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Or when the milk is missing
So I am very tired and sleeping very poorly these last few days and I made myself a very large mug of warm goat's milk to drink while reading a book on the couch.
And all of a sudden there were cats. Little cats with questing noses and importunate paws, reaching out plaintively to touch the mug as if to tell me to lower it just a little, thanks. And little furred shoulders curving as little cat heads tried to stick themselves into the mug. And wide green and gold eyes, tracking every single movement the mug made as I tried to hold it out of reach of the very intent cats. And paws. And purring. General interest, is what I am trying to say here.
I went into the kitchen and poured a half-cup of goat's milk into a smaller mug and warmed it and poured it into the little glass dish we don't have a real use for. Sleek black cat-shapes circled the floor around me like small furry sharks. (They actually remind me of sharks fairly often, gliding beneath chairs and the overhanging shadows of futons and other furniture. It's very attractive.) I took the dish of warm milk into the living room and put it down on the splat mat between their bowls of water and food. I clicked my tongue to let them know it was edible.
The sound of lapping was loud in the land.
I did not take any pictures. I was too busy smiling. It's a small dish, so they took turns drinking, much more loudly and busily than they usually do with water. There was some grooming to take care of milk-spatter. To date they've gone back for thirds.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel even checked the internet to make sure that goat's milk is healthy for kittens (which apparently it is. I just figured that since it's easier on the human digestive system, there was a decent chance it would not be subject to the same stringent warnings as cow's milk when we adopted the cats). I suspect I shouldn't feed them milk every day, but so far it's working as a treat. I haven't seen any vomiting, which is what the last dietary experiment led to. And they were so happy. Autolycus is settled half on the computer, half on my lap as I type.
I like these cats.
And all of a sudden there were cats. Little cats with questing noses and importunate paws, reaching out plaintively to touch the mug as if to tell me to lower it just a little, thanks. And little furred shoulders curving as little cat heads tried to stick themselves into the mug. And wide green and gold eyes, tracking every single movement the mug made as I tried to hold it out of reach of the very intent cats. And paws. And purring. General interest, is what I am trying to say here.
I went into the kitchen and poured a half-cup of goat's milk into a smaller mug and warmed it and poured it into the little glass dish we don't have a real use for. Sleek black cat-shapes circled the floor around me like small furry sharks. (They actually remind me of sharks fairly often, gliding beneath chairs and the overhanging shadows of futons and other furniture. It's very attractive.) I took the dish of warm milk into the living room and put it down on the splat mat between their bowls of water and food. I clicked my tongue to let them know it was edible.
The sound of lapping was loud in the land.
I did not take any pictures. I was too busy smiling. It's a small dish, so they took turns drinking, much more loudly and busily than they usually do with water. There was some grooming to take care of milk-spatter. To date they've gone back for thirds.
derspatchel even checked the internet to make sure that goat's milk is healthy for kittens (which apparently it is. I just figured that since it's easier on the human digestive system, there was a decent chance it would not be subject to the same stringent warnings as cow's milk when we adopted the cats). I suspect I shouldn't feed them milk every day, but so far it's working as a treat. I haven't seen any vomiting, which is what the last dietary experiment led to. And they were so happy. Autolycus is settled half on the computer, half on my lap as I type.I like these cats.
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I know exactly what you mean.
Whenever I'm cooking, Jiji comes over, stands on hind legs, and looks, and if it seems delicious to him, he raises his paw to try to pull my hand down just like your two did. (Jiji's more fond of fish than milk, though.)
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(Anonymous) 2014-08-25 03:13 am (UTC)(link)Aw!
(Jiji's more fond of fish than milk, though.)
Curiously, ours were totally uninterested the one time we brought raw fish home for cooking—we broiled salmon and scallops without a moment of cat interference, except for the way they think everything in the kitchen is their personal playground, so we have to shut them in my office when we have burners on. (Once the fish was on the table, though: whatever.) The oven, I think they're learning to stay away from. There was one moment tonight with the currywurst when I thought Hestia was going to dive from the windowsill onto the broiler tray and I had to hiss at her, but Autolycus flattened himself against the kitchen floor every time the door was open. They may still not understand the concept of the stovetop, but very great heat and unfriendly noises are getting through. The sink, though, is probably a lost cause.
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Aw!
(Jiji's more fond of fish than milk, though.)
Curiously, ours were totally uninterested the one time we brought raw fish home for cooking—we broiled salmon and scallops without a moment of cat interference, except for the way they think everything in the kitchen is their personal playground, so we have to shut them in my office when we have burners on. (Once the fish was on the table, though: whatever.) The oven, I think they're learning to stay away from. There was one moment tonight with the currywurst when I thought Hestia was going to dive from the windowsill onto the broiler tray and I had to hiss at her, but Autolycus flattened himself against the kitchen floor every time the door was open. They may still not understand the concept of the stovetop, but very great heat and unfriendly noises are getting through. The sink, though, is probably a lost cause.
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I'm afraid that's R'lyeh on the horizon, then—they haven't got the technique down, but they're definitely interested in learning. Hestia keeps sticking her head under the tap when I'm just trying to wash dishes.
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Furry tiny cuddly sharks really are the best.
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They are marvelous. Do you have some yourself?
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We'll have to try goat milk on our Elder Statescat (and perhaps the Evil Overlord In Training as well, if she'll deign to attempt it).
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Awesome! I didn't realize it was such a popular position until I made this post.
We'll have to try goat milk on our Elder Statescat (and perhaps the Evil Overlord In Training as well, if she'll deign to attempt it).
Your cat names, just for the record, are splendid.
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They are an uncomplicated source of happiness in my life.
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when they go into the feeding frenzy ... circling and attacking..
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It is something about the way they glide under things and out from under things. Sleek, intent, sliding. I am reminded most of the three-story tank in the New England Aquarium.
The feeding frenzy usually confines itself to toys. You have not lived until you have seen a cat trying to kick a wicker ball to death.
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P.
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Yes! The patient circling is definitely part of it.
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Tonight I deboned several chicken thighs and Alex was his usual unabashed self about demanding a taste: up on hind legs, paws on the cabinets, then paws on my hip (no, kitty), and eyes very wide. When I shooed him away, he did what J narrates as "Perhaps if I approach the problem from another angle": drifted away briefly, regarded the scene, then came at me from my other side as though I might now mistake him for a cat who gets to eat raw chicken. Alas for him, I was not fooled.
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As if in punctuation, Autolycus has just gently gnawed my wrist.
what J narrates as "Perhaps if I approach the problem from another angle": drifted away briefly, regarded the scene, then came at me from my other side as though I might now mistake him for a cat who gets to eat raw chicken. Alas for him, I was not fooled.
Hee. Nice try, though. Everyone who knows a cat who approaches from the other side is a completely different cat.
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You should sometime! Autolycus is a great commander of laps.
What were the cats you grew up with like?
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I had the cats from age nine to age nearly-eleven. Artemis and Bastet. Artemis had the accent on the second syllable because I didn't know how other people pronounced the name at that time. They were female tuxedo cats, not related but acquired in their young adulthood from the pound, and raised like sisters by me.
Bastet's fur was long and silky and she was kind of a dope. I feel badly for saying this, but Artemis had ten times as much personality and I was much closer to her. No parent likes to admit they have a favorite child. Bastet spent a lot of time lying around looking picturesque, and she was easily intimidated. An ant once scared her into leaping off the edge of the wading pool (not into the water). It just stood up and waved its feelers at her and she flipped out.
Artemis was a little runt, stunted in size from repeated bouts with worms in her adolescence, and huge in assertiveness and confidence. She had enormous seven-toed paws like snowshoes. She had huge ears with bald patches running down to her eyebrows. The rest of her was tiny, skinny and whippy. She was very glossy and vain, and she loved to climb into bed with me, ride around in the front of my mother's bathrobe, and do all the aggressive things that Bastet shunned. I could throw tinfoil balls for her all day and it wouldn't be enough.
My parents got sick of having cats when I was eleven, and made me re-home them. At the time, they justified this by saying my father was allergic. That was a lie; they told me later they were sick of the mess my cats made, and they didn't think I was a sufficiently responsible cat owner. Which, OK, I can see how they would have been frustrated that I didn't clean the cat box enough and had to be reminded to feed them sometimes. But also I was a kid, so maybe they might have cut me some slack. When I let myself think about it, I'm angry that they let me have cats and then took them away.
I found a family who had just moved to a country house two towns away, and they seemed nice and my cats liked them, so I re-homed Artemis and Bastet. By all accounts, they took to the countryside and started catching mice immediately. I went back to visit once, and then cut contact for good because it was kind of sad to have to deal with.
Many years later, I realized that when I told people, "We gave my cats to this nice family who live on a farm out in the country," that was leading people to think that my parents had had my cats euthanized and that I was too dense to realize what had gone on. Not so, fortunately. I saw my cats a time or two afterwards, and if they'd been euthanized then the vet had done a damn lively job of taxidermy.
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Someone told me she was buying this for her old cat, she was buying goat's milk, and the cat loved it, it was sweetened a little and had cinnamon in it, and I said, "Wait a minute. They make horchata for cats?"
And yes, they make horchata for cats...
It's great that you found them something wonderful like that. It must have smelled amazing to get them all excited like that.
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I WOULD DRINK THAT.
I mean, I would also feed it to my cats, because I suspect they would enjoy it. But I might have to share it with them. And I can easily make it at home.
It's great that you found them something wonderful like that. It must have smelled amazing to get them all excited like that.
Autolycus had expressed interest in goat's milk once before, when he was much younger, but mostly in licking it off my fingers, not in having any real portion of his own. This was a clear and definite WE WILL FINISH THAT IF YOU DON'T WANT IT OR MAYBE WE'LL JUST FINISH IT ANYWAY OKAY THANK YOU NOW. I think their tastes are broadening as they grow up, which is great.
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That's really cool. I had no idea about cats and goat's milk until I looked it up—I just knew I liked it!