Kitty cats and Mormon missionaries

I heard a knock upon my door the other evening and opened it to find two Mormon missionaries standing upon the porch. So I invited them in to meet the cats. Here they are, the young Elder Smith and the young Elder Wadsworth, posing with Royce, who is very old, even though he is younger than they.

Muzzy comes to get in the picture.

He terrifies the missionaries, so I have to take him to the garage.

Martigny comes to bless them with her presence. The missionaries wanted to baptize the two cats, but both refuse. Mormons believe in total immersion. These cats will not be immersed.

Wry and Royce.

Some of you may have already discovered that that other Wasilla blogger in the parallel universe has posted pictures identical to these on his blog.

He does things like that, sometimes. It makes me very angry.

I punched him in the nose, once, but the blow broke my own nose, so now I just let him get away with it.

Royce grows old

I hate to say it, but Royce is growing very old and ever more feeble. I don't know how much time we have left with him. Yesterday, Sunflower wondered if we should dig a hole in the backyard before freezeup. That could be any day now. Last year, it had happened by now.

It is very hard to dig a grave back there, once the ground has frozen.

Still, I don't think we will dig that hole now. Perhaps Royce can make it through another winter. I hope so. I think so. I'm not sure.

Of course, we are never sure, about any of us.

We are going to lose Martigne and Muzzy very soon - but for a better reason. Toast Ed and Sunflower are in the process of closing on a house in Anchorage. Once they do, they will move these two and little Wry into that house with them.

What will we do out here then?

Juniper comes for a visit, gets together with Wry

I looked out my front window and was surprised to see that there was a tiny cow out in the yard, grazing on the grass. A really tiny cow. The tiniest cow that I had ever seen. I went out to investigate.

Why, it was not a cow at all! It was Juniper! That must mean that Nabysko was nearby.

Little Wry spotter Juniper, too, and skedadeled over. He was surprised. Wry does not see Juniper often.

"H'mmm," Wry contemplated. He seemed to wonder if she was safe to pet.

Nabysko appeared and gave Juniper a pet. This gave Wry confidence. He reached out to do the same.

Wry gives Juniper a pet.

Juniper escapes to the Escape.

Juniper poses by Nabysko's Cavalier.

From inside the front room, Martigne looks out the window. She is jealous. She wants to be out there, too.

Soon, the action moves to the back yard.

Juniper spots a bumble bee.

Juniper does some more grazing.

Toast Ed made this pile after the snow melted. We are waiting until the snow falls again and then we will burn it. Juniper decides to climb it.

Wry discovers that Juniper has climbed up the rubbish pile.

His dad gives Wry a boost so that he can better see. Juniper decides to leave.

Down Juniper goes.

But soon, she climbs right back up. That's because she can see the entire world from up there. Juniper believes that the entire world belongs to her.

And so it does.

A time of high ambition and roaring energy in the Kracker house

As you can see, Pistol is full of energy, vigor, and vim.

So is Jim.

And Martigny, too.

Chicago can hardly be constrained. This is how we all are around here, right now. Give us some time. Rest will come, energy will be restored, Sunflower will heak and we will all be back as we were.

I just need about a 20 year nap, that's all.

So it shouldn't be too long.

Martigny in the window

Martigny in the window, as we drive off to Anchorage. Friends, I am overwhelmed and my cat blog falters, but I will yet get back on top of it.

Martigny and Royce as they appeared today

I have no stories to tell tonight. This is not true - I do. I have so many stories. I am just too tired to tell them. Tired is not the word.

Exhausted.

So here are two pictures from today, unaccompanied by stories, save for those you might invent in your own.

I will not even identify the cats. If you are new and don't know them, then you can find them in the sidebar.

I don't have any time for this blogging. Why do I do it?

I'm not going to stop, I'm going to keep doing it. But why?

Martigny scratches baby wry

Baby Wry in the emergency room, after Martigny scratched him. 

The culprit. We still love her. I have given this more extensive coverage on the other blog, over the past three posts, and right now I just lack the energy to do it again.

You can find that coverage right here.

Baby Wry can count on Martigny to walk by his side

I have been neglecting the contemporary Kracker Cats lately. I will soon return to the history, after I take a little break here to share with you one Kracker Cat item from this day, a series. 

It began right here, when little baby Wry came crawling towards me through an obstacle course of three stationary Kracker Cats - namely, Muzzy, the huge, odd-looking, cat at left, Martigny and Jim, who can barely be seen at the right hand edge of the image.

As baby Wry passed Martigny, she took note of the action of his paws upon the floor.

Martigny begins to step alongside baby Wry.

She matches his stride, her left front paw to his right.

Side by side, they keep coming.

Next thing you know, I will have to put the camera down and do some holding and petting.

Kracker Cats to be subject of searing expose

Late this morning, I suspiciously observed a car pull into my driveway. All my instincts told me to grab the cats and run, straight to Mexico, but I was pretty curious and did not really believe that anyone could ever have discovered the secret deeds of the Kracker Cats. So I opened my door to the young woman, Zaz Hollander, who proved to be a reporter for the Anchorage Daily News.

I was shocked to learn that not only did she know about each misdeed ever committed by any Kracker Cat, but she had irrefutable documentation of each event, confirmed by three independent sources.

It is a good thing I have no political ambitions, as this would put an end to my career, for sure.

Perhaps Royce saved us all. As usual, the moment he spotted Zaz, he sidled on up to her in his tenacious quest for love. He poured on the charm. It seemed to work. She liked him. He deposited much hair on her and she said that was okay, that her cat did the same kind of thing. Furthermore, Muzzy shook his head and sent slobber flying everywhere. She said that was what cats who look like St. Bernards do. 

We will just have to wait and see what she writes about the Kracker Cats and this blog. Her story will appear next wednesday in the weekly Mat-Su section of the paper.

Last night, I said that tonight I would continue my catch-up of the Kracker Cat photos that I took during the time that I ran the series on Romeo and Diane. I was wrong. I will continue it tomorrow.

P.S. Don't forget - you can enlarge these pictures by clicking on the image. There are only two today, so it won't take that long. I suggest you click.

Very tired and lazy tonight - intermission entry

So I'm still in this gray period, being lazy. Tomorrow I am going to do something that I never thought I would do: I am going to make a post filled only pictures taken by someone else - namely, Toast Ed and Prickly Pear Blossom at the Apache Sunrise Dance in Fort Apache, Arizona. I want you all to see just what it was that was so important to this family that even I insisted they be there instead of with me at my hour of need; at the very hour when I lost my shoulder. 

I'm glad they were there, and not with me. I wish that I had been there, with them. You will see why.

In the meantime, here is Martigny, above and below. Again, taken on the new point and shoot, which, unlike my much superior pro Canon 1Ds Mk III camera, is easy to heft and manipulate with just my left hand.

A gray sort of day

When I speak of today as a gray sort of day, I do not speak of the clouds - although certainly there were clouds today, and brief periods of rain. I speak instead of the gray that was in my head. That's where the gray was - in my head. Not depression gray. Just lack-luster gray. No motivation. No energy. That kind of gray.

Look at Pistol! My little Pistol-Yero! Seems like he was kind of gray, too.

But not these two! The two on the left, little Wry Kracker and his dad, Toast Ed Kracker. These two bounded with color and energy all day long. I believe darling Martigny was a little gray, though. 

So the three together made a mix of gray and color.

Nabysko showed up. She was a bit gray, too - because she wants a cat to live with her, but in her apartment, no cats are allowed. I told her that if she ever moves to where cats are allowed, maybe Pistol-Yero could go live with her.

She so adores Pistol-Yero. After I said it, I grew even more gray. I don't even want to think about life in this house with Pistol-Yero gone. 

Why did I ever say such a thing?

Nabysko and Jim.

Jim and Nabysko.

Self-portrait: Jim and me. When I feel gray, it is good to have Jim there. Jim makes it kind of pleasant to feel gray.

Intermission continues: Happy Birthday to Me!

Look, I had honestly intended to finish Part 6 of 6, but late in the day an unexpected task arose and before I could finish it, my kids started to appear inside my house, having come to wish me a happy birthday. What was I supposed to do - ignore all that food and cake, just so I could finish part six?

Of course not!

This scene, with Martigny zealously looking out for baby Wry, is from early in the day, before I even realized that it was my birthday.

Stephanie and Fire were the first to arrive, Chicago soon  joined them. Please don't forget - if you simply click on these tiny images, they will blow up and you will get a better idea of what they actually look like.

"Pistol, I feel so used!" I heard Nabysko exclaim at one point, as I ate my birthday chicken. "You come to me, purring. I give you my chicken and then you leave."

Fire brings my cake. There are eight candles on it. Do my children really think that I am only eight years old? How do they think I could be eight and still be their dad? What I am is 28. At my age, it feels really good to be 28.

I like being 28. It is a good age. I believe I will stay 28 for yet a couple of decades more to come.

Later, after dinner, at about 9:00 PM, a whole bunch of us took a walk. After we reached pavement, we spotted this woman, walking toward us with two dogs. When the dogs saw Muzzy, they could not believe that a cat could be so big. One of them had to  sniff Muzzy's rather public privates, to see if he actually was a cat, or just a pretender.

As distasteful as it was to him, Muzzy, by far the biggest and strangest looking of all the Kracker cats, sniffed right back. No wiseguy dog was going to intimidate this Kracker cat!