I will forever be sad that I can't be reincarnated after my death as one of my own cats. The lives they lead . . I'm crying.
Pack
One of my mother's maxim's was that three dogs make a pack, which meant that having one or two pet dogs (as opposed to working dogs) was ok, but three or more could lead to behavior problems. The Pack thinks up interesting things to do. Such as chase chickens. Not a good idea.
I was well aware of that when we adopted Rosalie, but I assumed that Chance's advancing arthritis would limit the amount of Pack (Mis)Behavior I would have to cope with. And so it does - outdoors.
Rosalie is way too invested in the idea of cats. She sniffs around Rocky and Baxter as if they are the most interesting things she's ever met. She chases. We're going to have to work on that; I don't want her harassing poor Meadow, who is the only cat shy enough to have an issue with this. Last night, though.
Marilla came into the living room, and all three of the dogs suddenly got that feeling . . of being a Pack. Harass a cat? Maybe? What if we just . . pushed her around . . a little bit? Marilla sheltered under the dining room table, amid a forest of chair legs. I was watching the situation closely, in case I needed to interfere. The dogs were standing around the table, intently focused on Marilla.
She is quite a small cat with an outsized temper. And, sure enough, after a few moments of 'humoring' them by hiding, she had had enough. She walked assertively out from under the table, past Chance, into the middle of the floor, and then flopped. She made direct eye contact. The words "D'you think you want a piece of this?" were virtually floating over her head. All of the dogs considered the situation, vis-a-vis starting shit, and suddenly found other things to do.
I was sitting on the sofa, trying not to laugh too openly. She is a legend. Mad respect, as you younguns would say.
Lovely, quiet, misty morning, right?
Not exactly. However. Chickens are fed, dogs are fed, and cats (despite what they may claim) have also been fed. I need to feed myself, now, actually. I forgot.
Time to play
aaaaaUgH I just spent half the morning trying to get one vial of blood drawn (for a lab test for my son). And I'm not ready to talk about it without my head catching fire. So, in the meantime.
My laziest, most sedentary cat (Meadow) has been having a few minutes of play time every morning. I wave the toy, she bats it. The difference in her style and Marilla's is, frankly, hilarious. Here's Meadow:
aaaaand here's Marilla:
I wish I was more like Marilla. But there is just not enough coffee on earth.
The Devil in the Dark
Don't get too close. It's sharp, and it wants blood. (or fluffy toys)
ahedderick reblogged
Cat teeth
I'm waiting (and waiting) for a phone call from the vet's office to go pick up my big boy Rocky from what I hope was a minor dental procedure. It's nearly 3, and I'm starting to fret!
OOP! I didn't even quite get to post this and the phone rang. My boy is fine, higher than a kite, and can be picked up at 4:30.
He's home. He's high. He's sad-mad. There will be many snuggles.
Cat teeth
I'm waiting (and waiting) for a phone call from the vet's office to go pick up my big boy Rocky from what I hope was a minor dental procedure. It's nearly 3, and I'm starting to fret!
OOP! I didn't even quite get to post this and the phone rang. My boy is fine, higher than a kite, and can be picked up at 4:30.
ahedderick reblogged
yesterday while making a sandwich i accidentally tossed a whole huge slice of deli ham to my two little animals that stare at me while i cook (instead of two small little pieces of deli ham) and pebble stole the ham and immediately became some sort of feral ham beast. she poofed up twice her size and evaded my attempts to take the ham. she growled and hissed (mouth full of ham). she now comes running every time i open the fridge.
Pebble's best day EVER!
ahedderick reblogged
Possum
My son, age 20, has taken to teasing me about adopting a possum. He sends me possum memes. He ‘rescued’ the last possum who raided our chicken coop, moving her and her hordette of babies to a safer location down at Home Farm. I can’t - quite - tell if he’s teasing about a possum pet or not.
However, when he finished up frustrating homework last night and wanted to go out for a drive to the lake to decompress, I told him “Don’t bring home a possum!”
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The sound of me hitting my head off my desk.
He and my daughter went out for a drive together. They came home a while later, and he walked into the house looking - somewhat sheepish. “It’s not my fault.” he stated, then scooped up some towels and walked back out.
“What!?” I yelled. “WHAT??!”
They re-entered the house together, my daughter holding a smallish black&white kitten wrapped in towels. He had been found stumbling around in the road, back end covered in mud. Apparently ‘dumped’ in a rural area (I know the nearest neighbors, there, and they are unlikely to have mistreated a cat this way.)
Ok. Not a possum. That’s, uh. But we already HAVE cats. We HAVE - Honey! What are you? Why?
So. There’s this. Frisky, well-socialized little guy with frisky little fleas. Mucky ears. Hungry, but not critically underweight.
Sigh.
Hey, it's Baxter's two-year Gotcha Day anniversary!
He's a happy, healthy two and he's enjoying a cheese snack in the kitchen right now.
(un) Motivated Monday
A weekend of hours of tutoring took a toll on me, and I feel like a large, person-shaped bag of cooked oatmeal today. I think I should emulate Rocky and Meadow. Curl up and ignore my to-do list.
In memoriam of Them. Sisters, born in a hollow tree, adopted around a month old because their mom wasn't making enough milk for 5 kits. Coal black, the lot of them. They excelled at Spooky Season.
Nothing quite like being four and getting two kittens.
Dis-quilted
So, yesterday I laid out a bunch of small fabric strips to piece together. I got about half of them sewed, then had to take a break. Fortunately, they were out of the way (even though on the floor) and I just set the finished part on top and left them.
Until this morning, quite early, when Marilla got the Cat Crazies and decided to make an elaborate production out of killing one (1) green bean. She beat, thrashed and bit the bean all the way down the stairs and across the floor, rolling and kicking across my fabric. It looks like a very small tornado touched down there. The bean did not survive. I'm going to wait until tomorrow to try to restore order to the fabric. Honestly. This is why we can't have nice things.
The criminal, with her tiny criminal paws.
"Why are you putting Stuff in all the fun boxes? Oh, you are going way? I can go to college, too?"
ahedderick reblogged
My 3 and a half month old kitten named Jewels! Just wanted to share her cuteness!
Cousin!! Hi cousin!!
Another cousin!
Chin-spots are very fashionable!
Source: dose-of-beauty
Meadow, being tall. I set her up there, as she is not athletic enough to climb, but she liked it so much that she settled in like a gargoyle.
A queen surveying her domain.