Friday, June 4, 2010


If you aren't already aware, the studio is chock full of fuzzy mascots.

Mackie, my Border Collie mix, is a wonderful companion with the sweetest disposition imaginable. Theoretically, being a herding breed he's a high-energy doggy. It's hard to tell though. Mostly he naps, changing locations every hour or so. I suppose he's just conserving energy since he's an avid fan of car rides and if he sees a leash there is much rejoycing. He's an excellent supervisor and will appoint himself anytime a task needs to be completed. His post is usually on top of my feet if I'm sitting or there's food involved.

Bad Cat is the youngest in the crew. Being a barn cat rescue, his hunter instincts are top-notch and keeping him contained in the house is impossible. He spends most of his time slinking around the garden chasing bugs, but once in a while, the scent of baby bunnies lures him away. Hence, the name Bad Cat. Sorry bunnies! Fortunately, he doesn't seem to want to hurt them, just relocate them to our yard. I don't think they appreciate it one bit though.

Bad Cat's time indoors is usually spent in a window watching the birds or napping on the back of the couch. He's a pretty kitty, but he's not really in to socializing and he'll let you know by giving you a swat once he's decided you've pet him quite enough. Petting is a privilege, duh!

Then, there's Mr. Wobbles. He's by far the most vocal and the biggest pain in the butt. It's hard to get too peeved since he's 100% lover, but man, is he ever bossy. The other day, I was having a little chat with Wobbles, mostly about how it's HOT and a fuzzy cat perched on my shoulder like a bluebird is a little suffocating in the summer heat. He disagreed and muttered something about being the one with fur. When I mentioned that his constant kneading was a little uncomfortable, again, he muttered something under his breath. This time I think I heard wussy. Mr. Wobbles gets away with murder mostly because he's extra-special, with only 3 teeth, a wicked lisp (think Sylvester) and the complete inability to walk a straight line; he has a rough go of things, although he doesn't seem to notice.

In general, Mr. Wobbles does all the normal cat stuff, except he can't get up on the counters and grace is something that eludes him always. He chases bugs, plays with crinkly paper, loves to be hugged like a teddy bear (so much that his motorboat purr triples with a gentle squeeze), and nobody loves to eat more than Wobbles. In fact, if you're within a mile radius of his food dish he'll start meowing at the top of his lungs for a refill, "Hey, lady! Top off my food would ya? Lady! HEY, FOOD LADY! HEY! HEY! HEY! REFILL PLEASE! CAN I GET SOME SERVICE OVER HERE?"

Subtle? Not so much. Almost as subtle as when he decides he wants to be held so you can pet him. Sometimes there's a flying leap involved -- a straight jump in the air, arms outstretched like Superman as he flings himself forward in hopes he lands where he wants. No worries, if he's close, he'll just stick his claws out and hook in to whatever he can grab. Something in your hands? On your lap? Not his concern.

As you can see, it can be quite a challenge to get anything done around here, between the demands for food, bunny rescue missions and petting, it's a miracle anything gets done at all!


Anonymous said...

I can relate Holly! My dogs are always around when I'm working in the studio and I love having them here with me. But I haven't figured out how to get them to read a clock yet. They always pester me an hour early for food and walks. At certain hours of the day, any little movement I make that seems like a step toward the door or kitchen stirs up anxious tail wagging and loud yawning sounds that I interpret as saying "come on, we've been waiting foreverrrr, hurry, hurry, hurry..."


Holly said...

Carrie - EXACTLY! When I'm working standing up is a signal to commence begging. It's nearly impossible to avoid waking the dog since he's usually literally on top of my feet. The cats are a little slower, but if Wobbles decides its feeding time, there's no end to the harassment. This morning, by the time I had made my way to the kitchen from the bed to make coffee (about a minute, priorities you know) he had already sauntered in and was impatiently waiting at his post directly in front of the food dish. If he could tap one foot, he would.