Biscuit's Story

I've been piecing together the story of Biscuit's life for the past year. Over the Christmas holidays, as neighbors dropped by to share some seasonal cheer, a few more pieces fell into place.

I already told you about the big cat's early life. The big Maine Coon cat and his brother Gravy belonged to a relative of one of the Davis brothers (of Davis Ranch). They grew up in the country about 5 years ago, and were happy there playing with their doggie buddies and hunting in the fields. Then coyotes killed Gravy. Biscuit was taken to the shop at Davis Ranch. The shop is not quite a mile from my house, it's where the tractors are kept and maintained. There are several outbuildings there and the guys like to keep cats around to keep the mice in check.

Biscuit hung around the shop for a couple of years, then he would disappear for a week at a time. He was a tomcat, and was evidently out tomcatting. We know this because this year when the neighbors came around and saw him sitting on my porch, or in the chair in my living room, each one of them said, "I have a cat that looks just like that at home. It was a feral kitten."

I'd already suspected Biscuit is Wesley's father. Wesley has a small head and finer bones, like his feral mother's family, but he's a big, big cat. When he stands next to Biscuit, they're about the same height and length. And the same color, with the same markings.

The last mystery about Biscuit was cleared up when the neighbor from the seed company across the field stopped by. She said, "So he's still alive! I haven't seen him for 2 months, he always came around and stayed for 3 or 4 days, then he'd be gone for a week." That would be the week he was at my house.

When he was at the seed company, Biscuit kept the rats and mice under control, and caught jackrabbits in the alfalfa fields. He wasn't wild, but they couldn't pet him.

So now the only mystery is which of my neighbors caught the big guy this fall and hauled him off to SPCA to have him neutered? No one is confessing. I think the neighborhood has lost its might hunter, though. The big guy has totally become a lap cat.

She's Gonna Blow!

My house had become a war zone. Biscuit is wise. Even when he appears to be sleeping (which is always) he knows all, sees all, hears all.

Part of the problem was the winter solstice. I only had to hang on for a few more days and the days would start getting longer again. There would be hope!

In the meantime, the halls were not being decked. There was no fa la la. I was down to my last 2 sacks of pellets for the stove. Home Depot was out of them, they didn't know when they'd get more. How about in frigging July, when nobody will need them, you idiots?

I had been filling the wood box every 3 days, using a lot of wood. It was going faster than normal because I'm down to the old, soft wood that burns quicker. If this was Idaho instead of California, it would be colder and more of a problem, but that didn't stop me from whining about it.

I did try to do a little holiday decorating. I bought several poinsettias. I had to stack books and other junk around them to keep Wesley from knocking them down and breaking the branches off them. That just made him more determined to destroy them.

So, my Christmas decorations today consist of 4 raggedy poinsettias with about half the flowers ruined.

The cats had a peaceful Christmas, though, because I left them home alone, picked up cousin Beverly, and we both went to Bob and Anna's apartment for a Christmas brunch and to trade a few silly gifts. I didn't get a single picture of that.

A couple of days after Christmas Anna and one of her friends came out and planted the 200 tulips I'd bought a couple of months ago. I think spring will be glorious. This spring we'll be celebrating Bob's 30th birthday. The tulips were blooming when we brought him home from the hospital.

Here are a couple of random things I found to close out the year. Bob's aunts on his dad's side of the family are Patty and Tina. Look here!

What are the odds that a random dog rescue page would have puppies named Patty and Tina on the same page?

The fine lady below is called Baddie Winkle. She evidently has quite a following on the internet.

She's my new fashion inspiration. Here's another fashion that I find intriguing: a peacock dress. The hair is interesting, too.

In the winter I often wear only two sets of clothes. When I wear one, I wash the other. Both "outfits" consist of sweatshirts and jeans. I have been known to build a roaring fire in the Buck stove, put my huge old ski jacket on over my sweatshirt and jeans, and fall asleep in the chair in the living room. There is only one chair in there right now, Grandma Betty's old chair. She was about 5'2" tall, the chair fit her perfectly. Me, not so much. It's cozy, though, when all three cats are sleeping on top of me. That's the only time they get along.

This is trending toward Crazy Cat Lady, isn't it?

Well, okay then.

Christmas Addicts

A couple of days ago I told you what my current practices are for the Christmas season. My son has his own. He and Anna live in a small apartment, so their goal to completely fill it with Christmas shouldn't take too long.

Anna is the queen of glitter glue. We had Thanksgiving dinner at my house and she brought some pumpkins in for decorations. Bob and Anna cooked, there were 9 of us who ate and enjoyed a good time. It was a little strange because there was no furniture in the living room.

A couple of months ago I'd asked one of the Jims from Davis Ranch to haul all my living room furniture to the dump. He showed up 2 days before Thanksgiving. Well, OK. Whatever. We dragged Grandma Betty's old rocking chair out of Bob's room, threw some pillows on the floor and set up a couple of folding chairs. That worked.

The Thanksgiving leftovers were barely gone from the refrigerator when Bob and Anna came back to start Christmas.

Not a typical tree saw, but not a chainsaw, either.

I sat on the tailgate while the kids disappeared into the forest. The noisy forest, full of people arguing over which was the perfect tree. When Bob was little, he'd be out in the trees a month ahead of time. I painted him a sign that said "This tree reserved for Bob." He'd mark the tree he wanted, then we'd go back after it a couple of weeks before Christmas. Most years he changed his mind and cut a different tree. One year we found the sign on a different tree.

It took a long time, but they finally came back with a tree.

It looks to me like it's wide enough to take up a third of their living room.

And it has two tips. "No problem," Bob says. "We have two ornaments for the top."

They also evidently have enough lights for 3 trees, every window in the house, and more. They've had a wonderful time shopping for decorations. I hope they have an open house so we can all see.

Gun Control

I think that instead of trying to ban assault weapons, we should simply declare that anyone seen in public with one can legally be shot on sight, questions asked later.

There is no good reason for anyone to be carrying a gun like that in public. If the U.S. is invaded and we need homies with assault weapons for protection, then we can amend the law. Meanwhile, you carry them at your own peril.

Another Chicken Story

Dominique bantams are my primary breed. I also keep a few (fewer than a dozen) white OEGB. In this picture, the bird on the right is my 14 year old hen, #2. The birds on the left are a DB cockerel and his "daughter" a late hatched OEGB. 

My OE are not good mothers, they are great setters, but will kill babies that hatch. This pullet was a lone chick, hatched a month after anything else. I pulled her out of her mother's pen and brought her in. I had no other chicks to go with her, so I took the last-hatched DB and put him with her. 

He forgot about his buddies and adopted her right away. He clucked to her like an old hen to get her to eat and drink, he tried to spread his feathers and sit on her. To this day she's his baby. 

Sooooo. I brought #2 in the house as soon as it got cold outside. She has spent the past 3 winters inside. But this year she just wasn't enthusiastic about her life. I brought the other two in to keep her company. That hasn't worked the way I planned. 

At least 4 times a day the old hen picks a fight through the divider, the cockerel reacts by protecting his precious baby. The old hen loves this, all the while she's doddering around and trying to fight, she clucks happily. No chickens have been harmed to make this story.