As it started raining this morning, I told Watchcat Collette, "I'm sorry there have been so many storms lately. I know you don't like storms." Collette then attempted to bite and scratch my hand.
I admonished her, "Well, don't bite or scratch me! I didn't cause it to rain. I'm sympathetic to your plight."
It puzzles me that Watchcat Collette misinterpreted my sympathy as an excuse to use me as a scapegoat.
I was pleased to see Watchcat Sylvia washing her fur in time to Jeff Golub's instrumental, "Droptop," once. It was heartwarming to see that my watchcat appreciated an easy-on-the-ears, smooth jazz guitar groove as much as I do.
A veterinary worker once said it wouldn't have surprised her to hear Watchcat Rosie say, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille."
As scores of Rosie photos on this blog prove, that's an accurate summary of Rosie's penchant for being camera-ready.
Occasionally, Watchcat Rosie would walk up to me and put a paw on my foot. I'm still not sure if she did this to prevent me from wandering into a potentially unsafe area of her assigned sector or if she just wanted to immobilize me on principle.
For the longest time, getting Watchcat Sammy to meow when I recorded video of him was a challenge. As soon as I stopped recording after several minutes of silence, Sammy would start meowing up a storm. Occasionally, I was lucky enough to capture footage of him speaking. Often, however, I felt like I had to put asterisks on videos I'd filmed, such as, "After I stopped recording, Sammy let out a triumphant, elongated 'Meowwwwww!' before sprinting across the room," "Just before I recorded this, Sammy squealed excitedly while zeroing in on birds in a tree," or "Right after I stopped filming, Sammy set up a lectern and recited the Gettysburg Address."
To be honest, I might just have imagined that last scenario.
Thunderstorms often rattle Watchcat Collette. Two thunderstorms ago, I could tell she was unnerved, so I crawled under her hiding place and offered her two toy mice to play with. It did my heart good to see her start kicking both mice vigorously.
That routine will likely be necessary again today. In fact, given all the rain we've already had this morning, I wish I could offer Collette some toy mice retroactively.
Before sitting down at the kitchen table, it's advisable for me to feed Watchcat Collette first. If I dare to eat before feeding her, she'll look at me as if to say, "Your priorities are incorrect. Now, to show you how disappointed I am, I'm going to scratch the back door instead of using my scratching post."
I always get up before she's too far along in sharpening her claws and feed her. You'd think I'd have internalized this inevitable sequence of events by now.
Considering how often Watchcat Collette has sat in the living room window for more than six years, it's puzzling that my brother has never seen her there when driving by. One recent afternoon, Collette jumped out of the window--just as I saw a white car that could have been my brother's turn onto my street. I thought, "It wouldn't surprise me if Collette timed her exit that way. Apparently, she's determined to retain some degree of mystery--or defiance."
Last night, as I pulled into my parking space, I saw a ghostly apparition pacing back and forth in the living room window. Was it an end-of-the-world omen or a spirit instructed to walk me through my past?
No. It was Watchcat Collette, keeping tabs on the street. It was reassuring to know that the most threatening behavior I could expect from her was biting my feet--and she didn't feel up to doing that last night.
I'm not sure why, when returning from grocery shopping, I've often said to Watchcat Sylvia or Watchcat Collette, "Alright, I've got new food and cat litter for you, so you should be good to go for a little while."
I'm still waiting for the day when Watchcat Collette responds, "Thank you for alleviating my concern. I was wondering when you'd get around to restocking those items."
I felt sheepish recently, having to apologize to Watchcat Collette. I'd started eating a salad when Collette walked around the table, asking, "Meow? Meow?"
I explained to her, "Oh, I'm sorry, Collette. I already put dressing on the salad. I know I usually give you a few lettuce leaves before I do that, but I forgot this time. Sorry about that. I'll remember next time."
Fortunately, I did remember the next time, and Collette ate her lettuce then. I'm glad I remembered. Watchcats don't like it when you make the same grievous error twice in a row.
I've always liked it when I've gone to sleep on the couch, and Watchcat Sylvia or Watchcat Collette and I have drifted off to sleep around the same time while a warm, "pleasant dreams"-type tune is playing. "Rhapsody And Blues" by The Crusaders and Chuck Mangione's "Chase The Clouds Away" fit the scene most appropriately, I think.
I know this scenario is logistically impossible, but I still like that it's a recurring dream. I sometimes imagine myself back in college on my way to class. Somewhere along the way, I encounter Watchcat Rosie saying to her brother, Watchcat Sammy, "Mew! Mew! Mew!" Translated into English, she's telling him, "Hurry up, or we'll be late for class!" After letting out a loud, "Meowwwwwwww," Sammy picks up a sudden burst of speed, and Rosie and he run off to class together.
I always wake up, however, before learning what class they're taking. I still wonder about that. I also wonder if they're the only cats in the class, and if not, how they cope with other members of their own species in the same auditorium.
It surprised me that for several years, Watchcat Sylvia would sit on top of or in her cat carrier. Sometimes, she'd even sleep there. That's not what I'd expect from most cats, given the association between the carrier and going to the vet. Then again...
In a tone so serious that surprised even me, I once said to Watchcat Collette, "Good evening, Collette. How have you been today?"
I'm not sure what response I expected. It would have impressed me, though, if Collette had given me a security rundown for the day, such as, "There was some rain earlier, but it was short-lived. There was also a loud whooshing noise this afternoon, but I investigated, and it was just a train going by. Also, two birds flew past the living room window rather urgently, but I learned that they have clearance to build a nest for their budding family in the stairwell window."
Collette just meowed in response, though, and I accepted that she was OK on a relatively ordinary day.
Lately, I've been picking up Watchcat Collette and singing, "There's only one Collette cat!" to the tune of the Ozempic jingle. To Collette's credit, she hasn't bitten me in response. After all, who doesn't love having their individuality acknowledged?
Of all the cats with whom I'm lived, only Watchcat Simon and Watchcat Sylvia enjoyed being cradled while carried around. It would be nice if every cat enjoyed it, but I understand why a lot of cats would find it disorienting. They aren't newborn children, after all, and just being lifted into the air suddenly must be disconcerting enough.
I felt sorry for Watchcat Sylvia during her first vet visit. As we sat in the exam room waiting for the vet, Sylvia started panting like a dog. I didn't blame her, as being in an unfamiliar environment is stressful, especially when you don't know why you're there.
She started to calm down as I petted her, and during the next visit, she panted less. Eventually, she stopped panting altogether at vet visits, realizing that the vets and vet techs were there to help her. During the two years and change when Sylvia had vet visits two or three times a week, I half-expected her to drive herself to the appointments and strut in casually, slapping high fives with the staff.
While I felt sorry that Sylvia needed so much veterinary care, I was glad that she came to see the vet's office as a safe space.
Watchcat Rusty was typically a talkative cat. The only time I remember him singing, however, was when I practiced the double bass. During the '80s, Rusty would sit on the table behind me as I played.and fill in extended rests in the music with his sung meows. His singing didn't always fit the rhythm of the piece I was playing, but I chalked that up to his desire to improvise. If improvisation isn't a cat-like quality, what is?
Just about every cat owner has likely said some variation of, "(Cat's name,) we've talked about this. I've asked you before not to bite my feet, sharpen your claws on the back door, or try to eat my food."
If Watchcat Collette spoke English, I have no doubt she'd reply, "Yes, but I never agreed to stop doing any of those things. Wasn't it my independent spirit that made you adopt me?"
For years, when I've been about to sleep or work from home at night, I've told Watchcat Sylvia or Watchcat Collette, "See you later with breakfast."
I'm not sure what response I expect, but it just feels right to say it.
Watchcat Sylvia's tactic for getting me to stay curled up on the sofa longer was to purr like a steam engine. Typically, our routine went like this:
Me: OK, Sylvia, I've enjoyed our quality cat time, but I need to go take care of some things.
Sylvia: Purr, purr, purr, purr!
Me: I know. I'd rather stay here, but I've got to get some things done before it gets too late.
Sylvia: Purr, purr, purr, purr!!!
Me: I'm sorry, but I've had enough sleep for the time being. I really need to get up now.
Sylvia (while extending a paw to block me from getting up:) PURR, PURR, PURR, PURR!!!!!
Me: Well, I guess 15 or 20 more minutes of sleep won't hurt...
Sylvia: PURR, PURR, PURR, PURR!!!!!!!
Me: ...Or 30 minutes...
Sylvia: PURR, PURR, PURR, PURR!!!!!!!!!
Me: ...Or another hour...I can spare that, I think...
What can I say? It's flattering when your cat wants you around.
I wish Watchcat Collette would understand that when I'm unhooking her claws from the sofa's throw cover, I'm trying to help her. More often than not, she attempts to bite me.
You'd think she'd welcome not being stuck in one place.
As Watchcat Collette reminded me recently, the 15-second rule when dancing one's cat around always applies, even when the music is as catchy as "American Top 40"'s mid '70s to early '80s closing theme, "Shuckatoom," or the Aragorn Ballroom Orchestra's "Theme From 'The Lord Of The Rings.'"
Fair enough. That's Collette's prerogative.
One day last year, after getting home from work, Watchcat Collette rubbed her face against my feet contentedly--and then bit each foot once.
That, in a nutshell, is her duality. She'll show you happy she is that you've returned and how cross she is that you went away in the first place.
When dancing a cat around, it's wise to respect her limitations. After 15 seconds of moving Watchcat Collette around in time to music, I know that's when the fidgeting--and possibly biting--will start, so all cat dances must be abbreviated ones. It's only right.
I've been under the weather for several days, and when feeling sluggish, it's comforting to slumber on the couch with Watchcat Collette nearby, slumbering away and purring.
After hours of this, I start to envy Watchcat Collette, as I remember that sleeping peacefully for hours is customary for cats.
What a pleasant life Collette has--and, by attempting to rest, I can capture some of that blissful life for myself.
I've had a recurring dream in which I'm sitting on a park bench, grousing about the state of the world to Watchcat Lily and Watchcat Collette. I ask them, "Well, what are you going to do, though, Lily? Whar are you going to do, though, Collette?"
Watchcat Lily then launches into a monologue in which her meowing, when translated to English, is, "Oh, I have problems myself. Did I tell you about the time recently when my guardian went downstairs to get the mail and left me alone for all of two minutes?"
Then, Watchcat Collette suggests a solution to life's irritants. Her meows-to-English translation is, "Bite your enemies. Bite them--or let me bite them!"
It amuses me that even in a dream, both cats stay true to their personalities.
Those who listen to records while their cat snuggles with them will likely relate to this: One side of an album ends. You'd like to flip it over and listen to the other side, or you'd like to put on another LP. Your cat, however, has taken the time to knead you thoroughly, settle in on you, and sleep blissfully. You don't want to risk disturbing her, especially considering that she has claws and tends to bite you.
How do you react? If you're like me, and your cat is like Watchcat Collette, you stay where you are, longer--sometimes hours longer--than you intended in silence.
Sometimes, it's just pragmatic to keep the peace.
For a while this afternoon, I thought I'd lost my cell phone. I pounded on counters and swore as I tried to find it. (Sidebar: If it's true that adversity reveals character, I'm not sure I like what this says about me. Actually, I think a more accurate expression would be, "Adversity reveals character during a person's most irritated state.")
As I ran around in a frenzy, Watchcat Collette noticed my angst and ran alongside me. I appreciated her respecting my ire and picking up on the situation's urgency. I'm sure that if she'd been allowed outside, she would have spotted the phone where I eventually found it--under the driver's side car seat.
At least, I'm sure she would have applauded.
Recently, I tried to reason with Watchcat Collette. When she kept meowing and leading me over to the room where I keep the cat food, I told her, "Look, you just had a full meal. I know that because I gave it to you. You'll get another meal and a snack later, but it isn't time for that yet."
For some reason, that didn't deter Collette from making her case more insistently. Eventually, I gave in and let her have a small snack.
So much for irrefutable logic.
Sometimes, when Watchcat Rosie and Watchcat Sammy had spats, they'd start licking each other, ostensibly lovingly at first, but then increasingly aggressively. Eventually, they'd start hitting each other. Finally, they'd put a paw on each other's heads to say, "Stop that."
It was always reassuring to see them settle their differences with that paw-on-the-head signal of a truce.
Watchcat Rosie was a great, take-charge security guard but didn't quite master the art of undercover guard duty. She'd get under a sofa cover, acting as though she was hidden, even though I could see her tail and two of her paws. Once, she was almost completely hidden, except for one paw sticking out from the cover. I told her, "I see you!" It amused me that she retracted her paw quickly. I humored her for the rest of the morning, pretending not to know where she was. I thought, "Why not let her have this illusion?"
It puzzles me that my current cat, Watchcat Collette, and previous cat, Watchcat Sylvia, have the common bond of enjoying lettuce. I've eaten a fair amount of salad, but salad dressing is mandatory for a salad to be palatable, I think. I can't imagine just eating lettuce leaves without anything on them, but Collette and Sylvia have wolfed down plain lettuce eagerly.
Then again, in a world where people inexplicably seek out the taste of raw celery or pizzas with pineapple, maybe this is less bizarre than I think.
Another scenario to envision: Imagine Watchcat Collette running through the living room, as she did last Thursday, with a grocery bag around her neck. I removed the bag as soon as I caught up to her. Conveniently, that was just after she'd delivered the supplies she was carrying. I have to admire any watchcat who helps people in the style of a St. Bernard.
Due to technical difficulties, I'm unable to post a Watchcat protocol photo today. Imagine, if you will, though, a photo of Watchcat Rosie looking commanding, Watchcat Sammy looking even-tempered, Watchcat Nemo maintaining a poker face, Watchcat Sylvia looking heartwarming, Watchcat Collette looking simultaneously menacing and playful, or Watchcat Lily looking in charge yet guarded.
That'll have to do for now. Then again, there are 2,632 previous Watchcat protocol posts to enjoy, as well as other cat photos I've posted. That should be sufficient to tide everyone over until the glitch is fixed.
Watchcat Nemo and his auxiliary eyes pondered whether to take the feathered toy bait in July 2012:
In case an authorized visitor to her assigned sector needed a grocery bag, Watchcat Sylvia was ready to provide one in May 2015:
Watchcat Collette was prepared to stare down anyone on July 6, 2023 who wasn't supposed to be in her assigned sector:
.JPG)
Watchcat Sammy could have been reading the comics section of the newspaper. Instead, he focused on his assigned sector and waited to read the comics until after his shift:
It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, a watchcat has to subdue a chair:
Watchcat Collette sat ready on July 30, 2025 to vaporize unauthorized visitors with the Intruder Zapper, a powerful laser that, um, well...Actually, it's a flashlight, so Collette can illuminate scofflaws, at least:
Watchcat Nemo's expression on July 4, 2016 showed everyone that the banana belonged to him:
Anyone seeking an audience with Watchcat Lily's human in May 2020 had to go through her first:
Watchcat Sylvia had a dilemma in May 2010. She had an optional agility training session. Attending it, however, meant getting out of her comfy cat bed to spar with the Kitty Swat toy nearby:
.JPG)
In May 2004, Watchcat Headquarters assigned Watchcat Sammy to monitor his assigned sector and Watchcat Rosie to monitor Watchcat Sammy:
I have the utmost gratitude for a watchcat who says, "Wait, wait, wait! Are the foodstuffs in your refrigerator safe for consumption? Let me inspect them:"
Watchcat Sylvia and her backup watchmouse had first dibs on the umbrella in June 2010:
During Proxy Nemo's nap break in December 2014, Watchcat Nemo and Blue Cat made sure their assigned sector stayed undisturbed:
Was Watchcat Lily's guardian using an acceptable food-dispensing spoon?
In January 2011, Watchcat Rosie's expression conveyed, "Don't worry, visitor. I'm going to investigate that noise I just heard, and I guarantee that no intruders will harm you:"
Watchcat Sammy didn't let a laser pointer dot distract him from guarding his assigned sector in June 2009:
Impressively, Watchcat Lily resisted the allure of nearby cat food on April 19, 2026 to focus on her assigned sector:
After seeing how quickly Watchcat Collette captured a toy mouse on April 5, 2026, Watchcat Headquarters knew that she was agile enough for guard duty:
After seeing how quickly Watchcat Sylvia captured a cat toy in December 2008, Watchcat Headquarters knew that she was agile enough for guard duty:
Visitors to Watchcat Nemo's assigned sector in June 2017 understood that the boundaries for permissible behavior were wherever he drew them:
Although it isn't required to acknowledge how seriously a watchcat takes guard duty, it's common decency to thank a watchcat who guards her assigned sector this vigilantly:
Sammy was proud of being a learned watchcat. He admired that quality in others, as well. Thus, he encouraged visitors to peruse the library he'd curated for his assigned sector in May 2010:
I know this look. It's the expression of a watchcat who is ready for anything that comes her way during guard duty:
Watchcat Collette was clearly vigilant during guard duty on March 26, 2026:
When a watchcat is required to complete agility training on Christmas Eve, he should be able to study the jacket tie he's expected to grab. Otherwise, why commit fully to the session? That was Watchcat Nemo's thinking on December 24, 2008:
.JPG)
Watchcat Sylvia thought she could probably trust a visitor on May 13, 2015. As a precaution, however, she stayed slightly wary:
.png)
.png)
Everything was tranquil in Watchcat Rosie's assigned sector. That didn't stop her from keeping an eye on it, though, in April 2011:
.JPG)
Never underestimate the authority of a watchcat and his backup watchmouse--especially when they have an arsenal of soft cat toy weapons:
Watchcat Lily had all the time in the world on March 23, 2026 to study everyone in her assigned sector:
Intruders didn't stand a chance in July 2017 against the triple threat security team of Watchcat Nemo, Proxy Nemo, and Blue Cat:
.JPG)
Watchcat Sylvia determined that the dragonfly in her assigned sector wasn't an enemy combatant:
This was no time for frivolity. Watchcat Sammy had an assigned sector to guard, which he did to the best of his ability in October 2010:
.JPG)
.JPG)
Watchcat Rosie's hackles were up in March 2006, so it was wise not to question her authority:
Watchcat Collette and the Easter Bunny guarded their assigned sector on March 29, 2026:
If you ask politely, a watchcat might clean your fingers:
Watchcat Sammy monitored the view from the window in February 2004. Meanwhile, Watchcat Rosie scoured the basement for unauthorized visitors:
Watchcat Sylvia made sure I was safe in her assigned sector by staring at me in May 2009:
Watchcat Collette bristled this morning at the notion of anyone taking issue with her guard duty prowess:
.JPG)
For those who were still unconvinced, she struck a more menacing countenance:
.JPG)
Watchcat Sylvia was polite about it, but she made sure in June 2013 that only authorized participants and spectators were admitted to the racetrack:
Watchcat Nemo was ready to thwart intruders with a kick toy and the Tiger Tail Of Justice in June 2010:
In October 2006, Watchcat Rosie was ready to pounce on any malcontents:
.JPG)
Watchcat Sammy was about to try on shoes in June 2007 before spotting more pressing matters in his assigned sector:
.JPG)
Before looking out the window this afternoon, Watchcat Collette made sure I knew what a weighty responsibility it is for a watchcat to survey indoor and outdoor assigned sectors during the same shift:
Watchcat Lily had a lot on her mind but didn't let it stop her from monitoring her assigned sector on March 23, 2026:
Visitors were double-teamed on March 23, 2026. They had to answer not only to Watchcat Collette but to her backup watchmouse:
