An acidic and hostile place: since 1999
"These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve." Rebuilding Ground Zero. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 2010 2009 2008 2007 2006 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003 2002 2001 2000
Note: Pardon any typos, I didn’t proofread before posting this (because I wanted to get it posted), so there are probably 10 zillion typos. Sorry ’bout that. đ Attention, those of you in the Roanoke, VA area! Barbara needs help finding a home (or a rescue) for a dog: The dog is ours, Dodger. He … Continue reading “9/9/11 – Friday”
Note: Pardon any typos, I didn’t proofread before posting this (because I wanted to get it posted), so there are probably 10 zillion typos. Sorry ’bout that. đ
Attention, those of you in the Roanoke, VA area! Barbara needs help finding a home (or a rescue) for a dog:
The dog is ours, Dodger. He is an Australian Shepherd/Collie mix. We got him in April as a 6 week puppy. To cut to the chase, he is aggressive towards our youngest, Erin, who is 7, and shook one of our cats so badly, she is at the vets with a spinal cord injury and we are trying to decide what to do…. We have 6 other cats that I have kept inside, because I didn’t feel like putting Dodger in his kennel is fair either. But the cats are in/out cats so that isn’t fair to them. He has collie coloring, but the blue/brown eye combo of a shepherd. He loves to run. He would do well in a house with teenagers and no cats. Our shelter is full, I tried the Australian shepherd rescue group and haven’t heard back, and I tried a local no kill, and haven’t heard back from them either.
Our animals add so much to our lives, but this is the hard part, isn’t it? Finding a safe home for the pet who hurt our beloved Tabby Dabby, and trying to decide if Tabby needs put down.
If you can help or know a person or rescue who can or have any questions, please email me (mizrobyn (at) gmail (dot) com), and I’ll pass your email on to Barbara.
Attention, those of you in the NYC/ NJ area! Gail’s looking for help:
A kitten literally followed me into my car this morning. Literally. First day of school (I’m a teacher). Sigh. NYC is famous for alley cats. I can’t help them all, but when one runs over to you in a moving car…
And I still have three warehouse kittens. And am moving in 20 days. If you could think of anything to help, I would appreciate it.
BTW, all he does in purr and purr and lick and snuggle. And eat.
Here he is pre-bath:
Here are some pics of him cleaned up. They are bad, because he doesn’t know how to be still. He took a bath and didn’t fuss, and allowed me to blow dry him. He is a charmer for sure, just can’t be still.
If anyone can help, or has any ideas or questions for Gail, please email me (mizrobyn (at) gmail (dot) com) and I’ll pass your emails along to her!
an update to the spay/neuter clinics closing letter campaign:
Just got a thank you letter from one of “my” state senators (who I wouldn’t vote for if my life depended on it) thanking me for writing to him and explaining to me as though I were an idiot, how Alabama was out of his jurisdiction and why he couldn’t do anything about the issue.
So, to answer my original question, yeah you have to be an Alabama voter for your letter to count. If you’re not, it seems your letter will be forwarded to one of your state senators.
Thanks for the update, Maxie! I suppose it makes sense that only votes from Alabama count, doesn’t it? But still. Hmph!
And I’m glad you DON’T have a time machine, because if you hadn’t handed out your phone number, who knows what would’ve happened to Patty? That poor baby. At least now, whatever happens from here on out, she’ll face it in a warm, dry, safe, well-fed, and well-loved place.
This is very very true – I’m glad I did hand out my phone number! I’d much much rather have her here with me than with that family or even worse, left under the trailer.
We have a bottle fed kitten right now. Our neighbors found him? her (I can’t tell) under their porch during Hurricane Irene. Mama cat had a whole litter and she moved them but left this little guy behind. They watched for about an hour and Mama never came back and the poor little guy was wet and crying. They brought him over to us and I’ve been caring for him. He’s a feisty little guy and eats like a champ! I thought he was about a week old when we got him because his eyes weren’t open yet. they opened on Saturday. But his teeth are coming in and he weighs about 13 oz. so I think I am off on the age.
This is a good guide to aging kittens by teeth. Using their teeth to determine how old they are is (I believe) a more accurate way than by weight – as an example, there’s a 9 ounce difference between Charlie and Patty! (She’s doing her best to close that gap, though. Girlfriend can EAT.)
What kind of nail scratcher thingee is that? it’s all curvy and I love it! I’m using the cardboard box kind for Mackie. He just will not use an upright pole type scratcher. Well, other than the end of the sofa, I mean. But that curvy kind of scratcher looks like something he would like and it’s way more estheticallly pleasing than a cardboard box!
That is a Grreat Choice Corrugated Scratcher. I got it back when Maggie was pregnant because the scratcher that was in the foster room – also by Grreat Choice – was so light that it would move across the room when she used it, and it was clearly annoying her. And we canNOT have an annoyed Mama, so I bought something heavier for her to use.
Joe Bob is a TALKER??? I LOVE chatty cats!!
He is SUCH a talker. I try and try to get him to talk for me on video, but he absolutely refuses. I’ll get him one day, mark my word!
Have you seen Kathy’s newest blog entry featuring Reacher Creature?
I have! I love that Reacher has acclimated so well after such a rocky beginning. I have to admit that when, for a little while, we thought Reacher might have to come back here, I wasn’t absolutely heartbroken at the thought, because he was pretty good with the Brady Bunch and well – you can always use cats who’ll put up with the shenanigans of little kittens! But I love love love that Reacher is so happy now. It was a long rough road, but he’s in a great home and clearly loves his brudder, so I’m glad I let him go! (Also glad that I get to see pictures of him from time to time!)
I have only had one gray tabby cat, and wonder if the brown tabbies are more common than gray?
I’d say brown tabbies are definitely more common than gray – we’ve had a ton of them come through here, but not very many silver tabbies. I’m sure that Reacher wasn’t our very first one, but other than Reacher, Rufus, and now Molly, I don’t remember any other silver tabbies.
Reacher and Jan Brady.
Rufus.
Oh, wait! Of course. Maddy’s a silver tabby! How could I forget? Here she is, little and grown up:
I love me some SOA, but that whole going-to-Ireland thing bored the hell out of me.
Oh god, did that storyline not drag on FOREVER? The worst part is that I could not understand one damn word that came out of Jimmy O’Phelan’s (aka “The man in black” from Lost) mouth. I told Fred at one point that we should turn on the closed-captioning so I’d know what the hell was going on.
IANAS (I Am Not A Skimmer) but… I just re-read that 2002 post and WHAT DID YOU BUY with all your water bubbler moneys? (Do you call that a water bubbler? Whatever, you will now.) Cats? Chickens? SCOOP HANDS. I must know.
I believe what we did was deposit it all in the bank and spend it on renovating this house back in 2006. In fact, the money I was saving to pay for a trip to Australia (or Scotland or… I don’t think we ever decided where exactly we were going) went to help pay for the renovation, too! Can you believe it’s been 5 years since we bought this house? I’ve been thinking that most rooms need a fresh coat of paint, but it’s going to be a lot more difficult with a million cats running around while I’m trying to paint!
I swear I’m not a SKIMMER but where did you get the little kitty bed frame? I want a couple for our cats!
That’s an Ikea Duktig doll bed, and if like me you live nowhere near Ikea (there’s one in Atlanta, but I’m having a hard time convincing Fred to make a 5-hour one-way trip to Ikea, go figure), you can occasionally find them on eBay!
Do you remember how much that license plate rooster was by chance? I would love, love, love to find something like that near me.
I wish I knew – we didn’t ask, and there was no price on it. I’ll keep my eyes peeled next time we get up there (which probably won’t be for a few months) and if it’s still there, I’ll ask (or make Fred ask, heh).
Duckies! How are you going to keep them from flying off when they get bigger? Trim their feathers? Or are you just going to count on them lovin’ your spoilin’ ways to keep them close by?
and
My grandmother had ducks when I was little (a mallard pair that she named Donald and Daisy). For the life of me I can’t remember how she kept those ducks from flying away. Do you have to do something to prevent that from happening?
The guy we got the ducks from told Fred that Rouen ducks (that’s what these are) don’t fly. I was skeptical, but just now Googled it, and apparently it’s true!
Rouen is another popular domestic breed that closely resembles a mallard duck when fully mature. Unlike its smaller cousin, the mallard, the Rouen is too heavy to fly. They are said to be calm in nature. They originated in France and came to America around 1874. (source)
I’m glad to hear that they’re calm in nature!
Are you sure that poor little Patty and Charlie are really siblings? Charlie is so much bigger!
I’m pretty sure, given their teeth, their resemblance to each other, and most importantly their reaction to each other – they curled up together almost immediately, and Charlie is pretty protective of her. It’s not unusual to have such a big difference in size in the same litter. When I got the Spice Girls, Clove was about half a pound smaller than Cori, and don’t even get me started on tiny Beulah from The Seven.
I SWEAR that I read “Only time will tell whether he has the Buster sass” as “BUSTERS ASS”…
I made Fred proofread my post, and he misread that the same way! I half expected that some of y’all would read it that way – I know that every time I say a kitten is “peering around” someone misreads it as “peeing around”, and so when I type “peering”, it always makes me giggle.
Did you ever find out from the vet how old they probably *really* are?
I didn’t even ask, actually. I set their date of birth at August 1st, which I think is probably pretty close to how old they are.
And where does one get those mousies with the long tails from, lady?
That is a most excellent question. I get mine at Petsmart, but I can’t find them online anywhere.
Oh, scratch that – I found them (amazingly enough) on the Petsmart web site, here.
“His little girlfriend”??! Was Alice aware of this?
Fred and Alice practice Polycatamory. She knows he has other girlfriends, and if any men come along who strike her fancy, she’s free to snuggle. (She won’t, though. She’s really a one-man girl. But she’s secure in her felinity enough that she’s willing to share.)
does he have a touch of loony jake face???
I think maybe Buddy (the former Bobby Brady) does have a touch of the Loon to him!
Must have rubbed off when Buddy was our foster!
Don Corbione…snork! Is all this going to his head or is he just averagely vain, like all cats?
(Kerry referred to Corbie as “Don Corbione”, which made me laugh out loud!)
Corbie is as un-vain as they come. He has no idea how beautiful he is. You’d think that, as often as I say “Hello, gorgeous!” to him, he might realize that he’s pretty darn pretty. But no, it just hasn’t sunk in yet.
Question, what do George and Gracie protect the chickens from? Racoons? Rats? Also, do they protect the pigs too?
Hawks! Before we got George and Gracie, we lost several chickens to hawks, unfortunately. Since we got them, we haven’t (to my knowledge) lost a single one. Of course, they protect them against raccoons and rats and snakes, too. They kind of protect the pigs; though they don’t have access to the pig yard, the pig yard borders the back forty on two sides, so if the dogs hear anything big out in the woods, they go to the fence nearest the sound and bark and bark. (At this point, though, the pigs outweigh at least Gracie, if not George, too, so they could probably take care of themselves.)
And whatever did you do to her when she was little that Sheriff Kara worries so about you being outside?
The Sheriff is just a born worrier, so she worries. It’s just her nature!
The ducks are very cute. Do they need a permanent sort of lake or something in order to thrive? Do you have something like that? What do the chickens and pigs think of the ducks?
I think they could make do with kiddy pools, but we are actually having a pond put in at the back of the back forty! A big one – I’m calling it a mini-lake – that should be more than big enough for the ducks. Now watch – we’ll probably have the driest Fall and Winter ever, and the stupid thing won’t fill up!
P.S. In the future ideal world, no one will ever again sell animals–only adopt out–and no one will do backyard breeding or puppy or kitten mills. If only that world would come to pass.
That would be truly wonderful!
You know what, I got such a kick out of the STAIRS (in AND out of pool!) for those little ducklettes!! That’s just so cool I can’t stand it! đ
Wasn’t that a great idea? All Fred’s work, of course!
Charlie and Patty Peppers are doing okay. They got their bath the night before last, which they withstood in silent resignation. They look better than they did, but they’re still kind of a mess. The cuts around Charlie’s mouth are still healing, and Patty’s still got the goopy eyes. They spend most of their time sleeping and eating, but they do seem brighter-eyed and more interested in what’s going on around them than they did.
I’d like to hear their voices – thus far, I’ve only heard Patty meow once (on the way home after we picked her up), and haven’t heard a peep from Charlie. Charlie does like a good belly rub, but Patty’s a bit scareder, poor baby.
Patty in the front, Charlie in the back (yes, this IS after they had their baths. Like I said, they’re still a mess.)
That looks like a baleful look, but he was actually purring and kneading the air.
Patty and her big ol’ belly.
I think he was keeping an eye on Patty.
“You give me back my brudder, lady.”
Sally, Everett, and Harlan, hanging out.
Pretty boy Harlan, up close.
Sweet Miss Molly.
Oh, how this thing drives him crazy.
Everett, a blur in mid-air.
::smack::
Wild thing Everett.
And now for…
A moment of Corbie.
“I go with you to get groceries, Mom. You don’t get the right cereal.”
Snoozin’ Corbs.
Truly, it’s a rough, rough life for the Corbs.
Previously
2010: âDID SOMEONE SAY âCOOKIEâ?!?!â
2009: Maybe Bill just thought I didnât have enough to worry about?
2008: âI SEE YOU HAS CORN GIVE TO ME NOM NOM NOMâ
2007: Who needs a stinkin’ appendix, anyway?
2006: No entry.
2005: (I shot a man in Texas, just to watch him die.)
2004: No entry.
2003: So basically I paid twice as much for a keyboard as I would have on my own for no good reason, all thanks to that Staples employee, may he rot in hell.
2002: I hope that leaf doesnât give me a damn yeast infection.
2001: No entry.
2000: I’m not sure what happened next. I believe I blacked out.
Attention, those of you in the Roanoke, VA area! Barbara needs help finding a home (or a rescue) for a dog: The dog is ours, Dodger. He is an Australian Shepherd/Collie mix. We got him in April as a 6 week puppy. To cut to the chase, he is aggressive towards our youngest, Erin, who … Continue reading “9/8/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
Attention, those of you in the Roanoke, VA area! Barbara needs help finding a home (or a rescue) for a dog:
The dog is ours, Dodger. He is an Australian Shepherd/Collie mix. We got him in April as a 6 week puppy. To cut to the chase, he is aggressive towards our youngest, Erin, who is 7, and shook one of our cats so badly, she is at the vets with a spinal cord injury and we are trying to decide what to do…. We have 6 other cats that I have kept inside, because I didn’t feel like putting Dodger in his kennel is fair either. But the cats are in/out cats so that isn’t fair to them. He has collie coloring, but the blue/brown eye combo of a shepherd. He loves to run. He would do well in a house with teenagers and no cats. Our shelter is full, I tried the Australian shepherd rescue group and haven’t heard back, and I tried a local no kill, and haven’t heard back from them either.
Our animals add so much to our lives, but this is the hard part, isn’t it? Finding a safe home for the pet who hurt our beloved Tabby Dabby, and trying to decide if Tabby needs put down.
If you can help or know a person or rescue who can or have any questions, please email me (mizrobyn (at) gmail (dot) com), and I’ll pass your email on to Barbara.
Attention, those of you in the NYC/ NJ area! Gail’s looking for help:
A kitten literally followed me into my car this morning. Literally. First day of school (I’m a teacher). Sigh. NYC is famous for alley cats. I can’t help them all, but when one runs over to you in a moving car…
And I still have three warehouse kittens. And am moving in 20 days. If you could think of anything to help, I would appreciate it.
BTW, all he does in purr and purr and lick and snuggle. And eat.
Here he is pre-bath:
Here are some pics of him cleaned up. They are bad, because he doesn’t know how to be still. He took a bath and didn’t fuss, and allowed me to blow dry him. He is a charmer for sure, just can’t be still.
If anyone can help, or has any ideas or questions for Gail, please email me (mizrobyn (at) gmail (dot) com) and I’ll pass your emails along to her!
Sights from around Crooked Acres (and elsewhere!)
On Saturday, we went up to Ardmore, Tennessee to go to the Dog Days Flea Market. It’s an outdoor flea market that’s held every Sunday and Monday, except for Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends, when it’s held Friday through Monday. We usually go up there on Sundays when we have nothing to do around the house and Fred is bored and just wants to go out and do something. We got, I think, our second set of pigs there, and when we had turkeys, that’s where they came from. Oh, and we’ve gotten a few chickens there, too.
(Please note that these aren’t the best pictures on earth, because I was taking pictures in a sneaky hold-the-camera-out-and-hope-I-get-the-pic fashion.)
I cannot believe I left without making Fred buy this thing for me. Wouldn’t it look fabulous on the front porch?
I’d love to have some of those old blue Ball ( ::snicker:: )(I am 14 years old) canning jars, but the last time I checked the price on one, it was $8, and I don’t know if that’s a good price or not, but I have plenty of non-old canning jars I’m just as happy to use.
I would not recommend buying your Muscle Milk or batteries at the flea market, but I did buy six bottles of Sunsilk hair gel there once and it worked just fine.
I should have bought this sign for the chicken coop. Who doesn’t want some Funk-y corn?
Most of the people who sell their wares at the flea market have campers or tents to stay in. This person apparently just plopped their cot down in the middle of the grass. Looks kind of comfy, but I don’t know how they handled the nighttime creepy crawlies.
Old tins.
More junk. (Someone needs to get that boy statue to the doctor. He’s GRAY.)
Acupuncture at the flea market! Free demo!
We always have to stop and look through the videos, even though the only VCR we own is out in the garage.
I have informed everyone I’m related to and who might have a say in the matter that if I end up in a cemetery with one of these fake arrangements on my grave, I’ll be coming back to haunt them ALL.
Knockoff purses.
Rifles everywhere at the flea market.
Isn’t this the neatest thing? HOW did I leave without buying that thing? It’s so cool and would have looked perfect on the side of the coop!
Metal chicken! (But not giant one.)
This is probably my least favorite part of the flea market, the selling of puppies. Actually, no. My least favorite part is the part where the puppies are hundreds of dollars, but the cages of kittens who occasionally show up are free. (This time around, there were no kittens at all.)
Did you need a fire hydrant? I bet George and Gracie would have loved to have their very own!
Lots of people selling home-canned goods, too.
We didn’t buy any of that stuff – honestly, we rarely buy anything at Dog Days that isn’t living – but we did buy something to make Fred happy. On the drive up there, we were talking about ducks (because we weren’t even pretending that we were going up there for anything OTHER than ducks at this point) and Fred was talking about how many ducks we should get. I told him I’d prefer to have an even number of them, two or four (not that he doesn’t know what an even number is, but I didn’t want him to think I meant twelve or fourteen!), and he thought that was funny. When we found a booth with little ducks, there was a cage of about ten itty bitty ducks, but we didn’t want the tiny ones. In the next cage over? Four ducks who were maybe not teenage ducks, but somewhere between toddlers and teenagers (tweens?). We snatched ’em up and got out of there.
Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Bob. (I’m joking. They all look the same to me. And no, we don’t know what sex they are yet. I’m hoping for three girls and a boy, but four girls would be fine with me. With our luck, though, they’re all boys. I think girl Rouens are prettier than the males.)
Manna from heaven! (Or scratch from Fred. One or the other!)
Underwater duck!
Smilin’ duck.
Bob bobs.
“Hey, guys, what’s THAT? That’s a BIG pool! We can really go swimmin’ in that one!”
Note that Bob’s over there in the Rubbermaid pool.
But then he saw the attraction of a bigger pool.
These ducks will get in any water they see. Katherine was visiting yesterday, and we looked over and there were two ducks in the dogs’ water dish. Fred told me he was out there the other day, and one of the ducks sat down in a tiny little puddle of water. So cute, these ducks. I hope they don’t grow up obnoxious.
(The ducks are not future food, by the way. They’re purely for entertainment purposes. If any of them are girls, and they lay eggs, we’ll use their eggs to bake with, but as far as eating duck? I’m not interested. Not that I’ve had any experience with eating duck, but I also don’t eat goat, and I’m okay with that!)
Randomness:
Morning Glories are so very pretty.
That’s right, Sam’s Club. Lecture me on sensible eating when there was a display of Little Debbie snack cakes behind me when I snapped this picture. (But I DID buy those apple straws and they ARE way too good and I will NEVER buy any more because they’re TOO good!)
The Peppers Gang have been spayed and neutered! They were very unhappy with me on the ride up to the vet. And then poor Molly actually HISSED at me when I picked up their carriers, so was so scared. But they did well (they hissed at the vet tech, but weren’t mean about it, she told me) and now THAT’s done and over with, and we get to just enjoy having them around ’til it’s time for them to go off to Petsmart. In a few days, we’ll give them more room to roam, and then if that goes well, we’ll see how they do in Gen Pop. Jake’s going to be in hog heaven, because he sure loves watching the little ones run around and play!
Would you look at that bratty teenage attitude?
Lucy in motion.
“What doin’, lady?”
Lucy tellin’ secrets.
Got it!
Everett’s face, though blurry, cracks me UP.
Everett gets a snuggle from Fred.
No pictures of Charlie and Patty today (it was a busy day yesterday), but they did get baths last night, and definitely look better. They also look a lot more bright-eyed than they did just two days ago, and in fact last night Fred had Charlie rolling around on his back purring and kneading the air. I just wish their big, swollen, worm-filled bellies would go down some (I’m seeing worms in the litter box, so the medication is starting to work!) and if I saw them play just a tiny bit, that would make me happy, too.
I saw Charlie grooming Patty last night, and I pretty much died from the cute.
Poor Tommy – everyone just loves him so very much, he can’t get a moment to himself. (That’s Loony Jake laying on top of him.)
Previously
2010: For today, feast your eyes upon the sheer gorgeous stripey perfection of the kitty known as Corby McGee.
2009: Itâs like weâve entered another universe completely.
2008: Yes, more chickens.
2007: No entry.
2006: I think that âProven to be beneficial to liversâ should be Fredâs new tagline.
2005: Give me some of that, Barbara Bush, you ignoramus.
2004: No entry.
2003: Because believe it or not, it never once occurred to me that the Walton family was comprised of hillbillies.
2002: Look, I drink a gallon of water a day. I need to know that I can pee when I need to, so stop rolling your eyes at me.
2001: No entry.
2000: Can I tell you how much I loathe Bret Easton Ellis?
Last night Cilantro, the lickiest kitten in the South, was…. ADOPTED!!! About time, I’d say. Now that the seal is broken, maybe the other three will find their forever homes too. Fingers crossed! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “9/7/11 – Kitteh Wednesday”
Last night Cilantro, the lickiest kitten in the South, was….
ADOPTED!!!
About time, I’d say. Now that the seal is broken, maybe the other three will find their forever homes too. Fingers crossed!
Last week, the shelter manager sent out an email to the usual suspects, asking if anyone wanted to take a bottle baby. Since I haven’t had a bottle baby since (I think) the Bookworms, which was the Spring of 2010, I offered to take her. I was all set to bring her home, but then the people who’d found her had fallen in love with her, and decided to keep her.
I was like “Wah! MY baby!”, but really I couldn’t complain because that meant that baby has a home!
On Sunday, we were watching TV when Fred paused the show and said “I think your cell phone is ringing.” It was, indeed, but by the time I got to my phone, the voicemail had kicked in. A moment later, I had an email from the shelter manager with the subject, Want a bottle baby? Of course I did. I got the woman’s number, and Fred called to see when we could get our hands on this kitten.
We left the house almost immediately and set off to meet them in the McDonald’s parking lot in a town about 20 minutes away. Fred said that the woman said the kitten was “really, really tiny.” He also said that she sounded really relieved that we were taking the kitten, because they’re dog people.
We met them in the parking lot of McDonald’s – they were waiting for us – and she handed the kitten, who was wrapped in a warm towel (which had been warmed in the dryer) over to me, then signed the release form. The entire time, she was thanking us effusively for taking the kitten, and how the kitten had been so cold when they found her. I got into the car with the kitten and Fred got the bottle of kitten formula out of the back seat, and I put the nipple of the bottle in the kitten’s mouth. She looked up at me with startled eyes, and she wouldn’t latch on, but she drank every drop of formula I squeezed into her mouth. Once she was full, I burped her, and then I opened the towel to get a good look at her.
“Huh,” I said. “I thought their ears were more rounded than that at this age.” I opened her mouth gently (she had a cut under her lower lip) and looked at her teeth. I looked at her eyes. “This,” I said. “Is not a bottle baby. I think she’s got to be at least 5 weeks old.” No wonder she’d looked so startled when I tried to bottle feed her!
She sat quietly on my lap the entire drive home, and when we got home we set up a cage for her in the guest bedroom. Then I popped open a can of kitten food and put it on a plate, and she gobbled it down. Then she climbed into the cat bed and fell asleep.
A few hours later, I was scooping litter boxes when the phone rang. Fred answered it, and when I got downstairs, I said “Who was that?”, then realized he was still on the phone.
To back up for a moment, when we were getting the kitten, I’d given the people who’d turned her over to us, our home phone number and my email address in case more from the litter showed up. (If this were a movie, now-Robyn would build a time machine and go back in time in a futile effort to stop then-Robyn from handing out her number.) As it turned out, the kitten we’d gotten had been part of a litter of two, whose mother had given birth to them under a trailer. A neighbor of the people who turned kitten #1 over to us got our number from them, and wanted us to take kitten #2.
Which of course we were willing to do – obviously we’d want the two kittens to be together!
Fred could tell that the woman was driving while she was talking, and he said “Can you bring the kitten to us?”
Which is when she told him that no, she was too busy to drive to our house and bring us the kitten. She wanted us to come to her to get the kitten. She told him three more times how busy she was.
I mean, of course, WE weren’t busy at all. We were in fact just sitting around waiting for someone to do us the favor of allowing us to come get a kitten from them. OUR LUCKY DAY.
After the woman told Fred how very busy and important she was, he asked if she could at least meet us part of the way between where she lived and where we lived. They set it up so that we’d meet at the same McDonald’s we’d met the people who’d given us kitten #1, and off we went.
(No, of course we weren’t making rude and judgmental and profanity-laden comments about self-important “busy” people our entire drive there, why do you ask?)
Fred told me the woman had said that she “would” keep the kitten except that her daughter had allergies and THEN not two minutes later said “I just want to get rid of it” (“it” being the kitten). Well. I hope you weren’t trying to swear Sunday afternoon, because we were using up all the profanities.
We got to McDonald’s, and then had to wait, though admittedly we didn’t have to wait long. When the truck we were looking for pulled into the parking lot, I got out of the car. The back window rolled down, and a 6 or 7 year old kid held the kitten out to me. In one hand. No towel, no blanket, no BOX, just the kitten. Hanging out the window. In the rain. Fred came over with the carrier and got the kitten, then put it into the car while I handed the release form over to the woman.
She filled it out and I got the apologetic “Oh, I’m so sorry I can’t keep it, but my daughter has allergies and -” and I took the form and walked away because I had what I needed and I didn’t think I needed to stand around in the rain and be best friends with her. Fred stood and talked with her a minute longer because he’s polite like that (I’m usually very polite but y’KNOW…), and then we were on our way. She, I noticed, pulled into the drive-thru.
“I note she’s not too busy to go to the McDonald’s drive-thru,” I said uncharitably.
Fred did ask her if she had any idea where the momma cat had gone, and she said she didn’t. He also asked if she was sure there were only two kittens, and she seemed to be pretty sure, so that’s good at least.
When we got home, I weighed kitten #2, and found that she was only 13 ounces. She had all the same teeth #1 had, though, so maybe she’s the runt. Or malnourished. Or who knows? We put the two of them together and gave them a plate of food, and they hoovered it up and then curled up together.
We’d been calling kitten #1 “she” because the people we got her from told us it was a girl, but when Fred did a check later that evening, he told me that #1 was a boy and he thought #2 was also a boy but he wasn’t even close to sure about #2. I took a look yesterday morning and I thought #2 was a girl, but then I looked at pictures online and I thought maybe a boy and then I gave up and decided to ask them to sex the kittens at the vet. (Turned out, #1 was a boy and #2 was a girl.)
I dropped them off at the vet yesterday morning, then headed into Huntsville to go to Sam’s. I assumed the kittens would be there most of the day (they didn’t have an appointment, they were just working them in among the other appointments), but I was just about done at Sam’s when my cell phone rang and they were calling to let me know I could pick them up.
These poor kittens are loaded down with every parasite you can imagine, which did not surprise me at all. They’re on medication, and I’m hoping that in a few days they’ll be feeling better and will feel like doing more than just laying around sleeping. They’re a mess, but let me tell you – I love them already. (I know, you’re shocked!)
Meet Charlie and Patty Peppers.
That’s Charlie in the back.
Poor little Patty is just a straight-out mess. Her eyes are goopy and she needs a bath, but we decided to wait ’til tonight to bathe them.
Charlie’s a mess, too (little cuts around his mouth and his left fang is chipped off at the end). But here’s my question: does he remind you of… anyone? Anyone… with attitude? Anyone… Bookwormy?
Bolitar/ Buster, perhaps?
Only time will tell whether he has the Buster sass.
Everett and Harlan, hangin’ on the stool. (Everett is actually not bigger than Harlan – it’s the angle of the picture or the way they’re sitting or something.)
Everett took off to parts unknown, and Harlan decided to…
..sharpen his claws.
And sharpen them some more.
Meanwhile, Sally’s wondering “What ARE you doing?”
“Just how sharp do you need those claws to be?”
“And why’s your back end still on the stool? Why are you half on and half off?”
Harlan tells her “Because I CAN.”
And then he couldn’t hold the position any longer.
The end.
PS: The Peppers Gang is off for spaying and neutering in a bit. Wish them luck!
Joe! Hey, Jobey!
“Yeah?”
Someone requested more Joe Bob in their day!
“Someone? Someone who reads your blog thingy?”
Yeah.
“WELL.”
“CLEARLY…”
“They have EXCELLENT taste.”
“Smilin’ Joe makes everyone’s day a bit brighter.”
So true.
Previously
2010: OH MY GOD DOES IT SEEM TO YOU THAT I AM BABBLING AT YOU IN A BABBLING AND UNORGANIZED MANNER
2009: I like to think that the chickens are sitting on their eggs thinking âWhy do I keep craving birthday cakeâŠ?â
2008: No entry.
2007: Pretty good for kittens I was absolutely positive would be unadoptable due to their feral nature when I first saw them, ainât it?
2006: Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straightened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderinâ?
2005: I didnât get any pictures of it, but last night the stank coming off Ramboâs hindquarters was so strong that we finally gave in to the inevitable and gave him a bath.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS WHO IT IS.
2000: Am I not an ass-kicking WalkAerobics diva?
It’s been raining like crazy since Sunday evening, but I am NOT complaining. I can’t remember the last time we had a decent amount of rain around here, and the garden desperately needed it. I’ve been watering every other day for the last week (and twice a week before that), but there’s just nothing like … Continue reading “9/6/11 – Tuesday”
It’s been raining like crazy since Sunday evening, but I am NOT complaining. I can’t remember the last time we had a decent amount of rain around here, and the garden desperately needed it. I’ve been watering every other day for the last week (and twice a week before that), but there’s just nothing like rain water to make a garden happy.
We went up to Lowe’s Sunday morning so I could buy a rain gauge. I’ve been wanting one for a while because knowing how much rain we’ve gotten seems like a handy piece of information to have (don’t judge me), and we found that there was one single rain gauge left in the entire store – and luckily, it was only $5. Between Sunday night and Monday morning, we got 2 inches of rain. I haven’t been back out there to see how much we’ve gotten in the last day, but it’s been raining pretty steadily.
Fred doesn’t care about any rain gauge, but he wanted to make a trip to Lowe’s for his own reasons, so he was happy to go with me. What, you ask, did Fred need to buy at Lowe’s?
A pool for the ducks, of course.
Saturday, we went up to Dog Days in Tennessee – an outdoor flea market (I took pictures; you’ll see ’em on Thursday) – and we didn’t get anything but ducks. Four of them. Rouen ducks, I am told, and we have no idea what the male-female breakdown is (with our luck, we’ve got four males – or four females, which sucks because you KNOW Fred Anderson wants him some baby ducks).
Meet Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Bob. Don’t ask me who’s who, they all look alike to me.
After we got the ducks, we went looking for something to use as a pond for them for the time being (we’ve got a guy coming to talk to Fred at some point about digging us a pond. Let’s see if this one shows up.), and bought a big Rubbermaid container. We got it set up, and it worked okay, but I thought we needed something a bit deeper since they could actually stand on the bottom of the container rather than swimming around.
Fred was skeptical that Lowe’s would have a kiddie pool, but I told him I was sure they would, and I was right. We got a nice little pool for less than $10, and Fred set it up right next to the Rubbermaid container.
(Side note: Who you think is going to be cleaning those pools out? Mmm hmmm.)
The pool worked out well, and the ducks seem to be happy enough. They hang out under the coop most of the time, coming out now and then to take a swim around the pool. They know the sound of scratch hitting the ground, and come out to partake of snack time with the chickens. They’re a close-knit little group, and spend most of their time clustered together, walking around (or swimming around) and chirping.
More duck pics on Thursday, of course.
Over the weekend, we watched all of Season 3 of Sons of Anarchy.
Now, there’s a character in Sons of Anarchy played by the actor Jeff Kober. Every time I see Jeff Kober’s name, I exclaim, excitedly, “Dodger!” because he played Dodger on China Beach, and OH how I loved me some Dodger. Fred has come to recognize Jeff Kober’s name as well, and now when he sees it on the screen, he says “Digger!”
Anyway.
So Jeff Kober plays Jacob Hale in Sons of Anarchy, and his character is the brother of Deputy Chief David Hale. This is made clear pretty early on when Jacob Hale shows up in the show, that the two of them are brothers.
We were watching, I kid you not, show number 11 of the 13-episode season (and this is not the first season Jacob Hale made his appearance – he showed up somewhere in Season 2), and Fred turned to me when Jacob Hale was on the screen.
“His name is Hale, too?” he said in confusion. “Are they related?”
Seriously. Just when I think that 60% of the show is going right over my head, I have to explain the most basic stuff to Fred, and I think I’m maybe okay. I’m pretty sure that he sits and watches the show and has a vague idea of what’s going on, but he’s also thinking about something else, so doesn’t catch the obvious things.
Last night, Fred was reading about the characters on the show, on Wikipedia.
“Huh,” he said. “Piney is Opie’s father!”
Sigh. “I know,” I said.
“Stahl’s first name is June!” he announced.
“That must be why her lover repeatedly called her ‘June,'” I said.
“Is Clay’s last name Morrow?” he asked.
“I imagine that’s why they answer the phone at the garage with ‘Morrow-Teller,'” I said.
I might not be one to talk, though. It was well into the season when I twigged that there was actually not a guy named Sam Bell who was in charge of the motorcycle club, that it was actually SAMBEL. I’m also pretty sure, back when we were watching the first season, I had to Google SAMCRO to find out that this Sam Crow guy wasn’t going to ever show up and kick ass.
The Peppers Gang is off to the vet tomorrow to be spayed and neutered. They’re just under three months old (they’ll be three months on the 12th) and even the smallest has more than made weight, so it’s time. Once that’s done, they’ll be ready to go. But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here for a little while longer – none of the Spice Girls or Ciara has been adopted yet. Adoptions did pick up on Saturday and there were several adoptions, just none of them were my girls.
(Fred is incensed that Clove, his little girlfriend, hasn’t been adopted yet. “Can’t they TELL what an awesome kitten she is?!” he says.)
These mice with the long tails are particular favorites among the fosters lately (Cilantro especially loves them).
I don’t know which I like more, the Ears of Concentration, or the stretched toes.
::SNIFF::
“What?”
Lucy, amazed by everything, always.
“What? We talkin’ ’bout you. Go ‘way.”
“Why you takin’ my picture, when you could be pettin’ me?”
Everett shows off his fearsome claws.
“What doin’, lady?”
Molly reaches for the feather teaser, but there’s no joy in Peppersville this evening. The mighty Molly has struck out.
::chomp::
Sugarbutt really enjoys hanging out on that shelf over the doorway between the kitchen and laundry room.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: âAh can only deal with zee â how you say? â anguish by napping. A lot.â
2006: People Are Assholes.
2005: How do people, like, not curse? How is it possible? There are all these gaps in speech where you just have to put a âfuck.â
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: I think that, much like dreams, the only person interested in hearing the myriad details of drug stories are the people involved.
2001: I donât use the “c” word lightly, yâall.
2000: No entry.
Happy Labor Day, Americans (and Happy Monday everyone else!). For today, just a quick update on the foster formerly known as Bobby Brady! Do you remember Bobby Brady? He was the sweetest little mess when we got him. This is what he looked like the day we got the Brady Bunch: He was the smallest … Continue reading “9/5/11 – Bobby Brady!”
Happy Labor Day, Americans (and Happy Monday everyone else!). For today, just a quick update on the foster formerly known as Bobby Brady!
Do you remember Bobby Brady? He was the sweetest little mess when we got him. This is what he looked like the day we got the Brady Bunch:
He was the smallest of the litter (well, he and Cindy were) and he had such bad diarrhea that I had to bathe him at least once a day to keep him clean. With every single litter we’ve had, in the past two years, there always comes a point when I am dead certain that one of the litter is going to die. Sometimes – most often – I’m just being (in retrospect) silly, but sometimes they are really quite sick and not doing well at all. With Bobby and Jan Brady, I actually said to Fred one Saturday morning “I think they’re dying and I don’t know what to DO.” We ended up taking them to a vet in Decatur, and they tested them and examined them, and found that despite two rounds of medication, they were still parasite-ridden. Jan and Bobby had to be caged for a few days so they wouldn’t track diarrhea all over the place (actually, in retrospect, I think it was more like a week and let me tell you – it SUCKED keeping them caged).
DO NOT READ THIS NEXT LITTLE SECTION IF YOU’RE EASILY GROSSED OUT. OR EATING. OR HAVE A SENSITIVE STOMACH.
Upon looking back through my email, I emailed three different people to report that poor Jan Brady had pooped out at least 12 inches of tapeworm. Seriously gross (but honestly, kind of mesmerizing).
OKAY, IT’S SAFE.
Anyway, over the course of the several days of being caged, Bobby and Jan finally got better, thank god, and clearly felt better. Bobby’s sweet, friendly, playful personality came out, and he was absolutely a force to be reckoned with.
(That’s Bobby, front and center, complaining.)
And this is how I remember Bobby Brady the best, sitting on my shoulder:
And here, licking my finger:
Well, last week I got an email from Bobby Brady’s Dad – complete with pictures! He said:
Robyn and Fred â I adopted one of the kittens you fostered, Bobby Brady. I call him Buddy now. I was recently in touch with Susan at Challenger House, and she said you guys might appreciate word on how heâs doing. My sister volunteers at Petsmart, and she told me about some exceptionally well-mannered kittens sheâd seen there called the Bradys. I got Bobby / Buddy the next day, and he has turned out to be a wonderful cat. Iâve had quite a few in my time, but never have I seen such a happy, gentle, playful, smart, alert, athletic, and especially loving cat as Buddy. I donât know if it was your fostering, or whether he gets it naturally, or both, but at nearly 11 months, heâs quite a joy.
Interestingly, at about 6 months, he developed a pronounced belly flap even though he was quite trim. I know itâs not unusual for cats get them, but his was unusually large. Then after a lot of poking around on the net I came across a new cat species called the American Keuda. They have all of Buddyâs good traits, as well as the belly and front leg flaps, not to mention his exact shape, so I now believe he is all or part Keuda. Even though he was a long lanky kitten and the vet thought heâd be big, heâs currently only about 10 lbs and has remained long and lean, also the same as Keudas.
Anyway, thank you for your part in rescuing him; everyone who meets him loves him, and heâs definitely made the world a better place.
Iâve attached a few photos of Buddy.
When I emailed to ask if it was okay to use his email and pictures to update y’all, he added:
He really is a lot of fun. Heâll curl up and sleep on my face at night if I let him. He’s quite softly vocal, and frequently runs by me repeatedly making soft meow/purr sounds, often standing on his hind legs and bouncing off my knees trying to goad me into playing with him.
I just love getting updates on my fosters, and I especially love seeing them so happy!
Tom Cullen loves hanging out under the Rose of Sharon in the back yard.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: The kittens formerly known as River and Inara (theyâre Nate and Dora now).
2007: I wanted to take a BATH in the stuff, I wanted to stick it in my purse and take it home, I wanted to marry it.
2006: Mister Boogers seemed to disapprove of the land, and at one point the seller of the land started having a discussion with Mister Boogers, only instead of “Mister Boogers”, he referred to him as “Curtis.”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: It’s a good day, indeed.
2002: FUCKING telemarketers.
2001: I turned to Fred and said “He looks all dilemmanated, doesnât he?”
2000: Trip to Tennessee.
The okra talk reminded me that I wanted to ask about pickled okra. I made some last year that was really great, but can’t remember where I got the recipe. I don’t see it in your recipe list — did you post that or did I find it elsewhere? Thanks. P.S. I’m assuming “waller” is … Continue reading “9/2/11 – Friday”
The okra talk reminded me that I wanted to ask about pickled okra. I made some last year that was really great, but can’t remember where I got the recipe. I don’t see it in your recipe list — did you post that or did I find it elsewhere? Thanks.
P.S. I’m assuming “waller” is Southern Speak for “wallow?” Took me a while to figure out what waller meant.
I did pickle okra once, but neither Fred nor I cared for it, so I didn’t keep the recipe (and I never posted it), so you must’ve found it elsewhere.
And yeah, “waller” is Southern for “wallow.” I picked it up from Fred (who, I think, uses it ironically).
Hey, whatever happened to the chicken with the crooked toes/feet? I seem to remember it not being around anymore, and am too lazy to search your site. It would probably take me HOURS to find the info. đ
Aww, good ol’ Charlie, with her twisted-up toes.
She died in June of 2010 and we buried her in the yard of the blue coop, where she was happiest. She was quite the character – when the blue coop was our maternity coop, she was the mascot of the maternity yard. The hens never considered her a threat to their chicks, and they never worried about her getting too close to the little ones. If any other adult chicken had gotten this close to her babies, Silkie Mama would have run them off, but she knew Charlie wasn’t a threat.
Good ol’ Charlie.
If someone was thinking about starting a blog, would you recommend going with Blogspot or something like that, or is having your own domain name preferable? Didn’t you start right out with your own domain name? Any general thoughts about this much appreciated!
I think that I’d recommend starting with Blogspot (or WordPress – I like WordPress, I think it’s easy to use) and then, if you know for sure that you’re going to stick with it (not that I think you won’t – just, a lot of people start out strong and then fade away after a few weeks or months) you can buy your own domain and move your stuff over.
Why, back in The Day when I started, I had to buy an html editor to write my entries on, and then FTP everything up to my domain. It sure was a pain in the ass. It’s a lot easier these days, thank god!
I think this may be the first banner I’ve seen without a cat photo in it. Is the world ending?
It’s not the first one – but it certainly doesn’t happen very often that I have a non-cat banner. This reminds me that I need to get my butt in gear and make a page where I can post all the banners I’ve used over the years. It’d be neat to have all of them in one place!
Loony Jake’s loony face reminds me of Christopher Lloyd’s face in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” when he finally let his true, crazy, cartoon self show through.
I can totally see that!!!
Our Bailey is about the same age as the Peppers, but he is so much smaller than they are. I guess he was the runt of the litter and I wonder if he will be smaller all of his life. Any ideas on that?
It’s possible he might be smaller all of his life, but it’s not at all guaranteed. Sugarbutt was the runt of his litter, and was much smaller than his siblings, but these days he’s a very muscular 12.2 pounds.
Alice – remember tiny Alice, who we thought was 6 or 7 weeks old when she showed up in December and then found out she was six MONTHS old?
The vet told us that she didn’t think Alice would get much over six pounds – and she was almost 8 pounds at the end of June.
On the other hand, Beulah – remember Beulah? This is her, smack dab in the middle of her much bigger siblings:
Beulah, last I heard, stayed small. Here she is, near a year old, with her normal-sized sister.
So really, the answer is that it’s just a matter of waiting and seeing. Bailey may stay little, or he might grow to be normal-sized. It’s pretty much impossible to know at this point.
de-lurking to share this video with you. it makes me wonder what would happen if the superbox was “right side up” instead of on its lid…
SO cute. I can totally see Elwood sitting on top of the box like that!
You (or he) may have already covered this, but why did Fred stop blogging?
First (and foremost) he lost interest, and then when his company went out of business and he had to get a job working for THE MAN, he didn’t relish the thought of any new coworkers reading about how he farted out a walnut in the bath tub. So he shut it down.
Did you recently have a cat with a name similar to Harlan? A Harley or Marlon, perhaps? It’s driving me nuts. Nuts-er. More nuts. Whatever.
The only kitten I can think of might be Martin – he was around a year ago, so if you’ve recently read any entries from this time last year, that might be who you’re thinking of.
Martin and the pink floof.
In the second picture, it looks like the head of the black kitteh in the front has come off his/her neck!! Maybe it’s just me ….
I can see that!
Now that I read about the fence you use I thought I’d ask you about what my cats do. We have the same brand as you, but the little fuckers know where it’s located, so they go and stand super close to it then make a run for it like the devil is chasing them and cross to the other side. I have its settings at the highest value for both the collar and the wire and they still go over it :S
Has this ever happened to you? Any ideas? đ
Well, we have an underground fence, but we also have a physical fence, too – the underground fence is at the bottom of the physical fence, so if the cats want to climb over the fence, they’ll be zapped the entire time they’re climbing up, and that doesn’t seem to be something they enjoy. Actually, the underground fence is buried at the bottom of the physical fence, and then Fred went around with more wire, and ran it around the fence at the top, too, so if they aren’t zapped at the bottom of the climb, they’re zapped at the top. (Does that make sense? If it doesn’t, let me know and I’ll take pictures to show what I mean.)
Robyn, what do you use for household cleaner? I’m worried about one of our kitties, who likes to get into the shower after we used it and lick the shower pan. I use Tilex on it to clean it, but always makes sure I rinse it thoroughly. Still, I’m worried there is some residue left that could make him ill.
I think that if you rinse thoroughly, your kitty should be okay. HOWEVER, I use this bathroom cleaner that I found over at Crunchy Betty’s site, and it works really amazingly well. I highly recommend it – and she’s got a lot of great cleaner recipes over there, her site is definitely worth poking around.
My cat vet has HSP. It’s why he specializes in cats, the noise dogs make really bothers him. His office is very quiet, the cats don’t meow much because he has a pet pigeon that flies around in the building. The cats (who are in cages) obsess on the pigeon and stay quiet.
If it weren’t for the bird poop, I’d totally demand that we get a pet pigeon in the house to keep the cats occupied! Well, except that they’d chase the damn thing all over the place, and you KNOW that Elwood would be hauling his big ass across my face in the middle of the night, ripping my cheek open with his long talon-like rear claws.
I guess perhaps it’s better that we don’t need a pet pigeon. (But still, that’s a neat idea!)
Have you seen The Fancy Farmgirl’s chicken coop? She put more thought into decorating her coop, than I did for my house!
and Elayne said:
I can’t decide whether to be in awe of her obviously abundant and overflowing resources of time, money, energy, motivation, and creativity, or to feel that some people need to be locked away (in chandeliered chicken coops, perhaps) for the good of all humanity. To be honest, I feel both sides in equal measure.
I mean, I know it’s mainly envy and self-pity and bitterness taking (I’m having a really rough week, and might actually manage to take a shower today, if the pain pills kick in strong enough, soon enough), but if she channeled only one-third of the resources (time, money, energy, motivation, creativity) that went into that chicken coop into something like running a food kitchen, volunteering with the disabled in her community, working with at-risk teens or, say, fostering cats, imagine what an impact she could make on the world! (An impact beyond an obviously heavily-moderated comment stream, that is.)
On the other hand, what do I know – someone who has enough energy to clean out their chicken coop every day, with a thorough cleaning biweekly, probably already does all those things, as well as saving the whales AND the rainforest and fomenting a cure for cancer in her Crockpot (using organically grown vegetables, with a side effect of removing unwanted hair and regrowing that hair where it is wanted, even on other people), while spending her nights playing the Tooth Fairy so tired parents don’t have to stay up to sneak into their kids’ bedrooms.
Now that I think of it, it’s probably the useless unaccomplished folk like me who should be locked in the coop.
Which, hey, a chandelier! AND I don’t have to clean it – win-win!
Elayne said a mouthful there! I think that the fancy chicken coop is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want one of my own. There are places that I’ll
Okay, no. I just went and looked at it again, and that is some crazy-ass shit. Interesting to look at, but you keep that crazy far, far away from me. I have 138+ things I’d rather be doing than scrubbing out the goddamn coop every day. Bless her heart – I guess you decide what’s important to you and you go at it full-tilt, and artwork on the chicken coop wall is not even in the realm of… anything for me.
One of my cats, Cassie, is a tortoiseshell, and I think she’s one of the most beautiful creatures in the world. My mother, on the other hand, constantly refers to Cassie as “that awful ugly monkey-cat” and says it’s a good thing I adopted her because she’s “so ugly” that surely no one else would ever have wanted her. What?? She’s GORGEOUS! Her colors blend beautifully, she’s got orange Cleopatra-stripes against dark fur on one eye, not a speck of white on her anywhere but rather a lovely buttery cream color as her lightest shade, and her fur is the softest, silkiest, smoothest fur I’ve ever encountered on a grown cat. Ugly??!?! (Obnoxious at 3 A.M. when she stands outside my bedroom door keening, yes, but never ugly.)
I quote this comment only so I can tell y’all that Fred once said that Flossie – do you remember Flossie?
Fred said that Flossie was “SO UGLY” because – I am not making this up – “her markings are asymmetrical.”
There’s no accounting for taste.
Thanks for such a great post. I do feel compelled to say that those first two videos are the reason you have so many chickens!! The things which help with broody hens whose eggs you want are work gloves (esp. the ones with leather backs) and speed!!
Ha – no, the reason we have so many chickens is that after trying to break a broody hen (we have a cage he refers to as a “broody buster” that works about 3/4 of the time) for several days, if the broody hen will not be dissuaded from her broodiness, Fred doesn’t just put one or two eggs under her to sit on – he puts six or seven. He’s always worried, if he only puts one or two under her, that they won’t be fertile and she’ll sit there and sit there and waste away with the anguish of never having her own babies. And of course, the eggs turn out to ALL be fertile and hatch. I think we’ve got a pretty good number of chickens right now, though – enough to lay eggs for us, and some extras to sell!
I usually find that approaching the egg from the chicken’s back end – so they can’t see what I’m doing – works best. And even if they get me, it doesn’t really hurt. Well, unless they get a pinch of skin and twist. But that only hurts for a few seconds.
I want to find who makes those boxes and send you a dozen. Get the printed with something like paws and fishes. Has Loony Jake always had such a loony expression? Does he look that loony in real life? His little mug cracks me up!
Oldcat pointed out: You could make one from a regular shoebox and lid by cutting off one edge of the lid and taping it to one side. Glue or use contact paper to make the patterns on the side that you want.
I had three of these shoeboxes in an area waiting for a use when she first wrote about them. They are pretty popular – even the ones that don’t sleep in them rub on the edges of the top.
Fred got some sneakers at Kohl’s – Sketchers, I think – and they come in the superbox type of box. We’ve got two boxes as backup in case (as inevitably happens) someone pees on Superbox.
The Irene 6 — Nothing cuter than kittens and firemen, and it’s good to see a small bit of good news in Irene-damaged New England.
Love it!
Is Elwood as big a lovebug as his brother is?
Except for Tommy and the occasional headbutting with Kara, Elwood prefers people to cats. He especially loves bedtime, when he climbs into bed with us and walks back and forth to be petted. Then, when Fred goes off to his own room, Elwood will lay right up against me, roll around, and purr and purr while I rub his belly. He looks very stern and severe, but give that boy a pet or two, and he loves you to death.
Is it the lighting or is one of the Peppers a silvery tabby?
Molly Peppers is a silver tabby.
So now that the kitty-cats are pavlov trained to their collars, how high is the fence they won’t go over? And how come Maxi was in the veggie garden with you?
The fence in the back yard is five feet tall. And they KNOW that those collars are what’s keeping them in the back yard. Last weekend, Fred left Tommy’s collar off all day, and after a few hours, I looked on the side stoop to see that Tommy had climbed over the fence and was waiting to be let back into the house. It’s definitely not a matter of them making the connection that the fence is a no-no; if their collar doesn’t warn them away from the fence, they’re OVER it.
Maxi and Newt are our cats who are free-roamers. They came “with” the house, and they freak out quite a bit if we try to keep them contained to the house and back yard. They’re not TECHNICALLY our cats (they “belong” to a lady down the street), but really at this point we’ve taken them both to the vet often enough and they spend enough time here that the case could be made that they’re ours.
“Y’all can keep partying, but I’m going to bed. It’s exhausting, being this cute.” (Harlan really likes that bed.)
Lucy almost looks like she’s not cross-eyed here, doesn’t she?
::thlurrrp::
“Derpy der, I’ve got my Starbucks and the paper. I’m going to go poop in my water bowl and then smear poop around on myself with paper and then push on the lever to make a loud noise!”
Molly: ::giggle::
“Derpy der, ::giggle::, I’ve got to hurry, I’m late for work! I need to type and type and type! ::giggle:: Hand me my smartphone, I need to send an important text! I am very import–”
“Uh. Oh. Hi.”
“Uh. Just stretching my back.”
“Um…”
“I….”
“No, I wasn’t mocking how funny you look, walking around on two feet. Why do you ask?”
“Was there something you needed?”
I’m pretty sure that you almost forgot how beautiful Corbie is. How COULD you? Hmph.
Previously
2010: If you came sauntering across the room slurping on a Diet Coke right now, I would cut your throat and steal your Diet Coke as you fell to the floor.
2009: No entry.
2008: For the next half hour, it sounded like a TB ward in our house as we tried to expel from our lungs the fine powder weâd stupidly breathed in.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: My god, has Bill OâReilly always been such a pontificating blowhard?
2004: (No, heâs not going to remove her eye. Thank god.)
2003: The first time I did actually inhale was the last time I ever put a cigarette to my mouth.
2002: âWhatâs âpornâ, Mama?â she would ask.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
If you’re trying to get to Nance‘s site and can’t get anything, worry not: it’s not you, it’s her. She broke her site when she was fiddling with files, and won’t have a chance to get to fixing it ’til this weekend. She’ll be baaaaack. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “9/1/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
If you’re trying to get to Nance‘s site and can’t get anything, worry not: it’s not you, it’s her. She broke her site when she was fiddling with files, and won’t have a chance to get to fixing it ’til this weekend. She’ll be baaaaack.
Susan says:
Minn-Kota PAAWS, a place I volunteer at when I visit friends in Fargo, is up for a $25,000 grant from Markham Vineyards, which it could win if enough people vote for it (it’s a finalist). Think how many more feral cats and pets belonging to low income people could be helped. Please help spread the word and/or go register to vote and continue to do so once every day until 10/3/11 (or as many times as you can).
It’s a great place all staffed and run by volunteers wanting to minimize the number of unwanted cats.
New month, new banner! This one comes courtesy of local readerfriend Jean, with whom I was having a discussion about tomatoes and how annoying it was to find tomatoes with a single bite taken out of them. That banner cracks me UP.
Thanks, Jean!
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
These pictures are small so as not to freak out the more sensitive among you. Those are clusters of daddy longlegs-type spiders (I don’t know if they’re actually daddy longlegs – their bodies seem bigger than they ought to be), and the one on the right, I almost put my HAND in that cluster. UGH.
And another creepy one – Fred shot poison at this yellowjacket nest (which is inside the wood shed) and killed all the yellowjackets that were on it, but apparently there were plenty of them out running errands while he was doing it. Guess we need to knock it down rather than leave it hanging. I am skeered to death of yellowjackets. They’re MEAN.
Fred made pineapple-ghost chili hot sauce over the weekend. He tells me it’s hot. There’s a shock, no?
Oreo-stuffed chocolate chip cookie. I made a half-batch over the weekend. They were good the day I made them, but REALLY good after sitting for a day. Recipe is hither. The only problem is that I can’t eat a whole one without feeling ill (and I’m not saying that in that annoying “Oh, I ate a Lifesaver and I’m stuffed!” way. It’s a HUGE cookie.) Next time, I may buy a pack of those mini-Oreos and make much smaller ones.
Dried okra, waiting ’til the cats knock their current okra toys under the stove.
The okra plants are now my height (I’m 5’5″) or taller. We’ve gotten so much okra that the freezer is stuffed with sliced okra. Since I’ve gotten enough okra put away to keep us going ’til next year, we’re currently eating okra with almost every meal. My favorite way to eat it is roasted. It’s REALLY good – put uncut okra pods on a cookie sheet, drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper, cook at 450ÂșF for 20 minutes – and not at all slimy.
Ghost chilies, ripening in the garden. I’ve been told that I’m on tap to make a batch of cherry-ghost chili jam. I am not looking forward to this – but at least I won’t be eating any of it!
The butternut and acorn squash plants get wilty in the middle of the day, but perk back up overnight. We thought it might be bugs, but I really think it’s the heat. I’ve gone to watering the entire garden three times a week instead of two, because we haven’t gotten rain in weeks.
Morning Glory, vining up one of the squash plants. Fred hates Morning Glories, but I think they’re pretty and I don’t yank them out of the garden because I like seeing them!
Muscadines (wild grapes).
We’re gonna get a bumper crop this year. Last year I made a batch of Muscadine jam with them. I’m not sure what I’ll be making this year, since I don’t think we ate any of the jam. It’s funny how much jam I make, given that we don’t eat much in the course of a year.
Muscadine vine. I love vines. Is that odd?
“Thanks for watering the garden, lady. I needed a bath!”
Someone ought to prune that pecan tree. (That red shed is the garden shed. This would be an ideal place for a hammock, if we had one.)
There’s just nothing funnier than a running chicken.
The Rock Star (she’s a Golden Polish) is the absolute prettiest chicken we have, if you ask me. I love her colors.
This little rooster’s pretty, too.
She’s also pretty. I guess we have a bunch of pretty chickens.
The rooster counterpart to the hen in the previous picture.
Oh, Gracie. It’s a bale of STRAW. (Fred put it there to block the hole in the fence that the chickens were going through.) I don’t know what was freaking her out – there wasn’t a HOSE there or anything.
Two girl piggies in the waller.
Happy George.
I love vines, but that Wisteria vine, reaching across three feet of space to grab onto the back yard fence? Maybe not so much.
Someone mentioned last week that they’d like to have a “sounds of Crooked Acres” week, where I post videos of, oh, the chickens and the pigs and what have you. I thought about doing that this week, but I never did get outside with my camera to make the videos, so to tide you over ’til I do get that accomplished, I’m posting some older videos.
First, a couple of chicken videos.
Those are both from around 2007 – 2008. This last one was shot in 2008, and is a visit in the chicken yard, and you get to see the pigs, too.
Harlan keeps an eye on the feather teaser.
These kittens are the standing-up balancingest kittens I’ve ever seen.
“Come HERE, feather teaser.”
Sally’s all “Get it! GET IT!”
Whoa!
So close and yet so far.
“Watch me, ladies. I’ll get it!”
“Oh, right, you got that one, didn’t you? I’m SO impressed.”
“Shut UP, I don’t see YOU getting it either!”
Lucy’s face is cracking me UP. She is clearly SO over me and my shenanigans.
I let Elwood in to meet the Peppers a few days ago. He was unimpressed, as you’ll see.
Kara, snoozing on the dryer.
“What are you doing out here? You don’t belong outside! Get back inside, it’s safer!”
Previously
2010: Jake of the lâUnervilles.
2009: Jon Armstrong was all âHEATHER INVENTED MAYTAG WHEN SHE WASNâT BUSY INVENTING BLOGGING AND BEING THE FIRST EVER TO EXPERIENCE NATURAL CHILDBIRTH.â
2008: I know. Iâm an unreasonable monster.
2007: No entry.
2006: The truth is, Fred has been excitedly pricing tractors every minute of every day since our offer on the house was accepted.
2005: Ahhhhh, smell that fresh, crisp autumn air! Why, itâs down to 90 degrees today. I almost need a sweater.
2004: She turned 86 last Thursday. Sheâs the only grandparent Iâve ever really known.
2003: (and you KNOW he insisted on it, was all temper tantrumy, screaming and beating his fists on the floor, wailing âACTOR AND NOVELIST! ACTOR AND NOVELIST!â)
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Yes, Jane has shut down her blog. She’s fine. Feel free to email her (jane @ her domain (plain-jane.com)), she won’t bite. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Susan says: Minn-Kota PAAWS, a place I volunteer at when … Continue reading “8/31/11 – Loony Jake Wednesday”
Yes, Jane has shut down her blog. She’s fine.
Feel free to email her (jane @ her domain (plain-jane.com)), she won’t bite.
Susan says:
Minn-Kota PAAWS, a place I volunteer at when I visit friends in Fargo, is up for a $25,000 grant from Markham Vineyards, which it could win if enough people vote for it (it’s a finalist). Think how many more feral cats and pets belonging to low income people could be helped. Please help spread the word and/or go register to vote and continue to do so once every day until 10/3/11 (or as many times as you can).
It’s a great place all staffed and run by volunteers wanting to minimize the number of unwanted cats.
Loony Jake visits the Peppers.
That tail…
(LOONYFACE)
…drives them…
(“HI MISTER!”)
…CRAZY.
(LOONYFACE)
Jake sits there and gently waggles his tail back and forth, and the Peppers cannot take their eyes off it.
“HI MISTER!”
::BITE::
“No, guys, seriously! Just watch it! It keeps MOVING!”
They’re pretty fascinated by him.
Especially the girls.
Everett tries to sneak up on the tail.
“GOT IT!”
Now Lucy’s got it.
Molly goes in for the sniff.
Everett’s got the tail now…
..and Jake’s had about enough of the whippersnappers messing with his tail. “Sorry, Mister! I’m sorry!”
Which causes Sally to take offense.
Everett doesn’t easily learn his lesson.
And Sally decides the safest place from which to watch Jake is under the dresser.
Jake heads over to check out the food, but is distracted by a reflection on the wall.
Really, it’s a far cry from their initial reaction to him. Those pictures above were actually taken a week ago, before I moved them up to the foster room. Now when I let Jake in, they just follow him around and watch him. I think they have a collective crush on Jake – and really, who can blame them?
Loony Jake is loony.
Jake loves the superbox.
Previously
2010: âBut is it ROBUST?â I ask him. âAnd more importantly, is it ELEGANT?â
2009: Thank god for patient geeks who put up with difficult women.
2008: No entry.
2007: I donât get the Winehouse lurve, but yâall just rock on with your bad selves, I sâpose.
2006: That part where McMurphy is trying to take off her scrubs and the back of her shirt is glued to her back with dried blood brings me to tears every single time I watch it.
2005: Is it just me, or does Eric Schaeffer play an inordinant number of characters named Sam?
2004: My day, in progress.
2003: This entry is comprised of nothing but cat pictures, because Iâm clearing off the memory stick to start September fresh, with an empty memory stick.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: He said “Maybe youâre losing slower than me because you BELIEVE youâll lose slower than me!”
Over at Daily Dose, Chrystal is taking orders for bricks to create a memorial walkway (Winnie’s Walkway) to the cathouse. All proceeds for brick orders will go to help with her rescue work (spay and neuters, supplies for the cats). There are a last few days of August, which is Winnie’s Wish month – you … Continue reading “8/30/11 – Tuesday”
Over at Daily Dose, Chrystal is taking orders for bricks to create a memorial walkway (Winnie’s Walkway) to the cathouse. All proceeds for brick orders will go to help with her rescue work (spay and neuters, supplies for the cats).
There are a last few days of August, which is Winnie’s Wish month – you can read about Winnie starting here or read an overview of what Winnie’s Wish is all about here; there are links at the top of each page, click on the one to the right to go to the next post – and Chrystal is absolutely flooded right now with cats and kittens who need loving homes. She’s at full capacity right now, and concerned because September always brings more kittens who need help. If you might be thinking about adding another cat to your home, go check out her sidebar and fall in love, or see her Cathouse Kittens and Crowded Cathouse posts or, really, there are a bunch of cats and kittens in her August posts, you can scroll through them.
This past weekend, I worked in the garden on Saturday morning instead of Sunday.
I KNOW, right? Total anarchy!
There’s not a lot of gardening to be done right now, aside from picking tomatoes, okra, and peppers. And watering, constant watering. I can’t remember the last time we had rain – two weeks ago? Three? – and it’s super dry around here. I’ve been watering twice a week, but decided this weekend, after the squash started getting wilty on Sunday when I’d just watered on Thursday, to bump it up to every other day.
So, Saturday morning I had finished picking tomatoes, okra, and peppers, and tossed the crappy tomatoes to the chickens. I had just watered the few baby cabbage that sprouted (I didn’t get a very good germination rate for some reason, maybe because the seedlings were sitting in full, all-day sunlight and I think they were sprouting and then promptly frying to death in the sun. I moved them so they’ll get afternoon shade; we’ll see how that goes.) and I glanced into the wood shed. Fred had pointed out that yellowjackets had started building a nest in the back of the wood shed, and that reminded me that I’d been wanting to check something.
Beside the wood shed is an enclosed hose reel, like such. There’s not actually a hose on it – the hose is kind of tossed on the ground because we’re constantly moving it to water the garden. Since anything you leave stationary for more than ten minutes around here ends up with a huge ant nest built up under it, I wanted to look in the hose reel and see if there was one there.
(Seriously – last week I left two empty buckets, one inside the other, sitting on a garden cart for six hours, and when I picked the top one up, there was a flurry of ants trying to save their, uh, whatever the fuck those white things they carry around when the nest is threatened are. They’d built a nest between the bottom of the top bucket and the bottom of the bottom bucket.)
I lifted up the lid, and found to my utter amazement that there was a goddamn YELLOWJACKET NEST, CRAWLING WITH YELLOWJACKETS attached to the lid of the hose reel cabinet. As I am not, I have mentioned 358 times in the past, very good in emergencies, what I did was drop the lid and utter a short bark of a scream.
Immediately, I got the idea in my head that those goddamn YELLOWJACKETS were going to SWARM out of that nest and come straight for the idiot who’d disturbed them.
Now, this is what I wear when I work in the garden: a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, a long-sleeved shirt over the t-shirt (there are prickly things on the okra plants that make me itchy if they touch any of the skin on my arms), and a pair of mid-shin-high boots that are slightly too big for my summer-sock-wearing feet (they fit perfectly in the winter when I wear thick socks).
So, to recap: I lifted the lid, saw the nest, dropped the lid whilst screaming. Then I began running like a great big dork in my big ol’ clomping boots. Fred was a few feet away, filling a bucket with water, and as I ran past him I yelled “OH MY GOD, RUN!”
To his credit, Fred didn’t start up with the “What? Why? What’s going on?” He just started running. And in fact, he ran past me. We ran in silence (except for the clomping of my boots) for about thirty feet. Then Fred stopped and turned around and looked at me.
“Why are we running?” he asked.
I stopped, turned around to look at the hose reel, saw a couple of things flying in our general direction, and yelled “RUN! I DON’T WANT TO DIE LIKE MACAULEY CULKIN IN MY GIRL!”
He joined me in running again, and we ran until we were at the front of the house, whereupon he stopped again.
“WHY are we running?” he demanded. I finally told him, and we stood at the corner of the house and watched for an angry cloud of yellowjackets to fly toward us. They never did – maybe, it being early morning, they were still sleepy. Or maybe yellowjackets don’t swarm.
We went into the house and Fred got the wasp spray and went out and sprayed both nests. That stuff works so quickly that he didn’t get stung by a single yellowjacket.
I sure never felt like there was always something trying to kill me when we lived in the ‘burbs, but here it seems to be an every day occurrence!
Playful Peppers.
You can probably tell that I was waving a feather teaser around over their heads to get their attention. Lucy in the back was complaining that I wasn’t letting her grab it.
Everett’s all “I’ve got it, bro!”
“What?”
Molly monkey walked right into a belly flop.
“Hey! The lady’s here! Go tell her to give us snacks!”
Such a gorgeous girl.
Harlan and the spotted belly.
Sweet Lucy in the sun.
Smilin’ Joe (Bob). I know I always say it, but it bears repeating: sweetest boy EVER.
Previously
2010: Donât make me say it, we donât need to be talking in detail about that stuff so early in the morning, so early in the week, right?
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Jessica Simpson, if I want to see you doing the Tush Push for an entire song, I will go out and buy Nick & Jessica porn that your father will SURELY be flogging any day now.
2004: âSOMEWHERE WHERE I CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THAT TELEVISION!â I bellowed.
2003: Sometimes.
2002: Basically, I’m just a freak.
2001: Now Iâll never know if Lance was going to put the moves on me!
2000: Insects are invading our house at an alarming rate.
