11/1/11 – Tuesday

The 2012 calendars are FINALLY available! All the calendars are marked up by $1, and all profits go to Challenger’s House.

I’ll put this up at the top of the entries for the rest of the week for those who don’t read every day or who read via a reader, and after this week they’ll be in the sidebar to the right.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Joan asked:

I hope you can help me with this question. My son moved back home with his 6 month old kitten. His name is Zeus and he is a little love-bug. We already had our spoiled 2 year old Lola.

The problem is that Zeus stalks Lola constantly and she isn’t able to eat or use the litter box or anything without him pouncing on her. I feel so bad for her because she has taken to hiding upstairs all the time. She used to sit on my lap as soon as I got home from work, but that has ended since Zeus moved in with us. 🙁

Will things ever go back to “normal”? Will Zeus ever stop stalking Lola so she can eat and use the litter box without looking out of the corner of her eye all the time?

Thanks for any help you can give me!

I told Joan that sometimes kittens calm down, and sometimes they stay jerks, and that it’s possible Lola and Zeus will adjust to each other over time, but my mind was blank and I couldn’t think of things she could do to make life a bit easier for Lola. I do know that y’all will have great suggestions for her and will chime in – so please do so!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Yesterday, as I mentioned, was the day the pigs were scheduled to go off to freezer camp. I always accompany Fred when he takes the pigs because he likes having company – it’s a pretty long drive. So we headed off toward the place, and we were about two miles from it, when we came upon a “bridge out half mile ahead – detour” sign. Fred sighed and groaned and turned right, and we went on a 15 minute drive down a pretty road with lots of pretty houses and fields to look at. Just as we’d both get worried that we were supposed to turn somewhere already, a “detour” sign would show up to reassure us that we were on the right track.

To recap, we turned right at the detour sign and then after about ten minutes of driving, we turned left onto another road that was kind of windy and curved back toward the road we wanted. Another five minutes, and we came to a stop sign. To the left was a detour sign telling people coming from our right to turn onto the road we were on.

“Which way do you suppose we go?” Fred said.

“Go right, this is our road,” I said.

He went straight. To his way of thinking, because there wasn’t a sign that said “You have reached your destination” or “Hey, fucko, this is the end of the detour. THIS IS YOUR ROAD,” then clearly it was not our road. We drove for about five minutes with me explaining to him that the detour sign was the other side of the bridge, that he should have turned right on that road, but he was just not having it. Until the road we were on started getting narrower and narrower and winding and twisting and the houses were farther apart.

So here we are, driving down this winding, twisting road, pigs in a trailer, and the driver of the truck is not the best at backing up the truck with the trailer attached. I’ve got Fred’s phone and am trying to look up a map of where we are so I can show him that I AM RIGHT, but of course we’ve wandered into Deliverance country and there’s no cell signal (my GOD, what is this, 1977? NO CELL SIGNAL?!), and finally he spots a driveway with enough room that he can turn around without going off the road, and he starts to pull in and back out and pull in some more.

I would dearly like to tell y’all that he ran that trailer of pigs off into the ditch and the pigs escaped and are on the lam, but what happened was that a truck came down the road toward us and stopped to see what the holy hell we were doing, and Fred got out to talk to him, and the old man driving the truck said “Your wife was right, Stupidhead.*”

We got turned around and finally got headed out on the right road, got the pigs delivered, and headed home. We were so far behind schedule (and y’all KNOW how that man loves to keep to his routine) that after some persuasion from me, he picked up his phone, called his boss, and took the day off!

I’d love to tell you that we spent the day doing something fun and romantic, it being our anniversary and all, but in actuality we got home, Fred cut some grass, I snoozed in the recliner, Fred helped me empty and refill the litter boxes, and he did some more work outside.

I’m not complaining, though – even though there were no diamonds or lobster dinners, it was a pretty damn good anniversary. I’ll take it – and another 13 like them, please.

*Perhaps not those exact words.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Someone – a couple of someones, I think – mentioned the number of cats currently in the house. As a reminder, we ONLY have thirteen ( ::coughcoughSOB:: ) permanent residents. At the moment we’ve got seven fosters, which gives us twenty cats in residence.

We’ve got too many permanent residents, in my opinion, when we have so many that I couldn’t give all the cats their own page in the Anderson Kitties calendar. Did y’all notice that, Tommy on the cover but not in the calender itself? Not that I’m hoping any of them shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon (Spanky’s doing so well that I seriously think he’s going to live to be in his 20s, I’m not even kidding), but perhaps we shouldn’t add to the permanent population? Ya think?

(Which means we’ll have 25 permanent residents by the end of the year, since that’s how things go. SIGH.)

I decided, the last time I stocked up on Cat Attract litter at Petsmart, that from now on when someone asks how many cats I have, I’m going to say “Too.” As in, “Too many.” Is it my fault they’ll hear “Two”? I think not.

Of course, I said that and then last week when I was at the surgeon’s office, after Fred BULLIED the surgeon into saying I could scoop litter boxes again (heh), the nurse was removing some of my stitches and asked how many cats we had. I never did tell her how many permanent residents we had, but did tell her that we foster and currently have twenty cats.

I’m thinking I should tell people we have thirty cats, and when they express shock or start dialing the Hoarders people, I’ll laugh and say “Just kidding! Thirty cats would be LUDICROUS! We only have twenty!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Harlan Peppers, headed up the steps to the platform in the corner of the living room. A couple of you noted how big he is – he is TOTALLY huge. I don’t know how much he weighs at the moment, but two weeks ago he was at 5 pounds, 13 ounces. I imagine he’s probably over six pounds by now. The big Pepper who weighs the closest is Everett, who was 9 ounces lighter than Harlan at the same weigh-in. Judging by the size of his paws, Harlan is going to be one big, big cat.

(Note to self: get current weight on kittens.)

Charlie Peppers, lookin’ smug.

Patty Peppers, chilling.

Patty, Everett, and Charlie, hanging out on the couch.

I don’t know what I was doing, but Elwood, Sally, and Everett thought it was pretty interesting. (I LOVE Everett’s white whiskers.)

Molly Peppers is just so purrrrrrrty.

This is where Charlie and Patty hang out most of the time.

Patty Peppers…

…loveslovesloves a fuzzy blanket.

Everett in the back, there, just hanging out with his jaunty white whiskers on view.

Harlan watching bugs go by.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Elwood and Charlie Peppers (aka “Chuckles”) have a special relationship. A very special one. One where Elwood grooms Charlie vigorously, and Charlie lets him. It’s awfully cute… until Elwood gets overzealous and it all goes wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Sugarbutt in the dog house on the patio. He’s all “What? You go away. I’m having my private time.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Previously
2010: He grabbed the rubber hammer again and pretended to beat me with it again.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Bessie!” he said, waving his arm expansively. “Are you having a good anniversary so far?”
2006: I hope one of the little brats who took a handful of candy ended up with a slug, too. That’d serve ‘em right!
2005: And I don’t WANNA.
2004: Fuckin’ yawnsville.
2003: No entry.
2002: Bob Riley’s campaign strategy is to say “Nuh uh!”
2001: Did you know that they make foam cups in espresso size?
2000: No entry.
1999: Such appetizing topics, eh?