Maria Alexander News and Updates from TheHandlessPoet.com

"An Engineer's Guide to Cats" is about the funniest thing I've ever seen about the human-feline relationship. Ninjas! Calculators! Cats! WOOO!!!

I love engineers. I can't understand why these two are single. That just makes my head do loop-di-loops!

Labels: cats

While Robie is doing fabulously well these days, we're continuing to have behavioral problems (ahem) with biting. Dr. Doolittle gave us some excellent suggestions: rattle a can full of pennies or whack him on the nose with a roll of magazine paper. Well, he thinks both are a game and doesn't get it that he's being disciplined no matter how harsh we are with him. And when we try to discipline him by being "alpha cats" -- holding him aloft by the scruff, hissing in his face or thumping him on the nose -- he gets seriously pissed off and retaliates by running away, then dashing back to smack us on the leg or runs off to destroy something he KNOWS is forbidden.

He is, in short, diabolically smart.

The doctor's last bit of advice was to use the spray bottle on "stream" instead of "spray" because even our toilet-loving jungle cat will find that annoying. We just started this last night and it seems to work.

Finally, I was chatting with a coworker yesterday who has three Bengals (five in her lifetime). She was looking at a picture of his face and exclaimed, "He's a Bengal! Look at the marks on his face!" I had decided long ago that he was merely a mutt, but it helped me start to reframe Robie's aggressive behavior. He's insanely energetic (way beyond any of my other cats at this age), far more companionable (when he isn't biting) and if he didn't have Softpaws, our house would be one big shaggy, shredded hovel. My coworker told me that bizarre health issues are a lot more likely with pure breeds.

I tried this theory on Dr. Doolittle and he agreed. Apparently, if a Bengal has "flaws," breeders typically put them down. If a rescued Bengal doesn't have paperwork, the shelter has to give it the label "Bengal Mix," which is what they did. I felt ambivalent about that label because of the white patches on his toes and under his chin. But now that I think about it, who knows? Maybe a female got loose and mated before she could be fixed? Lord knows they're crazy smart and capable of pretty much any kind of mischief. That brood would be worthless to both a breeder and an owner. My coworker said his ears are exactly like a Savannah, which is true, too. Obviously something kooky happened on the DNA front to make a cat -- a herkin' cat! -- allergic to meat.

So, we're dealing with this in a whole new way. We've decided to play with him a lot more, to use only toys and not our hands to play, and to use the streaming gun when he's seriously misbehaving. Someday, we'd love to get a pedigreed Bengal. Hell, now we know what we're in for.

And, just so you know, he's been sleeping in my lap the entire time I've been typing this. Sweet little weirdo.

Labels: cats

Yesterday around a quarter to noon, I got a call from ADT on my cell phone at work. They told me all three buttons on my control panel had been pushed: the fire department, police and "panic."

Two things went through my mind. 1) This is a helluva glitch and 2) The Frenchman was in trouble, tore open the alarm panel, and hit the keypad with an open hand (which is exactly what I'd do if I were in trouble).

ADT tried to send the fire department, but I told them not to. The police were already there, as the "panic" button signal essential goes straight to them without a follow up to me. I kept ADT on the phone as I tried multiple times to reach The Frenchman on my work phone to no avail. I fled work, jumped in the car, and screamed down the highway to our house. As I reached home, ADT said that "someone" entered the correct code to turn off the alarm, which was super weird. Officer #1 was waiting for me and for a backup officer. When the backup arrived, they took my keys and went into the house. "Do you have anything in there we should know about?" Officer #1 asked.

"Yes," I replied. "An extremely friendly kitten. Please don't let him out!"

"We'll see what we can do."

The cops went inside and set off the alarm again. Robie was right there at the doorway, wanting outside, but they reached down and held him in until they finished bellowing into the house. "Police officers! Identify yourself if you're inside!"

Nothing but the deafeningly shrill trill of the alarm. They shut the door behind them.

After some nervous minutes, they emerged and said to my relief that they couldn't find anything. They let me in and I shut off the alarm. They both then looked puzzled but slightly amused.

Officer #2 grinned. "Your kitten really IS friendly! He followed us to every single room!"

I picked up Robie and held him up to the officer. He grinned more widely and wiggled his finger at Robie. "You're really cute. And I'm really allergic."

"Oh, then I likes you deh mostest!" I said in Robie's voice. I turned to Officer #1. "Thank you! We're sorry this was weird!"

He gave Robie a quick scritch and they left. We didn't get fined (at least, not on the spot). ADT said they would pay for it because, as it turns out, The Frenchman hadn't been home for two hours when it happened. And this is the second time something like this has occurred.

The adrenaline really threw my appetite and everything out of whack for the rest of the day. But I'm sure relieved that nothing was wrong!

Labels: cats

We finally put the Softpaws on Robie. The results are pretty darned adorable.



I must say, the scene as it went down did mightily resemble Bugs Bunny giving the monster a manicure. Poor baby!

Labels: Bugs Bunny, cats, Softpaws

I've hit my stride here at Uncle Walt's. My brain is flying from the pixie dust, yo.

The Frenchman left this morning before 5:00am to go to the East Coast. After he kissed me goodbye, I fell back asleep sometime after I heard the garage door close. I slept well, yes.

Now it's just me and the Kitten kickin' it at home. I bet as soon as I pick up my project again, my agent will have feedback. The irksome inevitability!

Meanwhile, I wrote to Carolyn See and told her how wonderful THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER YOU was. I also just received in the mail her daughter's book, PEONY IN LOVE, which I can't wait to read. However, I'm going to finish the Rita Williams memoir first.

I want to tell you all rumors I've heard here at Uncle Walt's, but that's enough for now.

Labels: Carolyn See, cats, Lisa See, Uncle Walt

We lost Robie last night. Again. We searched high and low, flushed toilets, opened food, called, meowed, purred, turned on his favorite obnoxious toy (a motion detection-enabled "crate" with a person inside screaming "Excuse me! Excuse me! WILL YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE!" as it rocks and shakes).

Nothing. Not a peep.

So, I broke down and cast a horary chart. I asked, "Where is Robie?"

The answer was very straightforward: The planet that ruled Robie was Jupiter, which was in Sagittarius in the 6th House. Sagittarius rules universities and law. The 6th House in horary, according to Anthony Louis, indicates the lost thing is "inside something" and "in a cupboard, closet, drawer or file cabinet" where one "works or does chores." And as the 6th House is what they call "cadent," it indicates that the missing item has "slipped behind" something.

I told The Frenchman that Robie had to be in his desk, or at the very least extremely close to it. The Frenchman looked at me dubiously, trudged back to his desk downstairs, and started reopening all of the drawers, checking the window sill behind the blinds by his chair, etc.

Nothing.

Depressed, we sat together on the floor by his desk, wondering what on earth could have happened to our now six-pound kitten, when The Frenchman leaned over and removed a plastic, lockable file container from the cubby under his desk drawers...

Guess who walked out from behind it?

(Incidentally, this is the second thing I've found for The Frenchman in as many weeks using horary.)

Labels: cats, horary

A bit more cuteness can be found on my Flickr account: "I Did Not Pose This Cat."

Of course, I can't begin to rival Lisa Morton's bookstore cat photo she just posted. That's a classic!

Tonight, Belgian chocolate with lavender. Plus, two movies: Clerks II and The Man Who Cried (In Johnny Depp's Pants*).









*Don't forget, boys and girls, to add "In Johnny Depp's Pants" to the end of the title of any movie he's in!

Labels: cats, chocolate, johnny depp, movies, trog

I have a move date.

I have a phone line.

I even have a phone! (Found in Mr. Box at the storage unit.)

Have had untold insanity with the phone/DSL people, the power and water people, and, well, everything. I've done every single thing you're not supposed to do under Mercury Retrograde and, so far, the results do not disappoint. Although I'm sure much of this is just part of the natural chaos of moving.

Tomorrow, I sign paperwork in Burbank for a contract with Uncle Walt. I'm not counting this against the Mercury Rx because I'm literally "re-turning."

Meanwhile, this is my new love, Miru.



He belongs to the people I'm staying with. It turns out T is no longer allergic to kitties, so they've taken in Miru from outside, where he was dumped by his asshole former owners who had him declawed. Miru has adopted me as his second mommy. We spend much time snorgling and cuddling. The Frenchman approves of the affair. I've even sent him pictures. Meanwhile, workers are using jackhammers to tear up E/T's patio. I might be on a morphine drip by Thursday.

Labels: cats, Mercury Rx, moving, Uncle Walt