The Long-Awaited Caturday Post (Updated)

BEEN A WHILE SINCE I did one of these.

Karma on the side windowseat in the Study at Casa d’Alger, The Lane, Cincinnati, April 17, 2011.

Loki perched on Mark’s Typing Desk in the Study at Casa d’Alger, The Lane, Cincinnati, April 17, 2011.

All resident cats as of picture date, gathered on the front windowseat in the Study at Casa d’Alger, The Lane, Cincinnati, May 20, 2011. L-R: Karma (tabbico), Loki (gray and white longhair), Aqua (seal point siamese mix), Jazz (blue point siamese mix), Sky (seal point siamese mix), Oliver (white shorthair), Belle (black longhair).

Mama wants text. Mama gets text.

Ditto, Toni’s office bird from The Animal Clinic, is here at Casa d’Alger once again for the semi-decadal Painting of the Office ritual. Even low-VOC paints can cause little birdy lungs respiratory issues, so she brought him home for a couple of weeks. We tried earlier to situate him in the bedroom — atop Toni’s dresser, where he was last time — in a lightweight cage. That was a semi-failure, first because the cage was so light, it looked as though the cats could dump it on the floor (not good), and where it was situated, Ditto could be startled by someone passing the door (such as I coming up the stairs and going into the study), and he’d bait like a frightened hawk. Toni was afraid he’d be injured.

AND they put the painting off for a month or so for some reason I don’t remember.

So, this time, when the Actual Painting ritual came around again on the guitar, Toni took a road trip and found Ditto a new cage — one that is heavy enough to withstand the cats’ shoving it around, and one that’s small enough to fit on Toni’s desk here at home.

And what’s this got to do with Caturday, you ask?

Well, Ditto can meow like a cat. Most convincingly. And he has a warped sense of humor. And he’s not afraid of cats climbing all over his cage. For some reason, he knows they can’t get at him. Or he knows he could Tear. Them. Up. If they tried. Not exactly raptors, parrots, but close enough in dealing with small ambush predators. You betcha. And wicked schmaht, too.

So he sits there on his perch, cracking seeds, and muttering to himself. And when all the cats are looking the other direction, he’ll go, “Meow!”

And look all innocent ‘n’ shit.

And when all the heads swivel instantly in his direction, he’ll chuckle to himself, kinda like Popeye, “Hank-ank-ank-ank-ank-ank!”

We call that Pimping the Cats.

And that’s what the bird has to do with Caturday.

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