Peppermint Posy

During the winter, the view got so boring that some of us had to resort to threats of mailing one's person to a place with more entertaining windows.

We occasionally saw a squirrel jump down the fire escape stairs, but that was it.  But now the sparrows are back in the alleyway, and both cats enjoy giving them the evil eye from our windows.

Here is Posy, fresh from a stint as a fierce tigress-y kind of hunter.  Good job, Posy!

Monkey In My Mouth

Nothing pleases Dorothy more than to find a treasure in the park.  She gets happy if the treasure is but a fine stick; but if the treasure is a stinky old ball, or some sort of dog or child’s toy, well then! – her glee and amazement know no bounds.

Yesterday she went to the park with her father and returned quite quickly.  Usually they will do three or four turns around the park, but this time she found a squeaky monkey on a park bench and so had to bring it home, STAT.

After giving it a rinse, we let her enjoy the monkey and make it squeak for a good hour or so.  But we took it away when she removed its rubber monkey tail from its rubber monkey body.

You can be sure that Dorothy will be checking the particular bench on which she found the monkey each time we go to the park from here on in.  Who knows what will be there next?!

Dorothy thinking, this is MY monkey; it is not YOUR monkey.

Fifty-Three

I know it is not proper etiquette to talk about a girl’s weight, let alone proclaim the number on the internet, but I’m going to make an exception in this case since Dorothy carries it so well.  J  We weighed her the other day after not doing so for several months, and at 15 months olde, Dorothy weighs 53 pounds!  I think she is pretty much done with growing length and height-wise, but she will still get a little more muscular and thicker in the chest.

Although every once in a while I look at her and think she is getting really bulldogge-esque, I tend to not notice her changes since I see her every day.  I do get comments from her outside admirers about how big she is getting—especially from those who haven’t run into us in a few weeks or months.  I did also notice that she is having a bit of trouble fitting her whole body into the windowsill in a supine position.  And she no longer will even attempt to lie in any of the cat beds.

 I tried to get some pictures of her strapping new body, but the camera worries her so she tends to sit down when she sees it.  Here is Dorothy, all glorious 53 pounds of her:

 

Dorothy thinking, I could weigh more if you only gave me more kibble:

Why Let a Sunbeam Go To Waste?

Lately it has been freakishly warm out, and it is supposed to continue being in the high seventies all week.  Dorothy loved the cold, Maine Girl she, and now that it is warm out she is already acting more "sluggish" on our walks.  I have gotten so that if I see a very sunny stretch of sidewalk coming up, I will actually cross the street to avoid it.  This is not to keep me from freckling, but rather to keep Dorothy from collapsing dramatically down onto the sunny pavement square and relaxing completely in a few seconds, looking as comfortable as if she were lying poolside in a chaise lounge with a fruity beverage and a pair of ray bans.

Once Dorothy is belly to hot concrete, it can be a little hard to get her back on her feet again.  I am not above giving her tuckus a gentle nudge with my foot, mind you, but I have to wait until her legions of admirers have stopped plying her with oohs and ahhs and scritches and lovins' -- all the while assuring them that no, she is not dehydrated, and no, she really is not exhausted and does not need a rest.

Dorothy should win an Oscar one of these days.

Dorothy thinking, I really do not want to let my peeps down;

I need to add a little more drama to my act....

A pirouette before I swoon, mayhap?

A Room With (not much of) A View

When it gets warm out in the spring, I will open up one of the windows in my back room to get some air and to let the cats have a sensory adventure.  Immediately upon opening the window, both cats will appear in the room (one of them needs  a little help up on to the sill, due to having, shall we say, stumpy legs.)  They like to soak up the breezes and watch the passers-by, and an occasional sparrow or pigeon.  


Of course, when this occurs, Dorothy has to see what is going on.  She fortunately cannot jump up into the sill (or has yet to realize that she can do so), [INSERT!  I'm told she can and has jumped up into the sill on her own!  Oh dear!]  but she can now stand on the bed and peer out with her siblings.  I’m sure she figures that if it is good enough for the cats it is good enough for her.  And besides, Josie Beagle could be walking by!

Dorothy thinking, hark!   Who goes thar?!

Rockin' Robin

One of the signs of spring in this part of the world is a robin hopping on lawn.  But apparently, our Dorothy is not sentimental when it comes to the changing of the seasons.  Yesterday, when in the park on a sunny afternoon in the seventies, Dorothy spotted a plump robin doing robin-y things, and went all jungle on us.  I wasn’t there to witness this spectacle – alas! – but I’m told that when Dorothy spied the robin over yonder, she moved her body an inch or two lower to the ground and began to stalk the robin, paw over paw, getting closer and closer, like a cartoon predator, until all of a sudden she couldn’t take the suspense and charged at the bird.

It turns out there was one little hitch to her stealthiness, and that was that while doing all the sneaking, she was still in full bulldogge breathing mode—i.e. grunting and snuffling and making a lot of nasal noises.  The robin, therefore, was not in any danger of meeting its demise.  But the story made me laugh and I can just picture Dorothy getting all Mighty Huntress in the middle of Center City.

I actually sympathize with the robin a bit, being the victim myself of a dog stalking on several occasions.  My friend’s Doberman, Manda, used to enjoy a bit of stalking while out in her yard in New Hampshire.  Her prey of choice?  Humans.  I’d be outside admiring the garden when I’d feel the hair rise on my neck and look over and see Manda half a football field away, her eyes locked on me, her legs moving forward in studied slow motion, getting closer and closer and closer.  Now Manda was a gentle, friendly beast, so I knew she would never do anything to me.  But there is something primal about being stalked that is unsettling, to say the very least.  There she’d be:  a Doberman lion on the Serengeti; and there I’d be:  a gazelle with an unfortunate economy of motion.  I was always a little relieved when the game ended and I was still upright.

Dorothy’s mother, I am told, is a stellar frog hunter, so hunting is in Dorothy’s genes.  Surprisingly, Dorothy will walk past a pigeon without giving it a second glance though, so there must be something about robins she does not like.  Perhaps she’s pro-earthworm?

Dorothy thinking, I didn’t like its beady little eye looking at me.

Clean-Up In Aisle 5

Now that Dorothy is a little older, she is able to help out some around the house.  I have yet to train her to put my dirty laundry in the washer, as I had once envisioned.  But her life on Spruce Street is not all fun and games all of the time.

For example, she works hard as a guard bulldogge.  She might look like she is lying in her bed and sound like she is snoring loudly, but really she is alert and listening for any Suspicious Sound.  Upon hearing such a sound, she will run to the door and emit a ferocious bark.  The good thing about her guard-dogge skill-set is that she is discriminating about what noises will set her off.  Having lived most of her life in an apartment, she is used to people passing by our door and going up to their apartments.  She’s also used to voices out in the hallway and even dogs going up and down the stairs.  Luckily for me, she knows not to bark at these sounds.  She will bark, though, if someone hesitates on our landing, or bangs into our door, or just makes a sound that is out of the norm.

The other chore she does which is helpful is that after Posy eats her breakfast or dinner in the study behind closed doors (so she can concentrate on her food, instead of turning her nose up at it, covering it with phantom earth, and then letting Plum eat it later), Dorothy will go into the study when I let Posy out and clean up the many remnants of food that Posy has scattered about, wee piggy cat she.  No longer do I find myself on my hands and knees chasing tidbits of tuna!  And this is good.

Dorothy thinking:  I’m always happy to help!

In A Couch Potato State

It is always a good day for me when I get home from work and Sean has already been there for a few hours tiring out the pets.  Instead of being greeted by three beasts who have been napping for hours and stand at the door ready to rumble, my entrance into the apartment does not even merit a head lifting off the bed.  I first see:

Dorothy lying half in half out of her bed, panting.

Dorothy thinking:  only disturb me if it is time for kibble.

Plum conked out in the dog crate.

It's exhausting watching man and dogge wrestle:

 

And Posy, who was snoozing under her lamp before I got out the camera, and then when the lens was aimed at her immediately started cleaning her wee person so as not to disappoint her granny:

Granny, I am always industriously cleaning--

don't believe a word she says.

 

It is definitely a desirable state of affairs, and one that guarantees me at least a modicum of leisure time.

Toddler Dorothy

Dorothy is like a little kid, in that if we are walking and we come across a wall or a ledge, she now insists upon walking along it.  She’ll jump up by herself and then walk on it as sure-footed as a gymnast, before making her dismount.  She likes to run up and down stairs too, and will often run up someone’s front stairs and then sit in front of the door facing out, all proud of herself.

Here she is on the wall at Rittenhouse.  Once up, she’ll stop and survey her domain, trying to spot a squirrel or a pigeon or a dog she wants to meet:

And also like a little kid, here is Dorothy throwing a tantrum and letting it be known that she does NOT want to leave the park yet.  She’s only one, but sometimes seems to already be in the terrible twos!  So precocious!

Dorothy thinking, I don't WANT to leave the park! 

You can't make me!