Since I did nothing of interest yesterday (worked in the garden, vacuumed, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, snorrrrre) and need to clear off my hard drive before I go through the ten million pictures on my camera’s memory stick, I present nothin’ but kitty pics to you. THOU ART WELCOME.
Miss Dorfy loves her some Jake.
She’s so happy, she’s making biscuits on the back of his neck.
Did I mention that pile of cat beds? I took them off the guest bedroom and tossed them near the back door, which is by the washer and dryer, intending to wash them at some point. Before I could wash them, the cats discovered them, and there’s been at least one cat on that pile of beds at all times. Usually it’s Dorothy, sometimes it’s Alice, occasionally Jake’s there, too. Had I realized what a huge hit that pile of beds would be, I’d have put some there long ago.
The Spice Girls are settling in nicely. We’re having some litterbox issues, which really is a theme for us – we get kittens who have perfectly perfect litterbox leavings, and after a few days things get soft and messy. These girls – at least one of them, probably all of them – have roundworms and are currently being treated. It’s not slowing them down any, though.
Cilantro and Clove.
Clove at the water bowl.
I don’t know what it is about this scratcher, but all the kittens who have entered the foster room like to sniff this corner while they’re considering their next move.
Sweet Cilantro, perfecting the look of innocence (don’t be fooled).
Coriander, relaxing…
::maniacal laughter::
The McMaos, before I moved them to the guest bedroom.
Declan, sniffing the stuffed parrot whilst considering his next move.
Cillian in motion.
Declan, watching whatever it is that’s going on over there.
Finnegan surrenders. “Ya gots me, copper!”
Fergus Simon’s spotted belly just kills me dead. He is such a beautiful boy.
My favorite part of this picture is Declan over there to the right with the green plastic ring in his mouth, all “Eh? What’s he doin’?”
I’m pretty sure that all kittens are 89% insane, as illustrated by Macushla. If those aren’t crazy eyes, I don’t know what is (are?)
“Up or down? Climb up so I can throw myself off the top platform, or down so I can kick my brother’s tail? Oh, the dilemma!”
This is totally like that episode of Friends where they were trying to poke Ugly Naked Guy to make sure he was still alive, no?
Like mother…
…like daughter. ‘Nipheads, both of ’em!
Thanks to reader Cyndi, the McMaos are undergoing rigorous box training. Here we see Cillian doing his best to get his daily intake of cardboard.
I suspect when I’m not around, Fergus Simon gives up all pretense and actually walks around on his hind feet all the time. Then it’s like “Oh, here comes the human!” and he drops to all fours.
::leap::
I’m not sure what caused it, but Declan was feeling a bit floofy.
I love how Macushla’s all frantically “No! Stop! Don’t!” and Declan’s not even aware Mac is there.
Ciara in motion.
Cillian’s got the crazies.
::chompchompchomp:: “This stuff is almost tasty. I hope it really does help me grow up big and strong!”
“You want to feed me. Youuuuu waaaaaant to feeeed meeeee…”
“I’m IN the box. NOW what?”
Sheriff Kara keeps an eye on things. Who’s misbehaving? Or rather, I should ask: who ISN’T misbehaving?
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: The thing I hate about canisters is that that goddamn canister is always in the way.
2006: “TURN LEFT HERE OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL.”
2005: No entry.
2004: It was like being in a flying SUV.
2003: No entry.
2002: It was a stank that coated the inside of my nostrils, and was so thick and noxious that I could actually TASTE it.
2001: A buncha links.
2000: Something about that rictus grin just gives me nightmares.