Is It Safe?

“IS IT SAFE?”

“Yes, it’s safe; it’s very safe.
It’s so safe you wouldn’t believe it.” 
(From the 1976 suspense thriller “Marathon Man.”)

Dudo today has been repeatedly asking the question, “Is it safe?” Ever since the contractors hoisted the scaffold early this morning.

Moose found it, if not fascinating, at least somewhat interesting. Dudo did not.

EARLIER TODAY: “IS IT SAFE?” I SAID, “YES, IT’S SAFE.”
IT DIDN’T MATTER. HE WENT BACK BEHIND THE PIANO.

The workers are long gone and won’t return until after Three Kings Day (Ephiphany).

It’s Monday evening. The terrace door is open. Moose is outside. But Dudo is on my lap.

Dudo has been on my lap for a very, very, very long time.

“IS IT SAFE?” “YES! IT’S SAFE!”
“I DON’T BELIEVE YOU.”
I’m hungry. And I’ve really gotta pee!

A Pussycat Pyramid

Well, we’ve made it into 2016. Things are looking up.

And, even if things aren’t looking up, at least the cats are.

I’d tell you Dudo and Musy wish you all a happy new year, but that would be a lie. Even if they actually had a clue, they probably couldn’t be bothered. So, happy new year from the rest of us.

The Cat Behind The Curtain

The stucco facade of our building is being repaired and painted. Over the past two months, the scaffolding has been making its way around the building. It’s finally almost to our corner.

REPAIRS MORE THAN A MONTH AGO.

The contractors use gauzy netting to keep debris from flying onto the pavement. While they were working the other morning, a big wind (one of San Geraldo’s ciclónicos) came up from the east whipping the netting in front of our terrace and down to the street below.

Dudo and Moose were on the terrace at the time. They made a beeline for the back bedroom. Dudo hid in the closet. The netting was quickly retrieved and has since been tied off near the start of our terrace.

Moose recovered quickly and didn’t even seem to be aware of the mass of netting. However, for the first 24 hours, Dudo would only slither out of the bedroom to use the litter box. He then began to spend his time behind the shower curtain in my bathroom.

He’s doing much better, even sitting atop his high perch in the living room while we watch TV during lunch. We close the vertical blinds when we watch TV to cut down on the glare. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. He still gets just a little unhinged when the blinds are re-opened.

I’ve tried to reason with Dudo. I told him to take a lesson from Moose, who was not at all frightened.

Dudo was indignant. “Big deal! We all know that cat is not the sharpest tack in the box.”

(OK, I made up Dudo’s response. But that’s what he would say if he could.)

DUDO’S VIEW TODAY WHILE WE WATCHED TV.
DUDO’S VIEW TODAY AFTER THE SHOW WAS OVER.

Dudo’s reaction to today’s after-show view…

Perseverance, Thy Name Is Dudo

A swallow flew through a drain hole on our terrace last week and then flew off. Dudo has been monitoring that drain ever since.


(Click the images, taken over several days, for a closer look.)

A MORE COMFORTABLE SPOT THIS MORNING.
AND THEN I WAS SURPRISED TO FIND HIM UNDER A CHAISE.
AND MUSY, TOO!  BUT HE DIDN’T LAST LONG;
JUST WONDERING WHAT DUDO HAS BEEN STARING AT.

Don’t stop believing…

A Whale Of A Tale Of The Tail Of Dickie Dragon

Our niece Lindy says Dudo looks like Kate Moss. He’s nice to look at, loves to pose, and his “head shots” always look like he’s sucking in his cheeks giving him that undernourished supermodel look (not that ALL supermodels have that undernourished look, but it IS one of the looks). Also, he seems to always know exactly how to tilt his head for best effect.

(Click any image for a tall tale… tail.)

MOOSE (LEFT) AND DUDO THE SUPERMODEL.

I’m fascinated by cats’ tails (and tales of cats, in case you hadn’t noticed). Our cat Dobie, in California, was long-haired with a huge (gigantic) fluffy tail. It had no tensile strength and just softly billowed in his wake. His brother Maynard (who was excruciatingly neurotic and of course we loved him), had identical markings but medium hair. His tail was almost prehensile.

When San Geraldo and I had our bed & breakfast hotel in Palm Springs, Maynard would walk out onto the patio, pass under one of the aluminum chairs, hook his tail to the underside as he went, and drag the chair along the patio behind him. Every single day for two years.

And every single day (for two years), the moving chair would scare the crap out of Maynard and he’d run back inside.

DOBIE (AGE 13) AND HIS TAIL (ALSO AGE 13).

Dudo’s tail snaps, and curls, and waves. And when he lies idle, his tail seems to always be perfectly positioned to complement his pose. Sometimes, he even holds it in place.

Musy’s tail is soft and gentle and often gets in his way. So this is the tail of Dudo.

SORRY. EVEN DUDO HAS HAD ENOUGH.

This song hasn’t stopped playing in my head since I began thinking about tail… oops, I mean tails. The Kid Brother had the record a very, very long time ago. And I, of course, would listen to it with him. He would never sing along, but I was expected to. I still know it by heart. It’s a whale of a tale…

And the long and the short of it is true…