. This seemed like the place!  Originally posted 2007/07/19 12:16:16 AM.
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2much IT Department

2muchenterprising IT Department: a day at the office

WHO’S YER DADDY & GREYLIAN are our gay boys. They toured with the greats — Bette Midler…Cher…Barry Manilow — for years, though retired their red slippers and got into computers when the girls left the road [because Kathy Griffin wasn't hiring]. But they’re still troopers! And, but of course, they’re the only employees in office drag. They dress for every occasion** [and most non-events, too]. They are so gay…

** note to those who aren’t hep to gay cats and the gay cat lifestyle: the clipped left ear is their version of the blue hanky in the back left pocket. That’s right. They’re the tops!

Posted in: Wild Things.
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Stay Cool, My Babies!

Jul 16th, 2009
by 2much.
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They Voted for Outside, We Filibustered!

They Voted for Outside, We Filibustered!

This room and the dining hall are always ten degrees cooler than the rest of the house, in Summer.

Even though it doubles as the family bathroom, they love to hang out here and heckle the birds. They’ll storm the sliding glass doors if a stranger approaches.

In our dreams, we’re able to put cat-proof privacy fencing around the perimeter and they’re able to go outside and climb the mango tree or just roll around in the dirt.

Sometimes we worry that we didn’t do them any favors by “saving them” for a life on tile and terrazzo. Cats are supposed to have trees to climb and room to run. We probably won’t feel “good” about what we’ve done until they can be cats, inside and out.

Catboxes or Stalls?

Catboxes or Stalls?

The “catboxes” were made with rubber gardening buckets from CostCo. We just cut some doorways into them, et voila!

I like them much better than regular litter boxes, and they give the cats a bit of privacy.

Hurricane Wilma took this 16×16 room completely out, so when we did the repairs, we also used the tile as wainscoating. This makes the room much easier to clean. After we mop the floor and walls with soap and a bit of bleach, we can rinse by hosing it down [followed by a good squeegee]. This happens two or three times per week, and they love rolling around on the wet floor, afterwards. How long have I been saying I’ll get some video? Try doing that with your hands full…

Posted in: Wild Things.
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Bowie Encircles the Drain

Jul 11th, 2009
by 2much.
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David Bowie Passed Out in the Bathroom Sink

David Bowie Passed Out in the Bathroom Sink

And people wonder why I always brush my teeth in the kitchen [where we have a double sink, and don't take reservations].

Can you believe David Bowie once broke my arm in a single [though seemingly endless] bite? That was the last time we tried to clean his ears.

Bowie is the only cat who scares me, though I adore him and the feeling seems to be mutual. He’s always jumping into my lap or rubbing against my legs or curling up on my chest when I go to bed. I love to “cuddle” him, but doing so requires complete concentration. He bites me if he gets too excited [and he's an excitable boy] and he bites me if I try to remove him. It’s a lose-lose situation. I just try to keep bones and major arteries [and my face] well out of his reach.

A favorite form of entertainment is Bro’s impersonations of people who’ve adopted our kids. Those who’ve [imaginarily] adopted Bowie are always speaking to emergency-room personnel. We don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t keep this place going. Those who were “adoption material” left us, long ago. Bread4Bread, anyone? Buy a trikke?

Posted in: Genesis.
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PAnderson Cooper

Jun 6th, 2009
by 2much.
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Devilicious PAnderson

Devilicious PAnderson

When last we left our heroine, Pamela Anderson, she still enjoyed being a girl. Once she’d had a bath, she was just about the cutest kitten we’d ever seen (aren’t they all, though?) — until the mange monster got ‘er. And us.

More interesting than the fact that six people shared her infestation was the fact that she was a he. Something we hadn’t realized until she’d aged a week or so and all her hair fell out. Oh, my goodness — what’s that?!

And so it was that Pamela Anderson plus Anderson Cooper became PAnderson…

We tried every “natural remedy” for mange that we could find. Diatomaceous earth, borax and hydrogen peroxide, you name it. Those treatments did help, a bit, but we were all miserable until we began taking several dips a day in a chlorinated pool. Voila! We’d throw PAnderson into the deep-end and she’d swim to the steps in the shallow end (over and over, again). Worked like a charm. Chlorine might not be the healthiest thing one can use, but it’s better than ivermec.

Posted in: Memoriam R Us, Wild Things.
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To the Manor Born

Mar 23rd, 2009
by 2much.
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It all began with Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature Cindy Crawford. CC never drank water from a bowl or pond or puddle. She was much too genteel for that, and would make a glass of her paw. She was also considered royalty by the others. [Before leaving the original Bad Cat Cottage] CC got to go outside. Whenever she wished. Everyone wanted to be Cindy Crawford. So they copied her panache [and kept their little pussy fingers crossed].

We make our own yogurt, because [it tastes much better than store-bought, is healthier than store-bought, and] we’d never be able to afford the gallons we need, every month, otherwise. Yogurt is good for animals as well as for people, and almost all of our cats love it. This is a video of Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature Bette Midler eating fresh yogurt:

And this is a video of Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature John Cleese, in his cups:

Posted in: Wild Things.
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(Nest Leaving, and) Another “Tainted Food Crisis?!?”

Dec 18th, 2008
by 2much.
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Drew Barrymore reading over my shoulder.

Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature
Drew Barrymore

Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature Drew Barrymore finds me endlessly fascinating, and, wherever I go, there she is. Al baño, en la cocina, y au lit. Here, she is trying to memorize the admin id and password for this blog [and I'm throwing a soupçon of Spanish and French into the mix, just to screw with her head].

Always the best of times and the worst of times — the good news, first! FCSC Robird deNiro has flown the coop. A few months ago, he seemed half avian, half burger. We really thought he’d die, simply from the shock of having been run over by an suv, within the first 24 hours. Looking back, it all seems to have gone so quickly, but I’m sure time moved even more slowly for him than for us. The snail’s pace and suspense were excruciating…

It took days to realize he might actually pull through. We started cleaning wounds, and Bro gave him the first of many showers in the kitchen sink. A few more days, and Bobby [he said we could call him "Bobby"] was able to lean upright, if supported [by piles of shredded newspaper]. A few weeks later, he could put some weight on his injured leg, and stand without aid. His feathers started growing back, in layers. Next thing you know, he’s hopping around the carport, every day [always with a chaperone (lest the neighborhood cats decide to finish the job started by the car monster)]. Then he’s flying to the roof for struts ‘n giggles…but always returns to his cage.

We were beginning to worry — what if he never leaves?! This 24/7 concierge service can’t go on, indefinitely. But then the rains came. He couldn’t get enough. Kept flying up to the roof and splashing around in the run-off streams…then flying back down to his cage. Then back up to the roof. When the sun came out, he spread his wings, took to the air, flew three times around the house  –  as if to say “so long!”  –  and then he was gone. Amazing…

Bad news after good, a few of the kids aren’t feeling very well, and they’ve gone down in a batch of five, this time, exhibiting exactly the same symptoms as the 17 we lost during “the bad food crisis.” First, they begin walking very stiffly, seemingly pained in the kidneys/liver and hind quarters. Then they begin experiencing neurological difficulties. They respond well to pedialyte, massages, and babyfood by syringe, but it’s one step forward, one step back.

We were telling people there had to be something wrong with the food for months before news of the last “bad food crisis” hit, and our use of commercial foods ceased. It’s difficult [and expensive] to make our own cat food [for 50, with many requiring special diets], so once the crisis was “over,” we began returning commercial foods to their mix. And now we’re kicking ourselves…

Because we [used to] use a number of commercial brands and foods, we can’t pinpoint those which might be causing the problem. We can, however, encourage those using commercial foods to exercise extreme caution, and to feed only “human-grade” foodstuffs to your non-human companions.

Should any of you have reason to believe your animals are suddenly experiencing health problems [or death] due to tainted commercial food[s], please contact me [2much at 2muchcat dot com], asap. Unless and until we have proof of a trend, there’s nothing more we can do, unfortunately.

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Posted in: Wild Things.

for the BIRDS

Nov 27th, 2008
by 2much.
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Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature Bobby deNiro is a Pigeon

Fabulous Celebrity SpokesCreature Bobby deNiro

We were sitting outside with the bird, last night, when I suddenly realized — the birds!

We’ve had loads of birds. A few wild parrots, some pigeons, more doves than anything else. Apparently, there’s a “law” which decrees an injured bird must be killed. No exceptions. So we never take them to the wildlife “rescues.”

Usually, they fall from the skies [and there's a lot of that going around, these days]. This little guy got creamed in the parking lot of our local Publix. Bro was walking back to our car when he saw another vehicle back out of a parking space, and feathers flew. The bird had been hit on his left side, which was bloody and bald when Bro reached him. His leg and wing seemed broken, but he was alive, so Bro picked him up and brought him back to the house. We put him in a box with shredded paper, and hoped for the best. At least he wouldn’t die, slowly, in a parking lot. But we did expect that he would die…

Bro is insane [and I can say this without hesitation, because he doesn't read this (or any other) blog]. As is his wont, on day three, he gave the bird a bath in the kitchen sink. Strangely, the bird didn’t seem to mind, at all, though he had a rapt audience [of cats]. Afterward, he appeared happier…but he still had not eaten since his arrival, and couldn’t stand.

A few days later, he managed to sit up [though leaned heavily to his right], so we put him in a cage with piles of shredded newspaper, which seemed to help him strike a balance. He began eating. And eating. And eating. And defecating. And defecating. And defecating. Which meant daily showers in the kitchen sink. Because Bro is the consummate obsessive-compulsive anal-retentive…

Slowly, the feathers on his left wing and leg began returning. A few weeks later, he began putting more weight on the “broken” leg, but we still worried he’d never fly, again. He seemed unable to move his left wing, at all, and we wished, once again, that we had the room [and the funds] to build a large aviary. We love birds. But they can be very high-maintenance. And, for obvious reaons, they can’t be kept with the cats.

Once we’d begun seeing signs of improvement, we started moving the cage outside, during the days, bringing him in, every night, at dusk [when the temperature began falling]. Soon, he could walk, so. Every day, Bro let him limp around the carport as he cleaned the cage. Still didn’t think he’d fly, ever again, and we began worrying we’d have him, permanently. Which would be fine — if we had an aviary. At the moment, his cage goes into the pantry, at night. A royal pain, spacewise…

Miracle of miracles, yesterday, as Bro was cleaning the cage and the bird was free to wander the carport. Suddenly, he took flight! He was perched on the roof when Bro called me outside. Uh-oh. We were thrilled, but — we knew he was not yet strong enough to survive on his own. Had we “saved” him to be killed by other birds? We’ve noticed they tend to attack [mercilessly] the “unhealthy,” among them. Was he going to be Thanksgiving dinner for neighborhood cats?

He must’ve been reading our minds, because — as visions of his demise danced in our heads — he suddenly flew back down and into the cage!

We’re guessing…and praying…that he will want to return to the wild, one day. When he’s stronger, and able to fend for himself. ‘Til then, we’re thankful for his recovery, and his sense of humor. He’s got a great little personality, which is blooming before our very eyes. Much like the cats, he’s a tough guy. Until he wants something from us. At which point, he plays helpless. He thinks Bro’s his shower caddy, now. I’ll get video, one of these days.

To make a short story long, I guess my point would be — HAPPY THANKSGIVING, everyone!

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Posted in: Memoriam R Us, the Wildest Things.

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