* * * GodDAMN the flies are about to drive me fucking mad. It’s not that the house is swarming with flies, but I’ve usually got one dive-bombing me when I sit at my desk and there’s invariably another one buzzing around in the kitchen. I’ve got fly swatters in both rooms, but I’m not terribly coordinated and I rarely get the goddamn things on the first try. (Miz Poo, upon seeing me pick up a fly swatter and walk toward her, whines and runs away. Like I beat her spoiled ass on a regular basis! I don’t, but I oughta. She deserves it.) Flies, to me, are the nastiest fucking things on earth. I can handle most any kind of bug (which is not to say that I deliberately get close to them or pick them up with my BARE HANDS or anything, but I they don’t usually make me want to take a boiling-hot shower), but the thought of flies flying about my house makes me want to barf. Possibly it’s because when I was a kid, I was ADDICTED to tuna sandwiches, and one day I was making my lunch and I took the container of tuna out of the fridge, and there was a dead fly floating in a pool of mayonnaise, and I do believe I haven’t eaten a tuna sandwich since. The thought makes me nauseous. I can’t even stand the smell of tuna anymore. BLEGH. The flies are worst in and around the chicken coop, not surprisingly. And not surprisingly, I don’t go out to the chicken coop unless I have to. (Did you read that we’ve started getting eggs?) What’s worse is that the fucking flies buzz around slowly and lazily in the heat outside, then they come inside and they’re rejuvenated by the air conditioning, and they turn into speedy little motherfuckers, buzzing around and easily dodging my klutzy attempts to get them with the fly swatter. God, I hate flies. ::shudder::
Also not fond of these. But they tend to keep their distance and not dive-bomb me, so we live in harmony. Unless there’s one in the bathtub, whereupon I direct Fred to either pick it up and take it outside, or kill it. I’m not going near the goddamn thing – you see how LONG their fucking legs are? I don’t want them TOUCHING ME with those things. ::shudder::
The chickens don’t care at all, and he’s not that interested in the chickens, just in being under the coop, where it’s nice and cool. He hung out for ten minutes, then climbed back over the gate and went inside with me when I was done hanging laundry.
3. I took Gilligan and Spanky to the pet store on Friday. They were FREAKED OUT and immediately climbed into the litter box to hide.
Break my heart, why don’tcha?
I don’t know if they’ve been adopted yet – I’m heading out to the pet store in a little while; I’ll report back on them tomorrow.
The last of the pictures I took of them before we left for the pet store are here.
4. The only reason I never separated the kittens – like someone suggested a while back – is because we couldn’t stand the thought of a kitten sitting in the guest bedroom, separated from his or her sibling, all sad and lonely with no one to play with.
We are idiots.
When I got back from taking Spanky and Gilligan to the pet store, I went up to see Maryanne. I brought the carrier in with me, because I like to leave a carrier in the room with the fosters so they’ll get used to its presence, so that when the time comes I can snatch them up and toss them in there and they won’t know what hit ’em. Anyway, I put the carrier down and opened the door. She hopped down off the cat tree, went into the carrier, sniffed the towel where her brothers had so recently been, made a sound of confusion, and licked the towel.
I felt like the most heartless, evil bitch in the world.
And THEN. What did she do? She came over to me to be petted. She came OVER to ME to BE PETTED. On PURPOSE. And she was a little skittish, but she let me pet her. And then she flopped over and made me pet her some more. And then she rubbed against me and purred and meowed. Then, when Tommy tapped at the door to be let in, instead of hissing and running from him like she’d done every single time we let him into the foster room in the past, she ran over to him and rubbed up against him.
It’s a goddamn Christmas miracle in August, is what it is.
We’ve pretty much let her have the run of the house the last few days and she’s been playing and running and meowing (girlfriend has some LUNGS, and plenty to say) and just generally making herself at home. She’s still a bit skittish – she doesn’t like you walking toward her or standing over here – but if you get on her level, she’ll come for some loving. She lets Fred pick her up and hold her, and she and Fred (and Miz Poo!) took a nap together yesterday.
I will never doubt the advice to split up skittish kittens again, I swear it.
“I am a pretty, pretty princess.”
“And I am the Queen, bitch.”
She’s not a lap-sitter, but it’s early days yet. I think she’ll get there!
Someone left a perfectly good cat’s head on the side stoop! (I know y’all KNOW that the rest of Newt is laying (attached to his head) on the second step, but for the idiot (yeah, I know you’re there, Skimmy McDumbass) who thinks that, seriously, there’s a goddamn cat head laying on my stoop and I’m taking a PICTURE of it*, hi. His body is resting (attached to his head) on the second step. It’s a funny picture, see? Ha! Ha! Ha?)
*Oh, ALRIGHT. I think we all know that if someone HAD left a cat head on my side stoop, probably I would have taken a picture of it. I wouldn’t have shared it in my journal, though, ’cause I’m not THAT much of an ass. Bugs? Yes. Cat heads? Not so much.
Sadly there was an incident here this summer where some dumbass coaxed and trapped a family’s pet cat, killed it, and left its head on their doorstep. Authorities are still looking for the cat killer. The family moved in to the neighborhood last fall and was immediately notified via anonymous letters that the neighbors all hated cats. Nice.
Last night my DH was supposed to cook dinner (steak, baked potatoes, corn on the cob – grilltypemanstuff). As his car races (NASCAR, Indy) didn’t finish until after 6pm, he got a bit of a late start. Walking out the door to fire up the grill, he said, “I’m going to start dinner.” Twenty minutes later, he said, “steaks are ready” and gave me this expectant look. See, when *I* cook dinner, I cook ALL of the dinner, set the table and put the food out before calling anyone. HE was under the delusion that his only part in this meal was grilling the meat. Dumb DH. It was another 30 minutes before I got the rest of it done and we ate. Guess who did the dishes – not the Cannuck. I’m right there with ya, Robyn. *sigh* And to think I cooked him and the kids bacon and eggs this morning. Did all of that too. *anothersigh*
I guess I don’t need to say “I told ya so” about separating the kittens so they’d have to come to you for lovin’, in order to tame them down, so I will try to refrain from saying it. Oops. Does saying I’m refraining from saying it count as saying it? Oh well. I’m glad it worked, anyway! She’s such a pretty kitty, she’ll be adopted in a heartbeat!
Sweet little Maryanne, glad to hear she’s come out of her shell. For the most part anyway.
What would’ve made that picture even better of Newt would be if his tongue was sticking out just a little bit. A tiny little pink tongue, it would be priceless.
I was about to say something jokey about Newt’s picture, then read Amy’s comment. What in the holy FUCK is wrong with people??? What kind of mentality takes pleasure in that sort of act???
Frankly, I think anyone who abuses an animal should have the same treatment in kind as punishment. Yes, beheading sounds pretty good to me right now…
LMAO off at he de-“cat”-ipated pic!
I think Maryanne is buttering you up for something, what do you guys think? 😉
We have a bug zapper – it looks pretty much like a small badminton racquet, but in the handle is a small place for a battery, and when you hold down a small button and swat any kind of flying insect with it, there’s a * ZAP ! * and the bug is fried into nothing-ness. I have no idea what the thing is called – it was a gift from my dad a few years ago – but I bet you and your mad computer skilz could conjure it up with google. Definitely worth having – besides the fact that you kill the bugs, you also get to experience the thrill of the hunt.
We still want her…
Amy: That is just horrifying!
Lo: You absolutely did tell me so! 🙂 In my defense, every time I brought up the idea of separating them, Fred would give me the sad eyes and tell me it would be cruel and they’d be lonely and wahhhh, big crybaby. Next time I won’t listen to him!
Jenn: I’m not kidding about meeting you halfway! 🙂
You can spread diatomaceous earth (not the swimming pool kind) around the chicken coop to help with flies.
I’m not a fan of spiders but Daddy Long Legs hold some odd comfort for me. Must be some buried sub-conscious thing going on.
So, you’re telling me: if I can separate the two feral kitten rescues for now, they will warm up to me more quickly? Hrrmmm. I might have to try this method. It does seem CRUEL and UNUSUAL since they love each other so much, but if it’ll help them get tame more quickly, I might have to go buy me another kitty crate!
Heya Robyn,
I grew up in the sticks and we always used water traps for flies and such. I am not sure where you get them, but I think you could ask a feed store or ACE hardware.
For fly catching:
1/2 water & 1/2 cider vinegar (not the white kind) in a mason jar, put a drop or two of dish detergent in the mixture to break the surface tension. Put saran wrap over the mouth of the jar and poke a few holes. Replace mixture once a week or when it gets gross.
we bought some kind of thing at the co-op that you fill with sugar water and they can fly in but they can’t fly out. you just have to clean the nasty bastard out which is dis-fucking-gusting. we have also used old timey flypaper that hangs down and twirls, but we put the strips well away from our yard’s traffic flow, because the only thing worse that a dirty scrunchy in your hair is a strip of sticky flypaper!
I almost forgot about that Fred story. I remember being pissed that the cops weren’t more ‘with it’…but what can they really do, other than be aware that a future serial killer is lurking among them?
Some psycho was killing and skinning dogs next town over. It was near Christmas time too. Pent up religious rage?!?!
We were grateful for NO pics accompanying those news stories!!
you can also use a 2 liter bottle for a fly trap. Cut it around 6 inches from the bottom and 3-4 inches from the top. invert the top so it points into the bottom. Add the vinegar/honey/applejuice/etc… to the inside, and hang up. flys can find their way in, but can’t get back out.
I once heard that daddy long legs [the spider in the picture] are actually quite deadly to humans but their fangs aren’t long enough to puncture our skin. I can’t verify whether this is true, and naturally I’m way too lazy to actually Google it [instead I’m typing it here, hah] but I will always believe that it’s true regardless of whether or not it is, and I will always be completely frightened of them because of it. Anyone know if it’s true?
Was just searchin’ the Web about some cat toys and found this page. Seen the cat’s head on the stoop, and how you explained it. So damn funny…I couldn’t stop laughing. Great site! Thanks for the humor, I needed that today!
when i was a kid growing up in montana one of our favorite things to do, and this is, was to catch daddy long legs and pull all of their legs off but one and watch try to squirm around. yeah i know…wtf??