Tami Parker Fantasy Author & Other Duties as Assigned

Categorycats

Say Hello to Moose

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I realized that I posted over on Facebook about my new kittencat, but never actually posted here!

I know, I am just as aghast as you.

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That’s my Moosey.

After Tiny’s stress-based health scare (he stopped eating, which is pretty alarming if you know how food-obsessed he is) I realized that he was lonely.

Like … waiting for me asleep against the front door when I got home from work lonely.

So I set out to find him a companion quickfast. I didn’t want to wait for another Siberian even though my allergies would have preferred it … I wanted to get him a friend in weeks, not months.

So I looked around and found Angel’s Wish, a cat rescue organization in the area with a LOT of cats. Once my application was approved, my mom came down and we evaluated dozens of felines.

My vet recommended a kitten to make the transition easier, so I tried to only look at fluffbeans under 2 years old.

Tiny is NOT a small cat, and I remember his playstyle being more of a full-body suplex, pounce/tackle/bunnykick sort of thing … so most of the really tiny kittens were also rejected.

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I needed someone who was big enough to handle Tiny and calm enough to transition nicely into the house. Also, my apartment only allows 2 cats, so I couldn’t take any bonded pairs.

This still left me with dozens of options. There was a gorgeous (bonded) seal-point siamese. There was a timid silver-black girl who is going to be flipping GORGEOUS when she grows up and her medium-haired coat leaves her with black mittens and a snowy body. There was a too-pushy calico. Two orange tabbies who were adopted before I could look at them. One orange tabby that I specifically asked to see but whose foster parent didn’t bring him in that day.

Nobody felt “right”.

Just as we turned to leave, another foster arrived with a whole passel of kittencats, and there he was. Twice as big as the other litter he was housed with, but the same age. Cool as a cucumber with the silliest gray “hat” I’ve ever seen and big brown eyes.

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His foster mom wanted to keep him (and I still send her emails with updates). He was the last surviving barn kitten — they think a raccoon got not only his siblings but also his mother.

He was born in May, which makes him the biggest dingdang kitten I have ever seen. He came with the name Moose and there wasn’t a chance in the world that I was going to change it.

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He transitioned into the house in less than 24 hours, despite Tiny hissing and growling at the start. 1 day, you guys. That’s so short that it surpasses “unbelievable” and saunters right into “magical” territory.

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He is still incredibly calm. And incredibly huge.

He snuggles under the blanket with me. He goads Tiny into play. He amuses HIMSELF with toys for hours.

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He’s still a little hand shy, but getting used to being petted. His ears and toe beans are multicolored.

He’s perfect.

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The Nature of the Beast

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I missed blogging.

I didn’t miss the endless battles against random attackers on my custom wordpress install, but I missed this.

I missed YOU.

So … I pouted. And I shuffled my feet in the dirt. And I hemmed and I hawed and I blew my procrastination down.

So here I am, back out there. A little older, not much wiser, and a little bit sassier. Whether you knew me as Tami, Taven, Whiskerwing, or even Egostistical Priest (hi there, old friends!) I’m still the same me.

It feels SUPER weird not having control over my fonts and layouts but at the same time it’s a little freeing. I mean, that’s one less thing for me to spend my oh-so-precious free time on, right? What’s that, compared to a few red links? (seriously, RED link text? What’s that all about? This theme may not get to stay ….

Since I’ve Been Gone

I own a house now.

Weird, right? Does it feel weird to hear it, because it totally feels weird to SAY it.

A house. I own it. With a grown-up mortgage and a lawn mower and everything.

I mean, it’s MY house. So the lawn mower is a fiskars motor-free jobby and there’s a gnome waving cheerfully from the ornamental cherry tree in the front lawn and I have a tiny room called the Hobbit Hole … but it’s still a house.

Adults have houses. The last movie I saw in theaters was Sing and it was SUPER fun and I still cried during it. I don’t FEEL very adult.

I could probably be persuaded to do a fun post with pics of the house after spring, when the trees all have leaves and I can do some landscaping (read: prettypretty flowers).

But yeah. It’s even got a guest bedroom. WITH A BED. Because adults sometimes have other people stay over at their place without making them sleep on the couch.

Mind-boggling, friends.

Anywhoozle, that’s one of the doozies.

Katzenkinder

The second and third doozies are both fluffy, purrful, sassifrassian kittencats. Most of you probably already know about them from Facebook, where they are purt-near the only thing I post about. For those who DON’T know about them, prepare to have your mind bing-dong-diddly-blown.

They’re semi-longhaired purebred Siberians. They are hypoallergenic (thus the purebred instead of shelter-rescue status, as I am very VERY allergic) and they are loving, sweet, noisy, hilarious, goofy, and gorgeous.

They are pure fluffy heaven and they keep my life interesting whether I want it or not.

Ollie is the Adventure Cat of the two. Nothing makes him happier than the sound of the velcro on his kitty holster indicating we’re going to go outside for a walk. Ollie is a brown tabby with high white.

Tiny, despite being a year younger than Ollie, is the larger of the two (naturally). He likes being warm. Fires in the fireplace (did I mention we have a fireplace now?), heated blankets, cuddles, the feet of random strangers … if it’s warm, he loves it. And he loves it LOUDLY with the squeakiest, most hilariously rumbling purr ever. Tiny is a (very white) cream-point. He looks like a toasted marshmallow.

View Their Extensive Flickr Album Here

Writing

Writing has been nearly null since last we spoke.

Not entirely null, but null enough. Life has been its usual change-loving self and I’ll honestly report that I was not as prepared for it as I thought I was.

Baby steps, though. No kicking, no recriminations for time lost.

All we have is what’s before us, and I hope to be stronger now than I was then. One of the things a blog did for me was provide structure, expectation, and an audience.

It seems although I am willing to construct stories just for myself, writing them down is something I don’t do for ME.

I do it for friends and family and loved ones, and strangers-like-me.

So we’ll see if a blog makes a difference. If nothing else, it’ll certainly help me get the rust of the old wordsmithery juicebox.

Other Details

I’m sure there will be plenty of other stuff to talk about, but it’ll just have to come about organically because honestly, nothing’s going to top the cats.

Seriously. You should click that link. They aren’t even totes adorbz. They’re ridonk adorbz. And I know I’m biased, but everyone who meets them inadvertently squees, so I feel confident in the scientific nature of my assessment.

Tami Parker Fantasy Author & Other Duties as Assigned

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