Just call me Ragamuffin dahling

CJ has given me this tough cat persona and now she’s decided I am possibly a valuable breed called Ragamuffins. She said it makes sense because people sometimes abandon animals out here in the backcountry without regard for their breeding, which she said could be how my mom ended up living under a café where I was born.

I looked it up and Wikipedia says the Ragamuffin is an offshoot of a breed introduced in California in the 1960s by Mrs. Ann Baker. She trademarked the name ‘Ragdoll,’ and set up her own registry—International Ragdoll Cat Association (IRCA). In 1994, a second group decided to leave the IRCA and form its own group because of increasingly strict breeding restrictions. Since the name ‘Ragdoll’ was trademarked, the group renamed its stock of Ragdoll cats Ragamuffins.

It says Ragamuffins are a muscular, heavy breed of cat not reaching full maturity until approximately four years of age. I am still kittenish in many ways. But I meet the physical traits with my rectangular, broad-chested body with shoulders supporting my short neck. My head is a broad, modified wedge with a rounded forehead and a dip on the bridge of my nose. Our fur can be any color. Mine is smoke-colored, slightly longer around the neck and outer edges of my face, so it looks like a ruff. As you can see, my coat is thick and plush, but it does not readily mat or clump and is easy to care for.

Here’s the best part. Ragamuffins are bred to be sociable, intelligent, affectionate, cuddly companions that are playful throughout their lives.
So yes, I’m feral so I appear tough but I’m really just shy—although I’m still a great hunter. And if I had papers proving my breeding, I would be worth a thousand dollars dahling.

Not Playing Possum

Being as it's just us girls, we keep whatever hours we choose. Sometimes I like to wake CJ up early cause I'm hungry. So I jump on her bed and kind of stomp around. It may take a couple of trips up onto the bed but I generally wake her, sort of. She automatically feeds me first thing when she gets up, whether I wake her at 3:30 or 4:30 a.m. or she wakes on her own at 5:30 or 6:30. She also opens the backdoor to let me out. Then she'll put on a pot of coffee and go back to bed if I woke her.

The other morning I decided to wake her up and then she let me out and was making the coffee when I came running and hissing back in with a possum after me, not playing at all. Possums have no sense of humor. What they have are very sharp teeth, like spikes. It was as big as me and hissing just like I was. The possum runs after me through the kitchen and almost goes into the living before CJ finds her voice and starts screaming like she just woke out of a bad dream.

"Get out! Get out of here!" she shouts and the possum does a quick u-turn and runs back through the kitchen and down the back steps. CJ locks the door behind it. Whew!

I have not woken CJ up since then although this morning I did get up on the bed and lay their quietly, or so I thought until she got up and gave me some fresh chicken livers. She hasn't figured out not to reward me when I wake her up. What would you do?

Cat and Dolphins playing together

Bear! Would you look at this. This is a really brave cat! Who knew fish got so big? What's the biggest fish you've ever seen Bear? Do you play with dolphins?

Any other cats out there with fish stories?

Cat got your tongue?

Ahoy, are you there Bear?

Cat got your tongue? (A little feline humor.) But seriously, Tele says you are trying to find your voice.

I’ll tell you a story. I have a friend, Isabelle, a very pretty and clever actress who lives in London. She said she imagined I sound like Kathleen Turner, another actress who is the female lead in a movie called “Romancing the Stone” where she fights alligators (sort of). At first that sounded like a really good idea but after I played with it for a while, I knew I was just a country cat, wild, yes, but still homespun folksy—nothing like a sexy whiskey voice which is how you would describe Turner’s voice.

So, what do you think about a nautical voice. Following are some phrases I found at FortOgden.com which has a big ole list of “nautical origins of some common expressions.”

Let the Cat Out of the Bag -
In the Royal Navy the punishment prescribed for most serious crimes was flogging. This was administered by the Bosun's Mate using a whip called a cat o' nine tails. The "cat" was kept in a leather or baize bag. It was considered bad news indeed when the cat was let out of the bag. Other sources attribute the expression to the old English market scam of selling someone a pig in a poke(bag) when the pig turned out to be a cat instead. (By the way, Isabelle things she wants a pot-bellied pig.)

Bear Down -
To sail downwind rapidly towards another ship or landmark.

You could talk pirate and say things like “Avast ye matey” which just means “hold up there pal,” or “Wait a minute friend.”

How about Poop Deck—not what you think it is—it’s the highest deck at the stern of a large ship, usually above the captain’s quarters.

Your voice should be you, your very realest you. I know you’ll find it.

Smooth sailing…
Smoke

Bear is Beautiful

I've got a new paw pal, Bear the Boat Cat. She lives on a fishing boat in Alaska. Her human writes a blog called Hooked where you can see her picture and a happy photo of her humans holding huge wild king salmon. Now I need to talk to Bear.

Bear, I love your name. Bears were so popular here in California that there is a picture of one on the State flag. So popular that hunters about decimated all the grizzlies, killed em dead. Fortunately you've still got a bunch in your neighborhood. But I don't think I'd like to run into a grizz.

I know I wrote that I hate cats on my profile, but just the ones that come into my house and steal my food. There are a couple of feral cats around, mean suckers, so mean they have made me bleed, so yeah--don't mess with my food. My human, CJ, leaves the back door open a lot and in they come. One even came in the windown once. It's not that I can't catch my own food, it's just the principle, you know. Probably not, since you don't have to put up with other cats.

A cage at the pound? I can't even imagine! OMG, with DOGS! I did spend one weekend at a kennel when CJ was getting the house fumigated. I was howlin' when she left and still howlin' when she came to fetch me. (You know she's alergic and I set off so much dander in my fury that she had an asthma attack.) Don't think I'll have to go back though--not that they would have me.

I've only ever had canned fish, the catfood variety, but fresh fish hearts sound tasty. I had fresh gecko for breakfast (caught it myself) plus canned salmon catfood.

What's it like living on a boat? Does it make your motor run?

Meow back atcha...
Smoke

As the Actress said to the Bishop...: This is so 21st century...

As the Actress said to the Bishop...: This is so 21st century...

Purring for Smokey

My friend Isabelle has goldfish swimming on her site, although they aren’t all gold. There’s a yellow one and a black one, and a couple of other colors, five fish total, and if I put my paw on the screen where they are swimming and move it around, they will follow my paw. It is mesmerizing. I can do it for hours and apparently I have been, since this post is kind of late. Isabelle is my one follower so you can check her site if you just click on her picture.

Isabelle lives in the UK where another cat called Smokey is featured in a story in the Daily Mail. Smokey can purr really loud, 92 decibels, as loud as a Boeing 737 coming in for a landing. He’s awful cute too. He’s going out for the Guinness Book of Records for the loudest purr—a real champion—which turns my motor on.
You can hear Smokey purring louder than a lawn mower on YouTube:
http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid72518865001?bckey=AQ~~,AAAAAFSL1bg~,CmS1EFtcMWH6elrIuLojlkMF3t-h_6Ra&bclid=0&bctid=798256085001.

I think my accent is kind of hillbilly country, but Isabelle says she sees me more as a cat with a “lovely drawl and a deep husky voice like Kathleen Turner.” I can do that. I bet Smokey, the world purring champion, would like that too. Romancing the Stone is one of my all time favorite movies. I identify with her independent, adventurous character, a wild cat in the jungle. Plus she plays an author and I like to think of myself as something of a writer—hence this blog.

Isabelle is an actress, French, who spoke (San Fernando) Valley girl when she lived in California and now says that in London, she speaks with a neutral English accent. Actors can do that, they have such a good ear that it’s common for them to fall into the local speech pattern.

I have a good ear too. I can hear sounds too faint for human ears, and sounds higher in frequency than humans can perceive. This is because I’m a born mouser (tasty prey) and have evolved to be able to pinpoint their faint high pitched sounds, or so says Wikipedia. But I don’t speak mouse. Around the house I speak cat, sort of a growling mumble which my human understands pretty good.

What makes you purrr?

P.S. for Isabelle—Can you get me purring Smokey’s email address?