The Memory Post
Sep. 24th, 2012 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serindeRanger was so named because, as a kitten, he was the one who started exploring from their hiding spot behind the toilet. (Mage stayed back and squalled for Ranger to come saaaaaaave him from the scary I-don't-know-whats.) This became funnier because a) the brown splotch on his head looked rather like a hood, b) although he was always more brave with respect to situations, he was exceedingly shy around people, and c) his absolute FAVORITE GAME EVER was to jump at the shadows cast on the bathroom wall when one of us were performing our ablutions, and since this game started when Babylon 5 was still on the air, well, haw haw teh lulz the Ranger is hunting the Shadows.
He spent most of his life being "the dumb one". He'd run into the line of foot traffic in the hall and then freeze in terror right under your feet. In the most notable occasion of this performance, he froze at just the wrong time/place and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
audiovile didn't have time to stop, and Ranger ended up getting bonked into a doorframe. This did not stop this behavior, mind you; it just made him terribly afraid of FEET. FEET ARE SCARY. PEOPLE STANDING ARE SCARY. But he was beautiful and fluffy with a perfect coat, unlike his brother who was just goofy and adorkable. He also had an array of cute poses, which Steve swore were practiced in front of the mirror. (I countered that this was not a cat with a sufficient level of self-awareness for such an undertaking.) Steve called him the Beautiful Loser. nedlnthred said that, comparing him and Mage, it looked as if someone spilled caramel over both of them; Mage was quick and smart enough to get out from under, but Ranger just stood there with a dopey expression as it gooshed over him.
For most of his life, until it was just the two of us, Ranger took shyness to a legendary level. We had friends who did not actually believe we had a second cat. Occasionally, someone would see a tail disappearing around a corner, or (if staying over) very large eyes peering across the room and then vanishing. Tales were exchanged like they were yeti sightings. But with me, only with me until late in life, he was omnipresent and extremely talkative. We would MOW at each other for long periods of time, to the bemusement of anyone in an adjacent room.
Ranger had very strong opinions on when and where one should be in bed. He would come and MOW at me at roughly 10pm, and only give over if I followed him to the bedroom. (The master bedroom, during the time of marriage. If I went to the spare room because one of my other partners were staying over, he would follow and yell at me because obviously I was too thick to know where I was supposed to sleep.) When it was just the two of us, he started working the other angle too, and Alarm Cat was born; if I was not getting up in a timely fashion, he would bite the top of my head. (Alarm Cat did not understand weekends, needless to say.)
A habit he had in younger days, which thankfully tapered off a couple years ago, was the Midnight Chomper What Chomps At Midnight. This was where, in the middle of the night, he was seized with an overwhelming urge to bite my nose...hard, drawing blood. For no reason. Just once. Then run away. It got to the point where my senses were tuned to the very subtle noise of his jaws opening all the way; it would wake me up and I would twitch, and he'd go AAAA I AM DISCOVERED and run away without chomping. He would attempt this semi-regularly; he scored on Steve a few times over the years; he did not ever try it on anyone else, as far as I'm aware.
On the other hand, when he did come out into society, he would occasionally let himself be petted by strangers...but then would have a sudden moment of AAAA I DO NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE and bite the hand that caressed him. This, too, tapered off in the last few years, and indeed he started occasionally stopping by others' laps.
Ranger always carried his tail as erect and stiff as the standard for an Imperial eagle. An average cat will move his tail out of the way, let it be flexible, knows where it is; not Ranger. This led to any number of "clubtail" incidents where he would manage to knock glasses, plates, and other breakables off surfaces just by going by them, without even being aware that they were there.
The Spinach Cat story: Some few years ago, I hadelibalin over to dinner, which was fresh salmon steaks and spinach salad. My plates are unusually small ones, so the salmon got some of its grease on the salad, as happens. Ranger, of course, being in his "I Shall Wear Purple" life stage, came over to demand scraps. I gave him some fish, which was naturally and happily accepted; then, for giggles, I offered him a small piece of fresh spinach. To our surprise and great hilarity, he inhaled it--sucked it right in. So okay, it had some salmon oog on it, so suckered in by smell; you figure that most pets will glare at you all "oh ha ha you fucking monkey" and not get fooled again. Instead, he took the next leaf I offered as well. And thus was Spinach Cat born.
...This apparently blasted his culinary horizons wide open, because after that time he would beg for AND THEN EAT damn near any food I was working with. He also turned into a baked-goods fiend, to the point where he stole some kuchen off a plate I had sitting on my coffee table.
His favorite day was ironing day. Something made him deliriously happy about crouching under the ironing board when fabric fell around it on all directions. And then he could sit ON the ironing board later! What fun! He loved anytime I was sewing, though, because (especially in later years) it meant I was sitting still on the couch and that meant he could sit with me and we could be sitting together. He didn't even need scritchies or pettins. He just wanted to be sitting together.
I had many and many a case of cat aggro in City of Heroes thanks to Ranger. He liked to sit in my lap while playing, which was OK in and of itself; but then he would want pettins, and he would indicate this by standing up with his head on my shoulder, his shoulder in my FACE, and his body bumping my arms around. This is not the best arrangement for combat, I can tell you. Then when he would try to leave, he'd inevitably get tangled in my headset wire on his way down, and hilarity would ensue. The other contribution he would make was to get up on whatever surface was closest to the desk (ironing board or tea cart in previous apartment; back of the armchair in this one) and start MOWing, a proceeding loud enough to be heard by everyone on our Teamspeak channel.
I had Elmyra tendencies growing up, and always wanted a cat that would let me cuddle and booboo-talk at him and kiss on the top of his head and so on. Ranger was perfectly happy to be that cat, and was never happier than when I was holding him, his head over my shoulder and buried in my hair. He also loved sleeping on my pillow, and when settling down would instantly start kneading my hair into my pillow with a deep-throated purr and stoned expression. (Steve would say that it reminded him of that line in "Sweet Child O' Mine".)
If you have memories of my ginger kitty, please post here.
He spent most of his life being "the dumb one". He'd run into the line of foot traffic in the hall and then freeze in terror right under your feet. In the most notable occasion of this performance, he froze at just the wrong time/place and
audiovile didn't have time to stop, and Ranger ended up getting bonked into a doorframe. This did not stop this behavior, mind you; it just made him terribly afraid of FEET. FEET ARE SCARY. PEOPLE STANDING ARE SCARY. But he was beautiful and fluffy with a perfect coat, unlike his brother who was just goofy and adorkable. He also had an array of cute poses, which Steve swore were practiced in front of the mirror. (I countered that this was not a cat with a sufficient level of self-awareness for such an undertaking.) Steve called him the Beautiful Loser. nedlnthred said that, comparing him and Mage, it looked as if someone spilled caramel over both of them; Mage was quick and smart enough to get out from under, but Ranger just stood there with a dopey expression as it gooshed over him.For most of his life, until it was just the two of us, Ranger took shyness to a legendary level. We had friends who did not actually believe we had a second cat. Occasionally, someone would see a tail disappearing around a corner, or (if staying over) very large eyes peering across the room and then vanishing. Tales were exchanged like they were yeti sightings. But with me, only with me until late in life, he was omnipresent and extremely talkative. We would MOW at each other for long periods of time, to the bemusement of anyone in an adjacent room.
Ranger had very strong opinions on when and where one should be in bed. He would come and MOW at me at roughly 10pm, and only give over if I followed him to the bedroom. (The master bedroom, during the time of marriage. If I went to the spare room because one of my other partners were staying over, he would follow and yell at me because obviously I was too thick to know where I was supposed to sleep.) When it was just the two of us, he started working the other angle too, and Alarm Cat was born; if I was not getting up in a timely fashion, he would bite the top of my head. (Alarm Cat did not understand weekends, needless to say.)
A habit he had in younger days, which thankfully tapered off a couple years ago, was the Midnight Chomper What Chomps At Midnight. This was where, in the middle of the night, he was seized with an overwhelming urge to bite my nose...hard, drawing blood. For no reason. Just once. Then run away. It got to the point where my senses were tuned to the very subtle noise of his jaws opening all the way; it would wake me up and I would twitch, and he'd go AAAA I AM DISCOVERED and run away without chomping. He would attempt this semi-regularly; he scored on Steve a few times over the years; he did not ever try it on anyone else, as far as I'm aware.
On the other hand, when he did come out into society, he would occasionally let himself be petted by strangers...but then would have a sudden moment of AAAA I DO NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE and bite the hand that caressed him. This, too, tapered off in the last few years, and indeed he started occasionally stopping by others' laps.
Ranger always carried his tail as erect and stiff as the standard for an Imperial eagle. An average cat will move his tail out of the way, let it be flexible, knows where it is; not Ranger. This led to any number of "clubtail" incidents where he would manage to knock glasses, plates, and other breakables off surfaces just by going by them, without even being aware that they were there.
The Spinach Cat story: Some few years ago, I had
elibalin over to dinner, which was fresh salmon steaks and spinach salad. My plates are unusually small ones, so the salmon got some of its grease on the salad, as happens. Ranger, of course, being in his "I Shall Wear Purple" life stage, came over to demand scraps. I gave him some fish, which was naturally and happily accepted; then, for giggles, I offered him a small piece of fresh spinach. To our surprise and great hilarity, he inhaled it--sucked it right in. So okay, it had some salmon oog on it, so suckered in by smell; you figure that most pets will glare at you all "oh ha ha you fucking monkey" and not get fooled again. Instead, he took the next leaf I offered as well. And thus was Spinach Cat born....This apparently blasted his culinary horizons wide open, because after that time he would beg for AND THEN EAT damn near any food I was working with. He also turned into a baked-goods fiend, to the point where he stole some kuchen off a plate I had sitting on my coffee table.
His favorite day was ironing day. Something made him deliriously happy about crouching under the ironing board when fabric fell around it on all directions. And then he could sit ON the ironing board later! What fun! He loved anytime I was sewing, though, because (especially in later years) it meant I was sitting still on the couch and that meant he could sit with me and we could be sitting together. He didn't even need scritchies or pettins. He just wanted to be sitting together.
I had many and many a case of cat aggro in City of Heroes thanks to Ranger. He liked to sit in my lap while playing, which was OK in and of itself; but then he would want pettins, and he would indicate this by standing up with his head on my shoulder, his shoulder in my FACE, and his body bumping my arms around. This is not the best arrangement for combat, I can tell you. Then when he would try to leave, he'd inevitably get tangled in my headset wire on his way down, and hilarity would ensue. The other contribution he would make was to get up on whatever surface was closest to the desk (ironing board or tea cart in previous apartment; back of the armchair in this one) and start MOWing, a proceeding loud enough to be heard by everyone on our Teamspeak channel.
I had Elmyra tendencies growing up, and always wanted a cat that would let me cuddle and booboo-talk at him and kiss on the top of his head and so on. Ranger was perfectly happy to be that cat, and was never happier than when I was holding him, his head over my shoulder and buried in my hair. He also loved sleeping on my pillow, and when settling down would instantly start kneading my hair into my pillow with a deep-throated purr and stoned expression. (Steve would say that it reminded him of that line in "Sweet Child O' Mine".)
If you have memories of my ginger kitty, please post here.
