Oxbow's World

There’s nothing more heartbreaking than finding out your loved one has been cheating on you, and that’s how I feel right now. Mama G recently returned from another trip to the Pacific Northwest, and while I was happy to see her again, it was clear that something was different this time. I overheard her tell Mama C about her trip and she kept talking repeatedly about “the boys,” and about how much she missed them. “The boys this …,” “the boys that …” was all I heard for several days. And then I found her trip photos, and discovered exactly who the boys were!

Apparently Mama G had rented a house for two weeks and in a bit of an unusual arrangement, two indoor/outdoor cats came with it! To hear Mama G tell it, the boys were real charmers, though not without their faults. She had hoped to do some writing and reading while out there, but the boys were attached like Velcro whenever inside, making it hard for her to do much of anything except listen to them purr. Still, it was clear they had made a big impression on her.

I know Mama G loves me and was momentarily distracted by the shiny new objects, so to speak. I might not want to sit in my mamas’ laps much, and I know I whine too much about my food, but at least Those Two don’t have to worry about me bringing live “gifts” inside the house, as one of the boys did on Day Two of Mama G’s visit. I hear she put a stop to that quickly, and the two-way cat door then became a one-way door and the boys had to show her their mouths before they were allowed back in. Sometimes love is a one-way street.

Mama G often impresses Mama C with her ability to build and repair things. Mama G usually is dismissive of the praise, saying that most anyone could do the sorts of things she does — all they need is a good YouTube video and a set of cojones, whatever those are.

Even so, Mama G managed to impress even herself recently when she decided to try to repair their dishwasher. The thing had been acting up for months, maybe even a year, constantly stopping well before one cycle or another was over. Those Two would be over there, constantly pushing buttons and swearing, trying to coax it to finish the job. When it was uncooperative, it would emit a series of beeps that, along with my crying for more breakfast, would drive Mama G to the brink some days. Finally, she shut the dishwasher off at the circuit breaker box and announced that from there on out, she would do all the dishes by hand. Mama C, however, has a bit more inner princess in her and was not about to go along with that nonsense, especially given Mama G’s frequent travels. She was ready to call a repair person.

They already thought they had diagnosed the problem, mostly likely a bad control panel. All the symptoms were there. In looking at what it would cost to have a repair person replace the panel, they briefly entertained the idea of purchasing a new dishwasher, probably at a minimum cost of $600 to $700. Enter the YouTube videos, because if it’s one thing that Mama G detests, it’s spending money on things that offer no real pleasure! After watching a few videos, she decided that the repair didn’t look very difficult and she ordered a new control panel, at $149 including tax and shipping. Early one Saturday morning after it arrived, she began her work. In no time, she had disassembled the door and made her way to the control panel.

So far, things were working exactly according to plan as described in the YouTube videos, with one exception: none of the videos mentioned anything about taking precautions if you have a cat in the house. I was delighted to find that the back of the door cover contained an enormous scratch pad, and I went to town!

Oh, I guess I was mistaken, because Mama G started yelling at me to get off of it, then denied me further access. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

In no time Mama G had the new panel inserted, then started reassembling the door. That was apparently the hardest part, involving lots of swearing and a little blood and a couple of Band-Aids, but eventually she got it all back together. Mama C slept through the whole thing, but once up, she came out to the kitchen to find the dishwasher purring away. And it purred for a long time, until finally, there was a sight they hadn’t seen in a while.

The dishwasher had made it through a full cycle and shut off on its own! Now there was peace to be had in the household again. Well, there is still the issue of my crying in the early morning, and trust me, there’s no YouTube video on how to fix that!

My mamas love Halloween. In fact, they’d probably tell you that it’s their favorite holiday if you were to ask. But you wouldn’t necessarily know it from our house, since they don’t go crazy decorating like some people in the neighborhood, with their yards full of giant inflatable spiders and ghosts, skeletons on tractors, and other scary things. They have only a handful of decorations: a cardboard skeleton attached to the front door, a little witch that hangs from a light fixture, a log painted like a pumpkin that sits on the front steps, a scarecrow, and this pillow that they faithfully trot out every October:

Sure, it’s cute, but I don’t quite understand the Halloween connection. Given the number of times I hear the cocktail shaker around here, it’s not like drinking is a seasonal activity! And that little blue ball stuffed into the back of the love seat, perpetually smiling at nothing in particular? That one seems to be a year-round fixture, just sitting there waiting to be squeezed occasionally. I don’t really get it.

Who knows what Those Two have brewing for this Halloween, but I’ll just try to keep my head down and mind my own business. Keeping a low profile comes naturally to me.

They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but Those Two decided over the weekend to see if they could teach this old cat a new game. It’s something called Mexican Train, which they took up with a passion after learning the game from relatives in Ohio last year.

I don’t really have the patience these days for learning new rules and strategy. Besides, I’m a cat — I make my own rules! Apparently the idea is to string these tiles together in some sort of order, and the person with the fewest points left at the end is the winner. I decided instead to play an abbreviated version of the game in which I just gingerly brushed the tiles off the island and onto the floor, where they landed with quite the bang!

I have to say, the game was kind of satisfying!

Remember when I said at the beginning of the year that one of my resolutions was to blog more? Hahahaha! How are you all doing with your resolutions?

As usual, the summer seems to be flying by, which is fine with me. It gets awfully hot when you have a permanent fur coat.

As you can probably guess, I’m just grasping at straws for something to write about. So I thought today I would mention that Mama G had a birthday last month, and she bought herself a present. She does that every year, which I think is kind of nice. Most humans forget to treat themselves. I could teach them something about the importance of treats!

Anyway, here is Mama G’s gift to herself:

Apparently she loves the big air dancers that you see outside places such as car dealerships. They make her smile. She settled for a mini one for home use. At first I was baffled by it, but soon I began to enjoy it, too.

Sometimes Those Two take it outside. Looks like Happy Hour is in full swing here!

Mama G likes to joke that her motto is, “You’re only young once, but you can always be immature!” She sure walks the walk, or maybe I should say dances the dance.

I mentioned recently that our backyard was starting to resemble scenes from Wild Kingdom, and it’s only gotten worse — I mean better! — since then. I often sit downstairs by the patio for hours on end, watching the parade of animals. The show usually features mostly birds, but occasionally there are other special visitors, like the two fawns that peered out from the edge of the woods one morning.

One of my favorite visitors is the family of turkeys — two adults and 13 babies — who regularly walk through the yard. Mostly they stick together, but the other day I got a thrill when one of the adults left the family and started marching right up to the patio, and I thought I’d soon be staring at it face-to-face. But it stopped short. Still, it was an exciting moment!

The chipmunk is a recent visitor, much to the dismay of my mamas. They nicknamed it Quagmire, after the puffy-cheeked character on Family Guy, because of the way it greedily stuffs its cheeks with more food than it could ever possibly eat, then leaps off the feeder and into the woods on its way to who knows where. Maybe it has a family it’s feeding and we shouldn’t be so quick to judge.

I also saw a bunny hopping through recently, nervously twitching as it paused occasionally to eat the clover that dominates our yard, now that Mama C has come to her senses and given up on her fantasy of having a fairway-quality lawn. And I think I’m jumpy sometimes!

My mamas recently added another bird feeder — this one designed to hold half a fresh orange that supposedly attracts Baltimore Orioles. My first thought was, “Ha, good luck with that!” since it’s not a species we usually see around here, but soon the feeder lived up to its hype.

One of our longtime backyard residents is Chucky the woodchuck, who lives under the shed, but frequently ventures out to munch on the clover and sun himself. This year he seems to have found a companion, though she is apparently more of a homebody and doesn’t come out as often.

To date, we have identified 33 different species of birds that have visited our yard. They are all beautiful in their own way and have their own personalities, but I have to say, I’m partial to the male cardinal. I just think that black mask gives him such a bad-boy look, like he’s ready to go hold up a convenience store or something! Let’s just say I sometimes have a thing for badness. But the male cardinal is actually very sweet. We’ve watched him repeatedly feed a female cardinal in an effort to court her. He’s a keeper!

And that’s my wildlife report for now. We’re just waiting for the day when a bear lumbers through.

Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I promised I would keep you updated. The Eastern Phoebes nesting under our deck have left. Mama G knew something was wrong a few days ago, when she was out on the patio reading and didn’t see them. Normally one or both of them would be flying around the backyard, snatching insects out of the air with great skill.

When it became apparent that they would not be back, Mama C climbed up a ladder and snapped a photo of the inside of the nest. The eggs were tiny, only about three-quarters of an inch long. It was hard to believe that even under different circumstances this is where it would all begin for a Phoebe.

After learning that Phoebes rarely abandon their nest after eggs have been laid, we have to believe that one of them might have died, especially since we still hear Phoebe calls coming from the woods. I sure hope it wasn’t one of my feline brothers or sisters who managed to grab one. Or maybe it was the red fox that Mama G scared off the other night after catching it chasing a wild turkey. Our yard has been like Wild Kingdom lately! Whatever happened to the Phoebes, we miss their aerobatics and vocalizations.

On a happier note, we did have a wren family in one of our nesting boxes. We could hear the high-pitched chatter of the little ones for a couple of weeks as their mama raced to feed them. The box eventually fell silent, and although we didn’t see them fly out, we believe the family had a successful outcome.

No, I’m not talking about Those Two, silly. That ship has long sailed! I’m talking about the pair of Eastern Phoebes that have returned to raise a new family right underneath our deck.

We’re assuming it’s the same pair, since Phoebes are known to return to their nesting sites. You would have thought one season of sitting up there listening to the sounds of laughter and the cocktail shaker on the patio below would have been enough to persuade them to find a different neighborhood, but maybe they’re party birds.

We sure enjoyed watching the whole sequence of events last year, starting with the building of the nest in the spring, and Mama G even managed to capture the young birds’ first flight on video. The Phoebes sure seemed to be great parents, working tirelessly in tandem to feed all those hungry mouths. They looked completely stressed out at times, but at least they didn’t have to worry about the kids hanging out in the nest until they’re 26!

We’re hoping this year’s adventure in raising a family is as successful as last year’s. I’ll keep you posted.

I don’t mean to spill the beans about what goes on in our household, but Those Two eat at the coffee table a lot. Mama C took this steamy photo of me last night just before she booted me out of her spot. Hey, I was just warming it up for her. I swear there’s a kernel of truth in that statement!

Puns are said to be the lowest form of humor, so I hope this post doesn’t make you want to drop me like a hot potato. Aw shucks, I’m done here — stick a fork in it!

Last week I got hauled off to the veterinarian’s office for some blood work. I don’t like going there, of course, but I made the best of it. I’m a pretty good patient, and the ladies at the office adore me, so I use that to my advantage. I also wowed my mamas with a Norman Rockwell-type moment.