Attention, those of you in the Phoenix/ Scottsdale, AZ area. Two cats who were abandoned by their owners desperately need a safe home, whether it be a temporary foster, or a loving forever home.
From Abigail:
I’m trying to help two cats in fairly desperate need of foster or permanent homes in Phoenix/Scottsdale Arizona. Details can be read here.
The short version is that friends of mine have been caring for two cats, Red and Scoots, who were left behind when their owners were evicted and chose not to take the cats with them. They didn’t have room to foster the cats due to their resident cats, but they set up shelters, food, and made arrangements to get the cats neutered. This weekend Red was attacked by a dog, and will probably lose an eye as a result. They’ve brought him in to recuperate, and through donations we’re close to having the vet costs covered, but his presence is making the resident cat sick, and his brother is still outside and unsafe.
We’re desperate to find homes, foster or permanent, for these delightful and sweet-natured cats, who retain affectionate and loving natures despite the poor way they’ve been treated. If you know any foster or adoptive homes in the area, can you please contact Project Cat, or pass the word so we can find them a safe harbor?
Please spread the word!
Fred’s long short story/ novella is now available for 99 cents! You can buy it at Amazon here, or Barnes and Noble, here. (He’s working on getting it put up on Smashwords.)
If you’d like to read a sample to decide whether or not to download it, you can do so here.
Time to let me know if you want a holiday postcard! (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .
I’ll take names and addresses until December 20th.
If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.
To address some comments y’all left last week (because I have nothing to write about today), I did not in fact use the SCOOP HANDS to help herd the ducks out to the pond. This is because I think SCOOP HANDS are in the garage somewhere, and I didn’t think about it before I went out to the back forty. And oh, y’all, the trek from the back forty to the garage is soooooo lonnnnnnnng and I didn’t waaaaaaanna, so I didn’t. (Can you imagine what a big whiny baby I’d be if the back forty was actually forty acres?) Luckily, the ducks all stick together so closely that the SCOOP HANDS were unneeded.
We discovered over the weekend that there’s a good reason that the ducks don’t go out to the pond. And that reason is that Fred moved the bale of hay (or straw, I don’t know which it is, and I don’t care. Probably straw, though.) away from the hole in the fence between the chicken yard and the pig yard, and the ducks went through said hole in the fence.
What did the ducks discover in the pig yard (side musing: is it still a pig yard if there are no pigs in it? I say yes.), you ask? They discovered the pig wallow. Thus the reason the ducks aren’t hauling their cookies out to the pond. They’re paddling around in the damn pig wallow!
Super awesome good news that we dug a pond for them, isn’t it?
Okay, we didn’t have the pond dug FOR the ducks, we mostly did it to help with the winter time flooding in the back forty and so that Fred could harass me to get a goose (JESUS CHRIST GET THE GODDAMN GOOSE AND SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE), but we did hope that the ducks would use the pond. Hopefully if/ when the pond is full, the ducks won’t be able to resist all that water. I guess if they prefer the pig wallow, though, they can have at it.
Also (saving the pics for Thursday), we herded the ducks back out to the pond over the weekend. I think part of the reason they’re not using the water in the pond is because it’s so low that the side of the pond looks kind of like a cliff to them, and they probably feel hemmed in and threatened. We got them to go into the pond, they paddled around for a few minutes, and then they were like “Okay, we swam. WE WANNA GO HOME!”
They certainly are amusing birds, those ducks.
Oh, and last week when I was talking about the mood swings and such, several people emailed and commented to suggest that I was probably going through peri-menopause or menopause.
Which I might agree with if perhaps I had a uterus and ovaries, or even just ovaries. However, they were removed almost two years ago.
While I won’t completely discount the idea that perhaps they are being kept alive in a lab somewhere and sending out evil rays to make my life difficult, I think the more likely explanation for the mood swings is the one I mentioned: I recently started back on hormone replacement therapy, and it took two to three weeks for my body to acclimate to the hormones last time, thus I expect it will be the same this time around, too (I already am starting to feel better.)
I’ve got to say that I’m still not sold on the idea that I need hormone replacement therapy – I felt perfectly fine after I went off them last year, and it’s only because my Gynecologist strongly recommended that I go back on them that I did. I’m giving it a full three months this time around, and then I’m going to decide whether to go off of them or not, and if I decide to go off them and she gives me shit, I’ll goddamn well change doctors. The entire reason she’s my doctor is because 15 years ago when I was looking for a gyno, I wanted a female doctor, and she was the only one in the entire yellow pages that I could tell was definitely female. I’ve never really warmed to her – I love my Primary Care Physician and my Gastroenterologist, I’ve always told myself that I don’t have to love every one of my doctors – but I wouldn’t object to a Gynecologist with a warm and fuzzy bedside manner, y’know?
I will say this: almost two years after they were yanked out of my body, I do not miss my uterus OR my ovaries one teeny tiny bit. BEST SURGERY DECISION EVER.
Also, that hot flash I thought I was having last week? Turned out to be less of a hot flash and more a matter of Fred failing to turn down the heat at bedtime. The heat vent is directly over my bed, and thus the reason I woke up so damn hot.
Lita asked in the comments just what exactly the words to Maxi’s theme song are. This theme song right here, which I play at least three times a day and laugh like a dork every time:
The words are thus:
Porkin’ along
Singin’ her song
It’s Out! Side! Mama! ::jazz hands::
Explanation: Maxi’s other name is “Outside Mama” (Kara is “Upstairs Mama”) and she’s, well, a bit portly (especially when she’s bulking up for the winter), and usually when she walks toward us, she meows constantly. So I started saying “There she is, porking along, singing her song”, and that’s most of the theme song right there.
Patty would like y’all to know that Charlie’s not the only one with pretty, pretty eyes.
Nor is he the only one who knows about chillin’ like a villain.
“My brother is NOT the only talented one, you know!”
Jake’s face cracks me UP, here. “Can’t you make him stop?”
I’m sure I’ve mentioned that Charlie and Patty adore batting at the big cats’ tails. Jake and Tommy are most often the victims because they’ll put up with it the longest. Please note that Patty’s arm is sticking through one of those holes as she smacks at Charlie who’s smacking at Jake.
Patty joins in smacking at Jake’s tail.
Poor Jake. He puts up with a lot from those kittens, doesn’t he?
That thing Jake’s laying on, by the way, is a Bootsie’s Bunk Bed and Playroom. We have one upstairs and one down, and sometimes they’re popular with the cats, and sometimes the cats are like “That thing? Ugh.” I had to toss the red bed that goes on the top because I washed it, and then it was all lumpy and annoying and grrrr I just hate it when that happens. So I usually keep a folded blanket or towel there, and the cats seem to like it. (Some day I’ll sew a pad that will fit there perfectly, but it won’t be today. Tomorrow’s not looking good for that, either.)
My only gripe with that thing is that eventually the kittens yank the toys off the little sticks that screw into the side, and despite repeated queries to the company that manufactures the thing, I’ve never gotten a reply on how or where to get replacement toys. Look, I’m WILLING to pay for them, and I’m SURE I’m not the only one who has the issue, you’d think the company could offer replacement toys, am I right?
Patty eventually gave up on Jake’s tail and went to lay near Fred’s dirty shoes and play with other toys.
It’s da Poo.
Previously
2010: Speaking of hair, I do not believe that the Navy would have allowed one of their hotshot pilots to sport hair of this altitude.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: I’m a Grinch, and not only a Grinch, but a LAZY Grinch who doesn’t want to have to pick shit up all the time.
2006: I need a vacation, is what I need.
2005: When and if – and I mostly mean “when” – these two break up, I hope there’s a lot of interesting drama.
2004: It’s now my goal to make him CRY when he tries the next batch of chick peas.
2003: “What the FUCK? That is my BUTT you’re sniffing. And it TICKLES.”
2002: $4.49 for a freakin’ book? What the hell are they wrapping it with, gold?
2001: Is that a sex thing?
2000: Damn, isn’t Christmas here yet?
1999: Someone shoot me and put me out of my fucking misery, won’t you?