UPS Emails

The following is a series of email exchanges between one of our kittens "UPS" and his future feline housemates, Baxter and Bowdoin. UPS was mentioned in a previous blog which featured the service dog he now lives with, Logan.

It is this kind of obsessive attitude that convinces me that not only are my kittens going to the best homes possible, but that there are crazier animal lovers than I am.

I've color-coded the text so it's easier to tell who's who and included all sorts of adorable photos.

Sent: Sunday, June 07, 2009 7:29 PM

Subject: From Baxter and Bowdoin

Dear UPS,

Thought we'd send you a picture of our new cat tree on the screenporch. We love it, it overlooks the bird feeder. There's space for one more - you! Can't wait to meet you and have you join the BT (brown tabby) Boys!

Baxter and Bowdoin(Fred and Diva too)

On Sun, Jun 7, 2009 at 9:53 PM, UPS> wrote:

Dear Baxter and Bowdoin,

It looks like a fun place to hang out! I hope that our parents don't get all us brown tabbies confused and start calling us "Baxbowups."

Of course, I'll be the more handsome one so I hope you two can adjust to being the side-kicks. :-)

Purrs,

UPS
Sent: Monday, June 08, 2009 9:05 PM

Subject: Re: From Baxter and Bowdoin

Dear UPS,

You have quite the attitude for such a young one! We'll have to put you in your place before you get too big for us to do so! After all, what are brothers for? ;-) Hey, that's right, you wouldn't know as you have all sisters!

Don't worry, mom will be able to tell us all apart. When Fred's real brother Nile was around people would say they look so much alike, how can you tell them apart? Mom thought that was funny because they looked very different to her and she could even tell who was talking without seeing them.

Have you met the giant yellow funny looking cat yet? I think they call them dogs. We have one here too. Every time we knock a pen or something off the counter she will pick it up and bring it to mom. That's her job. We don't have jobs. Except to look cute and purr. Like that's hard!

Purrs,
Your BT Boys bros Baxter & Bowdoin
On Tue, Jun 9, 2009 at 8:00 AM, UPS> wrote:

Dear B & B,

You think I need brothers? Well, they will be a welcome change after living with all these crazy girls! We’re just learning to walk and already I can tell they are the bosses. If I try to fight back, they’ll just all gang up on me saying something like “Girl Power” so I try to keep a low profile.

We have a few weeks until we get to go downstairs and face the other dangerous creatures that I’ve heard about who live here. I hear a loud barking noise from time to time. When that happens, I cringe because the noise is scary, but Mommy goes to the window to look and see who’s here. I think the barking is a doorbell or an alarm or something.

My cat Mommy says she’s retired from showing and her only job now is to be a good mommy. Of course, now that she’s been published, she feels extra special. She shows us her picture in the book and on the famous photographer Helmi Flick’s website and reminds us of how she “used to be somebody.” She likes to do that when we get on her nerves. My Mom, the Supermodel.

(Note: click here to see the book UPS is talking about that pictures his mother, Myra)

Purrs,
UPS

Dear UPS Man,

We are all anxiously awaiting your arrival! Bowdoin is ready to give up being the baby, he got "nootered" a few weeks ago. Mom said that you will already be "nootered" when you come home. Did it go OK?

Have you met the big yellow uglycat yet? What did you think? We have one here too and she is very nice, good to cuddle with. She'll be going with Mom and Dad to pick you up. Her photo from the modeling gig for Orvis just got released... http://www.orvis.com/store/productchoice.aspx?pf_id=1K02&dir_id=1633&group_id=13036&cat_id=13054&subcat_id=13055

Mom says that she desperately needs photos of you 'cause the age you're at is the cutest! She hopes she gets one of the infamous Dracoonfly kittens at the stair rail photos (hint, hint) but she'll take what she can get!

Purrs,

The BT Boys
Baxter, Bowdoin, Fred (and little sis Diva)

Hi Baxter and Bowdoin,

Bowdoin, you are such a baby! I just got “clipped” today and it didn’t hurt a bit! I’m ready to go home this weekend if someone wants to come get me. My Mom will be at a cat show in Fitchburg, Mass this weekend if ya’ll want to come there if that’s easier (My mom is speaking funny after returning from South Carolina).

The big yellow uglycat has a funky looking tail, but she’s okay after you get used to her smell.

We just got the new PC going today so after Mom has a chance to catch up on things, I’m sure she’ll be doing the Kittens in the Railing photo.

Purrs,

UPS

UPS Man with his UPS bandanna and his new mom, Suzan.

UPS is now called Angus King and has made himself at home with Baxter, Bowdoin and the "big yellow uglycat", Logan.

Women's Work

My parents raised me to be a feminist. Not the stereotypical man-hating, bra-burning kind of feminist, but the kind who isn't afraid to tackle things just because they are considered a "man's job".

When we had trees cut down around the yard over the summer, I challenged myself to cut up one of the fallen trees with a chain saw....just so I'd know how to do it. Jay gamely taught me how to do it safely (I have a healthy fear of chain saws). I learned that upper body strength is something I don't possess and very necessary to handle a chainsaw. Still, I can say I did it. I couldn't move my arms for the next week, but I did it. I can also honestly say I did not feel at all compelled to help with stacking the resulting firewood.

Likewise, I have tried to make sure my children don't buy into stereotypes of jobs that are appropriate for their gender only. I also try to encourage my teenagers to be self-sufficient...do their own homework, their own laundry, clean their own room. The idea is not to have clean rooms and clothes (although that would be nice), but for them to be comfortable with doing it themselves. According to the experts, it's supposed to build self-esteem.

 

I have a dear friend we'll call Marjorie. I can mention her because I know she won't read this. She wasn't raised to be as self-sufficient as I was. For instance, she always goes to the same full-serve gas station because she insists that whenever she's tried to pump gas herself, she does it wrong. There are many other examples of ways in which Marjorie could be more self-sufficient, but I digress. My point is that I don't want my daughter to be like Marjorie and depend upon a man to do the most basic of things for her.

So when we came home from back-to-school shopping at Staples yesterday with a desk chair for each teen and a computer desk for Kelsey (Tyler already had a desk), it became their job to do the assembly. Jay had warned me that he wouldn't have time to put anything together. Like I was going to ask....Hey, I used to work at a furniture store....simple assemblies don't scare me. I even read directions. But I wanted the kids to be able to do it themselves. Tyler was easy; he didn't want help and feels compelled to demonstrate his independence quite often.

Kelsey initially played the "I don't know how" card. What....they didn't teach you to read directions in 8th grade? I encouraged her to look at the pictures, read the directions if all else failed. I reminded her that all the members of the family on my side were mechanically inclined, with the exception of my brother (sorry Paul. You know it's true). My dad enjoys carpentry and working around the house. My mother can repair a toilet. My sister can hang sheet rock.

Once Kelsey got going, you could just see her mood change from a whiney "I caaan't" to "Hey....Look at what I did." The desk was more complicated so I helped, but she still took the lead. In the end, Kelsey had a new desk and chair she was very proud of and the attitude of someone who's now not intimidated by basic assembly. Kelsey was so pleased, she had to show off the pictures of her assembly process to her boyfriend to prove she'd done it all by herself.

Here, she poses in her normal state with her new accomplishment.

WTC

When I first started researching the idea of keeping chickens as pets, everything I gathered indicated that chickens will eat just about anything, the exception being raw potatoes. I assumed that the chickens and the dog would be able to share in leftovers and the chickens would benefit from the items that normally are dumped in the compost pile (affectionately referred to as "the landfill"). Chardonnay the dog continues to eat most everything in front of her, but the chickens are actually picky.

I chopped up some overly-ripe strawberries the other day to serve our little pullets and cockerel. They came to me expectedly, looking for the handout my presence is associated with. I tossed the berries on the grass and got "the look". Since birds' eyes are on either side of their heads, they have to turn their head to look directly at something. In this case, one eye on the strawberry and the other on me. It was clearly a "What the Cluck?" expression as in "you expect me to eat that?"

My chickens don't like strawberries or tomatoes or several other things you'd think they would like. Their favorite menu items are pasta and eggs. The eggs can be boiled, fried, scrambled, whatever. My birds are into recycling apparently. They do love seafood. I'm sure they would eat chicken too, but we're not even going to try it….it just seems wrong.
I haven't eaten red meat or pork since 1984. Blame the research I did for an argumentative speech at Ithaca College on laboratory animals. When you discover the truth behind scientific research practices on lab animals, you also learn about factory farming. I swore off all meat except for seafood. I ate turkey only on Thanksgiving and Christmas day for several years as my one cheat. I finally added poultry back into my diet when my first child started eating table food, mainly to make it easier to feed him. Now that I have chickens, I still eat poultry, but with more misgivings. Soon after we moved the chicks outside into their coop, Jay and I were out there watching them. He asked that loaded question, "What's for dinner?" This was one of the few times I'd actually given some thought to dinner preparation, but I felt self-conscience about saying it out loud, in front of my new pets. So I spelled it, "C-H-I-C-K-E-N".

Cat Party

Last weekend, Jay and I attended the TICA (The International Cat Association) Northeast Regional Banquet and cat show in Fitchburg, Massachusetts. In addition to the normal cat show all day on Saturday and Sunday, there was a dinner and awards presentation Saturday night at the Royal Plaza Hotel. We went because not only is it an opportunity to party with a bunch of cat fanciers with no kids around, but my red tabby male, Tanstaafl Mickey Finn of Dracoonfly “Mickey” (shown here) was to receive a regional award for 11th Best Allbreed Champion for the 2008-2009 show season.

What does this mean, you ask? This means that out of the top 20 scoring unaltered adult cats (called the Champion class), Mickey was in 11th place of all the cat breeds in the Northeast Region. The Allbreed classification is further divided into longhaired and shorthaired breeds. Of the longhaired breeds, Mickey was 4th Best in our region. Either way, he earned the right to have the initials RW (Regional Winner) in front of his name to go along with the SGC for Supreme Grand Champion. There’s a lot more I could explain on cat shows, titles, etc., but I sense the eyeballs are already rolling with TMI (that’s Too Much Information).

My Rosette Pasties

But not only was I there to collect my cat’s award, but to celebrate the awards my friends’ cats won also. This was not the first time my cats have won Regional Awards, but definitely the most fun I’ve had at a banquet. Key to this was how well run it was this year by the Americats Cat Club….it was over by 9:30 pm. Normally these things drag on until 11. The other key was, again, the amount of wine I drank and the friends I drank it with (shout out to Mary Rastafari, aka RastaMary). I could say more, but what happens at cat shows, stays with the litter box.

 

Camp Stegall IV

I'm departing from my usual scintillating stories about cats, chickens and dogs in order to wax warm and fuzzy on something else important to me...my family. Not just my husband Jay and the teenagers who live with us, but people I grew up with, the people with whom I have more in common than I care to admit sometimes. My family is fairly ordinary; my parents have divorced and remarried, both sets settling in North Carolina. My siblings and I live all over the country with my brother Paul (a.k.a. "Howard" with his own blog who sometimes comments on mine) representing Arizona, sister Diana resides in Minnesota, step-brother Jeff in Georgia and me in Connecticut. Paul and I each have two children, Diana and Jeff have more freedom.

The middle generation:

Paul, Diana, me and Jeff

The tradition is and has been for us to get together at Thanksgiving at somebody's house, eat a lot, see a movie and sing Christmas carols until we drop (or we convince Paul to stop). However, it's not always been possible for everyone to travel at that time. Having grown up as a child from a "broken home", I didn't fully appreciate the lengths my parents went to in order to have our family get-togethers until I was older. If my dad and step-mom, June, were hosting a holiday gathering with us children, my mother and step-father, John, were always invited and vice versa. So although my parents, Joel and Ruth, haven't been married to each other since I was nine-years-old, they are truly friends and accepting of the other's spouses. I'm sure this has caused angst between them at various times, but they have somehow worked it out internally for the benefit of everyone.

The younger and older generations:

John, Mom, Weston, Tyler, Paris, Kelsey, Dad and June with a rainbow backdrop

Four years ago, my dad proposed the idea of renting a house at the beach for a week in the summer where we'd all gather without the pressure of holiday travel and getting back to work/school after just 2-3 days together. Thus, Camp Stegall was born. He found a house with its own swimming pool, a block from the beach in Garden City, South Carolina (about 30 minutes south of Myrtle Beach). It is fully furnished, very upscale, with 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms and 2 kitchens. Each bedroom has a full bathroom. Mom and John stay at a hotel or camp nearby, spending the day and dinners with the kids and grandkids. Dad and June foot most of the rental bill and bring most of the staples - food, soap, linens, etc. So although we have to cook for ourselves (each family has its designated night to prepare dinner for everyone), and may become tired of each other after awhile, it's our vacation. Hey, anytime I don't have to deal with pet hair, feed or clean up after cats is a vacation for me.

Jeff comes up with some sort of souvenir gift for that year; so far we've had Camp Stegall visors, T-shirts, travel mugs and carry bags.
Dad and his famous nose immortalized on a travel mug for Camp Stegall III in 2008


This year, most of us visited Brook Green Gardens together, a beautiful area filled with statues and flowers. Definitely a nice place to visit, but the 90-plus temperatures and high humidity were draining. Go in the spring if you get the chance to visit.
Brookgreen Gardens, Murrells Inlet, SC

The Cousins

Kelsey (14), Paris (11), Tyler (17) and Weston (14)

Camp Stegall is our newest family tradition that I hope will continue into the next generation. It's kind of cool when you actually get along with and like your own family.

Our Lion Cub for the Day

No, we didn't really get a lion cub; I just wanted to get your attention.

Suzan and John brought their service dog, Logan, with them last weekend to visit the kitten they are getting from us. Logan (shown below to the right of the lion) does all kinds of publicity and professional work because she's a very well-trained Golden Retriever. Logan demonstrated her service dog abilities by picking up Suzan's cane and bringing it to her. See more of Logan on her blog.


Ignore the dates on the photos; I didn't reset the date on my camera after recharging the batteries.

Logan brought her lion head costume so Chardonnay could borrow it for the photo shoot. We figured she already had the perfect lion tail and hair cut so why not exploit her look?

Chardonnay the Golden Lion

Awww!

"Hey Dude! Logan! Where'd you go?"

A Golden is a Golden. Our cats didn't blink when Logan came in the house. Ray snuggled up to her immediately. Maybe Suzan and John will get a red Maine Coon next time......

UPS - The brown tabby going to live with Suzan, John, Logan and their other cats.

Check out UPS and his sisters on my Kittens Page

What's in the Bottom of the Chicken Coop?

Sung to the tune of Camptown Ladies, it goes, "What's in the bottom of the chicken coop? Doo doo! Doo doo!" It's just one of the many things that have new meaning now that we have the chickens. "Dumb cluck" is especially descriptive.

My husband Jay and I (mostly Jay) converted the bottom section of the swingset fort into our chicken coop in 3 days. It still needs some finishing touches, like a roof that doesn't leak and the roosts rearranged to keep their butts from hanging over the feeder, but the chicks have officially moved out of their crowded cage in the basement. All but the cats are happy about the arrangement as their caged entertainment is gone. The net you see around the area is electrified, powered by a solar energizer. The chickens still get closed up in the coop at night and we plan on building a run with a hawk-proof top soon for added security. So far, we've seen no sign of predators.

The inside of the coop.

First it was a swingset.....

Ladies, when your man gets inspired to start working on your project first thing in the morning, the fact that he's wearing his boxers with rubber shoes outside is kinda sexy.

Attaching the nesting boxes which have an opening from the outside. Eggs aren't expected until the hens are 5 months old in October.

Kelsey holding Shanaynay, the Silver Spangled Hamburg pullet (young hen) that turned out to be a cockeral (young rooster). Remember my first chicken post about how I didn't want a rooster? Well, the chick sexer at the hatchery who is supposed to be 98% accurate must be slipping.
10 hens ordered and one turns out to be a rooster! How can we tell? Roosters grow their combs sooner. The girls don't even have combs and wattles yet. Close-up of Shanaynay below. Being named Shanaynay (Kelsey's idea)may counteract any male tendencies this little guy may have. I've resigned myself to keeping an open mind about having a rooster, but if he becomes too obnoxious, Shanaynay may be looking for a new home (not as a roaster rooster either).

A little over 6 weeks old now, the chicks don't look so baby chickie anymore. They still peep though; no clucking or crowing yet. Beautiful Fenix is the largest of the flock.

The brown Americaunas are growing dark beards. It shows up the best on Fenix's golden red coloring. Kelsey now refers to Fenix as "Billy Mays".