Maine Coon in the House!

This house has seen some exceptional cats in our house.  Before Pişi, Squeak and I moved in, my hubby housed the neighborhood nasty girl, Aslana. In another life, I shared my home with a wacky rescue named Nevada,  and a Maine Coon mix named Monty, who to this day I consider my most affable cat.  He was my only male cat - for some reason I'm prone to adopting sassy, strong girl cats. Pişi for one.  Squeak is proving herself to be pretty sassy, in her own fourteen-year-old fluffy cat way, with a new girl in town.

I thought, in fact, that Squeak might have some Maine Coon in her.

This is why I made the choice to go for blue-blood.  Pişi dominated Squeak as only a former Turkish street cat could, that is until towards the end of Pişi's life.  Squeak took some strong stands against that old street scrapper, but I must say that Squeak also showed the greatest respect for Pişi as she aged and grew weaker.  In fact, Squeak was in the room when Pişi took her last breath, and Squeak approached her gently, sniffed her, then quietly walked away.


I wanted Squeak to have a new companion a bit more like herself.  Since I thought she might have some Maine Coon in her, or Norwegian Forest Cat, I went looking for one of those.  A friend of ours had two Maine Coons - Delphine and Dodge.  Delphine and Dodge weren't being bred for any reason except to have babies.  (Dodge didn't have papers, though his pure heritage was apparent.)  In fact, here are some pictures of Frankie's parents:

Dodge and Delphine - making babies, I guess. (They had three litters together before Dodge passed away.  Frankie was from the first.)

Frankie (Francesca) and her mom Delphine

Frankie's daddy, Dodge

So, yes, I thought Squeak might have Maine Coon in her.  But hey, once I got a pure Maine Coon, I began to realize they are in a class all their own.  The normal rules of domestic cats just don't apply.  And if we try to enforce them, well, she just overpowers us!

Been So Long

Far too long.

I was reading through some cat blogs the other day, and I ran across some old friends.  Cole and Marmalade.  They're cat rock and roll stars now.

They made me think of this blog -- which I loved keeping.  But life caught up with me, and it brought some changes along the one.

One of them was the passing of my dear friend Pişi.

She probably passed away about nine months after this photo was taken, in Summer of 2015.

When you have a cat like Pişi, you mourn for awhile.  

Her story is told earlier on this blog. Her Turkish roots,

her exploits.  

She was eighteen when she left us,

and a fighter all the way to the end.

She rests in our backyard now.

All the feral cats like to hang out at her grave.

I like to think of it this way:

they know she was a jellicle cat,

a miracle cat,

a powerful soul. 

It was probably her passing that silenced us here.

And life, of course.

Oh, life.

hello friends

Hi, Pisi, here,

I'm demanding that my human do a blog entry.  

I'm doing ok these days.  

Reportedly, I'm approaching

18 years old.  

Go figure.

The one thing I know for sure is that my 

cat-mate,

Squeak,

keeps growing.

No way am I shrinking.

Occasionally, we even get along.

Basically,

we just wanted to say "hi!"

Hope you're well,

hope we get back here soon.

But summer's being good to us,

and sometimes the best thing to do

is to just take a nap.

One Year Later . . . .

If by some odd chance

you have been wondering

whatever became

of two cats named

Pişi and Squeak,

well, the best answer to that question is:

they got a year older.

Furthermore, they both have taken up piano lessons:

As you might guess, Squeak is making more progress, as she is able to remain awake long enough

to complete her scales.

She is quite proud of herself.

Our dear Pişi has passed the sixteen year old mark,

we think.  Given your dubious origins,

we can't be sure exactly how old

the dear old girl

is.

She sleeps an awful lot.

But all the same, the two girls are well, and are delighted to see

their blog still lives.

They'd like to come visit you again.

And they will.

So hello dear world. 

We'll be back soon. . . . 

with love,

from

Pişi 

and

Squeak

Pisi's Where?!?!?

I'm not moving!

Pisi in her favorite place (other than the porch)

. . . . on the BTLO's lap.

Here she is, our Human, in a rare appearance:

She likes this photo enough, though,

that she agreed to post it.

We're all reveling over Pisi's age these days:

she is probably 15.  

Who would have ever thought that a deaf 

Turkish street cat would live so long

in such luxury?

She's still here, too,

and hopefully we can marvel over it

when she's 16.

A Sure Sign of Spring: Squeak Gets a Haircut, and Pisi Sleeps on the Porch

So,

in the depth of the winter,

we just slept:

. . . and slept and slept and slept.

But Spring is upon us, and here's one of the first signs:

Squeak's haircut!

.

. . . and Pisi's passed out on the porch:

We miss all our friends, and sure hope our Human

(aka: The Big Two Legged One, remember her?)

slows down so we can blog some more.

Hope you're all well!

With love,

from Pisi & Squeak

Hibernating

Whoops

Where'd she go?

We are hibernating, folks. 

After all, look what's outside our windows:

We sure hope you're all staying warm!

with love

from Pisi

and Squeak

Cooked Meat

Why is Pisi saying

when she follows me around,

              miaowing,

even after she has eaten?

Is she asking me to feed her again?

I beg to differ; she's actually asking me to feed

myself.  She is, after all,

domesticated.  And

in the cat world, "domesticated" means

to prefer ones meat

cooked,

especially over an open fire.

Because that's how it was cooked

aeons ago when

the first brave feline took the step -- 

or should I say,

the first hungry feline took that step 

into that huddle of men,

that circle of fire,

and chose to not attack

but rather accepted

                                          the rules, and in accepting

                             the rules, received

Cooked Meat.  

Cooked Meat? the first brave cat or two meowed

and then ate some more

and liked it.

And once into cooked

meat, there was no

turning back.

My cat, Pisi, might I note, is a 

frontier cat, a border 

cat,

not content with mice 

or just one street corner.

That's why she's with me.

Now, that primitive connoisseur cat invited other cats

like itself to dine with her, and gradually,

they all joined the human coterie,

and in joining

-- and surviving -- 

developed an innate sense memory to find

Cooked Meat.  Smell

sense and sound sense and 

sight sense and sixth sense, the cat 

knows the meat is cooking and awaits

its arrival, patiently.  Obediently.  After

a few generations, the cats become

programmed to believe that

Cooked Meat is the only ticket

to survival.  So

my meowing evening cat, following me

from every task to every task except 

cooking meat, is not demanding more

cat food, but rather expects that since I give her

meat even when she doesn't ask for

Meat, she'd much prefer I just

Cook Meat.   Cook Meat! is what she says, not

"cat food."  She wants

Cooked Meat.  And once I

Cook Meat, and Share Meat,

she is replete, and if I'm 

good, she might even let me

pet her,

brush her,

tame her.

My cat Pisi, plucked early in life

from Ankara's cat-killing streets,

learned fast.  Domestication appealed

when she knew the wild would 

turn her into

Raw Meat.  So she said, pass the

Cooked Meat, and keep it coming!  And she has traveled for miles

with me because I give it

to her,

even when she doesn't ask.

The domestic cat, like any

domesticated creature

requires consistency.  She

wants the meat everyday,  or else

she'll eat your ankle.

Take heed:

FEED

the cats

Pisi's addiction

Oh, my goodness

what's this?

'nip?  Oh, yummy!!!!

I'm lovin' it!

. . . and look, I think I found more!!

I think I'm wasted . . . . but as happy as a deaf cat can be!

Pisi's Response

Here is what I have to say about another Turkish cat in my house!

Yes, I AM the queen of this house --

and no one else can come in here, 

not even a blood relative.

I'm on the look-out!

. . . . . and I say NO ONE!  Not any one!

That is, unless they want to feed me or pet me.

~ ~ ~

(She's not kidding.  But I have my ways of getting my way!)

With love from

Pisi &Squeak!