Scarlett Letters

Just call him Danger Cat.

Yesterday, for some reason, Zeke decided that it was time to make his break for it any way he could. In the morning, he zipped out the front door while I was juggling bags of recycling for disposal. He got all the way to the front of the building, and I had to navigate a path under the shrubs and trees to grab him and bring him in. He didn't protest my retrieval, but I think he knew he'd done something he shouldn't do.

Later in the afternoon, I was here with MD. We were geeking out over things genealogical when we heard a scrabble-scrabble-thump from the balcony. Zeke had gone over the edge. I ran down to the backyard, but didn't see him anywhere. Then I heard a meow from above. Somehow, he had caught himself on the balcony below mine. He looked fine, but I had to get him--and my neighbor was to be out of town the whole weekend. In the end, we got the emergency key for that apartment from the condo association secretary and, with permission from the neighbor, got in and retrieved my little daredevil.

Inspection revealed that he'd shattered and torn a couple of claws. He was a little bloody but the claws were all still there. His paws were a little tender but he was otherwise just a fine. One phone call to the vet later and I knew what I had to do to care for him. He spent the rest of the day being remarkably quiet (for him), curled up on a towel on the big easy chair in my living room. Guess he'd had enough excitement for one day.

This cat has been more destructive and has tested his boundaries more than any other cat I've ever had. There's never a dull moment with Ezekiel.

1) I just finished reading Christopher Moore's Sacre Bleu, which was recommended to me by skidspoppe and I am here to tell you that it's not only a good book, it's a good fantasy, and that if you read genre you must read it. Seriously. (And if you are interested in art or history you should read it, too.) It's set mainly in Paris in the 1890s, mostly on Montmartre, the story provoked by Vincent van Gogh's death, and centered around the love affair between one Lucien Lessard, an artist and baker, and a beautiful, enigmatic woman named Juliette, and the color blue. Also around Lessard's friendship with Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, who is probably my favorite character in the book. Moore builds a wonderful history/mystery around the whole community of Impressionists, their work, and Juliette and her peculiar companion, the Colorman. The story hops between time periods, going back thousands of years and forward to 2012. I thought it was terrific, slyly (and sometimes broadly) funny. And it was great fun to read now that I've been to Paris and have seen so many of the locations mentioned. Well worth the read.

2) I leave at lunch time for Portland, there to work in my company's headquarters for a day, and to visit with davidlevine, kateyule, jaylake and anyone else I'm fortunate enough to run into while I'm there.

3) Spring has sprung in Seattle, with sunny skies and temps in the mid-60s. Given my decades of experience in the region, I know the sunshine won't last, but I'm going to enjoy it while it's here.

4) I bought myself a pretty tote/computer bag that is seasonally appropriate--all pink-and-white paisley and waterproof (more or less)--and I am ridiculously happy with it.

5) Zeke is growing up to be extremely opinionated about pretty much everything, but especially about the fact that he thinks I don't spend nearly enough time playing with him and far too much time sitting at my computer. Meow meow meow all day long, with the occasional whine thrown in for good measure. I don't think I taught him that last habit, but I feel like it confirms my worst fears about myself: whine whine whine. ::sigh:: Our children learn what we teach them whether or not we mean to.