Tag Archives: animals

Samson a.k.a Hitchhiker, Aug 2010 – April 6, 2011

Celebrating Mardi Gras

Last night Samson didn’t come home when I called him. I was busy making a pie, so I hadn’t paid much attention to his whereabouts, and didn’t look for him until almost 11 p.m. When he didn’t respond, I slipped on a pair of sneakers and headed out the door. I walked out the driveway to the street, and saw him, his mangled body lying in the road. He had been hit by a car.
No more purrs.
No more cuddling.
He will never again hit the other cats with surprise attacks as they come around the corner.
He will never crawl into the washer.

Or eat my salad
Or knock over plants


Today I buried him in the back yard.

All I have to show for my troubles are blistered hands and a broken heart.

I miss him.


Samson the Hitchhiker

You remember this guy? The kitty who followed me hiking?

Such a pathetic, poor little Kitty...

As you may have guessed, he is still here. Looks like he found a home- mine! This is Samson now:

Look at the little angel! *gag*


Now, before you start in with the ooohs and the ahhhs and the oh how sweet, this is how he looks 98% of the time:

Someone get him a sedative please.

Just a blur of fur.

So exactly how many things can a kitty get into in a day?

  • the toilet (while it’s flushing and he also likes to perch on the seat behind whoever happens to be seated there)
  • the washing machine (as it’s filling with water no less)
  • the dryer
  • my breakfast
  • my dinner
  • the plants
  • the microwave (I was tempted to shut the door and turn it on ;))
  • the trees
  • the roof
  • the kitchen sink
  • the closets
  • boxes and bags
  • and the guinea pig cage

I could continue, but there is only so much space on the page.

Samson also wants to be a cowboy when he grows up. How do I know? Well he likes to ride the backs of the other two cats like they’re bucking broncos until they manage to throw him off. He isn’t real popular with them. This is when they like him best:

Please stay asleep!

So sweet little Samson has earned the nicknames of Maniac Squirrel (mom thought he was a squirrel when he was in a treetop), just plain Maniac, and most recently P.I.T.A. (pain in the ass). Just the same, I’ll end this post with an oooh and ahhh picture:

Recharging the batteries.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


I went on a hike today at a local natural area park. As I made my way down the trail with my companion, my dog Susie interrupted our conversation by tugging on her leash behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and there was a small grey tabby kitty running full speed toward us. He ran up to Susie and started rubbing against her legs, then proceeded to follow us meowing. I just couldn’t take it, so I picked him up and headed off down the trail with him sitting in my arms purring. I tried to take him to a shelter, but they wouldn’t accept any more cats. I couldn’t leave him there in the woods, poor thing. He is so tiny and skinny. So…

Anyone want to adopt a kitty?

Argh! I am a sucker!

An Uncomfortable Business

There few times when you are more vulnerable as when you are indisposed of in the, ahem, powder room. I had just settled down to do my business, so to speak, and it’s none of your business what that business was, when I heard a buzz.


I froze, my concentration broken (and for those of you who think none of this takes concentration, just wait till you get startled in action!).


I looked around me, trying to find the little devil before he found me.


On my thigh, oh boy, get ’em! Get ’em!

I missed. Damn! I lunged at the retreating mosquito with my hand as he flew merrily away. Ok, well I couldn’t sit there all day, so I tried to get on with my business while looking frantically around me and waving my hands across any exposed flesh to keep the little hunter from landing.

He swooped past me once, twice. I felt like I was watching a tennis match, my head swayed to and fro. I smacked at the air. He ducked and evaded. I tried to hurry. There he was again, heading for my ankle. I bent, thereby interrupting any business, and swatted at the fool. This was getting ridiculous. I completed my business transaction, and threw the door open in hopes that the little bugger would fly away. I don’t know if he did or not because I lost sight of him. But I danced a little jig as I washed my hands (as I hope you all do- I mean wash your hands, not dance a jig), moving my arms and legs to make it tough to land. I escaped the restroom unscathed but traumatized (ok, that’s a bit dramatic). All in all, it was a most uncomfortable business.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com


Culiacan, Mexico is a hot, humid locale on the Pacific coast of Sinaloa. It was there that I was to make my home, and I moved with high hopes. I found a nice house to rent in a suburb not far from my new job. My new home was a two-story structure with a walled-in patio that wrapped completely around the house. The patio roof and front gate were covered with decorative metal bars, which provided security and allowed me to keep my doors open to let in the cool night air. It also allowed my cats to have unaided access to the outside. It was perfect, or so I thought. It wasn’t long, however, before my life turned into an episode of Wild Kingdom crossed with Friday the 13th. It all started with a demented cat.

Late one evening, just after I had drifted off to sleep, I was awakened by a chilling scream from downstairs. I ran as fast as I could to see what was happening. There, in my living room was a street cat. It was a scrawny male with thick jowls and dirty grey fur, and he looked mean. He had cornered my cat Ari in the dining room near the patio door. Floating around near the floor were tufts of Ari’s black fur that the street cat had yanked out in his attack. Poor Ari had no teeth or nails so he couldn’t defend himself. I frantically ran to his rescue and chased out the demon cat with a broom. It took me over an hour to get over the fright. I thought about what I could do and came up with an excellent solution.

The next morning, I bought some screen to attach to the bars on the patio’s front gate and spent over two hours wiring it in place. It worked well. It just didn’t solve the problem. Two nights later I heard another bloodcurdling scream from downstairs. I jumped out of bed half asleep, but was so confused I ran into the bathroom instead of the hallway. I quickly redirected myself and ran downstairs. The wild cat heard me and dashed to the front of the patio. I could hear him trying to get out of the front gate, but I had attached the screen so nicely on the gate he couldn’t escape. I quickly closed the back door and back window to the house so the cat couldn’t enter my home from that direction. I flung open the front door to confront kitty. Psycho cat ran to the back of the patio immediately. I stood there in the open doorway in the little shorts I slept in, a tee shirt, no bra, no makeup, hair in all directions with the whole neighborhood staring at me! There was a party next door that I did not know about.

I got it from the numerous witnesses in the yard that the cat had jumped over the wall and entered the patio through the bars above. The ground is higher on the outside than the inside of the patio, so the demon cat could jump in, but not jump out. I opened the front gate, told the little kids in the neighborhood to get back, and went to the back patio where I scared the stray cat with the broom out the front gate, again. I think the broom was unnecessary. My appearance alone should have done the trick.

The next day I bought more screen. I wired it to the bars over the patio. All was peaceful and harmonious once again in my home. That is until a new houseguest moved in.

Ted arrived on a stormy evening. He slithered through the sliding glass door as I was closing it to keep out the rain. I screamed in terror and tried to stop his progress, but he was the quickest fellow I had ever met. Ted was a five-inch long, very scary-looking centipede who quickly crawled between the wall and my kitchen cabinets to set up house. I did research. Centipedes have poisonous mandibles and their bites feel a bit like bee stings. I decided that Ted was dead once I finally found him. Until then I moved around my house with trepidation…waiting for my toes to be unexpectedly attacked. I even had nightmares about Ted jumping into my bed at night.

Not long after Ted moved in, I was once again awakened by a bloodcurdling scream, this time around two in the morning. I leapt up, slid into my flip-flops and headed down the stairs at full tilt, ready to battle the crazy cat. I threw back the curtain that hung at the bottom of the stairs and came to a screeching halt.


There he was, taking an early morning stroll across my ceiling from the dining room to the kitchen. Let me tell you, at two in the morning in semi-darkness a five-inch centipede looks like a twenty-foot train! Ok, I remembered that the pesticide was on the patio. I also remembered that I was after a wild cat on the patio. The problem was that Ted was between me and the patio. What a horrible situation to be in!

I calculated my options and found them to be very limited. I decided to move slowly around the edge of the dining room all the while keeping an eye on Ted who was completely oblivious to my situation. As I neared the patio I kept my other eye out for a wild cat (I have very flexible eyeballs) I carefully entered the patio, but there was no sign of kitty. I moved quickly for the pesticide, ready to run from super cat if necessary. I grabbed the pesticide, headed for Ted, and sprayed with all my might. He began to quiver and a few of his legs lost their grip. It wasn’t enough, and I began to panic. I sprayed again furiously until he was all frosty like a Christmas tree. He was dangling from the ceiling with only about eight of his legs. In frustration, I swatted him down off the ceiling with a fly swatter and pinned him to the ground. I moaned in despair as I realized the fly swatter was not strong enough to kill him. I ran madly to the patio again, grabbed a dustpan, ran back to Ted, and beat him to death before throwing his mangled body into the street.

Memorial services will be held Saturday afternoon. Flowers and donations are welcome.

I never did find super kitty.  I think my cat Ari just saw the centipede and screamed in terror. After that day, the problems with wild creatures stopped and everything was smooth again- well, mostly. Psycho cat did like to lounge on the screen that I had put in place and taunt my cats, but he never again gained access. From then on, he picked on the neighbor’s cat.

©2010 frayedges and http://www.frayedges.wordpress.com

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