Wheatgrass Kitty

Can we talk about these spoiled cats?  I've grown them their own wheatgrass from Thompson and Morgan seed.  Spoiled! (Especially Lan Lan, featured here). But, I have to tell the truth, I had an ulterior motive.


My seedling skills range from nonexistent to weak.  Last summer, "Operation Night Phlox" was an abject failure, and damping off is standard operating procedure.  Don't get me wrong.  I can kill big plants, too, but horticultural infanticide is my specialty.


Maybe it's my soil?  Lan Lan and I decided to harness wheatgrass's fast germination speed to teach us something about soil.  As an added bonus, the kitties love to nibble on the grass.

I used measuring spoons to divide the seeds into four equal groups.  I planted them at the same time, with the same watering, and with the same sun exposure.  I used four different soils:
a. Pure Soil -- 1 part vermiculite, 1 part perlite, 1 part peat moss
b. Premium Soil -- 1 part Pure Soil, 1 part MiracleGro regular potting mix
c. MiracleGro Regular
d. MiracleGro Moisture Control  

Lan Lan and I evaluated the data carefully and considered various explanations for the results.  Regular MiracleGro  was the weakest performer in terms of grass output.  Premium Soil (which contains regular MiracleGro) was second-to-last.  Pure Soil had the best looking and most bountiful grass.  MiracleGro Moisture Control was better than the soils containing Regular MiracleGro, but some of the seeds on the sides of the container refused to sprout.

What do Lan Lan and I make of these results?  Lan Lan thinks we should grow more wheatgrass and considerably expand the study.  In the short term, these preliminary findings suggest that either the texture and porosity of MiracleGro hurts seedling culture, or its nitrogen content is inhibiting seedling growth.  I think it's the latter.  The nitrogen is telling the wheatgrass, "Dude, you need to lay out a crazy deep root system so you can hunker down for some bad weather or something."  And the endosperms are all, "You think we're snapdragon seeds or something?  We have plenty of food here to sprout.  Why are you messing with us like that?" But, then, what is the Moisture Control thinking?

Lan Lan urges further study.   

Killing for Treats

Sabine woke up from her nap in a shower of sunlight.  So, she decided to take another nap.  When she woke up a second time it was with the cold realization of what she had to do.

“Killing for treats,” she though, “all in a day’s work.”

Bean studied the attack plan again. 

It seemed surefire.  Everyday, about three naps from sundown, they feed the frogs. Bean noted that this usually causes a brief period of chaos.  The frogs emerge from their hiding places in the vivarium to chow on the crickets, and Riley and Griffin take their places along the glass.  For Riley and Griffin, it’s a futile exercise in wishful thinking.  Bob, the most gregarious of the frogs, taunts Riley into batting at the glass.  Bean rolled her eyes nearly time she saw the charade.

Bean suspected Lan Lan felt the same way, because she took advantage of the frog feeding frenzy, too.  It was the same path past: down the stairs, past the cut flowers, into the bathroom, up on sink, and then that plaintive look.  Lan Lan’s eyes searched the room for someone, anyone, to turn on the water faucet so she could drink.  That look, Bean noted, drew her focus outward.  Based on Bean’s reading of the surveillance footage, she would never hear the sneak-up, and she would make an easy mark once she went for the water.  Bean would pounce with her claws out and catch Lan Lan unawares.  Easy treats.

Bean calculated the number of naps she needed before the big event.  While sharpening her claws one last time, Bean pondered the intangibles.  What if this is one of the rare days they don’t feed the frogs?  Speaking of rare days, what if Lan Lan isn’t thirsty for faucet water?  What if Griffin begs for treats at the last minute and throws everything off?

“Griffin!”  Bean thought, “she always messes things up.”  And that was her last thought before drifting off to sleep for the first of five naps.

                                          ***

Three weeks ago, Riley approached Bean with a deal.

“I want a quick hit.  Clean.  No way of tracing it back to me.”

“That’s what I do,” Bean said.  “I’m a professional.”

Riley peered at the water dish to see Bean’s claws reflect off the stainless steel bowl.

“And I expect a professional’s reward.” she added.

“Oh, I have plenty of treats,” Riley said.

Bean’s claws retracted.

“Crunchy, soft, salmon, seafood medley, turkey delight…They keep giving me treats, but you know I don’t like ‘em,” Riley assured.

“Well, this all sounds fine,” Bean asked, “but why this kitty?  The house is full of bad kitties.”

“It’s the frogs, man,” he said, “I can’t attack and harass both Bob and Lan Lan at the same time.  I need support.  There are only so many naps in a day, you know?”

Bean gave a nod of understanding.

“So, you’re outsourcing your bad behavior?”

“Basically,” he affirmed.

                                          ***

Bean awoke from her final nap and jumped down from the couch.  She made her way past the flower stand with the Sherry Baby and crouched.

“Any minute now,” she thought.

She heard the tell-tale sound of crickets falling into the feeding cup a few moments later, but where was Lan Lan.

Everything was moving too fast and Bean was losing her window of opportunity.  Out of nowhere, the smell of pure joy hit her nose.

“Vanilla?”

Bean looked up at the red flowers of the Sherry Baby.  There was no way, she concluded.  The flower count just isn’t there and, besides, the Sherry Baby gives off more of a chocolate scent.  Bean moved toward the odor and moved away from her outpost.  Vanilla was her favorite treat, and the smell pulled her toward the kitchen in spite of herself.  By this point, Griffin and Riley were likely watching the vivarium.  But where was Lan Lan? 

Rounding the corner, Bean found the answers to all of her questions.  Lan Lan was licking her lips and glowing with satisfaction.  Bean skirted past Lan Lan and, with her cover blown and the job ruined, scrambled across the floor to the styrofoam cup.  Maybe there was some vanilla left, she thought. Her dreams crashed when she reached the cup.  A teasing amount of vanilla malt remained at the lip of the styrofoam, not enough to satisfy and just enough to make you want more.  Curses!  By trying to obtain treats in a bad and unethical way, Bean missed out on her favorite treat of all.

After she jumped up on the couch, but before she drifted off to sleep, she thought, “There has to be a lesson in here somewhere.” 

November Trio

Upstairs, Lan Lan has a better spot for sunning, but don't tell these three weirdos.  November brings us ever-shortening days, so you have to take advantage of the sunshine while you can (wrapping yourself up in the drape is purely optional).

The days are shortening, but there's a lot going on in the Cats and Catts house.  I bought a four-gallon sprayer that's made watering the plants much easier.  I saw the beginnings of a bloom spike on my Phal. Nobby's Amy, and B. Little Stars is showing signs of action. 


Outside, I'm making preparations for the big winter shutdown: tree trimming, composting leaves, and  mulching the daylily garden.  Garden work in November is a little dreary because the air is thinner and snow season feels immanent.  On the plus side, I don't have to use bug spray.


There's more to come in November, so visit us soon!

We're Now At 22% Tsui

This photo shows Riley walking past a tray of Paphiopedilums (most are Brachys) from The Orchid Inn.  A sizable percentage of my collection is from Oak Hills Gardens, but I'm buying more and more from the Orchid Inn Ltd.  Now, Sam Tsui is behind nearly 1/4 of my orchid collection.  I'm just bananas about those Brachypetalums! 

Sam Tsui's visit to our orchid society was super exciting.  Basically, he's one most successful and innovative Phaphipedilum breeders in the world.  I skipped the Beginner Group so I could hover around him and pick up wisdom through osmosis.  I had the opportunity to talk to him about new trends in Brachypetalum breeding and the pursuit of a Brachy with a pure red dorsal.  Sam opened his laptop and showed me slides of his award winners while I asked him absolutely stupid questions like "What's the difference between 'Double Trix' and 'Triple Trix'"?  It was awesome.

Sam's talk -- "What's New in Multifloral Paphiopediulms" -- was fantastic.  You can find a full summary & some video here.  He showed us the new frontiers in breeding Paph. rochildianum and Paph. sanderianum, but I don't see too many of them in my future.  I like looking at the pictures of slipper orchids with the long trailing petals but, with a house of four cats, I just don't see those petals lasting very long.  Those cute Brachypetalums, however, are another story altogether.

Frog Friday! San Francisco

We now have six frogs in our vivarium!  Trixie brought home our new fire-bellied toad, San Francisco, from the good people at Pet World.  We base our naming strategy on our favorite movie Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice (1969), starring Natalie Wood and Robert Culp.  Horst, our fifth frog, is named after the German tennis instructor with whom Carol has an affair.  San Francisco is named after the woman with whom Bob has an affair when travels to the Bay Area for business. In the movie, the nameless woman is featured for only brief flash, running into the eponymous quad late in the film, and saying "hi Bob" with a flirty smile before walking past them.  Carol reads the situation with complete clarity, so when Alice asks "Who was that?" Carol answers "San Francisco" without skipping a beat.  Soon thereafter, we get the scene where Ted (played by Elliot Gould) wants to order a glass of water for Alice at the fast food drive-thru, but they keep trying to sell him bonus burgers and the like.  Riveting stuff, but I digress.

In one of the funnier lines, Bob defends San Francisco's intelligence: "she has a Master's from Berkeley." Much of the humor in Bob's line derives from its facial absurdity, the idea that possession of an advanced academic degree is proof of intelligence, even though Bob probably truly thinks that way.  Likewise, our San Francisco seems to be very thoughtful and open-minded -- an indigo frog, if you will -- but Horst will likely remain the brains behind the commune. Bob, meanwhile, will continue to gorge himself on crickets.

Have Trixie and I seen this movie too much?  Perhaps, but maybe you haven't seen it enough.  So, put it in your Netflix queue and give some thought as to what we should name our next frog. (Emilio the waiter?)

Happy Birthday Cats and Catts!

It’s been over a year since Cats and Catts has been online.  Wow!  The blog has been rewarding in so many ways.  It started as a way to celebrate the kitties and to document my growing orchid obsession.  My two key inspirations were my brother, who was blogging before it was called that.  He repeated the wisdom “if you’re going to have a blog, you need to blog your passion.”  I was also influenced by two twin girls who made clay cat figurines in Civil War attire.  My brother the blogger sent me the article and we both enjoyed their explanation for their hobby, which was something like, “Well, we like cats, and we like learning about the Civil War, so it [making clay figurines of cats dressed like Civil War combatants] seemed like the natural thing to do.”  Indeed.

I like cats.  I like orchids.  Ergo, Cats and Catts.    

It’s safe to say that I’m still figuring things out in the brave new world of cat/orchid blogging.  I started with the “cat plus orchid” formula, but it’s grown in some unexpected directions.  We’ve had five video features, thirteen Frog Fridays, and over 100 pictures of cats and/or orchids.  Hardware difficulties have slowed down our video production, but we have a lot of new content waiting in the wings.

Every new follower (we have three now!), every comment, and every guest kitty post has made Cats and Catts a joy to produce.  Thanks!

Frog Friday! Ludisia Edition

Horst and Bob stand on the jewel orchid (Ludisia discolor) I brought home from my orchid society.  Erich Michel is an accredited AOS judge with deep, deep, knowledge of multiple orchid genera.  He runs Michel Orchid Nursery where you can find crazy beautiful Habenerias.

Honestly, I regretted the purchase when I first brought it home.  It was potted in sphagnum moss and I always killed plants in sphagnum (that's negative thinking, I know, but it was also an empirical fact).  The first week was rough and it seemed all out of sorts with my watering routines.  A push and pull effect structures my watering: I water "when the plants need watering," but my regular life and work require some watering patterns slightly out of step with the plants' needs.  The Ludisia seemed to resent whatever I was doing.

I repotted it and placed it with the frogs.  Now, I absolutely love it.  The frogs also love it.  The crickets move along the coconut husk basket that houses the orchid, giving the frogs multiple points of attack.  Horst and Bob like to wait on top.  Carol, Alice, and Ted like to stay in the water around the basket to pick off the crickets that escape from above.  The plant appreciates the high humidity, and I like the fact that I can water it with a spray bottle.  I can definitely envision another jewel orchid in my future, and I think the frogs can, too.

 

Crazy-Cheeks Griffin

Here, Griffin christens the plant stand with her cheeks.  She seems to recognize that the Miltassia has finished blooming, unveiling its thirteenth and final flower on October 23.  But back to Griffin....

The strange appearance bands of discoloration approximately a foot above the floor on various wall edges has been an ongoing mystery of the Cats and Catts house.  Recently, we took a closer look and noticed that Griffin's repeated rubbing of her cheeks against the wall edges has left a mark.  We know this is her way of marking territory, a common strategy among cats because of scent glands in their cheeks, but Griffin is extra aggressive in this regard, befitting her pushy nature.  My Brassavolas, my toothbrushes, the edge of whatever book I'm reading -- Griffin leads the way with her crazy cheeks.

So, I was happy to have the camera ready to document what a complete freak Griffin can be when she doesn't get enough cheek pets.

Orchid Room Refreshed

 It took several weeks, but the orchid room has new paint, more light, and better climate controls. Finally!

I’m supplementing the light from a West-facing window with compact fluorescents. In general, my big plants are on the left, the low-light babies are on the bottom, the small Catts are in the middle, and the Brachys are on top. The red and black fans are on alternating schedules to vary the air circulation. Off-screen, in the back of the room, an oscillating fan turns on in the afternoon for six fifteen-minute blocs. The Brachys, in particular, appreciate the extra air movement. For humidity, we have a cool-air humidifier in the corner and a large bowl of water on the bottom of the plant rack. Griffin is shown taking advantage of the water bowl, but we’ve seen all of the cats enjoy it. The air feels buoyant, the kitties are happy, and now -- with cooler nights and shorter days -- it's the orchids time to shine.

Bark Confidential

Bark Confidential
by Selena Sabine

Word of a hot new bark hit the street like a scrap of salmon falling off a dinner plate.  “Kiwi bark,” they called it.  High quality stuff. You only need to repot every four or five years with it.  Old timers said that they haven’t seen bark like this since the 1980s.  I knew I had to get me some bags, so I hatched a deal.
 

It was a sun kissed September afternoon as I rolled up on the house, Toonces-style.  Stopped in front of the open garage, the smell of pine hit me like a water gun spray.  Trays of orchids everywhere.  Multiple genera.  True madness.  It looked like a severe case of orchid addiction and I had a feeling he was an accredited AOS judge.  I was in the right spot.  I put a roll of Andrew Jacksons in my fur coat and cautiously exited the car.

The man eyed me nervously through his spectacles.
 

“I hear you have some bark,” I said.
 

He nodded and pointed to an opened bag of dark brown wood chips.  I slowly reached my paw in the bag.  Careful.  Like I’m stealing a piece of chicken off the kitchen counter.  The situation was already high-wire – I didn’t need to make it more jumpy.  I brought the brown wood chip to my nose.  The way my whiskers bounced off its surface.  That forest aroma.  My tail flicked hopefully against the Fall air. I knew this was superior bark.

“Two bags.  Medium grade.”

After loading two bags in the trunk, he reached down for a third.

“Since you’re headed out West, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind holding a few for my associates.”

This is always how it starts.  You think you’re making a square cash-for-bark transaction, but there’s always a catch.  Then, before you know it, you’re trading in perlite.  You’re brokering charcoal deals.  You're the middle-man for reverse-osmosis equipment.  Then you find yourself caught in a web of secrets, extortion, bribery, blackmail, assassins, and the whole rotten root system of the underground potting materials trade.

“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

“I thought you might say that.”

 He reached behind his back and produced a bag with a green leaf.  The pseudobulb showed viable roots.

“Dendrobium Lindleyi ‘Joy.’  For your troubles.”

Wasn’t this cutting from that gorgeous and floriferous award winner in the February show?

 
Well played.  He was good.  I started purring in spite of myself.

                              ***
 

The back wheels sagged under the weight of pine.  The Dendrobium stared at me from the passenger seat.  The purring had long ago changed over to vet-visit-like stillness.  I kept my yellow eyes forward, tried to focus on the endless expanse of freeway, but I couldn’t shake my doubts.

“You’ve done it again, Bean.  In over your head.  Just like the giant feather-toy debacle.”

It was nightfall as I approached the driveway.  It was my own home, but something seemed fishy, and not Friskies Seafood Medley fishy.

                             ***
 

I swung open the front door to find two intruders.  Claws out, I pounced on the couch with a hiss.  On my right flank, a man with a handlebar mustache lurched backwards.  I drew on all of my prior training with a laser pointer, but the consequences were much more dire than being unable to catch a shiny red dot.  Seeing my nine lives flash before me, I quickly pivoted and caught him with my back claws.

“Oh my,” he exclaimed with a disarming folksiness.

I retracted my claws and propelled forward toward the second intruder, the woman with the long hair. I spotted my landing on her left shoulder, but she ducked.  I landed with an embarrassing thud and quickly tried to pretend that I intended to land on the floor all along.  I glanced up to see the two of them smiling down at me.

“Your sister Lan Lan let us in.  We called ahead and Riley agreed to load the bark from your car to each of ours.  I think he’s probably doing that right now.”

“What do you want from me!?  Is this a set up!?”

I realized how paranoid I sounded only after the words escaped my mouth.  But why shouldn’t I be paranoid?  They seem perfectly nice, but this bark business is a rough trade.  I was getting in too deep. How can I claw out?

Griffin ambled down the stairs.

“Hey guys!  Do you have any treats?”

Griffin!  Where did she come from?

“Pet me!” she said to the strange woman. “And, do you have any treats?”

“You’ll have to excuse Griffin.” I said.  “She’s very…”

Griffin let out a loud cry before I could finish the sentence.

“Do you have any treats?  Will you pet me?”

Griffin seemed unfazed by their puzzled looks and lack of treats.  I looked at both of them and yawned. 

Griffin begging for treats.  No surprises here.

“Treats?  Please?  I haven’t had treats in months,” she pleaded.

I was about to correct Griffin and mention that she had several treats yesterday, and that our guests already said that they didn’t have treats.  But I let it go.

“I need more pets,” she said, angling her back into the guest's shin. “And do you have any treats?”

“We better get going,” the mustache man said. The lady with the long hair nodded and quickly packed her things.

We narrowly avoided a dicey situation, but it was just another day of living dangerously in the Cats and Catts house.