About one in 3,000 tricolored cats are males, although only 1 in 10,000 of these males is fertile , so who’s the nutball now, huh?
(Don’t answer that)
Other interesting information: though calico males are rare, you can’t get someone to pay zillions of dollars for them, because even if they are fertile, chances are good they won’t father another male calico.
And Miz Poo is not a calico, but rather a tortoiseshell, because: With a calico, there is a significant amount of white, and the two colors are broken up into distinct patches. This has to do with the interaction of white spotting.
With a tortoiseshell, the three colors are blended and don’t form distinct patches. A tortoiseshell may have significant portions of white as well, but the remaining colors are blended .
Learn something new every day, don’t you?
* * *
After Tracy and Kate (I’ll refer to her as Kate from here on out, since that’s how she posts, and the Kate/ Lee thing can be a bit confusing) left, we decided it was such a beautiful day that we needed to go for a drive. We drove a big loop through Athens and some other towns (sue me, I wasn’t paying attention), through Decatur, and then home down the highway. We kept seeing cotton fields that stretched as far as the eye could see, and finally Fred stopped so we could take some pictures.
Today’s even more beautiful, if that’s possible, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature hovering around 70.
I know I’ve lived in Alabama too long when 70 is a bit too cool for me. At one point when I was in Maine we were sitting out on the back deck, and a breeze came up. I crossed my arms and shivered, and my sister said “Oh shut UP, you are NOT cold! It’s the middle of the summer!” Heh.
* * *
Friday, I opened the front door to find a bag hanging from the doorknob. Further investigation showed that it was a bag left from a dry-cleaning company that picks up and delivers. The note on the bag read “If you’re going to use our services, call (this number). If you plan to never use our services, please leave the bag by your door Saturday so that we may pick it up.”
I tossed the bag on the floor by the front door and promptly forgot about it.
Saturday while I was on the phone with Tracy discussing the kitten, the doorbell rang. I ignored it, since I wasn’t expecting any company and also since I was in the middle of a phone call. Later, we found a note on the front door that basically reiterated everything that the note on the bag said, and if we were never going to use their services, to leave the bag by the front door and they’d pick it up.
Now, here’s the thing. It’s not that I really want to keep the bag (I did mean to hang it out this morning but forgot), but I’m of the mind that if you leave something on my front door, it pretty much becomes mine. (If you’d like my address so that you can leave a big bag of money hanging off the doorknob, just let me know)(stalkers need not apply) And it’s a nice, sturdy bag. Also, “never” is a broad span. What if at some point in the future I start wearing clothes that need dry-cleaning, and I want the handy-dandy drop off-pick up feature? Shouldn’t I hang on to the bag just in case?
Ah me, what a dilemma.
* * *
Spanky was sitting in the computer room, minding his own business. Along came Miz Poo, who decided she wanted to be startin’ somethin’.
“You tawkin’ to me?”
“Well I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re tawkin’ to?”
Spanky’s about ready to put the smack down (note his tail, which was whipping around so furiously that it’s blurred in the picture).
Sadly, they were distracted by Fred before the smack could be put down.]]>