Tallulah Falls Twice

David and I just got back from the mountains. No Internet up there, so we are left to the old-fashioned resources of tv and books, and, if he so desires, conversation.

Him: I can't wait for the asphalt on the driveway. [looks down driveway that is gravel]
Me: I just finished this really good book.

Him: I'm gonna have to deter those dang deer.
Me: This book had a reference to Ahab.

Him: I wonder if I can move that evergreen tree to the back?
Me: Yes, this character Lou met a whale and killed it with his bare hands -- sort of like David does in the Bible with that lion.

Him: Look! A turkey buzzard.
Me: Did I tell you I have a boyfriend?

See, this is marriage, a good one, in a nutshell. You have your own private conversations, and it doesn't matter if the other person is listening or not.

Next.

We took Tallulah to the mountains for the first time.

Keats rode in my lap in the front passenger seat since she refuses to ride in a cat carrier, so Tallulah rode in the cat carrier that belongs to Keats who inherited it from Kitty Moose.

The cat carrier with Tallulah sat on the back seat. Tallulah was one unhappy passenger. I tried to play road games with her -- you know, alphabet bingo, try to guess the story of the five huge people in the Mini Cooper, or "boiled peanuts, who thought of that?" but she wanted no part. She just wanted to be angry and loud.

She just wailed and wailed - -and oh my goodness, she was mad. She bit the cage with her teeth like it was alive.

Keats is oblivious to the dangers of the road -- and the idea of being vulnerable does not phase her. She hates the sounds of motorcycles and big trucks, and when they pass or we pass them, she opens her eyes and gives them a "hairy." When Tallulah got particularly noisy, Keats would meow back and then hiss. Twas really fun. Only not.

By riding in the front seat, Keats accidentally learned how to open the power windows. Since she has traveled to the mountains a hundred times, she recognizes the change in the road as well as the speed, and when we are close to our house, she stands up on the arm rest and puts her paws on the window and purrs.

Since she's just randomly putting down her paws, she has hit the power button more than once. She and I both jump back when she does it. She also bats the window with her paws. Since our driveway is unpaved, sometimes if it has rained, we have these huge ruts in it, and when we climb it, it's like a Nantucket sleigh ride. Many times, it has slung the normal surefooted Keats to hit her head on the glass. She looks like a cartoon kitty when that happens. Tis sort of funny...

Once we were all in the mountain house, Tallulah took off like a torpedo. She ran from room to room, jumped on furniture, and up and down the stairs like the mad woman in the attic. I particularly enjoyed her on the steps because she would stick her head out between the rails like a mountain goat.

The house in the mountains has a loft -- with a nice railing. Tallulah discovered that she could walk on the outside of the railing, precariously, but she mostly did it to taunt Keats. Keats was all "zen" about it, but Tallulah was showing off like a Wallenda.

She fell twice. Thankfully, she fell on the sofa which is beneath it. Both times, David and I didn't want to look -- when we picked her up, she was purring like a Porshe.

New meaning to Tallulah Falls. Heh.

Speaking of water, her biggest fascination up there was the Jacuzzi tub's faucet. She spent lots of time trying to figure it out. I enjoyed making it more complicated by turning it on and off when she least expected it. You know, she would almost touch the water, then I would cut it off. She would have her whole head under it, then I would cut it on.

It was some funny stuff.










She rode home in the cat carrier with a better attitude -- this time, she wasn't angry, meowed less, and didn't sharpen her teeth on the bars.

Cats, by nature, do not like to travel. They want the familiar. I, however, am of the mind that you have to train a cat to do what you want.

LOL

What am I smoking?