Leonore gave me an ‘Irresistibly Sweet Blogger’ award, and I wrote seven random things about myself (and in turn awarded it to seven other bloggers) over at Love & Hisses.
Cilantro in the cat tree.
Sweet smilin’ Coriander.
“What?”
Coriander and Clove.
Left to right, Cilantro, Coriander, and Clove. They refused to move closer together, the brats.
::thlurrrp::
“WHOA, whoa, wait. Whatchoo MEAN it’s not snack time yet?!”
Coriander. Don’t you want to just kiss her on her little nose? She’d bite your face off, though. Don’t be fooled by the sweet face.
Coriander in motion, and Cilantro’s all “What just happened here?”
Over the weekend, we started giving Maggie and her babies some time to explore. We were worried at first that Maggie would see one of our cats growling or hissing at one of her kittens, and would rip them apart, so we kept a careful eye on her. And it’s been perfectly fine. At one point, Alice did hiss at one of the kittens, and Maggie went over and got in her face, and Alice backed right down. It’s been pretty calm, all in all.
Macushla saw Elwood and went ::FLOOF::
“HI MISTER, WHAT YOU DOIN’?” (Spanky’s sorry he ventured in to see what was going on, that’s for sure.)
One thing I like about having the McMaos in the guest bedroom is that there’s a bed where I can lay down and pet them, and they can climb all over me.
“HI MAMA WHEN YOU COMIN’ DOWN?”
“Not any time soon, child.”
So for the past few days what I do is let them out of the guest bedroom around 9 and let them run and play for a couple of hours. Between 11 and noon, they all tend to naturally wander back to the guest bedroom and curl up to sleep, so I shut the door so they can have some time away from our cats, and vice versa. Then, mid-afternoon, I open the door again, and they run around and play ’til 9:00, when we gather them up, put them back in the guest bedroom, and then shut them in for the night. It’s working out well, so far.
Loony Jake sure does love his Tommy.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: You know how it is when you have ten million errands to run, but all you want to do is get home?
2008: No entry.
2007: Today, no weeding for me.
2006: Apparently I’m high. And in desperate need of makeup.
2005: By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?”
2004: When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: But. It. Was. Too. Far. From. Huntsville.
2000: Oh look, it’s Robyn, bitching. How unusual.