March 2010 – Page 2

3/18/10 – Thursday

To answer cat-related questions (the regular Comment-Answering Extravaganza will be up tomorrow): I must ask why on earth do you allow Maxi and Newt to ‘free-roam’. All I have ever heard is that free-roamers have shortened lives with all the horrible things that could happen to them. You evidently have a large property and you … Continue reading “3/18/10 – Thursday”

To answer cat-related questions (the regular Comment-Answering Extravaganza will be up tomorrow):

I must ask why on earth do you allow Maxi and Newt to ‘free-roam’. All I have ever heard is that free-roamers have shortened lives with all the horrible things that could happen to them. You evidently have a large property and you equip your other cats with electronic collars so why not these two?

Maxi and Newt came with the property, and when we put them in the bedroom with Maxi’s kittens (before the kittens were adopted out, and before we got Maxi and Newt spayed and neutered), they lost their minds – dug at the windows incessantly to get out, and stopped eating. Back then, we didn’t have a fenced back yard, so there wasn’t a way to contain them while still allowing them to be outside. At this point, they’re okay with coming inside and staying here overnight if the weather is bad (or they just want to), but they move pretty regularly between our house to the house two doors down, and probably spend almost as much time in and around their house as they do ours.

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I wonder if they have the same mom as the Wonka’s did – same spot makes me think maybe.

Bob – the guy who spotted both sets of kittens – also spotted the mother cat both times, briefly, and was pretty sure she was the same cat.

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Regarding name suggestions: Like I said, Fred’s in charge of naming these guys. I passed your suggestions along to him, but he’s going to take his time deciding on names. I can tell you that they won’t be named after the Three Stooges (and Shemp), because those names have been used for shelter cats in the past. John, Paul, and Ringo hadn’t been used (I was actually pretty surprised by that!), but George has.

I didn’t even suggest to him that he use Irish names, because he thinks my whole Irish naming scheme is goofy. Hmph. And he’s unimpressed with the Organs suggestion. He’s no fun, basically. (I did save all your Irish name suggestions, though I was already pretty sure that if there’s at least one boy, he’s going to be Fergus, most likely.)

A future litter of kittens (when it’s MY turn to name them!): Dither, Ponder, Discuss, and Swagger. I’ll call them The Verbs!

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I googled cat gestation: 63-65 days. 9 weeks. so by your estimation, she’s got a couple more weeks to go yet?

That’s my guess – but again, I’m no expert when it comes to pregnant cats, so I could be way off base. She actually climbed into my lap yesterday and laid there for a long time, her belly against my leg, and I concentrated as hard as I could, but still felt no movement against my leg. She seems to be getting bigger, though – I swear, it seems like I can almost watch her grow. I read that her appetite will decrease in the few days before giving birth, and right now she’s getting half a (3 oz) can of kitten food in the morning, and the other half at night. She’s got a bowl of kitten kibble available to her at all times, and of course fresh, clean water. She’s not eating a lot of the kitten kibble, but she’s loving the canned food.

All of this is to say, basically, I dunno. If she gives birth tomorrow, I won’t be surprised, and if she gives birth in three weeks, I won’t be surprised (though I might be VERY impatient!).

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Are the kittens staying in a separate room from Maura?

Yes. Maura is upstairs in the foster bedroom. The new kittens are downstairs in the guest bedroom. I had promised Fred that we wouldn’t have two batches of kittens again, but I guess promises are made to be broken? I don’t particularly like to have kittens in the guest bedroom, because there’s no carpet for them to warm their feet, and I don’t know – it just seems like an uninviting room to me as far as kittens go. The new guys seem to like it just fine, though. One of them expressed his approval yesterday morning by peeing on the floor under the bed, little brat.

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oooh, i LOVE mckittens! is mcmao pronounced “mc-mayo”? cause that’s HILARIOUS!

That IS funny, but no – the Mao part of McMao rhymes with cow. At least, that’s how I’m pronouncing it – I’m hoping that’s how you meant it, MsDarkstar!

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I notice your cats have large collar attachments. Are these for an underground fence or a cat door?

The collars are for an underground fence – only Sugarbutt, Tommy, Joe Bob, Jake, and Elwood wear the collars. Aside from Maxi and Newt, the other cats who go outside – Miz Poo, Spanky, and Kara – have never attempted to go over the fence, so we feel safe in leaving them collarless. When she first started going outside, Kara wore a collar, but like I said, she’s never attempted to go over the fence.

It’s actually a little silly for us to put a collar on Elwood, since he doesn’t go outside (we’ve taken him out into the back yard once or twice, but he’s scared and immediately runs right back inside). I’m sure he’ll figure it out sooner or later, and it’s best to be prepared.

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What are you going to do about the momma cat, will you still try and trap her so she can be spayed?

I’ll tell you all up front that this is not a story with a happy ending. I know some of you read this site with your kids, so you may want to skip down to the pictures.

When Fred got to work yesterday morning, he went over to check the trap. There was a medium-haired tuxedo cat inside the trap, and he loaded the trap into the car and called me. It was too early to call the vet’s office, so I told him to put the trap in a corner of his office, put a towel over it, and try to keep his office quiet. He said she was pretty wild when he approached the trap, and that she didn’t look well.

When the vet’s office opened, I called and talked to one of the women who works there. She told me to go ahead and bring the cat in, so I drove to Fred’s office, he loaded the trap (cat and all) into my car, and I got my first look at the girl who’d given us Mike, Gus, Violet, Veruca, and this new litter. Fred was right, she didn’t look well at all. There was blood around her nose – both dried and fresh – her coat was ratty, her eyes were clouded.

The shape she was in blew me away. I didn’t – still don’t – know how on earth her kittens could be in such stunningly good shape (well fed, immaculately clean) when she was in that condition.

I was worried that we’d gotten the wrong cat, so Fred held up the trap a little bit so I could try to see if she was clearly a nursing mother. I wasn’t really able to see anything, so off I went to the vet’s office.

Once there, I talked further to the women who worked there, told them her story, and that I feared she was likely positive for FIV. Given that the Wonkas had tested positive initially, I was pretty sure she had to be positive as well. They got her out of the back of my car and took her to the back. They needed to sedate her before they could take the blood to do the test, so the nurse gave her a dose of sedative.

Fifteen minutes later, they reported that she was still bright-eyed. They waited another ten minutes, then gave her a second dose of the sedative. Fifteen minutes later, still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. They decided that they’d try to get the blood from her, since surely the sedative must have had SOME effect, but (I didn’t witness this, they told me afterward), she was as full of energy as any cat they’d seen. They said she actually bounced so high she just about hit the ceiling – so needless to say, they weren’t able to get blood from her yet.

They gave her a dose of a different sedative, and waited for it to work. This time it did, and they were able to draw blood.

Ten minutes later, the vet came to give me the news – she was FIV positive. I had hoped that by some fluke she might test negative, but wasn’t surprised at the news.

Please know that I didn’t make this decision lightly: I asked them to euthanize her.

Had she been negative, I would have had her spayed and her ear tipped, treated her for whatever made her look so ill, and released her. But releasing her, knowing that she was positive, would have been irresponsible on my part. Though FIV doesn’t spread as easily as FeLV, it is still transmissible to other cats, and I couldn’t put an FIV+ cat out there to potentially infect other cats.

They asked if I wanted to sit with her while they euthanized her, and I said no. At the time, I was thinking that since she was so feral and scared, having another person there would just serve to scare her more. I paid and left.

On the way home, I realized that she was probably so sedated that she wouldn’t have been very aware of my presence, and I regret that I didn’t stay. I wish I had. She didn’t deserve to die alone.

I can – and will – honor her memory by taking the best possible care of her kittens until they’re older, and then they’ll be adopted into homes where they’ll be cherished.

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Previously
2009: I don’t know what on earth ever made him think that my desire for plastic surgery has anything at all to do with the level of love he might feel for me, silly man, but bless his big bald pointed head for giving it the ol’ college try.
2008: Sadie’s like the older, tolerant sister who puts up with the brat.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No doubt she wishes I’d leave her the hell alone and just let her SLEEP, GODDAMNIT.
2004: I’m known for my dumbassery, though.
2003: Get your cart OVER TO THE SIDE SO I CAN GET PAST YOUR STUPID ASS.
2002: Good riddance to boring characters, I say.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

3/17/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

Thanks, you guys, for your suggestions yesterday. I hope none of you were offended by my suggested use of “The Micks” as a name to call Maura’s litter; I didn’t intend to offend anyone. I always thought the term came from the fact that so many Irish surnames start with “Mc”, but after reading further, … Continue reading “3/17/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

In any case, I’ve decided to go with “The McMaos,” as suggested by Ms. Darkstar. KarmaCat suggested I go with O’Malley as a surname, pointed out that that would make Maura’s initials MOM, and I was going to go with that ’til Ms. Darkstar popped in with McMao. Which just cracks me up every time I say it out loud!

Other suggestions I liked included “The Shamrocks”, “The Clovers”, “The Hooligans,” and “The Lucky Charms.”

Also, as a correction to my entry yesterday, I got an email from the shelter manager regarding spaying pregnant cats:

Yes, we do spay pregnant cats and yes we have spayed them right up pretty close to term. Every spring we get call after call about pregnant cats. Although we do spay many of them, most of us hate to. So early in the “season” the first couple pregnant cats we take are left to have their babies. When foster homes are full and there is no more space available then it becomes necessary to spay them while they are pregnant.

After I posted yesterday’s entry, I realized that there was just no way all the shelters in this area could hold all the pregnant cats and their litters – it’s not possible, given how many people don’t spay and neuter their cats.

Which is to say – SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR DOGS AND CATS, PEOPLE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

(I knew y’all knew that – I just had to say.)

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Okay, sit down. Are you sitting? (Or were you standing over your computer reading this quickly because if you’re not sitting down, you’re not really on the computer? I do that, too, especially when Fred’s all annoyed because he wants to watch something on TV and I can’t tear myself away from my computer. “I just have to check this real quick, I’ll be right there, I’M NOT SITTING DOWN THEREFORE I AM NOT ON MY COMPUTER!”)

So, sit down.

On Monday, I was talking to Fred on the phone, and he said “I have to read you this email from Bob. You’re not going to like it.”

“Oh god,” I said. “What?”

Bob is the guy who spotted Mike, Gus, Veruca and Violet outside his office window back in October. Who called Fred and told him, which made Fred go running over with a box to rescue that awesome litter and bring them home to me.

::Sigh:: I miss Mike and Gus!

Anyway, the email said, in short “There are more kittens over here. I saw the mother cat briefly, but haven’t seen her since I spotted the kittens.”

“I hate him,” I said to Fred.

We discussed and dithered and discussed some more. The thing is, we wanted to try to trap the mother cat so we could get her spayed and either find her a home or release her to go forth and bring no more babies into the world. But if Fred went and took the kittens right then, the mother cat wasn’t going to keep coming around. I made Fred call the shelter manager and ask for her advice. Her advice was to leave the kittens, bring the trap to work with him the next morning, and set it up using mackerel as bait. We have a Havahart trap which we’ve actually never successfully used before. (Something was getting into the garden, I think, and Fred was trying to trap it, but it never caught anything, and thank god for that!)

So yesterday morning, Fred set up the trap (he gets to work before it’s light out), and went back to check on it during the day a couple of times. He couldn’t set the trap up where the kittens were, since they were under low-to-the-ground Holly bushes, so he set it up nearby. When he left work at 3:00, there was nothing in the trap. He rebaited the trap with fresh mackerel, and then the first kitten came running out from under the bushes to greet him.

He picked it up and pushed it back under the bushes, and it ran right back out with another kitten behind it. The kittens refused to stay put under the bushes and he was worried that they’d wander into the parking lot and get hurt, so he decided to bring them home.

Is it weird that I was just a tiny bit disappointed that none of them look anything like Gus or Mike?

I believe they’re about a month old. They are SUPER healthy looking and acting, just like the Wonkas were. They’re at that age when they’re on the cusp of everything – just about ready to eat solid food, just about ready to use the litter box, just about to figure out that whole “playing” thing. Only one of them is the tiniest bit timid, but they’re very friendly. Oh, and all four of them are boys. I’ve never had an all-boy litter before! All girls, yes, but never all boys. First time for everything, I suppose.

Pardon the crappy pictures – I hope to get more later today.

The super friendliest of the bunch.

The one on the right is the slightly timid one – but even he was climbing up into my lap this morning.

Checkin’ out one of the litter boxes.

Fred’s in charge of naming this bunch. He suggested a few possibilities, but he’s still thinking about it.

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Still no babies from Maura today. I had kind of hoped she’d birth those babies on St. Patrick’s Day – I swear, every single time I go into the room, she’s gotten visibly larger – but I’m not going to hold my breath.

“That is not a baby head, that is a rib.”

“That’s my liver, dummy.”

“Annnnd that’s my spleen. Now that we know all my internal organs are intact, is it time for a snack?”

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Newt had us worried. He disappeared for five days (for those who don’t know, Maxi and Newt are our free-roaming cats. They came “with” the house, were originally supposed to belong to a neighbor, but decided they liked us better. We say they’re not OUR cats, but even we don’t believe that anymore. They spend a lot of time in our house, but basically come and go at will.). Maxi’s disappeared for a few days before, but Newt never has. When it had been three days, Fred started assuming that Newt had shuffled off to Buffalo (I’m sorry, I just laughed out loud after I typed that. It’s the height of dorkiness to laugh at your own joke, I know, but I can’t help it).

This morning, Newt was casually waiting at the door to be let in and fed. He’s perfectly fine. I guess it being Spring (at least by the calendar, though the temperature sure doesn’t make it feel very Springlike), he decided it was time to go walkabout.

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Previously
2009: Just imagine a great big bald head with Fred’s face on it, and you’ll get the picture.
2008: Guess who flew to Pennsylvania so she could eat cupcakes with Nance and Rick, snuggle the cutest dog on Earth, and reunite with Maddy?
2007: No entry.
2006: everyone’s Irish today, right?
2005: Guess it must run in the family.
2004: The cats are on my fucking NERVES.
2003: You KNOW you’re fascinated!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: The Big Butt Fairy visits us every year though. Just like clockwork.

3/16/10 – Tuesday

Yesterday I had my semi-annual dental appointment wherein they glare at my teeth, tell me to stop drinking soda, inform me that I’m a teeth-grinding motherfucker, and then poke at my gums with sharp and shiny instruments. After my appointment last Fall, I decided it was time to get the hell serious about this brushing … Continue reading “3/16/10 – Tuesday”

After my appointment last Fall, I decided it was time to get the hell serious about this brushing and flossing thing, and made a concerted effort to brush my teeth twice a day and floss every morning. It didn’t happen every single day, the flossing thing, but it happened more often than it had been. I was sure I’d go into the dentist’s office, the hygienist would get the pretty bib on me, take a look at my teeth and gasp in admiration.

Yeah, not so much. She did allow that the area of my gums (front left, as I do not know any dental location terms) was slightly less red, but that I needed to try to floss more often (apparently I am not the best flosser on earth, what a shock), stop drinking soda, and wear my bite splint every night.

I’m such a grinder of teeth in my sleep that the pointy parts of my back teeth (molars?) have worn down and may eventually need fillings.

I don’t actually think that I grind my teeth in my sleep anymore, though – Fred hasn’t heard the squeaking sound in ages. He also doesn’t have to come into my room to get to the bathroom the way he did at the previous house though, so it’s entirely likely that I’m grinding away every night and he just isn’t hearing it.

My next appointment is at the end of September. Now pardon me while I go floss.

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I have a freakin’ cold. It started off last Thursday – I felt fuzzy-headed and sleepy all day long. I also had the beginnings of a sore throat. Friday the sore throat got worse to the point where I was slightly concerned that I might have strep throat.

Instead of going to the doctor, I just decided to wait and see. “Wait and see” is my favorite move when it comes to feeling poorly. I highly suspect that when I shuffle off this mortal coil, it’ll be because I had a blinding headache and decided to wait and see if Tylenol would help an aneurysm go away.

Over the weekend I was fuzzy-headed and sleepy, then yesterday the fucking cold moved into my chest. I’m not coughing much at the moment, but when I take a deep breath, I can feel all the crap in there waiting to come out. Also, I’m a snotty motherfucker and have been blowing my nose like crazy.

At least the fuzzy-headed feeling is gone.

The only thing that would make me feel better is if the damn sun would come out.

That, or kittens.

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I decided yesterday to name the new Momma kitty Maura. I think it fits her nicely – I thought about adding an Irish-sounding last name, but couldn’t decide on one. I liked the sound of Maura Ryan or Maura Murphy or Maura O’Reilly or Maura McGillicuddy – really, the problem is that I couldn’t decide which one I liked, so I just went with Maura. I have a nice list of Irish names for both girls and boys, so I think we’ll be okay when the kittens come.

Of course, I don’t know how I’ll refer to the litter as a whole – I thought of calling them The Micks, but thought that might be offensive, since according to Urban Dictionary, it’s a derogative term. (Really, spell check? You’re putting the red line under “derogative”, but can only offer “derogation” as an alternative?) I myself have some Irish blood in me and find it an affectionate term rather than a derogative one – but how ’bout it, y’all? Any Irish readers out there who find it offensive?

Every time I go into the kitten room, Maura meows at me once or twice, and I say “Give me those babies!” She seems intent on holding on to them for the time being, though. Yesterday she rolled around on her back for a few moments and allowed me to gently touch her belly. I felt what very well could have been the head of a kitten. Last night, Fred said he thought he felt a kitten head in a different location. Who knows, though? We’re certainly not experienced with the pregnant cats. Kara gave birth the day after we got her, and she was very restless, so I didn’t get much time to examine her underside before she popped out her babies.

“Them wasn’t baby heads. Them was my liver and kidneys, STUPIDS.”

She certainly is happy to see me when I go into the room. She meows at me and then waits for me to sit down, and then she walks back and forth, rubbing against me, purring like crazy. Sometimes she settles down against me briefly before she gets up and starts pacing again.

“Why do you keep feeling my liver, lady?”

She really seemed to like the purple velour pants I was wearing yesterday (don’t judge! You know you covet them.) and kept kneading on my leg. At one point she even sat in my lap, but again that was just for a brief moment in time before she had to get up and get moving.

Amy asked yesterday, if you can’t feel the babies, and don’t see them moving, how do you know that she is pregnant?

I only know because people who are more experienced than I told me that she is. Otherwise, I’d likely just think that she’s kind of porky. Lisa asked if her nipples were prominent and dark pink yet (um, Maura’s nipples, that is. I suspect Lisa would know the state of her own nipples. HEE.), and they don’t appear to be, but we can feel the milk sacs forming. Maybe Maura will allow me to take a closer look at her underside today, and I’ll know better the state of her nipples then!

Meg asked, Okay, I guess I’ll be the one to ask: Your shelter doesn’t spay pregnant cats? I don’t do rescue anymore, but we used to spay everyone, regardless of pregnancy. It’s difficult and heartwrenching. We just had so little resources, not enough foster homes, not enough money, and basically not enough good homes. As far as I know, as long as the mother is healthy and a foster home can be provided for she and her babies, the shelter doesn’t spay pregnant cats. I can’t imagine having to know that a healthy pregnant cat was going to be spayed, I think that would break my heart. 🙁

Speaking of pregnant cats and spaying, here’s one last story for you (I can go on and on when I’m talking about cats, obviously). When we bought this house three and a half years ago, Maxi showed up in our back yard one day. She had clearly given birth and was a nursing mother, but we didn’t know where her babies were, or if she belonged to anyone. She came around more and more often (lured, I am sure, by the food bowl on the front porch), then Newt began to join her. (We originally called Newt “Daddy”, because we assumed he was the father of her litter, but when they both went to the vet for spaying and neutering at a later date, the vet said she thought he could be from an earlier litter of hers – therefore, her son rather than the father of her babies. Obviously, we don’t know for sure, though.)

It was probably a month after she first showed up that I was working on something inside the house, and Fred told me to follow him. We walked out on the porch, and there were Maxi, Newt, and four kittens.

Please note Fred standing there, trying to get his hands on those kittens.

When we finally determined that Maxi, Newt, and the kittens didn’t actually belong to anyone in the neighborhood, we snatched them all up, brought them into the house, had the kittens spayed and neutered, and adopted them out through Challenger’s House. (We named them Fezzik, Westley, Inigo, and Princess Buttercup.) They were adopted out pretty quickly (despite their initial skittishness, they warmed up pretty quickly), and then we needed to have Maxi and Newt spayed and neutered so there’d be no more babies. I made the appointment, and then the night before they were to go, Fred said as he was feeling Maxi’s belly, “Oh no. I think I feel a kitten head. I think she’s pregnant!”

We were positive we were going to end up with another litter of kittens to foster, but when the vet examined Maxi it turned out that she wasn’t pregnant.

Obviously Fred was feeling some internal organ and mistook it for a kitten.

We should totally name a litter of kittens after organs, don’t you think? Surely someone would want to adopt sweet little Kidney! Ha.

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Sugarbutt does NOT approve of this “kitten” nonsense.

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Previously
2009: In an alternate reality I was bellowing “Well NO ONE INVITED YOU TO DINNER, PRINCESS!” and smacking her upside the head.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: It’s like I’ve never met myself before or something. “Yeah, I’ll let the spud take the car to school, and I’ll be stuck at home, thus NATURALLY I will feel compelled to do housework!”
2005: Old pictures.
2004: (Bwahaha! That’d be the shortest study in the history of mankind, eh?)
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Takes all kinds, I guess.
2000: A life of excitement, thrills and chills, lemme tell ya!

3/15/10 – Monday

I have a dentist’s appointment in a little while, and really nothing much happened this weekend of note (how ’bout that time change, eh?), so I’m going to tell you the interesting news, and maybe something of note will happen during my visit to the dentist/ Petsmart/ Target today! * * * * * … Continue reading “3/15/10 – Monday”

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Last Monday I said something along the lines of “Just two more weeks ’til I can have babies back in this house! I can’t wait!” to Fred. We had agreed that we’d wait the whole six weeks of my recovery before we had more fosters.

Then on Tuesday I got an email from the shelter manager asking if we could take a pregnant cat, though she assured me that if we couldn’t, it was okay. I hesitated long enough to call Fred at work and say “THERE IS A PREGNANT CAT WHO NEEDS FOSTERING I WILL START SCOOPING THE LITTER BOXES AGAIN IMMEDIATELY I AM GOING TO TELL HER YES, LOVE YOU, BYE!”, and then emailed her and said “GIVE TO ME THE PREGNANT CAT!”

Fred, who has been scooping the litter boxes since I had surgery was only too happy to turn the scooping back over to me and had no complaints about bringing a pregnant cat home. Fred, if I haven’t mentioned before, LOVES the Momma kitties, and the Momma kitties love him back with an unsettling crazy-eyed passion.

Friday, after Fred got home from work, we went up to the shelter to get her.

(She was rescued from a kill shelter in Tennessee, and had to go to the vet for testing, and then be delivered to the shelter, which is why we didn’t have her immediately.)

She is a total sweetheart.

The shelter manager estimates her to be about 8 months old. I believe it – she is one tiny cat. We don’t know how far along she is, though she’s visibly thick through the middle. I did some Googling around this morning and due to the fact that we can’t actually feel the babies in her midsection, let along see them moving around, I’m going to guess she’s less than seven weeks pregnant.

That’s pure conjecture on my part, though, of course. She doesn’t like to have her belly touched, but she was laying on her back letting me rub her chest yesterday afternoon, and I stared at her belly the entire time. There was absolutely no movement, and on the rare occasion she does let us touch her belly, it just feels like muscle. No distinctive little kitten heads or elbows or feet to be felt just yet.

Whenever I go into the room to hang out with her, she spends the entire time purring and rubbing up against me. I’ve gotten her to play a few times, but she’s more interested in love than in playing. She kneads on anything she happens to lay her paws upon – the floor, a toy, my leg, my arm – which necessitated the clipping of her claws. She put up with it, though she didn’t like it, of course.

I swear, she’s the most laid-back momma cat I’ve ever seen.

We (Fred) moved the chair out of the foster room because I was pretty sure she’d end up going under there to give birth, and while I’m not opposed to her giving birth where she’s comfortable, I wanted to be able to get to her if I need to.

I set up two different nesting areas for her, giving her the choice between a very large plastic storage bin on its side, piled up with towels and blankets, and a kennel piled with towels and blankets. (When we had Kara, we put a cardboard box on its side in one corner of the room, and that worked just fine, but when the babies got older, they peed in the corner of the box, and I wanted something we could clean and reuse.) She appears to have gone in and dug around in the kennel, but every time I go into the room, she’s either headed toward the door because she heard me coming, or she’s asleep in one of the cat beds on the floor.

Did I mention she’s a sweetheart? She totally is.

At this point, we haven’t named her. I was leaning toward giving she and her brood (whenever they arrive!) Irish names in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, but if the little ones aren’t going to be here for a few more weeks, I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. “Maura” is Celtic for “Raven”, and I think that’s a pretty name. I’ll have to think about it, though. We’ll see!

Fred wanted to name her “Floozy.” Ha!

Just call us the Love & Hisses Home for Wayward Teen Mothers!

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Jake is 93.8% sure he’s not supposed to be in the back yard, even though I’ve repeatedly assured him it’s okay. Whenever I approach him and he’s outside, he runs for the back door, sits on the steps, and watches to see what I’ll do next. If I take even one step toward him, he races up the steps and through the cat door. He’s such a nut.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Mad Boog disease!
2005: MY BOX!
2004: (”He sighed at me, your honor, and then I had to kill him.” “Case dismissed!”)
2003: No entry.
2002: Bastards.
2001: You’re thinking If you had a clue how to tell which hamsters are girls and which are boys, you wouldn’t have this problem in the first place!
2000: Yes, I’m a goober, I think we all know that.

3/14/10 – Sunday (Kittehs!)

Attention, North Alabama and Southern Tennessee readers (really, anyone in this area)! Challenger’s House is having Cat Tales, a benefit to raise money for the shelter, on April 17th! There’s a silent auction, and will be lots of interesting stuff to bid on. Even habanero jams and jalapeno jellies (and habanero hot sauces, oh my!) … Continue reading “3/14/10 – Sunday (Kittehs!)”

Attention, North Alabama and Southern Tennessee readers (really, anyone in this area)! Challenger’s House is having Cat Tales, a benefit to raise money for the shelter, on April 17th!

There’s a silent auction, and will be lots of interesting stuff to bid on. Even habanero jams and jalapeno jellies (and habanero hot sauces, oh my!) made by yours truly.

You can download the PDF file here if you want to fill out the reservation form and send it in, or you can send in the money for your reservations via Paypal (at the bottom of the page, here), or call the shelter at (256) 420-5995 and make your reservations that way.

ALSO, the shelter is accepting donations for the silent auction (acceptable items include art, gift baskets, antiques, collectibles, gift certificates, home/garden furnishings, etc), so if you’ve got anything to donate, give the shelter a call!

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Michelle sent me a picture of Hoyt and PitStop mid-week. Check this out:

They are sitting so close that their tails are TOUCHING! And they’re SMILING at each other! And it hadn’t even been a week since they met each other!

It’s my prediction that they’re going to be the best of friends. Snuggling will commence any moment, I’m sure.

I LOVE IT when cats who aren’t related become best buddies. (I mean, I love it when cats who ARE related become best buddies, too. You know what I mean, though!)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And while we’re talking about the True Blood kitties, I asked Ann, who adopted Bill, how he was doing. She said:

Bill is doing well! We love him! He is definitely such a sweetie pie and a character at that! I’m attaching a couple photos from my iPhone.

He and Izzy are still working things out. We’re committed to it though. Izzy just had such a rough first year of life that it’s hard for her to trust cats as they were competition for food on the streets I suspect. But we’re giving them each time and space for working thru it. I wish I could just wave my arms and she’d magically be in love with him but yeah, not happening yet.

Bill though… He’s into watching birds! Now that spring is coming, there is a family of barn swallows that have a nest right outside the window on the porch and he is enthralled with watching them and chirping at them. One of the warm days, I went and had the window open so he could enjoy some fresh air and he was loving that and hearing all the sounds and watching things. I have to share a funny story though… The first couple months, when we let Bill out to run thru the house, he would get on our table in the breakfast nook, look around, and meow at us. I never could figure out what he wanted or was asking for. Yes, it’s a messy table but I don’t think cats truly care about that! Lol. And one day, it hit me. That *YOU* would have beds for the cats on the tables! I went and got a beach towel (that’s what he’s standing on in one of the photos) and laid it up there on the table for him and that was exactly what he was asking for! Now when he’s out and tired of playing or just wants to hang out where he can see it all, that’s where he goes and chills out happily! Isn’t that just the funniest thing?

I am really happy to hear that Hoyt is hopefully REALLY home now with his forever family and that they are just in love with him too! He was actually my first choice of kittens but didn’t get there quick enough… Then it was Terry but Bill is the one who chose us and we are truly happy with him!

Don’t you love a happy ending? 🙂

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I forgot to mention this when I wrote about meeting Michelle and seeing Hoyt last weekend. I was telling Hoyt’s Dad (former Dad?) about when I got the True Bloods, and he asked how many were in the litter.

And would you believe I couldn’t REMEMBER? Finally, Michelle and I said, at the same time, “True Blood 6!”

It’s terrible to get old, I’m telling you.

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This isn’t cat-related, but it’s SO freakin’ cute that I have to link it (and have been meaning to for days!)

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: I sound, if I might be frank, like a blithering idiot, especially when I ask Newt if he’s alive. “Are yew ‘laaaaaaahv?”
2007: No entry.
2006: They are SO pretty to look at, but my GOD do they stink.
2005: Questions answered.
2004: No entry.
2003: Yeah, don’t look at me. I have no idea what goes on his head, either.
2002: I think I could kick her ass, personally, and I’d be happy to do it. Bitch.
2001: “That’s okay,” I said cheerfully. “Those things are a pain in the big butt, aren’t they?”
2000: Fred sings again.

3/12/10 – Friday

It’s raining again. ::sob:: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * What will be the next product for Crooked Acres? You could take the brushings from George and Gracie, spin them into yarn and … Continue reading “3/12/10 – Friday”

It’s raining again.

::sob::

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What will be the next product for Crooked Acres? You could take the brushings from George and Gracie, spin them into yarn and crochet it into… kitty sweaters? knit it into afghans? sell the yarn to your weirdo readers who might use it for nefarious purposes?

I cannot imagine actually trying to gather all the fur we get off George and Gracie and clean it then spin it into yarn. At this point, while Fred’s brushing them, he tosses the fur onto the ground. It eventually disappears, but I don’t know whether it blows off into the next yard or birds gather it for their nests, or what. All I know is, I don’t have to deal with it, and that’s A-OK with me!

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Love you.
Love the cats.
But I REALLY love them pups.
What can I send Gracie and George for Easter? Baked goods? Toys? Donations to their favorite charities? (And those charities BETTER be dog-related 😉

If it MUST be a dog-related charity (hmph!), George and Gracie request a donation to Daddy’s Emergency Animal Rescue Fund provides assistance for dogs who are victims of abuse or violence, man-made disasters (hoarder and puppy mill rescues), and large-scale natural disasters (hurricanes, fires, and other natural catastrophes). They think that Cesar is a pretty great guy, and they both had doggy crushes on Daddy before he passed away in February.

Also, they would like you to come cover for them with the chickens. They have been working SO hard that they could use a vacation, maybe a trip to the Bahamas. I mean, honestly – LOOK how hard they work every single day, protecting those chickens!

Please note that Gracie, back there laying amongst the piles of discarded dog fur, doesn’t so much as stir the entire time I’m out there shooting pictures.

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I have 6 cats and I do one Petsmart run a month which entails 5 cases of Friskies canned and the bigger bag of Purina One. I always get the questions! Why do we feel obligated to explain ourselves?

Good question! And really, I’m not sure why people feel the need to ask, either – are they going to go home and say “Honey! I saw this woman buying 400 pounds of litter at Sam’s today, and she told me she has FIVE cats!”? I mean, what do I care whether some complete stranger knows that I have 11 cats or not? What’s the DIFFERENCE whether they know? Why do I feel so embarrassed when they ask?

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Not EVERYONE likes to carry things like stool softeners around in semi-transparent plastic bags. Hmmf.

NOT THE CORRECT ANSWER. I carry my own reusable grocery bags, so no one could see what the hell I had in there! (Of course, I guess they could be so accustomed to asking that it was just an automatic question, right?)

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I LOVE pickled bologna. It’s my Down Home Ohio treat every time I’m there.

I don’t like any kind of bologna, pickled or otherwise, but it’s certainly intriguing. They’ll pickle anything in the South, won’t they?

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I got all excited when you mentioned Fuddrucker’s in Fort Walton Beach, FL. I was there visiting a friend just last summer (she lives in Fort Walton Beach, not Fuddrucker’s). Which Fuddrucker’s was it? If it was the one with the alligators, I have a picture of me holding one of them (they made me hold one of the younger ones with his mouth taped shut. wusses). If it was the other one, my friend lives in one of the tall condo buildings just down the road. She lives on the 6th floor with a great view of the beach. All you have to do is take the elevator down to the first floor and you are on the beach. Heaven. The sand there is so beautiful. Blindingly white and so soft.

Apparently, I was mistaken. It was a Fuddrucker’s we went to in Fort Walton Beach, FL, it was Fudpucker. Seriously, what the hell?

Next time we go to Florida, I’ll make a point to visit the Fuddrucker’s with the alligators, because I’d love to hold one!

And I agree, the beach in Fort Walton and Destin is absolutely dazzling.

NOW I WANNA GO BACK TO FLORIDA!

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I went to college in a small town near a big city, and back before I went there, the little grocery store in town apparently kept all the condoms behind a locked glass cabinet. So, if people wanted condoms they had to go through a bunch of hoops. I never understood the religious right’s mindset that preventing people from using birth control is a good idea, I mean, aren’t abortions 10x worse than just using birth control? /tangent

Well, OBVIOUSLY, if one does not know (1) ABOUT sex (via sex education) and (2) how to PROTECT oneself from pregnancy, one will NOT have sex, and if one does not have sex, one cannot get pregnant. Like, DUH.

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The do you want your stool softeners in your purse is cracking me up. Cashiers need to mind their own business about those things. I guess a kid would have no clue how slow acting stool softeners are. Can you imagine if you bought the glycerin suppositories? I used to carry an extra bag to work and was known to have Tylenol and antacid in it. One day a coworker called me on the intercom to ask me if I had a MEDICATED DOUCHE in my bag. She felt an infection coming on and wanted to douche in the bathroom right there at work. EWWWWWW!!!! Doesn’t everyone carry an extra Vinegar Massengil in their tote bag?

Dude, seriously. Even if I DID carry a medicated douche in my bag, I wouldn’t tell ANYONE that I did over the damn intercom!

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Squee! I was just looking through the cat photos submitted to Pioneer Woman and saw Newtles!!! I hope you get picked!

These are the pictures I’ve submitted to Pioneer Woman‘s photography contest this week, and yet I have received no PW love. Ah well.

HOWEVER, Christine, who does my banners almost every month, DID get chosen – this one! – so keep your fingers crossed for her!

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Is Kara a Countess, what with the darling and everything? Oh how I hope you watched RHNYC! What a total bitchfest!

Kara WAY outclasses that damn Countess, let me tell you. I did watch the first episode of RHoNYC, but I haven’t watched last night’s episode yet. The Countess is far too impressed with herself and not nearly as classy as she thinks she is, in my opinion, DARLING.

I watched the first part of the OC reunion last night, and two things struck me – (1) Gretchen, the college graduate, does not know the definition of “karma.” Allllrighty. (2) Lynne thinks she’s the best mother she could possibly be. You know, Lynne. Whose daughters poured alcohol into their water bottles right in front of her and she didn’t notice. Whose daughter has repeatedly said that she can get away with anything, because her parents will never ground her. Yeah, that Lynne.

(Also, Tamra needs a haircut and some sort of defrizzing solution.)

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Has anyone seen Zombieland yet? I’m dying to see that. The preview looks good.

We saw it, and enjoyed it, it was a fun movie. How can you NOT enjoy any movie with Woody Harrelson in it, right?

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I LOVE recap sites! That is a fun one and I added it to my Reader … got any others you’d like to share??

I can’t think of any other recap sites, but if you guys have any to share (not necessarily just the Housewives, any fun recap site would be welcome!), leave the link in the comments, would you? I like Pretty on the Outside because it’s not a pages-long blow-by-blow recap site – it covers the show without requiring three hours of your time!

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Just wait until you try pork chops in the Ronco (did you get a basket with it?) We have also done a small roast in ours.

We did get a basket with our Ronco Showtime Rotisserie, and I’m looking forward to trying pork chops and roasts and this summer there’ll be rotisserie’d veggies galore!

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Are those daffodils coming up by the tree?

In the pic of Sugarbutt from yesterday, those are definitely daffodils coming up by the tree. It’s a testament to how long and cold our winter was this year as opposed to last year, that they haven’t bloomed yet. In pictures from last year at this time, we had daffodils blooming all over the place. Today, they’re not even budding yet.

Also, our Winter Honeysuckle bushes (by the front porch) are just now blooming – the past two years, they’ve bloomed in December and January!

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Spanky, in the back yard on a rare sunny day.

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Previously
2009: And then I realize that baby wasps grow up to be adult wasps, and I electrocute the shit out of those fuckers.
2008: “You realize,” I said to Fred as I watched Tommy diligently lick the top of Miss Stank’s head, “Even if we wanted to, we could never get a divorce.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m a total freak.
2003: She’s home!
2002: Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again.
2001: I am the dumbest dumbass in the whole wide world, I really am.
2000: Sometimes, they lay on the floor and perform for us.

3/11/10 – Thursday

Jackie D. and I were talking about the Real Housewives in my comments yesterday, and then Katherine reminded me that I have never linked to the BEST Housewives recap site EVER. David Gilmore runs a site called Pretty on the Outside, and not ONLY does he do some awesome recaps of the show in writing … Continue reading “3/11/10 – Thursday”

Jackie D. and I were talking about the Real Housewives in my comments yesterday, and then Katherine reminded me that I have never linked to the BEST Housewives recap site EVER.

David Gilmore runs a site called Pretty on the Outside, and not ONLY does he do some awesome recaps of the show in writing – he also does some incredible art to illustrate the show.

I mean seriously, go look at this picture and tell me it’s not dead-on!

I don’t remember how I found it, but I’ve been reading it since at least last year. It’s one of my favorite things to do, read his recaps and guffaw at his pictures. He is so talented – AND he sells his artwork on Etsy, in case you ever needed your very own picture of Vicki to entertain you!

So go check out Pretty on the Outside – you might have to scroll down to get to the Housewives stuff (Housewives are not the ONLY thing he does – he’s multi-faceted and multi-talented!), but you won’t be sorry. And for sure, check out the comments, too – some of them are almost as good as Gilmore’s posts themselves!

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Several years ago, my sister and I gave our Dad a Ronco Rotisserie for Father’s Day or his birthday or possibly Christmas (I don’t remember exactly, obviously), and when I visited later that year, we had a rotisserie chicken for dinner, and it was goooooood.

Ever since, I’ve kept in the back of my mind that I wanted to get our own rotisserie oven, and so when I logged onto Woot one day last week and saw that they were offering them for $19.99 plus shipping, I jumped on it.

For some reason, I thought it would be the full-sized oven, but when it came, I realized it was the Junior version. Which was actually fine with me – there are only two of us, how many chickens do we need to cook at one time, right?

Sunday, I sent Fred out to the garage freezer to find me a chicken to cook in the rotisserie (it needed to be a chicken with the skin still on, which is how he processes the younger chickens. The older chickens always need to be stewed or cooked in the crockpot because they can’t really be roasted – the legs are so tough they’re pretty much inedible when you roast them.), and then for dinner that night, I cooked it.

And it was AWESOME. I highly, highly recommend the Ronco Showtime Rotisserie. It’s simple to use, the cleanup is pretty easy, the results are very, very tasty, and if the day ever comes when we get the pantry into the house and in position, it won’t take up much space in the pantry.

It was a real Crooked Acres meal, in fact – chicken, born and raised here, green beans born and raised and canned here, and a pint of Pioneer Woman’s Best Baked Beans Ever, made by me and canned at some point in the Fall. Two thumbs up!

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While I’m talking about awesome stuff we’ve bought recently, I think I mentioned at some point that our Blu Ray player is set up to work with Netflix. We just needed a way to connect it to the internet so it could access my Netflix stuff.

Fred looked around and told me we needed one of these. So I ordered it, it arrived, and then Fred set it up.

And then we completely ignored it for a few days, as is our way.

Last weekend, we needed something to watch, we were out of movies and out of recorded stuff, and finally Fred went and looked around on Netflix, and we decided to give Quarantine a try. We were a little concerned that the picture would be crappy, but the picture was just fine. It wasn’t Blu Ray quality, but there was nothing wrong with the picture, it was perfectly watchable.

The movie itself wasn’t bad, if a tad creepy. If you like creepy movies that make you jump, this might be the movie for you.

(Also, Jennifer Carpenter is not nearly as annoying in this movie as she was in the first season of Dexter.)

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Um. What? YOU don’t have a trash can laying in your back yard for the cats to hang out in? What do your cats do when it’s raining out?

“What?”

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Previously
2009: (Nance calls it “Fredding.” HA.)
2008: “The chickens are here!” he said.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: OR MAYBE I JUST NEED A NEW COMPUTER.
2003: So, there. That’s my day so far.
2002: I’m a total calendar-having fool.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

3/10/10 – Wednesday

Today marks 14 – FOURTEEN! – years since Fred and I first laid virtual eyes upon each other. Happy anniversary, baby! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * On Monday over at Love & … Continue reading “3/10/10 – Wednesday”

Today marks 14 – FOURTEEN! – years since Fred and I first laid virtual eyes upon each other.

Happy anniversary, baby!

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On Monday over at Love & Hisses, I posted an entry that included new pictures of Nate and Dora (Kara’s babies, who were River and Inara back then), and Ouiser from the Magnolias. Go check ’em out!

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Things I have been meaning to link to.

Staying safe when you’re in a hotel room. (Thanks, Mikki!)

Microwaved water and other liquids do not always bubble when they reach the boiling point. They can actually get superheated and not bubble at all. The superheated liquid will bubble up out of the cup when it is moved or when something like a spoon or tea bag is put into it (and subsequently burn the shit out of your face or hands or whatever skin it might hit). Snopes supports this – Snopes link here. Kinda scary, huh? (Thanks, Annette!)

Remember Misty, the kitten with Megacolon who needed surgery? She’s had surgery and seems to be doing well! (Thanks, Suzanne!)

These are the sites I hit every morning when I first sit down at my computer – one little click helps more than you know!

The Animal Rescue Site
The Hunger Site
The Breast Cancer Site
The Child Health Site
The Literacy Site
The Rainforest Site

(You can go to any one of those sites above, and get to the other by clicking on the tabs at the top of the page.)

Free Kibble
Free Kibble Kat

FreeRice

Except for FreeRice, it takes just a moment to go through and clickety-click. It’s a good way to start the morning!

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Have you ever heard of RomanceNovelYourself.com ? You can take a picture and put yourself (or a loved one!) on the cover of a faux romance novel. Fred had some fun during his down-time yesterday.

When I saw it, I laughed out loud, then called to yell at him for using the WORST POSSIBLE PICTURE of me. I mean, godalmighty, I appear to have THE squarest jaw this side of RHoNYC’s Bethenny. He guffawed as he told me that I looked like WEIRD AL.

He knows how to compliment a lady, doesn’t he?

Then later, he tried again.

I’m all ::completely fake grin:: “Please tell this strange man to stop SMELLING ME, if you please.”

The title of the novel and the quote at the bottom had me laughing out loud again, though.

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In our back yard, there are two fence posts, and a wooden platform going from the top of one fence post to the other. There’s a platform atop both fence posts, and the cats don’t use the whole contraption a LOT, but they use it often enough. Joe Bob especially likes to get up there and hang out underneath one of the platforms. Tommy likes to sit at the bottom and glare up at Joe Bob. (Those pieces of wood going up the fence post are “steps”. One of them got knocked crooked when Fred was mowing the lawn last year, and he hasn’t gotten around to fixing it just yet.)

Joe Bob keeps an eye on Tommy.

Tommy’s all “Maybe I’ll just lay RIGHT HERE ’til he comes down.”

“Or MAYBE I’ll hang out back here, so you will STOP pointing that damn camera at me.”

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Previously
2009: I felt SO OLD then, but 28 sounds impossibly young to me now.
2008: We had a little weirdness on Friday in the form of a super-mega-mutant egg.
2007: No entry.
2006: Today’s the 10th anniversary of the day Fred and I met.
2005: I met Fred nine years ago today.
2004: Eight years ago today, I entered the IRC Undernet channel #!Fredsplace and met the geek who owned and ran the channel, who would eventually become the love of my life. (Complete with mush!)
2003: Sick Poo.
2002: No entry.
2001: Five years ago today, I was on IRC and I wandered into the Undernet channel #!Fredsplace, and I met the love of my life. (More mush!)
2000: Four years ago today, I wandered into the IRC Undernet channel #!Fredsplace, thus setting into motion a chain of events which would echo down through the years.

3/9/10 – Tuesday

A few weeks ago, as you might recall, I posted about Hoyt, one of the foster kittens from the True Blood 6. The people who adopted him found out, through an emergency visit, that he had Feline Lower Urinary Tract Disease (FLUTD). They asked the shelter manager if she knew of any good homes because … Continue reading “3/9/10 – Tuesday”

I didn’t expect anything to come of it, but I posted about it just to see, and then Michelle came forward and said that she wanted him!

I held my breath and emailed her to make sure she was serious, then sent her the contact information for the shelter. She did all the usual stuff, filled out the application, talked to the shelter manager, and then the shelter manager talked to Hoyt’s parents to make sure they were really prepared to give him up. They were, and the date was set for the transfer, and I was even invited to come to the shelter to meet Michelle and see Hoyt again.

Did I mention that Michelle lives in North Carolina?

So, I fretted for two weeks about the whole thing – fretted that Michelle would change her mind (though she never once gave ANY kind of indication, in fact she was thrilled to be adopting Hoyt, but I’m never so happy as when I’m worrying, you know), fretted that her car would break down on the 7-8 hour trip to Alabama, fretted that she’d get here, we’d meet up at the shelter, and then Hoyt’s parents would change their minds about giving him up.

In other words, it was business as usual for me. At least I had somewhere to direct my need to worry, right?

This past Saturday came, and I left the house, headed for the shelter. Michelle was already there when I arrived, filling out paperwork, so I crossed THAT worry off my list. We went into one of the cat rooms and petted cats and waited for Hoyt and his parents to show up. They did, so I crossed THAT worry off my list, too.

(I don’t know what I’m going to worry about now!)

So Hoyt’s parents put him in the small bathroom so that he could use the litter box and calm down a little from the drive and then we stood around and talked about Hoyt.

You guys, there is no doubt in my mind that Hoyt’s parents love him and were heartbroken to be giving him up. They told us story after story about him, and he is obviously growing up to be one sweet, silly character of a kitty. He’s a talker, and will hold conversations with you, or with the wall (heh), and he loves to be held on his back like a baby. And gorgeous? OH so gorgeous!

Did I bring my camera with me. OF COURSE, I’m offended that you’d even ask such an obvious question.

Did that camera have a memory stick in it? OF COURSE NOT. Gah!

So since Hoyt had had time to chill out (though I think he might live in a state of chill, really), we went to see how he was doing. He was doing just fine, thank you, and Michelle got to hold him, and I got to pet him, and he settled down in Michelle’s arms and watched the cats in the cat room through the windows. He talked a few times, and I don’t know WHY I was so surprised, but his voice sounded exactly the same as when he lived with me!

We talked for a while longer, and then it was time to put Hoyt in his carrier and load him in Michelle’s car. Hoyt’s mom and dad said goodbye to him, and then went off to their car before they started crying (which was a relief, because no one cries alone when I’m around!), and then off Hoyt went to his new home in North Carolina!

I fretted a little, as is my way, while waiting to get word that they’d made it home safely, but Michelle was kind enough to let everyone know that she and Hoyt had made it just fine. She also reported that whenever she said something to another driver, Hoyt popped up to give ’em hell, too. HEE.

Here are a couple of pictures that Hoyt’s mom and dad shared:

Don’t his eyes look GREAT?

And then yesterday, Hoyt took paw to keyboard to send an email to let everyone know how he’s doing.

Hi Mom & Dad,

I made it to NC after a long & boring car trip. I miss you but I’m doing fine. I’ve met the other lady Julie and my big brother PitStop. That’s him in the picture. LOL the lady keeps trying to take my picture but I won’t stay still more than a minute 🙂 It’s fun watching her try.

Yesterday, the door opened and there was a big gate thing up in the doorway (baby gate) and me & my brother could see each other. He’s kind of big so I puffed up and tried to look as intimidating as I could. I don’t think it worked because he just kept coming back to the gate to see me. We chatted and smelled things out and before you know it we touched noses a few times. Then the gate was taken down (see the picture? no more gate!) and wow was I happy to see the rest of my new place!

There are STAIRS with a turn in the middle! I LOVE playing on them. You can see in my picture I am at the top of the stairs just waiting for someone to come up. I have been getting exercise by running up and down and all around. HA my big brother is SO slow; he can’t keep up with me. I have been exploring everywhere and checking it out. I like the windows so I can stalk the birds and lay in the sun. Pretty cool.

I think they are head over heels for me – I am adorable you know 🙂 pretty sweet set-up. As soon as me & my big brother know each other a little better we can team up and live like rockstars! All we have to do is be sweet and lovey to the ladies and we’ve got them wrapped around our kitty toes.

I have been eating and drinking and using the scratching post and doing all the good stuff I’m supposed to so don’t worry. You took good care of me and just so you know I gave her all kinds of hell getting that pill down me! What a rookie 🙂 lol.

Thanks for letting me come here – I will write you again soon!

This is PitStop, Hoyt’s big brother. This picture is cracking me UP. He’s all “HelLEW, laydeez!”

He’s a very good typist for a cat, isn’t he? 🙂

Thanks, Michelle, both for adopting Hoyt and for sending pictures and an update. I know that Hoyt will be happy in his new home and very well taken care of!

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Previously
2009: (Nance is laughing at me right now, I guarantee it.)
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: So when I reached down to pet his head, IT WASN’T HIS HEAD I GOT. ::shudder::
2005: Killing the messenger.
2004: Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Gather ’round, younguns, and hear the heartbreaking tale of farts and betrayal…
2000: You still love me, though, right? Um, right?

3/8/10 – Monday

Please, if you’ve ever added me as a friend on Facebook and I haven’t friended you back, friend me again, or email me and tell me to PAY THE FUCK ATTENTION TO WHAT I’M DOING, because it’s likely I wasn’t paying attention and hit “ignore” (or whatever the other option that isn’t “add as friend” is). I’ve never NOT friended someone who wanted to be Facebook BFFs and I’m pretty sure I’ve never unfriended anyone that I’ve friended, I am clearly a Facebook slut who’ll friend anyone who’ll have me.

And of course, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on my pearls of Facebook wisdom. HA.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I mentioned something to Fred the other day about Facebook, and he said “No one ever friends me on Facebook!”

“They don’t?” I said in surprise.

“Never,” he said grumpily.

“That’s strange,” I said. And then I realized.

“You don’t HAVE a Facebook page, dumbass,” I said, swatting him on the arm.

“That’s no excuse.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday mornings, Fred and I leave the house right before 7:00, so we can get to Publix the instant it opens (or shortly thereafter). Our grocery list is usually short, but I need Fred along to lift the heavy stuff (the gallon of milk and such). I’m sure he’s counting the days ’til I get clearance from the doctor to resume normal activities so he can stay at home while I schlep off to the grocery store.

We blew through Publix pretty quickly, picked up the stuff on our list, and headed for the checkout. Fred started bagging the groceries while I ran my debit card through the reader, and then I stood and watched him doing the rest of the bagging.

I glanced over as a teenage bagger, clearly intending to walk by, approached our lane. He saw me see him, winked at me, and then abruptly changed course to help Fred with the bagging duties.

Our stuff bagged, Fred and I headed for the exit, and I said (JOKINGLY, I assure you), “That kid was totally flirting with me!”

Fred smiled. “Obviously he thought you were a GILF.”

“Huh?” I said, stumped as to what the “G” could possibly stand for.

“Yeah, a GILF,” he said proudly.

“Girlfriend I’d like -?” I began.

“Grandmother,” Fred said, and grinned at me.

I swatted him on the arm, laughing.

“A girlfriend wouldn’t be buying stool softener,” he added, guffawing at his own wit.

Fucker.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On a side note, while the bagging was going on, the bagger held out to me the box of stool softener we were buying, and said “Do you want to put this in your purse?”

I struggled for a nanosecond with the idea of saying “Oh, let my husband put it in his pocket, SINCE IT’S HIS.” before I said “No, you can go ahead and bag it.”

On the way out to the car, Fred said “When the cashier was ringing everything up, I almost pointed to the box of stool softener and said ‘THAT belongs to my WIFE.'”

Tell me we’re not perfect for each other.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday we went to Dog Days, the flea market in Tennessee, because Fred got some t-shirts from there a few weeks ago, and not only were they inexpensive, they were the thick fabric he likes (he doesn’t like thin t-shirts), and they held up well in the wash. He wanted to get some more and we didn’t have anything else planned, so off we went.

That place was PACKED. The line stretched almost out to the main road, and it took forever until we got to the entrance, paid our $1 parking fee, and parked.

I told Fred I wished we’d brought a trash bag with us, because the trash by the side of the road was bumming me out. I cannot STAND the fucking garbage people toss out their windows, it drives me nuts.

(It especially drives me nuts when they do it on our lawn. A few weeks ago there was a goddamn DIAPER by the mailbox. Fred watched me go to the mailbox, get the mail, look at the diaper, and then come back to the house. He gave me hell for not picking it up, but please. I AM NOT PICKING UP SOMEONE ELSE’S SHITTY (I assume) DIAPER. If I had any idea what motherfucker tossed that on my front lawn, I would have picked it up, taken it to their house, and set it on fire on their front steps. Fuckers.)

This little swamp is by the entrance to the flea market. The little tricycle in the middle of the swamp has been there as long as I can remember. It kind of creeps me out.

So we parked, and started walking up the aisles, looking at all the usual crap. I don’t know why we bother with looking at the stuff on the near side of the bridge (there’s a small bridge over a creek), because all the stuff we’re REALLY there for – the chickens and turkeys – are on the other side of the bridge. But we moseyed along and looked at the stuff for sale, and the people who were moseying along as well, and eventually we made it to the GOOD part of the flea market.

Fred ended up buying five t-shirts (and I live in hope that he’ll get rid of the awful, hole-riddled t-shirt he bought at Fuddrucker’s in Fort Walton Beach, FL several years ago), I bought a box of Girl Scout cookies (Samoas), and we spent a lot of time looking at all the puppies for sale.

Puppies sure are cute.

We also looked in amazement at the HUGE table of pickled goods (pickles, pickled okra, pickled eggs, pickled bologna), but didn’t actually buy any of it, though I certainly made some mental notes.

We looked longingly at the chickens and turkeys and eggs, but even though we’d brought a carrier with us (just in case), we didn’t bring any living thing home. “We don’t need any more chickens” is our new motto. Not that I expect us to abide by our motto for long, but we stuck to it this time!

We were home by noon with Fred’s new shirts and my Girl Scout cookies, and spent the rest of the day hanging out like the slugs we are.

Today, it’s supposed to be sunny and 68. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it really happens!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kara says, “Come over here, darling. I won’t chew your face off. Much.”

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Not that I downloaded them illegally, because I would NEVER.
2005: “This is good!” he said. “Old people always know where the good food is!”
2004: That guy, I thought to myself, looks an AWFUL lot like Larry the Cable Guy.
2003: No entry.
2002: Know what made me laugh so hard I cried, and even now when I think about it, I grin and giggle involuntarily? The idea of a cat using the word “manipulate.”
2001: It’s a comfortable pattern for me.
2000: No entry.