Sex and the Single Cat Mama

Before there was "Sex In the City" there was Cosmopolitan magazine. That racy single woman's guide to living and dating was de rigueur reading for every college girl back when I was in school.

If Cosmo was our bible, its then-editor, Helen Gurley Brown, was our patron saint, leading a whole generation of "mouseburgers" as she called us down the primrose path of possibilities in the post-sexual revolution '70s and '80s

Helen taught us everything we wanted to know- and certainly much more than most of us ever had occasion to practice --about love and life in the Disco Era.

I suspect that the wealth of information contained in Cosmo, and Ms. Brown's best-selling book "Sex and the Single Girl", were geared to a much worldlier and more promiscuous demographic than the circles I moved in.

So, for me, it was a little too much information. Yet, oddly, not enough.

You see. Helen neglected to address what a girl's to do when her love life is complicated by something-- or more precisely somethings --even hairier than a man. Yes, I am talking about cats.

Now perhaps she assumed, as many do, that a single woman who shares her bed with seven cats has already embraced her destiny and will likely not be embracing much else.

But even cat mamas receive the occasional gentleman caller. At The House Where The Black Cat lives, one gentleman calls more than occasionally. So the subject does come up from time to time.

The truth is dating with cats is not easy. I hate to generalize, but men as a rule do not like cats. They tend to be dog people. To be sure, a man, initially will pretend to like your pets, just like he pretends to like your family, your new haircut and your meatloaf. The truth, as they say, will out.

It pretty much came out at my house when he started leaving the door open so the cats "could get some air." I suspect if he thought they could catch swine flu, he'd be buying them all first-class tickets to Mexico.

To be honest, the kitties haven't exactly rolled out the red carpet for him. They actively ignore him in that passive aggressive way they have perfected as an art form.

But here's the thing. Nobody's bolted out the door yet. Not the cats. Not him.

I hate to jinx it, but let's just say things look promising.

Of Blueberries and Bottle Trees

After two really nasty weekends, the weather was just gorgeous here Saturday and Sunday. We're in that brief window where spring is finally here but summer is waaaay closer than you think. So one has to seize the moment.

I hung more bird feeders. And by the way thank you, Tana, Lou and Cindy from Denver for pointing out that the "mystery birds" from my earlier blog were in fact rose-breasted grosbecks.

I was pleased to note that my tomatoes, herbs, eggplant and pepper plants are all moving smartly toward their ultimate destiny as caponata.

Not so the cucumber which finally bit the dust.

My blueberry bushes, planted last year, are finally starting to grow and they both have clusters of berries on them. Not enough for a pie or cobbler, but maybe enough for one decent batch of blueberry pancakes.

My geraniums, marigolds, zinnias and lilies are filled with blooms. The lantana will be bursting out any day now.

My bottle tree is the envy of my neighbors. I've always wanted one of these. Now I feel like a real Southern girl.

I can't say it was all work. There was a fair amount of loafing on my front porch swing (my favorite thing to do) , walking around and smelling the jasmine which is in full scent, and grilling and dining al fresco.

On the menu: chicken kabobs (chunks of chicken breast tossed in olive oil, lemon juice, garlic and rosemary from my garden) and grilled prosciutto and goat cheese pizza on olive bread with chopped arugula (again from the garden).

I love this time of year!

And yet I can't stop thinking of all the things I want to do. Put up a fence with an arbor (something else I've always wanted). Do something cute with the garage so it looks like one of those outdoor cottages in Southern Living. And take all that salvaged brick stacked up in my garage and repurpose it into a patio/platform for the fire pit I got as a Christmas present.

It's April and springtime, and all I can think of is toasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories come October.

This is so typical of me.

Cat-Friendly Decor

I was feeling extravagant last weekend so I purchased the Eiffel Tower. For $20.00. And they say the Louisiana Purchase was the greatest real estate deal ever.

Trees and Trims had these 3 ft. high replicas on sale and I couldn't resist. My house has this Francophile thing going on. I have to watch it though before it becomes too twee, like those themed decor schemes some of the designers on Trading Spaces like so much. I wonder how the home-owners really feel about those.

My preferred style is that eclectic Soho meets Shabby Chic meets Paris Flea Market thing that the late lamented shelter magazine Domino did so well. Let us all take a moment of silence to remember it and my other favorite magazine, Cottage Living ,which also recently bit the dust, two of the latest victims of the times. At least I still have my HGTV. In hi-def.

So anyway I have the Eiffel Tower in my family room and all bets are on as to who will be the first to spray on it. My boys have opinions when I change the decor, and they aren't shy about "expressing" them. Fortunately, they like Shabby Chic or at least they like turning chic shabby.

Here are a few things I've learned about decorating with cats:

You need one big vacuum cleaner (with one of those heppa filter thingies) and at least 2 hand-held vacs.

Buy lint rollers for every room.

Rubber dish washing gloves with grippers on the palm are the greatest thing ever for getting cat hair off furniture. Just dampen it a little bit, rub your hand over the furniture and watch it comb all the hair into an easy-to-dispose-of ball.

Learn to love slip covers (especially velvet ones which cats don't like to claw) and strategically placed throws.

Covering the soil of house plants with river rock looks good, keeps the cats from making a mess and helps with drainage. Make sure your plants aren't poisonous to cats. http://www.cfa.org/articles/plants.html

Eggshell paint finish is your best bet for walls. It cleans as well as gloss but has the elegance of flat paint.

Sisal rugs are good-looking and hold up well to claw sharpening.

Ditto matelasse bedding.

When your cat pukes or brings up a hairball on wood floors, get it up immediately. The acids in it will eat at the wood's finish.

Speaking of feline bodily functions, keep a big ole jug of Nature's Miracle or one of those other odor and stain removal products on hand. Look for one that actually attacks the enzymes. Since Henry took up spraying, it's the only thing keeping me sane.

For more ideas check out the "Animal House Style: Designing a Home to Share with Your Pets" by Julia Szabo. http://animalhousestyle.com/

It's fun to see how these people, who mostly live in chi-chi hi-rises in New York, manage to fit their their Biedermeier furniture, their Baccarat crystal and their animals (and their litter boxes) in 600 sq. ft. boxes the size of my garage.

At least I have lots of unused closets which can serve as kitty loos and will never have to have hide the litter box in the corner of my dining room behind a big spathiphyllum as some of those folks do.

If you have any cat-friendly decorating tips, please share by commenting on this post below.

Happy Birthday, Lou Ann!

The kitties and I are giving a shout-out to our friend – and cat-sitter-extraordinaire - Lou Ann on her birthday. Last year, the cats and I hosted a martini party for her Big 5-0 bash. Well, the kitties didn’t actually get to participate; they go into kitty quarantine during parties. But they certainly do love their Auntie Lou who, despite her cat dander allergy, comes over, feeds them, scoops their litter boxes, pulls their tails and talks to them whenever their mama goes out of town. We love you! Have a great one!

Bird Watching on a Sunny Afternoon

Years ago I made the choice that my cats would live their lives as indoor cats. The statistics regarding the longevity (or lack thereof) for outdoor cats alarmed me. I love my cats and want them around for a long, long time.

Some people think my decision was a cruel one and that I am denying their true nature. Please. They are domestic cats, not wild pumas. They sleep on 800-count sheets, drink bottled water out of a fountain and eat human-grade specialty food that costs twice as much as the Starkist I'm having for lunch. I don't think anyone's being abused here.

However, I must admit to a twinge of guilt this time of year when the outdoors teems with the avian, reptilian and small mammal life forms that make feline hearts go pitter patter. My cats line up on the window ledge, their noses wistfully pressed to the glass like a litter of furry Little Match Girls.

As pitiful as this sight is, I don't let them out. It wouldn't be good for them. Probably wouldn't be great for the birds, squirrels and lizards either. However, I have hit on a happy compromise to keep them entertained.

I've erected bird feeders outside my den and bedroom windows. Maybe it's the high-dollar bird seed (everyone eats well at The House Where the Black Cat Lives), but I'm attracting some really fancy birds:

Cardinals, of course, which I love;

Mourning doves, which I don't love as much although I did enjoy watching one Ernie-sized dove beat the crap out of an overly aggressive blue jay the other day;

Little red, blue and yellow finches that look like they've been dipped in Easter egg dye;

Woodpeckers -- both the speckled, red-cockaded variety and one that has a completely red head. I've only seen that kind in pictures before. He (or she) comes every day so hopefully there is a nest nearby and I can look forward to more little red heads;

There's also a gorgeous little black and white bird with a red triangle, like a bandana, at its throat. I've been all over the Internet trying to find out what kind of bird it is with no luck. If anyone knows, please reply to this post. It's driving me crazy.

I have to admit to being hooked on these bird feeders the way some people are hooked on Wii.

And the cats like them, too.

It's Flea Season!

Most parents with seven children dread the Christmas holiday season. Me, I hate flea season.

However, it is a universal truth that She Who Sleeps With Cats will one day be She Who Wakes With Fleas unless said she buys seven tubes of flea medicine and squeezes it onto the back of seven hissing necks once a month.

Do not believe the propaganda the makers of those ridiculously overpriced little tubes put out on TV. Clearly those calm, happy cats who sit patiently during their treatment are on drugs (and I don’t mean just flea meds).

At The House Where The Black Cat Lives, flea treatments never go down without lots of running, hiding, hissing, scratching, crying (me), spitting, sulking and drinking (me again).

I’ve resorted to luring my babies into my bathroom and nabbing them in the tub. I have to block out this creepy visual of Andrea Yates every time I do it, but it seems to work. I don’t know why, but no cat can resist the sight of a closed bathroom door. Ask any cat owner.

Mission Accomplished. Seven sticky necks. Seven empty tubes in the trash can. Seven chocolate martinis left in the cocktail pitcher.

Gawd, I love flea season.

Mama’s flea treatment: CHOCOLATE FLEA-TINI

2 cups of vodka chilled (regular or vanilla flavored)
1 1/2 cups chocolate liquer (oh, hell, splurge for the Godiva)
1/4 cup raspberry liquer (like RazzMatazz)
1/4 cup half and half
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1/4 cup sweetened ground cocoa
chocolate kisses or truffles (optional)

Stir first 4 ingredients together in a pitcher. Chill. Fill martini glasses with ice. Stand 5 minutes. Discard ice. Dip rims of chilled martini glasses in corn syrup, then dip in cocoa. If desired, place a (peeled) chocolate kiss or truffle into the bottom of each glass. Whisk vodka mixture just before serving. Pour into glasses. Yields 8 servings.

These are good any time, but go down especially well at the end of a long flea treatment session. Some brands of raspberry liquer will turn your drink that lovely brownish purple color the French call puce, which, appropriately enough, means flea.

Of Black Cats and Autism

April is Autism Awareness Month. I know this because my niece "N" has autism. In almost every other way she's your typical third grader. She has a wicked--and often silly-- sense of humor. She loves stuffed animals, purple, music, reading, spelling, drawing and peanut butter. She used to love cats until a too-close encounter with my Sammy took an ugly turn a few years back.

Now my house is "The House Where The Black Cat Lives."

The entire state of Mississippi, birthplace of Elvis Presley, Oprah Winfrey, Morgan Freeman, and assorted former Miss Americas is now --you guessed it --"The Place Where the Black Cat Lives'.

People with autism have difficulty coping with change and facing their fears. Often, they will turn to a comforting activity, usually one involving repetition, to deal with their anxiety. N's therapy of choice is art. Lots of art. Of only one subject. Guess what it is.

We refer to last year's visit to Mississippi as the artist's "black cat period."

Shortly after that visit, I took in a George Rodrigue exhibit at the New Orleans Museum of Art. Rodrigue is the South Louisiana artist known for his "Blue Dog" series. Every celebrity worth their salt has a Blue Dog in their collection. A Blue Dog even hangs in the White House art collection. http://www.georgerodrigue.com/rodrigue/index2.htm

Rodrigue reportedly based the Blue Dog concept on the Cajun "loup garou" or werewolf stories of his childhood. The dog itself is a representation of a long-gone family pet, Tiffany. Now I'm pretty sure Rodrigue doesn't have autism, but I was impressed how he used art to conquer not only his childhood bogeyman but also to come to terms with the loss of something he loved.

N may never get over her fear of The Black Cat, but, like Rodrigue, she has found an effective way of coping with it. Who knows where it may lead?

Whoopi Goldberg probably will never want one of N's Black Cat pieces for her collection, but I'm stocking up on black crayons anyway. Because you just never know.

Fore more information about autism and Autism Awareness Month, visit http://www.autism-society.org/site/PageServer?pagename=research_awareness

(By the way N is not the artist behind the great black cat artwork on this blog's header. I got that from http://browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=cat+clipart#