wcb - elora "plays"

A leaf as the object of her attack is okay...charming and cute even. The "charming and cute" quickly dissipate when it's a hand, feet or Sophie.

submission for weekend cat blogging, hosted this week by m-cats club.

wcb - soul cat

If there is an animal that you cannot hide from....that can look into your eyes and see your intentions, your true nature....your soul....it is a cat. Elora is my soul cat.

submission for weekend cat blogging #191, hosted by tabbylicious

wcb - a well read cat

Elora decided to check out my collection of Jon Katz books...perhaps she was hoping to get some insight into that crazy dog beast she is forced to co-habitat with.


hmmm...this looks interesting


hard to see what titles are here...perhaps if
I push them over...


ahhhh....that's better...which one should
i read first?



or maybe i will just have a little chew.

submission for weekend cat blogging, hosted this week by paulchen's food blog

wcb - elora's green frog

A small, fuzzy, once-upon-a-time-filled-with-catnip, stuffed green frog. Elora’s frog. I can’t imagine what she has named him in her quiet feline language, but I know she’s called him something. He is her best friend. A friend that I find in all kinds of places: in her bed, in a shoe, in her mouth as she tears across the hardwood floors, in front of the bathroom door, in her food dish resting on a bed a kibble and even in her water dish faced down like the victim of a small, unfortunate drowning accident (which is somewhat ironic for a frog).

Elora and the frog met the day we brought her home from shelter. She was a wide eyed bundle of grey fuzz, all of 12 weeks old. They bonded instantly. Possibly it was because the frog was one of the only items in the condo that was actually smaller than her. Or it may have been because she was comforted by the only other furry being around the place. Or it may have been the catnip. The catnip, however, is long gone but the friendship has stayed.



All types of other toys have come and gone. Mice that squeak, balls with bells, crazy coils and even other soft fuzzy toys of an animal nature. They would command her attention for a short period of time. It was almost as if she were patronizing these shiny new toys by gracing them with her presence for a week or two. Ultimately, however, each one met the same fate: discarded, untouched for weeks in a small corner of the apartment as thin veil of dust formed over their surface. She creeps past these toys, without so much as a glance in their direction, as she zooms in on her target for a gleeful pouncing: her frog.



Remarkably, after almost three years, the frog has remained intact. I think, at one point, it did have two eyes and its fur was somewhat more plush, but overall it has stood the test of time. And the test of Elora. She would attack that frog with such zeal that I had to remind myself it was just an inanimate object. But after every attack, I would find her sleeping with her small green friend tucked under a paw or curled up with her in her bed. They are inseparable and make quite a pair.

Often during the night, I will hear a soft meow and feel her small, warm body cuddle up beside my leg as she settles in for a sleep. And I know there has not been one addition to the bed but two: a tired little cat and her green stuffed frog.

contribution for weekend cat blogging, hosted this week by the sour dough.

wcb - the comfort of elora

A cat by nature is less demanding, less time consuming and less needy than a dog and Elora is no exception. But she is no less loved. Elora is my touchstone. She is constant and grounded and when I come home after a crazy day and she sits contently in my arms, so am I. We fell into the rituals we share naturally and easy, without training or planning or even conscious thought.

Our bond is wrapped around simply being together and I take enormous comfort in that. I take comfort in her.

contribution for weekend cat blogging, hosted by m-cats club.

wcb - loving finn

This is Finn.

She spent a brief amount of time with us during the final stages of her far-too-short life. I don't want to share her sad story...the real story of our pets is not in their passing, but in their living. Finn was a wonderful, curious, playful and loving little cat. She had the biggest heart...and she taught me that while there are limits on how much we can physically do for our animals, there are no limits on our capacity to love them...or on their capacity to love us back.

contribution for weekend cat blogging
hosted this week by the sour dough

wcb - my heart

she can be standoffish, cautious, bossy and mean...and with
one look she captured my heart forever.

contribution for weekend cat blogging

wcb - a joyful heart

A song came on the radio today that was light and fun and uplifting. I felt compelled to dance....right there alone in my kitchen. As I cranked up the volume and spun around, I saw Sophie and my cat, Elora, watching me intently with curious looks on their face.

I do not know if animals understand what it means to dance. But I have spied on Sophie, alone in the backyard, and caught her running, lightning fast, in wide figure eight loops, eyes gleaming, tail catching in the wind. And I have seen Elora bound, quickly and effortlessly, with silent grace over furniture and around corners chasing some invisible prey.

So, while they may not understand what it means to dance, I do believe they understand what it means to have joy in your heart....sometimes so much that you need to let it spill out in random, happy movement.

submission for weekend cat blogging, hosted by mind of mog