Edited to add: I don’t know why I thought it was square. Here it is (if that link doesn’t work, search on “Kool Dogz Ice Treat Maker”). Though why you couldn’t just use a plain ol’ $5 bucket from Target, I don’t know.
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From my comments:
Have you seen the Animal Planet show “Meerkat Manor“? It’s been on a for a few seasons, but I just discovered it. [snip] Both cats then proceed to watch the show INTENTLY. We had five episodes Tivo’d and they sat there watching the entire time. It’s like kitty crack or a kitty soap opera. They LOVED it and it really was the cutest thing to see them watching, their little heads moving back and forth to follow the action.
I’ve watched a couple of episodes of Meerkat Manor, and I think it’s about the cutest thing ever. We only watched a few episodes, though, and then the DVR stopped recording it, and it completely left my mind that I’d ever watched it, and now I think I’ll go set the DVR to catch some more episodes. The cats weren’t interested in it, though – our cats are rarely interested in what’s on TV. Unless we’re watching a loud movie with lots of bass, and then That Badass Mister Boogers gets all scared and runs out of the room.
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My 15 year old cat became depressed while I was away for two weeks and he lost a lot of weight. He stopped eating but would drink water. I have been force feeding him baby food, between 1 and 2 jars a day if I am lucky. He seems like he put on a pound or two but I still feel his spine when I pet him. I have not taken him in to the vet because I know they are going to tell me terrible things. If he is going to die then I don’t want to torture him first. He is alert, loving and I still can get him to purr. Do you have any advice?
My only advice is to take him to the vet. It’s better to know what you’re dealing with – and it really could be something easily cured, it’s not necessarily something horrible or anything that will require a lot of treatment (ie, torture). You’re honestly going to be better off knowing what’s going on, rather than not knowing, and thinking the worst.
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I think you should name a future foster kitty pattypan. I don’t know why, but it cracks me up every time I read it.
I think that’s an EXCELLENT idea. Maybe I’ll name the next bunch of fosters after things from the garden – Zucchini and Pattypan and Sunflower, maybe?
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I know you probably addressed this but your ‘past entries’ reminded me…. do you miss the pool? Will you be putting a pool in at the new place?
Surprisingly, I don’t miss the pool we had at our first house, at all. There are times when it’s really hot out, and I think it would be nice to go for a swim, but for the most part, I don’t really miss it. There are no plans to get a pool at this point, but who knows? Things change! Now if we could buy that quarry (the one we used to swim at, that has since been closed to the public), that’d be something else entirely.
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Gosh Robyn, you really haven’t said much about the Spud moving to Rhode Island. How are you feeling about the whole thing? How soon does she plan to come and visit? I’m not sure I’d be handling it as well as you seem to be. Is she driving to Rhode Island by herself???
The other night in bed, Fred and I were discussing what we were having for dinner for the rest of the week, and he said “What are we having Thursday?” and I said “A big bowl of PAR-TAY.”
I KID.
I’m dealing surprisingly well with the situation, though I’ve been weepier than usual over the past week or so. The thing is that we’re used to her going away for several weeks every summer, so it really just seems like the same sort of thing. I expect it won’t really sink in that she’s gone until August comes, and rather than coming home to get ready to start school, she’ll still be gone.
I don’t know when she’s planning to come visit – she hasn’t said anything about it, so we’ll see.
She’s not driving to Rhode Island by herself, there’s no way on earth my nerves could take it if she was doing that. Her father is flying down from Rhode Island tomorrow, they’re spending the night in a hotel, and hitting the road early Thursday morning. If he wasn’t flying down, I was fully prepared to step in and tell her I’d drive to Rhode Island with her. She hasn’t made any long road trips – not to Birmingham or Nashville, even – and the idea of her driving all that distance by herself? No way I could handle that!
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It’s almost time for the spud to go, huh? 🙁 Will she have a gaggle of cats waiting for her at her new home, or is she gonna have to go cold turkey? Which of the cats at your house is she gonna miss the most? Are any of the 6 (eight!) “her” cat?
Her father and stepmother have two cats, so she won’t go catless, thank god. I’m not sure which cat she’ll miss the most, though I think it’ll probably come down to Miz Poo or Mister Boogers; both of them like to hang out in her room, and I know Mister Boogers tends to sleep with her (he’s a bed hog, she has reported). None of them are really “her” cat, but they all like her plenty. They think she’s the cat’s pajamas!
Maxi thinks she might like a trip to Rhode Island, though.
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Warning: Grossness ahead. Avoid this section if you’re eating or have a weak stomach.
This morning I got up at 6 (which I’ve been doing more often than not lately; even if I WANT to sleep in, my eyes pop open at 6. Ugh.), puttered around the house, and then went outside to fill the bird feeders and clean and refill the bird baths. I had just filled a bird feeder when I looked down and saw two worms squirming around.
“Hey, the chickens would like those!” I said, and picked them up.
Let me pause for a moment to reiterate – I PICKED THEM UP. Worms. I picked them up. With my veryown hands. WHO AM I AND WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH THE REAL ROBYN?
So I picked up the worms and walked into the back yard, and as I crossed the lawn to the chicken yard, I saw a rather large, dead mouse laying there. Fred leaves a couple of gates to the back yard open at night so Maxi and Newt can come and go as they please. Apparently Maxi, the mighty mighty hunter, had killed a mouse and kindly left it for our indoor kitties to snack upon. Luckily, they hadn’t found it yet.
I tossed the worms to the chickens, who looked at the worms, then looked at me, and said “Lady. Seriously. This is all you’ve got? WORMS? Give us something good. Give us some CHICKEN or some egg salad, for the love of BUG-AWK.”
Then I walked back to where the dead mouse was laying, and I regarded it, and I pondered. Did I leave it there until Fred got home and let him deal with it? No, because our indoor kitties might decide to snack upon it and then come inside and barf up mouse pieces all over the house. I considered getting a shovel, picking it up with that, and tossing it into the ditch, but finally I told myself to MAN UP, NANCY, bent over, and picked it up by the tail.
Involuntary, I shuddered and made the GOOD CHRIST THIS IS NASTY face, and high-stepped it for the unfenced area of the yard. I got through the gate and then stood for a moment to consider what I wanted to do. Did I want to carry it alllll the way to the ditch, or did I want to leave it near the tree for Fred to deal with?
As I stood there, the corpse of the mouse turned a bit in the breeze, making its tail twist between my thumb and forefinger, and it felt EXACTLY like the tail was moving – as if the mouse had come back to life and was considering the best way to gnaw my face off – and in one smooth movement I did a two-step dance move that looked like something from
Lord of the Dance, screamed a hooting sort of shriek, and flung the mouse away from me.
It landed next to the nearest tree and I winced and gagged and shuddered, and decided to leave it there. I headed to the garage to get more bird seed to fill the bird feeders, and on my way to the garage I saw a second – much smaller – dead mouse.
I kicked it over by the other one; Fred can deal with them both when he gets home.
An hour later, after a quick trip to the recycling center, I walked from the driveway to the door and looked over to see Newt. Who was hunched over the bigger of the two mice. Chewing on it.
BLEGH.
The mighty, mighty huntress.
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I took the kittens to the vet for their rabies shots yesterday. When I walked in, I said “Just so you know, these kittens aren’t friendly at all. They’re pretty wild.” and the vet assistant looked worried, and she said “Do they scratch?”
I said, “They don’t really scratch, they just kind of hiss and growl and flail around a lot.”
“Oh great,” she said, and opened the carrier. She reached in to grab Gilligan, and they hissed and backed up, and she withdrew her hand. “They’re YOUR fosters,” she said. “I think YOU should get them out!”
I reached in and grabbed Maryanne, who hissed and flailed, but once I got her out and was holding her by the nape of the neck, she just looked angry. They all got weighed and got their shots, and then were happy to be back in their carrier, huddled together and full of hatred.
In a few hours I’ll be running Tina Louise to the pet store, and hopefully someone will fall in love with her goofy little face and her beauty mark and adopt her immediately.
Fingers crossed!
Gilligan in the hammock.
“I am highly suspicious of your intentions, lady.”
Mister Suspicious and the Lovebug.
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I got this little stair thingy on eBay from the same people I got the cat tree from, and I put it in front of the window next to my desk in the computer room. See, there used to be a recliner there, and Spot liked to lay on the back of the recliner and look out the window, but we moved the recliner to the front room and so Spot’s been hanging out there instead. So I saw this stair thingy and thought it would be perfect for Spot, because he’s old and doesn’t move as easily as he used to. Only, Spot could NOT be less interested in it; instead, Tommy and Mister Boogers fight for dominance of the stair thingy. They like to snooze on the top step and sometimes dig through the trash and see if there’s anything interesting.
Why he doesn’t just go to the front porch to stay dry, I don’t know.
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Previously
2006: Playing with tigers.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: How to kick a sock’s ass. If it had an ass.
2002: “What’s your name?” he asked.
2001: No entry.
2000: Leave it to me to have sex dreams about the gay guy, huh?]]>