Bathroom Kitty

Both Hunter and Pika love hanging out in the bathroom. Pika's deal has always been just sitting in the tub. I have these colored balls from when we first got the kitties but they never played with them. I was about to throw them out one day a few months ago when I randomly threw one into the tub when Pika was sitting in it. Now he loves it and he even sits there and meows to call me into the room to play with him.



I finally managed to have my camera handy when I was playing "catch" with him. I'll work on a better quality one soon. I'll record some of Hunter's bathroom antics soon too.

Pepe Le Pew

I was sitting at my desk one night last week with the window open so the boys can run in and out. I'm pretty tuned into their noises and comings and goings. I noticed Pika jumped through the window a bit more excitedly than normal (which is saying something). I looked out the window into the darkness and didn't see anything. Turning on the porch light I saw Hunter sitting on top of the step next to the gate. Nothing unusual. He sits there all the time and survey's his kingdom. I opened the door and was just about to walk over to him when I noticed what was up. Literally a foot in front of Hunter on the sidewalk was the ass end of a skunk with it's tail decidedly up in the air.

As I backpeddled and spoke in hushed tones for Hunter come inside, Hunter just rolled around on the concrete like cats love to do. It was like the skunk wasn't even there. You have to remember, Hunter goes ballistic anytime another cat is around. Here was a skunk, seemingly ready for action, right in front of him, and he wasn't even bothered.

The scene reminded me of a certain Looney Tune.



Fortunately the critter ran across the street into the darkness and I grabbed Hunter. Needless to say, I've been keeping the window shut and the boys inside the last few nights.

Yet another promise

Some time ago I made an apology (for being lame) and a promise (for more regular posts). Yet alas, I let it slip yet again. What can I say? Life has a way of throwing curve balls and the best intentions remain just that. What curve balls, you ask? It has been three things really: The specter of a new job, working 16+ hours a day at the old one, and one big ass rock when you least expect it.
One of the most amazing human beings I've ever known, Duncan Ferguson (not the UK soccer player), once told me, "All we are in this world is how we adapt to change. It's all we are." Indeed.
One thing, however, that hasn't changed is Hunter and Pika. For sure, they have a few new "diggers" and experiences over the summer but their spot in my life (and others) remains. Sorry friends for not updating you more. Rest assured, they are as vibrant and an important part of my life as ever. Please forgive me. Pika is still waking me up right around 4:30 a.m. every single morning. Hunter is still a softie "love-bug" looking for attention every time I go into the bathroom or sitting at my desk (my keyboard is virtually freezed-up with cat hair). As promised, here is another of their favorite "nesting" spots.


I have a drawer in my closet the holds socks, sweaters and whatever. Some time ago I pulled out a drawer to find something and I left it on the floor in the closet (it's mostly empty really). When I went back to put the drawer back, I found Pika cuddled up in the socks. I didn't have the heart to move it. It's been there ever since. When I'm looking for Pika and can't find him anywhere, I'm 98% certain he'll be in the closet.

Simon's Cat 'TV Dinner'

The long awaited 3rd video of "Simon's Cat" was just released on YouTube.

Home

Kitties love to sleep. Kitties love to look around. Kitties love soft things. Hunter and Pika are no different. This is the first of a series of posts where I'll highlight all the various kitty spots throughout my house. These are the places they crash out, feel safe, perch upon, and generally hang out. Both Hunter and Pika have their favorites and sometimes it's the same one, at the same time. I figure they need to have plenty of reasons to come home so they don't wander too far, roam around the neighborhood, and generally get into mischief with other cats (and dogs) or otherwise out in the streets. At least that is my justification for all the spots I've created for them. In reality, I just like to spoil them.

Skills

In a previous post I went on about Hunter's hunting of mice and other rodents. In that post, I made the comment that he isn't much of a birder. This was partially true and partially because some people seem to have a problem with cats hunting birds and I didn't want to offend anyone. Culling the dirt-dwelling "vermin" seems so much more politically correct than passerines. However, due to the relative lack of rodents in the neighborhood, Hunter brought me something of a birthday present the other day. As one friend said about this photo, "Hunter's got skills." Indeed he does.


I love having birds around as much as anyone and I love my kitties. Mmmmm? A dilemma per chance? This got me to thinking about it all. If a bird, or any animal for that matter, was killed in the wild, we'd just chalk it up to "natural selection." However, there seems to be an inherent, emotional gut check when a domestic cat preys on "wild" song birds around the neighborhood.

I remember my aunt's cat once killed a Burrowing Owl. I was shocked but perhaps even more mortified by my aunt's detached, if not uncaring, reaction. But this was long before I had even considered having a cat of my own. Somewhere inside, I hated her cat for killing that owl. I think I would still have a major issue if Hunter started preying on something like an owl (around here we have much bigger ones like Great Horned and Grey Owls so the prey and predator relationship is very much reversed). But the Starlings and Magpies and the occasional finch? It still bothers me some but not so much the more I think about it.

You see, my neighbors feed the heck out of the birds. Across the street to the east, the guy has a bird bath and a well-stocked feeder and throws bread out all the time. He had a magpie eating out of his hand the other day.

Over the fence to the north, they simply have a big wooden box FULL of seed. All that "white" stuff on top of the cabinet is seed as are the piles all over the ground.

I think Hunter spends most of his time chasing the mice that are attracted to the seed but he does now bring back birds now and again. It occurs to me that the natural selection element is thrown out the window. I mean, if the neighbors didn't feed the birds 24/7/52, they would truly be "wild" and probably not hanging around here so much, if at all, and possibly even more alert and equipped to escape a cat like Hunter. So the question is: By "unnaturally" feeding them, are those birds now any more wild than my "domesticated" cat? If not, then logically Hunter's preying on those same birds is no different, and no more unacceptable, than the Darwinian natural order of things. Maybe I'm just rationalizing the whole thing to feel better about my kitties behavior. Mmmmmm?

Pika in a Pot

Well it's been, well... forever. Sorry my friends. I sincerely intended to keep up to speed on my kitty blogging but the time just seems to run away like wild horses over the hills. Here's a quick Pika fix to get me back on the track of regular updates in the world of Hunter and Pika.
I have a 107 year old shed in my back yard where I store all my stuff (most of it anyway). Any time I go out there and open the door Hunter and Pika quickly sprint out to snoop around since they don't get to go in there much. Thus, I'm always left having to leave the door open while they get to satisfy their noses and that infamous kitty curiousity. A few days ago after having left the shed open earlier in the day, I was wondering where the boys were and I found Pika in the shed in a planter that I'm not using this year but it had a bit of dirt in the bottom. Among other things, Pika loves to sit in anything like a box or a planter and he loves to sit in dirt. He looks so content.

Just because

Nothing out of the ordinary going on with Hunter and Pika or any philosophizing about the past. Just wanted to write about the boys since I'm happy to see them. I just got home from the weekend up at the family cabin with my brother and nephew. Although most of the time was spent scrubbing and cleaning the 84-year old cabin (note to family, plastic bags over a big bucket of bird seed will NOT keep the mice out over a long, cold winter) it was a great time. Tae caught and ate a couple of fish, dug a hole to China looking for worms, filled it back up, he also beat both of us fair and square playing both Go Fish and Texas Hold 'Em. Taesan was digging his hole in a hooded sweatshirt and his boxers. All around just doing what 12-year olds do.

When we tried to kid him about his attire, bent over his shovel with determination all he replied with was, "A new shirt 60 bucks, new pants 20. Diggin' worms in your underwear, priceless." In the end, he was just as proud of filling it up as he was diggin' it.

Tae had me take a photo of his "Neil Armstrong moment" once the hole was properly filled in. Of course Neil didn't scrawl his name in the dirt next to the footprint.
Anyway, despite the fine time with family, I am pretty psyched to be back and see Hunter and Pika. Thankfully the house wasn't too hot in the 85 degree heat. It get's brutal later in the summer.


They've been following me around, sorta acting independent and all looking around but more or less right near me no matter if it is in the backyard, the side step drinking a PBR left over from the Friday BBQ or here in front of my computer. Although I'm sure Hunter will skulk off later to check out the neighbors yard if I leave him out too late. Once home I called back a friend that had called while I was away. He invited me to a dinner featuring "a pile" of wild morel mushrooms they harvested earlier in the day. As tempting and rare of a treat that this is, I politely declined using the recent 115 mile drive home as the excuse. In reality I just want to hang with the boys tonight. Even if you've been somewhere special and unique and beautiful with family or friends, with Hunter and Pika it's always good to be home.

Defining Moments

How many moments are truly life changing?

By my count, not many.

Back in 1989 I was offered a Wilderness Ranger job with the Forest Service on the Lake Plateau in the Absaroka/Beartooth Wilderness. Throughout my youth I would have listed that right up there as my number one dream job. No fire fighter or secret agent spy stuff for me. Yet that same summer I was also offered to be a glaciology assistant on Mount Logan, in the Yukon. At 19,540 feet it is the highest point in Canada and I could get paid to go to one of the wildest amazing places on earth. Tough choices, eh?

Well I took the Logan job, drove the Alaska Highway non-stop consuming 7 cases of beer between three of us, spent 43 days straight in the same long johns and it's safe to say my life ended up quite different as a result. I spent the next 10 years in Canada, went on expeditions all over including another 6 to Logan, made a name for myself, became a writer and photographer, ad nauseum.

So for years I had considered that to be a life changing decision - to take the Yukon job over the Wilderness job in Montana. Well not so fast. Looking back, I had already made the transition to Canada to go to University, was climbing all the time, and beginning to dream of big trips to big places. Getting to Logan was just an extension of a path I already had wandered onto. Distilling it down and following the crumbs of life back toward the opening; the defining moment came in the winter of 1987.

My University of Montana college buddy Rob Macal had taken the semester off to be a ski bum at Big Mountain. For some reason unknown to me (probably had something to do with a girl), Rob was back on campus and I randomly ran into him. As we caught up for the 5 minutes I had before class, Rob told me about this dude he met on the ski hill that. "does avalanche research and got a degree in outdoor stuff somewhere in western Canada." Uninspired as a physics student (this WAS during Regan's star wars insanity. Oh wait... still have it) and horrible at calculus and itchin' to spend more time in the mountains, I wandered over to the Mansfield Library and searched the college catalogues on microfiche to do some research on this western Canada Shangri La. This WAS before the internet existed outside a few military installations and google was something we did on nice spring days when the hippy chicks took their tops off to play hacky sack. I found the Outdoor Pursuits program at the University of Calgary. At the time there were only about three of these experiential ed programs around. Imagine an entire college degree in fun with some science like advanced physiology thrown in to keep you honest. Sadly, the Alberta government isn't much into liberal arts and the program no longer exists. Cutting to the chase, I applied, I got accepted, I went, I thrived, I lived, I loved, I mourned, I can't imagine any other life.

So looking back, it was that 5 minute random "good to run into you" moment that is one of the true life changers I can count on one hand. Thanks Rob. What does all of this have to do with Hunter and Pika? Well, it just shows that sometimes the biggest things in life start with the smallest encounters and decisions. Even the most mundane moments might make miracles (sorry for the corny alliteration). More succinctly, don't take anything for granted.

I'd never had a cat before (I can't say "own a cat" because I've since learned the proprietary rights run the other way) and didn't really consider myself a cat guy. So the unassuming moment I decided for no particular reason that we should finally get a cat–Nichole had been suggesting it for some time–was another of those precious and fleeting switches were everything changes.

Within days we had found Hunter and Pika. I can't imagine any other life. More on the "getting day" later.

Hunter hunting

Since moving into a neighborhood in the fall of 2006, Hunter has had fewer opportunities to go hunting. His favorite prey, pocket gophers and voles, are simply in short supply here, if at all. He's never been much of a birder, although he did once bring a live magpie into the house (more on that fiasco in a later post). Thus he mostly brings home mice, of which there are tons.


If I'm lucky enough to see him coming, I'll rush to close the window or door to keep him from bringing it into the house. They are typically alive and all Hunter really wants to do is show off to daddy and get some attention. Of which I give him tons but he then drops them, forgets to chase them, and they get behind stuff. Here are some images of his latest conquest on a great spring day, Cinco de Mayo, 2008.

Sorry for the airbrush look. Not sure what is wrong with my camera. In the video here, I love how Hunter is torn between gettin' some proud loving and playing with, and ultimately eating, his catch.




For more video of Hunter tormenting the mouse, go to the YouTube Channel.

Pika Eating Kibble Video

I feed Hunter & Pika Iams along with another prescription food from the vet called TD that is better for cleaning their teeth. No crappy, cheap cat food for my guys. Plus I totally spoil them thinking Hunter & Pika, like us, deserve some choices in their diet and shouldn't be stuck with just one taste their whole life.

Pika has this unique way of eating his dry food, which I generically call it "kibble" (more on how he ate as a kitten in a later post). Friends with cats are always tickled when they see it. It is quite adorable and apparently is somewhat unique. Pika even taught Hunter to do it too. Has anyone else seen this behavior?



A longer version of Pika eating his kibble is posted on YouTube.

Simon's Cat

The artist, Simon Tofield, had to have seen Pika trying to get me up. See the "Pika Call" in the right sidebar below.

Hunter & Pika

I have a horrible time naming things. I'm a climber and have done lots of new routes around the world, including some that are now quite famous. When climbers make a first ascent, that is as the first person or team to climb that particular route, they get to name the climb. Sometimes it is simply something like the "North Face of Whatever Mountain." Other times when it is a specific line on a wall or cliff that may or may not have multiple routes, the naming can take on a whole variety of personal, social, literary or political overtones. Often it perfectly describes an experience the climbers had, defines the character of the climbing itself or otherwise sums up something going on at the time. During my climbing career, more often than not, it has been my partner that came up with the name the somehow captured the essence of the climb and the experience. On occasion I don't even send irrelevant emails because I can't think of something for the Subject line. Naming Hunter and Pika was no different. After having them for a few days (more on where and how we got them in a future post), Nichole came up with the perfect names for both. She always felt a little bad for not giving me a chance to come up with a name but when something fits so perfectly it's best not to mess with it.

The name for Pika came first. We was the runt of a big litter and very small, about 0.9 lbs at three months. When we got him he was like a bird with little muscle and thin fur. He quickly began to thrive with us but until he was about 6 months he still needed lots of external warmth. He would sit on my lap perched like a little pika. One of our favorite animals of the alpine mountain world, pikas are small and adorable and make a distinctive high pitched "neeeeah." Pika, due to his small size had a similar high pitched meow that he maintains to this day.

As we drove home after first getting the kitties it was the full moon in October. It seemed like a good omen. Nichole eventually put the connection together that the full moon after the "Harvest moon" (September) is called the "Hunter's moon." Hunter, a svelte and athletic kitty with an impossibly long tail has certainly lived up to his name. We used to live in a condo complex with lots of juniper bushes in the landscaping and a field next door. Hence he was always bringing in lots of voles (they eat the roots of the junipers). Voles by the way are the most prolific mammal on the planet. They need to be, as they are the very bottom of carnivore's food chain. If allowed to live a full life (most of them don't because they end up becoming lunch) they would produce over a million offspring. Later when we lived on two acres on outskirts of Bozeman, Hunter would bring live pocket gophers into the house to show off proudly to mommy and daddy. Chaos would ultimately ensue...

To the victor goes the spoils...

Hunter may have won the fight but I'm the one stuck with the spoils.

Cat Fight

Hunter is usually a total sweetie and doesn't generally roam too far but when he encounters other neighborhood cats or they otherwise enter his territory - our yard, which is not big but two city lots so about 100 feet from the street to the alley - he goes ballistic. Feline adrenaline or something...

Last Friday about 9 pm I heard the familiar screetch of a cat fight and looked out to see Hunter and another black cat, that lives about a block away but is not often around, spiraling around and around Tasmanian Devil style under the street lamp. I rushed out and as I approached them the other cat took off. Yet Hunter, still amped up on the kitty equivalent of Red Bull came after my leg. Not coming after me really but just blindly attacking anything in the rush. Having seen it before (more on that later) I just backed up, held off an onrushing pickup truck and gave Hunter some space to run home. Which he promptly did.

Over the weekend he seemed fine although he had something hard on his neck. I wasn't sure if it was a claw from the other cat or a clot of fur from a wound. A friend asked, when telling him about the encounter, "Did Hunter win the fight."

"I think so," I replied unconvincingly. It seems that he did but with a claw stuck in your throat it sort of throws the equation off. How does the other cat determine if it won? Stick your enemy with a claw. Impressive, indeed. But at the expense of the claw? Too close to call.

By Monday morning I figured I'd better have it looked at. I already had an appointment for 1:30 on Tuesday but I decided to take him in Monday afternoon and leave him at the Vet so they could squeeze him in as soon as possible. Good thing. Turns out he had an 103+ temp and quite the abscess. No claw, just a bad bite. They kept him overnight, only the 2nd time he's ever had to stay over at the Vet (more on the first time later), Poor Guy. Of course Pika was ALL freaked out all night wondering where his brother was. He's been thinking he's next ever since.

But alas, Hunter is right back to his usual self; wanting to go outside, getting in the way at my desk looking for attention, following me every time I go into the bathroom. Oh ya, half his face and throat is shaved down with a big ole' gobbie in the middle. I have to give him meds every day. Just getting pills down is an adventure and hot pack/medicate the wound. All of which he protests vigorously.

The Beginning...

I have been thinking about this blogging thing for some time but have been unsure what, where and how to focus it into something myself, and my readers, would not get bored with.

As I was picking Hunter up from the Vet after his latest neighborhood brawl (more on that in a bit) it occurred to me that these two little guys currently offer much of the interesting fodder in my life, or at least what I usually look forward to the most. Further realizing that cats are infinitely more popular than most of my other esoteric pursuits like mountain climbing, I thought this would be the perfect fit to start my blog.

I'll post photos and tales of our current life moving forward interspersed with stories about the past five years starting back when we got them in October of 2003.
Cheers & Enjoy.