Fostering – Page 3

3/9/12 – Friday

I made Quesadilla Casserole and posted about it over on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza. The picture of the stuff makes it look gross, but it was tasty. Food photography is clearly not my forte. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/9/12 – Friday”

I made Quesadilla Casserole and posted about it over on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza. The picture of the stuff makes it look gross, but it was tasty. Food photography is clearly not my forte.

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Katy was kind enough to fix part of my entry from Monday, because while I think SOME things go without saying, Katy thinks you have to be a bit clearer about things:

“The door that leads under the house {where we hide the bodies}. That cement wall to the right is where the well is located. The well does not currently work {but serves a purpose nonetheless as another hiding spot for the bodies}. We’ve been meaning to have someone come out and make it so that it’ll work {but clearly we have to relocate a few bodies first}. The door, open. That black plastic covers most of the ground {bodies} under there. There’s a large pile of bricks under there to the right {which are good for knocking people in the head when they try to escape}…” 😉

Heheh, thanks Katy!

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Yikes!! Dont you guys have Black Widows and Brown Recluse spiders down there?

Indeed we do! Though the difference appears to be that Brown Recluses are, well, reclusive and will avoid you at all costs and only bite when they’re cornered. Black Widows, on the other hand, are vicious bitches who’ll rush out to bite you with the slightest provocation. I didn’t see either kind of spider under there, which doesn’t necessarily mean they weren’t there, just that I didn’t see them. And in my mind, if I can’t see something, it’s not there, and I’m happy to live in that fantasy land.

(Upon rereading the question, I’m wondering whether the “down there” was in reference to Alabama or under the house! We do have Black Widows and Brown Recluses in Alabama, but I don’t know if they’re under the house. I’d have to guess that they probably are, but maybe they were hibernating at this time of year!)

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Do most houses in the southern states not have basements? urg would hate to crawl under all of that!!

It depends on the part of the South you’re in, I’m guessing, but I’ve seen very few basements around here. Which is too bad, I’d certainly feel safer in a basement when the tornadoes are threatening!

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“All Hail The Mighty Robyn Defender of Kitties Large And Small, Conqueror Of The Crawl Space!” Hear, hear!

My brother used to do the same thing, clean towels and pillow-cases – but underneath the “cape,” he’d hook our mom’s bra straps over his arms so that the cups were facing backwards “to give me big muscles.” I hadn’t thought of that in years – thanks for the memory jog!

The bra to give him big muscles is pretty inspired! 🙂

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Emmy’s eyes look blue. Trick of the light or real? I know they are only slits, poor tired girl.

Must have been a trick of the light, she’s got pretty green eyes.

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So, Dave and I were commenting on Newt’s apparent fixation with the food bowl. We clicked on Mar 4 2010 due to the Mr. “THE FUCK YOU SAY” teaser and saw the picture of Newt. Seems to be an increase in the Newt over the last two years. Life is good.

That’s 2010 Newt on the left, 2012 Newt on the right.

It’s angle, I tell ya! The angle!

In his defense, Newt really isn’t a fat cat. I swear to you he’s not – Elwood is a porky boy, Alice is a bit portly, but Newt is just a big strong muscle-y motherfucker (wtf? Auto correct is having conniptions over “muscley”, is it seriously spelled “muscly?” Because that does NOT look right.)

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So, do the ducks go to the pond without having to be herded there now?

and p.s., where are my George and Gracie today?

The ducks will go out near the pond, but I haven’t actually seen them go into the pond without being herded in. Hopefully that’ll change once we get duckweed planted out there, and some bushes around the pond, and basically make it more inviting than the hole-of-water looks it’s currently sporting.

George and Gracie were too busy and important to pose for pictures. They’ll be back next week!

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My 7-year old is enthralled by your entire cat setup. In fact, she informed her father and I this evening that she is, “moving in with Bitchypoo.” She also enquired as to whether you “own a mansion.” Apparently that will seal the deal for her.

We live a good 5 states away, so I don’t anticipate her showing up on your doorstep, but she would if she could. 🙂

My evil plan to sucker in the children who will be responsible for doing all the hard work around here is working! Mwahahah!

Now, will she be bringing her own scoop, or should I take that out of her first tiny paycheck? 😉

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I saw this and thought of you..

LOVE IT!

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I have a question about enticing more timid cats to play, though. Our “foster” Tommy was a fearless outside hunter-type of cat before we took him in. We are in a big metro area, neighborhood with no fences, and too many dogs and cars. I won’t let him outside, but we’re trying to keep him exercised indoors. This cat literally seems afraid of every toy we try. He shows initial interest, but after a moment of checking it out he backs away and acts if we are attacking him with it. Any suggestions for getting him moving? We can get limited moments with the laser toy and he checked out “da bird” without too much fear. He will also tear apart a sock filled with catnip like nobody’s business. But I’m running out of ideas for activities for him. (I should add that he’s not afraid of us, just the toys)

Would he maybe like “low” toys, like maybe those tracks that the balls go around in, or something battery powered, like a little mouse that you could turn on and he could chase? Ooh, or maybe the Undercover Mouse? I bought one of those and the cats really liked it, I need to drag it back out again.

I’m throwing this open to everyone else – y’all jump in here with suggestions, please!

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Do you know how the ducks are getting out?

I’m pretty sure they pushed under a piece of fence that was pulled up away from the ground a little bit. Fred fixed that, and the ducks haven’t gotten out again since the one time. The chickens that get out and wander the property have either found another piece of fence like that, or (more likely) they’re jumping over the top of the fence where it was hit by the tree that fell last April and needs to be replaced.

Did y’all know that chickens can fly a little bit? Not for long distances and not very high, but if they’re determined, they can flap hard enough to get over a fence. If it were a big issue (if, say, the chickens were wandering onto the property next door), we could clip one wing on each chicken, which would throw them off balance and stop them from being able to fly high enough to get over the fence.

I say that chickens can’t fly for long distances, but the really light ones can fly further than you’d expect. The Featherhead (did someone refer to her as Phyllis Diller recently? Because that’s what she’s starting to become named in my head.) was about halfway up Dirt Mountain a few weeks ago, and I was going out to feed the chickens. When the chickens see either of us walking toward the back forty in the afternoon, they know they’re about to get chicken scratch, and they get excited and come running. Well, the Featherhead saw me, got excited, started running and flapping her wings, and that little hen flew about 30 feet across the back forty before she touched down.

This is the Featherhead:

Interestingly, the littlest chickens are the ones that you pretty much never see outside the back forty. Either they just can’t figure out how to get over the fence, or they know that they’re safer inside the fence than out.

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Does Logie look like a tortie to you?

I don’t think so, because all I’m seeing is white and dark gray, but who knows? I can’t wait to see how her colors turn out as she grows up!

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I still think she/he will look like Smoky Joe over at 50 Kittens!

What a stunner!

I would not be surprised, I think Smoky Joe is one gorgeous boy!

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Robyn, do you get feedback numbers about page visits or views? That huge increase in numbers right around the time the kittens were born? All me. Whenever I get stressed, I visit for a minute to look at sweet mama and her babies. Better than any other medication I can think of 🙂

Ha – I do have a stats meter on my page, but I tend to forget to look at it. I went back and looked and my hits had about doubled the couple of days after the babies were born. I don’t think you’re alone in coming back to gaze upon their adorable little faces! 🙂

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Can Emmy really be regarded as feral and not just shy and reactive? She did go from hissing and running to letting you pet her within a week or so. My understanding of feral cats is that they never let you pet them for years!

I would really call her semi-feral rather than just shy. I’ve heard enough stories about feral mothers who allowed people to pet them and handle their kittens and then as their kittens grow older, they revert to more feral behavior. I’m not definitely labeling Emmy as feral, and all we can do is work with her and try to get her to trust us (she’s willing to let us handle her kittens, but she’s less willing to let us do more than pet her a few times), and we’ll see where we are with her once her babies are ready to go off. The good thing is that we’ve got a few months to work with her, so hopefully we’ll be able to break through that wall of fear and distrust. That poor girl has been through an awful lot in a short period of time!

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I don’t know if it’s Sugarbutt’s solid marmy-ness and lack of white, or what, but he always looks so densely furry and pet-able!

He definitely has a nice thick coat of fur. I always compliment him on his plush fur. 🙂

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Robyn, have you seen this? The video made me think of it.

HA – no, I hadn’t seen that!

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Razzie’s eyes are almost all the way open (though I haven’t gotten a good picture of them yet), and Newbery’s eyes are starting to open. Logie and Darwin are apparently in no big hurry to see the world – especially Logie; my lord is that one porky little kitten. I’m hoping to get updated pictures of them all this weekend.

Emmy’s doing okay, though she’s been a bit annoyed lately. Especially toward Fred – which bears out my belief that she’s getting overwhelmed because first she’s got all these babies on her all the time and then this guy keeps coming in and petting her and petting her. When I go in, I’ll scratch her a little around the neck and head then turn my attention to the babies, but Fred believes in the full-body massage (at least where mama cats are concerned), and I feel like she’s giving him the “Oh my GOD would you get OFF ME!” message. I backed off with the visiting yesterday a little, and it seems to have helped. Though I did go into the room in the early afternoon, and she was sitting behind the box. As soon as she saw me coming, she ran to the front of the box and then hissed at me. I put the plate of food on the floor and left, and when I went in later, she was fine and snoozed while I petted the babies.

I’m going to be interested to see her reaction when the babies start climbing out of the box.

Logie is the biggest crybaby of the litter. I pick her up, and as soon as she realizes she’s not in the box, she starts crying at the top of her lungs. I always put her right back in the box and she snuffle-snorts over to Emmy and tells her all about it. Razzie is the most relaxed about being held, and even when she complains it’s kind of half-hearted. Darwin and Newbery, well, it depends on their moods. Sometimes they’re screamy, sometimes a little more laid-back.

Logie and Emmy (the other three are in front of Emmy, between her and the back of the box).

“What?”

Babies at the milk bar.

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Whooooooooooooooo’s a beautiful boy?!

“She’s taking my picture again, isn’t she?”

Corbie ignores.

“There are BIRDS out there. Big ones. How do I get to them?”

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Previously
2011: I just wanna touch him with the fangers.
2010: Hoyt goes home.
2009: (Nance is laughing at me right now, I guarantee it.)
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: So when I reached down to pet his head, IT WASN’T HIS HEAD I GOT. ::shudder::
2005: Killing the messenger.
2004: Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Gather ’round, younguns, and hear the heartbreaking tale of farts and betrayal…
2000: You still love me, though, right? Um, right?

3/8/12 – Crooked Acres Thursday

Sights from around Crooked Acres. Toasty the Rooster, giving you the side eye, would like you to know… “I’M THE STUD!” “I’M THE STUD! ::sideeye::” “I AM THE (INSERT BAD WORD HERE ENDING IN “ING”) STUD!” He’s pretty sure you’re impressed. But out in the chicken yard… Feathered leggings rooster considers and retorts… “Word from … Continue reading “3/8/12 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

Sights from around Crooked Acres.

Toasty the Rooster, giving you the side eye, would like you to know…

“I’M THE STUD!”

“I’M THE STUD! ::sideeye::”

“I AM THE (INSERT BAD WORD HERE ENDING IN “ING”) STUD!”

He’s pretty sure you’re impressed.

But out in the chicken yard…

Feathered leggings rooster considers and retorts…

“Word from the hens is that Toasty is SO not the man. I’ll leave the details to your imagination, but any rooster that has to declare his studliness that often is one who has nothing to brag about.”

Duckies, headed for the pond.

I keep meaning to tell y’all this – a few weeks ago one of the girl ducks found a way out of the back forty, and Fred had to corner her and pick her up and carry her back into the back forty. While he had hold of her, I got to feel her feet. I always assumed that they’d feel kind of rubbery, but they’re actually really soft and felt kind of neat. If you get a chance to mess with duck feet, I recommend it.

Duckies in the pond.

(Not very far out, obviously.)

Both the girl ducks had mud on their beaks. I wanted to wipe the mud off, but neither of them was having it.

Tails up!

Apparently I was getting a little close, and got The Eye from this boy duck.

Later, headed out toward Dirt Mountain, something startled two of the ducks and they quacked and flapped.

Even achieved brief liftoff.

Silly ducks.

We have a handful of ducks who escape the back forty every morning and then spend the day cleaning up bird seed under the bird feeders. I’d be more worried about it, except that they stay right around the house, and they’re always more than happy to go back into the back forty when Fred goes out there to feed them in the evening.

When we first had chickens, we only had a dozen of them, and their yard was in a corner of our back yard, and we’d let them out of their yard into the back yard to run around during a good part of the day. So some of the older cats (Spanky, Sugarbutt, Tommy) have actually been around chickens in the past, so they’re not that impressed when they see them through the fence. The younger ones are absolutely fascinated by the chickens and cannot stop staring.

Corbie would REALLY like to know how to get on the other side of that fence.

Alice Mo spots the rooster…

Skulks closer…

They stare at each other through the fence.

And then the rooster flaps his wings and struts off.

I’ve mentioned the Poltergeist tree before. This is it, in the middle of the picture. It’s a pecan tree and it’s the tree that gives us the best, tastiest pecans (though it’s been a few years since we got our last big batch). To the left of the tree is the back yard. If you squint, you can see Kara coming toward the fence to ask me just WHAT I think I’m doing, and Elwood at the far left of the picture, stalking Kara.

Mr. Bluebird, after an absence of several days, finally came back to visit.

Cardinal, giving me the eye.

House Finch in flight.

Tufted Titmouse in flight.

Next week: pictures of Spring!

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::thlurrrrp::

“Hey, you two! Stop fighting. Don’t MAKE me come down there!”

Kitteh leeps.

Are they not the sweetest?

“I sees you. A leettle.”

Kitten lips and tongue! ::faint::

Also, toes.

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Smilin’ Joe.

“Yes, I haz scratches on my nose. Me and Elwood got into it.”

“I don’t like Elwood. He’s a jerk. Luckily I can outrun him.”

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Previously
2011: Things Which Have Recently Vexed Me.
2010: Fred smiled. “Obviously he thought you were a GILF.”
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Not that I downloaded them illegally, because I would NEVER.
2005: “This is good!” he said. “Old people always know where the good food is!”
2004: That guy, I thought to myself, looks an AWFUL lot like Larry the Cable Guy.
2003: No entry.
2002: Know what made me laugh so hard I cried, and even now when I think about it, I grin and giggle involuntarily? The idea of a cat using the word “manipulate.”
2001: It’s a comfortable pattern for me.
2000: No entry.

3/7/12 – Kitteh Wednesday

It always starts out so sweet. Two brudders, snuggling. Grooming themselves and each other. Purring and friendly. So sweet. “I lubs you.” “I lubs you, too. You’re the best brudder a guy could have.” But in an instant, without warning, it all goes TERRIBLY WRONG. “I HATE YOU.” “I WILL KEEL YOU.” “YOU ARE THE … Continue reading “3/7/12 – Kitteh Wednesday”

It always starts out so sweet.

Two brudders, snuggling.

Grooming themselves and each other.

Purring and friendly.

So sweet.

“I lubs you.”

“I lubs you, too. You’re the best brudder a guy could have.”

But in an instant, without warning, it all goes TERRIBLY WRONG.

“I HATE YOU.”

“I WILL KEEL YOU.”

“YOU ARE THE WORST BRUDDER EVER.”

Then they stomp off in opposite directions, where they fume and sulk for hours.

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LAYDEEZ AND GENTLEMEN!

IN THE CATEGORY OF CUTEST KITTENS EVER

THE NOMINEES ARE:

(The kitten formerly known as Charcoal) Logie! (Named by Lesley after the Logie Awards.)

(The kitten formerly known as Stripey1) Newbery! (Named by Catsy after the Newbery Medal.)

(The kitten formerly known as Stripey2) Darwin! (Named after the Darwin Awards.)

(The kitten formerly known as Stumpy) Razzie! (Named after the Golden Raspberry Award.)

So there you go – they’re named. And now I have to write myself a cheat sheet so I’ll learn their names and stop using their nicknames!

Kittens and Emmy are continuing to do well. I’ll admit that they’re a little boring at this age because all they do is eat and sleep and scream like big ol’ babies when they realize they’re more than three inches from their mama. They’ll be lots of fun in a few weeks, but for now most of what I do is sit and watch them.

As you can see from her picture above, the kitten formerly known as Stumpy, who is now Razzie (heh, had to look at my cheat sheet!) is starting to open her eyes, right on schedule.

Emmy and the Noms.

Loves her mama.

Would you look at that smug little face?

“I HAZ A COMPLAINT AND MY COMPLAINT IS THAT THAT HUMAN KEEPS TOUCHING ME TO MAKE ME KICK MY LITTLE BITTY LEGS AT HER AND SHE THINKS IT’S CUTE AND MAKE HER STOP.”

This lasted for about half a second and then she realized she wasn’t next to her mama anymore, and then she started screaming.

I’m not 100% sure who this is. Probably Newbery.

Logie climbed behind Emmy and then just kind of sat on her shoulder.

Little face peeking out.

Snugglebunnies.

Sweet girl.

And now for your Emmy-and-babies video of the day!

The little legs kicking around just kill me. SO FREAKIN’ CUTE.

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Here’s the video I found while poking around on my hard drive. It’s from mid-February, and consists of Everett, Sally, and Lucy Peppers leaping around like monkeys. Also present were Corbie, who got in some swipes at da bird, and Elwood, who was trying to figure out why I’d moved the litter boxes to either side of the room (because I wanted to keep them out of the video. You see how well that worked.)

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This picture makes me laugh – it totally looks like a set that we put together deliberately and then put Sugarbutt there to pose. He’s doing a nice Glamour Shots pose, isn’t he? I love the way he’s looking at that feather teaser.

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Previously
2011: That’s right. I’m bringin’ sexy back.
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: Meet the new pigs.
2007: Going on hiatus!
2006: Hell of a way to start out your retirement, ain’t it?
2005: Book recommendations and a meme.
2004: No entry.
2003: Be afraid. Be very afraid.
2002: Food for her youngs.
2001: Not much going on here.
2000: Mean mommy, huh?

3/6/12 – Tuesday

I have nothing of interest to say today. Let’s move on to the kittens, shall we? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Frances asked in the comments the other day if the permanent residents have reacted to there … Continue reading “3/6/12 – Tuesday”

I have nothing of interest to say today. Let’s move on to the kittens, shall we?

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Frances asked in the comments the other day if the permanent residents have reacted to there being babies in the foster room. They haven’t reacted at all so far as I can tell. Outside the door to the room is a three foot-tall gate (that Fred made), which we can both step over but which rests on hooks so that we could also open it like a door. When the gate first went up, the cats would climb over it, but they came to learn pretty quickly that there was nothing between the gate and the door that was of any interest at all. They spend their days downstairs with me – or outside – and in the evenings some of them stay downstairs and some (Miz Poo, Spanky, Jake and Elwood, occasionally Alice, sometimes Tommy) come upstairs with us. Most of the time, as far as the permanent residents are concerned, there’s nothing in that room they want.

Someone else asked how Emmy is doing, and if she’s any more relaxed with us in the room. Emmy is doing fine, and while she’s 100% okay with us petting and handling her babies, until yesterday I hadn’t seen her leave the box at all. I knew that she was – she was using the litter box and eating out of the bowls of food and water nearby – but every time I stepped into the room, she was in the box with those babies. Finally, yesterday morning, I went up and laid down on the floor near the box. I was laying there (playing Words with Friends on my iPod!) for probably about 15 minutes when I heard a noise and looked up. She came out of the box and went to the floor behind the box, where she stretched out on her side. I kept playing games for another 10 minutes or so, and then sat up to look at the babies. As soon as she saw me sit up, she went right into the box.

When she’s in the box, she lets us pet her and like I said, she lets us pet and pick up her babies as much as we want (well, I assume she’d let us pick them up as much as we want – we don’t do it that often, because the babies scream and we’re not jerks, we don’t want to make the babies scream). Hopefully as they get older and leave the box on their own, she’ll be a little more relaxed about being right there when we’re handling the babies – all we can do is wait and see.

First, the video. It’s a short one – Emmy’s sleeping, some of the babies are sleeping, one’s in a “hands against the wall” nursing position that cracks me up. Keep an eye out for the yawn around 20 seconds, it’ll knock you over with the cute.

There’ll be another video tomorrow ALONG with a video that I discovered of Everett, Lucy, and Sally Peppers jumping up after da bird!

Although the pictures in the sidebar don’t reflect it (I’ll get to it one day!), Everett and Lucy have been adopted – Sally Peppers is still waiting for her forever home (I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it happens for her soon!)

I love it when she lays her head on the babies.

“MOMMA! I HAZ A COMPLAINT!”

The only reason I don’t stick my face in there and kiss that baby is because I think Emmy might mess me up if she feels threatened. But believe me, I was TEMPTED!

Streeeeeeeetch.

::dead from the cute::

“What?”

You better believe this baby got a kiss before he went back in the box.

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LOONYFACE!

Loony Jake is the most laid-back cat in the house. He’ll pretty much let you do anything to him.

Hold him on his back like a baby…

Make him open his mouth and show his pretty white teeth… (That’s Fred holding him, by the way. I was standing behind him.)

Rub his belly…

He could have stayed like this forever. (This particular move wouldn’t work with Elwood because first of all, Elwood wouldn’t put up with it, and secondly your arms would probably snap like twigs under the bulk of the Ellie Bellz.)

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Previously
2011: No entry.
2010: No entry.
2009: The Momma would like you to know that she has no intention of updating today because she’s a big slacking slacker and she’s got other stuff to do.
2008: They feel cartilage-y, like human ears. Go figure.
2007: Did I mention my hormones are all out of whack?
2006: “And they’ll have to call it Wipe the Ass!”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Want some cats?
2002: I had no idea what to say – “Well, of COURSE you’re only going to date someone you think is cute!”? Then I’m anti-ugly.
2001: Except for that crying at the drop of a hat thing, she’s just fine.
2000: Do y’all ever do that, have moments where the startling realization that you’re a complete dumbass smacks you in the face?

3/5/12 – Monday

Recently on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Tomato Bisque (that post will be up later today), and I made 88 Calorie Brownies. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ In case you missed it over the … Continue reading “3/5/12 – Monday”

Recently on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Tomato Bisque (that post will be up later today), and I made 88 Calorie Brownies.

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In case you missed it over the weekend, I posted on Saturday and on Sunday as well, because who doesn’t want to stare at 300 pictures of wee baby kittens? (Also, Everett Peppers was adopted, yay!!!)

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Yesterday, I had to go under the house again to run a cable from my computer to the magic box that brings internet from the outside world to my fingertips. Unlike last week’s trip under the house, this was a relatively short distance (thank god), and unlike last week’s trip, I brought the camera with me. I didn’t bring the big camera because it’s expensive and hard to handle when I’m wriggling around on my belly like a worm; I brought the smaller camera and shot some pictures.

WARNING: Under-house pictures below. Skip to the next section if you have no desire to see them!

The door that leads under the house. That cement wall to the right is where the well is located. (The well does not currently work. We’ve been meaning to have someone come out and make it so that it’ll work, but clearly that has not happened yet. Who knows if it ever will?)

The door, open. That black plastic covers most of the ground under there. There’s a large pile of bricks under there to the right.

I’m inside, wriggling on my belly. I can crawl on my hands and knees until I need to go under one of those silver air duct thingies. This is straight ahead from the door. The white pipes carry water; the silver things carry heat in the Winter, cool air in the Summer. It’s wicked dusty under here.

You can’t really see it in this picture but there’s a big ol’ spider web there coming down from that silver air duct.

See that upper silver air duct thingy, that’s going up to the floor? That’s where I’m headed. That covered grate on the brick wall looks out into the back yard.

Annnd, that’s kind of back behind me. If it wasn’t such a problem getting under here, that might be a good place to keep stuff. Like, canned stuff. But alas, I am not crawling my ass under the house every time I need a jar of applesauce.

I got to where I needed to go, only to find out that I was supposed to grab that blue cable and bring it with me. This was about, oh, 12 feet of crawling and wriggling that seemed like 12 miles.

After I grabbed the cable and pulled it back over to the original place I was, I had to stick it up through this hole. There are several cave crickets and one big, juicy spider. I had to stick my hand up there. Was fun. In fact, it took three tries before I could get the cable to go through the hole because it just barely fit.

Headed back to the door, I stopped and snapped a shot toward the front of the house. That was where I had to go last weekend. I was sad that I didn’t have to go back there again this time. NOT. (NOT sad, that is.)

And one last shot. Creepy times. I’m not claustrophobic, but every trip under the house makes me rethink that position.

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I am now caught up on Revenge, and I have this to say: oh, good lord, it is just so delightfully BAD. How on earth are they going to stretch this show out past the first season?

Also, with every line he delivers, Conrad Grayson looks like he has a mouthful of peanut butter and he’s trying to push it out without using his tongue.

I just love the hell out of this show; it is so delightfully over the top with wooden actors and unbelievable situations and it makes me giggle gleefully at least once every show (the most recent one being in the flashback when Takeda and Nolan were looking meaningfully at each other. Emily turned to look suspiciously at Nolan, and he smiled and nodded at her. I had to watch it like six times, it make me giggle so much.)

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After much time spent looking at kitten behinds yesterday afternoon, we are fairly certain that we’ve got three girls and one boy on our hands, Stripey1 being the one boy. Fred is pretty good at this sort of thing, so I’m pretty sure he’s right (but let me add that it’s always a possibility he’s wrong on one or more of the kittens).

Lesley, if you haven’t already, please check your email and get back to me regarding the naming of your kitten!

All continues to be well with the kittens. Every time I go into the room they’re either eating, sleeping, or preparing to do one or the other. Emmy is making sure that they’re fed and cleaned, and in turn we make sure that she’s well-fed and her litter box stays clean! It works well for all of us.

I’m pretty sure this is Stumpy. Such a sweet little face.

Sweet mama.

I love it when they curl up with her like this.

Charcoal loves her mama.

Stripey1.

Oh, look! Time to eat. That only happens constantly, we’re lucky I had the camera with me while it was happening.

Content mama.

Right to left, we’ve got Stumpy, Charcoal, Stripey2, and under Emmy’s arm, Stripey1.

Look at that baby, rolling around while nursing.

And rolling the other way. Also: TOES.

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“What?”

You know, one thing that drives me crazy is how a cat will sleep almost exclusively in one or two places, and then suddenly they just STOP. Sugarbutt used to sleep in the bottom of this Room with a View cat house all the time. Then one day, he stopped. I couldn’t figure out why – had someone peed in it? (The amount of time I spend smelling things to see if they’ve been peed on, well, if I had that time back, I could cure cancer.) No one had peed in it, Sugarbutt just appeared to not want to be there any more. So I was happy to see Miz Poo hanging out in it the other day, and Spanky sleeping on top. The two oldest cats in the house, hanging out together, kind of. Awww.

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Previously
2011: (Fred, by the way, is SO proud of Loony Jake and his huntin’ ways.)
2009: DAMNIT.
2008: Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted? A. Miz Poo!
2007: “Yeah, it’s really fleein’ the interview,” Fred said.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: You suppose they’d mind if I went over after dark and pressed my face up against the window to see what’s going on?
2003: Maybe I should go for the dreadlocks look…
2002: Any resemblance to persons living or dead are completely coincidental. I don’t fart.
2001: every Mulvaney shat gold upon command three times a day.
2000: Here at casa bitchypoo, we believe in extremely lazy Sundays.

3/4/12 – Sunday

The good news: Everett Peppers was adopted yesterday!!!! He’s gone to a home with a (human) boy to play with and a 5 year-old cat and so far things are going well and they love Everett to death already. Not that I’m surprised, perhaps I’ve mentioned that he is one awesome boy? The other good … Continue reading “3/4/12 – Sunday”

The other good news: Lisa was able to sweet-talk Sally Peppers out of her cage, Sally climbed into Lisa’s lap, and got some lovin’. I was super glad to hear that, because I know y’all know that I’ve been worried about that sweet girl. I’m going to predict that she’ll be adopted within the next two weeks. Fingers crossed!

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I swear, I thought that I had made this clear, but there have recently been enough people surprised by the news that I’m coming to the conclusion that I wasn’t clear at all. So here goes:

Love & Hisses has its own Facebook page. This is where I post things that happen between daily posts (like Everett Peppers being adopted, and it was the first place I posted about Emmy having her first kitten), and to have it show up on your feed, you have to click “like.”

If you prefer not to follow the page, I.. well, I won’t know one way or the other. If there’s a way to know who has “liked” the page, I don’t know about it (and I have enough other things to worry about, I promise I’m not going to hunt you down and tearfully ask why you hate sweet baby kittehs). I just wanted to make it clear – the Love & Hisses Facebook page is a separate entity from my personal Facebook page, just so you know.

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Mama Emmy and babies are doing just fine. No news to report – at this age they do nothing but eat and sleep and occasionally roll around. Emmy has no issues with me picking up her babies, and I only hold them until they start sniffing around, realize that I’m not their mama, and begin yelling. I did hold one for a few moments past the time it started yelling yesterday because I wanted to know what Emmy’s reaction would be. Emmy’s reaction? No reaction at all. I think she trusts that I’m not going to hurt her babies.

Nursing babies. OH SO SWEET.

TOES. (That’s Stumpy there on the left.)

So sweepy.

More Stumpy-toes.

Note that the baby on the far right is on a mission.

Places to go!

Ahhh, snuggled between his siblings is the place to be.

Happy little monkey face.

Honestly, these babies are constantly moving, squirming, climbing over each other, fighting over the best nipple.

And mama just lays there patiently.

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Newt the observer.

That patch of missing fur is due to an abscess from a few months ago. The vet shaved the hair around it, but it didn’t need to be lanced, he just needed a course of antibiotics. The fur is slowly growing back in. You rarely get to hear Newt’s voice, but BOY did he have something to say on the 10-minute drive to the vet’s office!

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Previously
2011: Sights from around Crooked Acres.
2010: Meet his brother, Mr. “THE FUCK YOU SAY!”
2009: Hail Stinky/ Full of Hate/ The Tom is with thee.
2008: The pigs reported that he tasted “Too humany.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Dumbass things I did yesterday.
2004: I think I need to go back to high school.
2003: “Well, good luck to Daddy on that,” I said.
2002: (You just shut up)
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

3/3/12 – Saturday

We had some bad weather here yesterday and some tornadoes touched down, but nothing really even came close to Crooked Acres. We just got some wind and rain. Fred leaves work early on Fridays most of the time, so he was home by 11. If we’d needed to take shelter, we would have put Emmy … Continue reading “3/3/12 – Saturday”

And really, on a side note: Emmy is scared, but she’s not mean – when she’s cornered, her number one goal is to get away, not to attack, so I think it might have been a struggle to get her into the carrier, but not impossible.

Despite our intentions of just leaving Emmy and her kittens in the box with no bedding, since that was how she apparently preferred it, I noticed that her kittens were having problems gaining purchase on the smooth wood floor of the box. And then Fred went up, and her kittens were laying there like little frogs, and he worried that it might not be good for their limbs. So he grabbed a pink pad, put it in front of the box, laid the kittens on it one by one, and then pulled Emmy out of the box (which she didn’t like, but he managed to do it without stressing her too much), and then slid the pad into the box. She didn’t react by pushing the pad out of the box or anything, so it must be acceptable to her – and the kittens have a much easier time moving around.

We went up this morning and got a face shot of each of the kittens and weighed them all. We did it quickly because the kittens were yelling and Emmy was growling, but at least I finally (after two WHOLE days!) got face pictures of each of them.

This is Stumpy (obviously a nickname for the time being!). Stumpy weighed 4 3/8 ounces. Fred thinks Stumpy is a girl, but don’t take that to the bank, it could change.

This is Stripey1. Stripey1 weighed 4 1/2 ounces. Fred couldn’t tell whether Stripey1 is a boy or a girl.

This is Stripey2. Stripey2 weighed 4 7/8 ounces, and we don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl.

This is Charcoal. Charcoal’s the biggest at 5 1/4 ounces. Fred says Charcoal is “possibly” a boy. We’ll see!

Now, here are Stripey1 and Stripey2 side by side for comparison purposes:

The differences I see: the dark marks on either side of their noses – S1 has shorter dark marks and S2 has longer, curved marks. The middle of S1’s “M” comes down further. Fred pointed out that S1’s “M” has a big round dark circle above it.

Those are the differences I’m seeing – y’all feel free to chime in, here! Obviously it’s easy for me to tell Charcoal and Stumpy apart, but I want to be able to tell the other two apart as well – which, I am sure, will become easier as time goes by.

After the kittens were cruelly weighed and had their pictures taken (which took about 20 second each), they were returned to their mama, who curled protectively around them.

I’m sorry, what’s that? You’d like MORE pictures? Well, if you insist!

The happy family.

“I HAZ A COMPLAINT!”

“I SAY! I HAZ A COMPLAINT AND MY COMPLAINT IS THAT YOU ARE HOLDING ME AND YOU SMELL LIKE A SMELLY HUMAN, YUCK!”

Stripey2 was a bit calmer about being held.

The tiny, delicate little whiskers slay me.

Not bothered, was our little Stripey2. Not bothered in the slightest.

SUCH a good mama!

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Tommy likes to make sure Elwood stays clean.

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Previously
2011: Like I say to Fred, every single day, how could you possibly see that face and not think he’s the MOST gorgeous boy in all the land?
2010: Crooked Acres pics.
2009: “LAYDEES,” he crows. “I SAY! CAN I GET SOME LOVIN’?”
2008: That, my friends, is a powerful stench. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.
2007: No entry.
2006: “MmmHMMM, I KNEW that was going to happen, the dumb bitch was lifting shit long before she was supposed to!”
2005: By the way, Erika: who watches your kids while you’re busy reading PEOPLE and firing off those indignant letters?
2004: Have I mentioned that I adore my DVR?
2003: Ah, you poor damn AOL users.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: See? I always say “Thank you” to the freaking servers at fast food places. Yet all I get in return is rudeness.

3/2/12 – Friday

Edited to add, 5 PM: We’re fine! All the really bad weather avoided Crooked Acres. We’re just fine, a little wind and rain, everything went North of us, for the most part! (Just wanted to let y’all know!) ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/2/12 – Friday”

Edited to add, 5 PM: We’re fine! All the really bad weather avoided Crooked Acres. We’re just fine, a little wind and rain, everything went North of us, for the most part! (Just wanted to let y’all know!)

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Reading about your adventure under the house reminds me of one of the greatest movies of all time… “Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit smelling foulness I can’t even imagine, or maybe I just don’t want to. Five hundred yards. That’s the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile…”

That is SUCH a good movie! Which reminds me, it’s been a while since we watched it. I think it’s time to watch it again!

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Can you tie the new cable to the old cable and pull it through the floor instead of crawling underneath again?

Unfortunately, when Fred cut through the cable, it dropped through the floor to under the house. It’s like he did it on PURPOSE because he wants me to have to go under the house again, isn’t it? That bastard!

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Robyn, I’m a long-time reader (I guess since 2000 or 2001?), and I remember all your hetred for Leslie Sansone and Florine Marks! Haha.

Also where has the time gone? I was 19 or 20 when I found your blog. I’m 31 now!

Isn’t it amazing that this site has been up and running (and that I’ve posted MOST weekdays!) for over 11 years now? When I first started, I was sure I wouldn’t have anything to write about past the first week, but here I am, still chugging along! Thank god for cats. (And thanks for reading!)

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It’s almost like you and Fred knew to build those steps and basket for Emmy. She seems to love that spot so much. I watched my first My Cat From Hell on Demand this morning and I thought how lucky all your cats are because your house is so well set up for them. I would venture a guess that you have no Bush Dwellers there-I think that is what he called the hiding cats.

Jake is actually a combination Bush and Tree Dweller. Miz Poo is also a Bush Dweller, now that I think about it. There’s a kitty condo in front of my couch in the front room, and Miz Poo and Jake share custody of it. Spanky is actually neither a Bush nor a Tree Dweller – he’s a Desk Dweller. He spends 99% of his time asleep in a cat bed on my desk. The rest of the cats prefer to be up high, though. Actually now that I think about it, Corbie’s a Bush Dweller. I wonder if he’d be a Tree Dweller if he could jump and climb better than he does? He spends most of HIS time sleeping on my couch or wandering around the back yard. I guess maybe he’s a Bush Dweller.

Everyone else, though, prefers to be up high, so they’re Tree Dwellers most of the time.

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I LOVE Revenge. I am usual not one for the trashy soap-types, but it’s SO bad that it’s good, I guess. Emily is totally not scary, and Madeleine Stowe (“I’ll find you. No matter what OCCURS!”) is such a beeyotch. My favorite is Nolan, though. I love him. Do you know he’s almost 40? Hmmph. True story. I read it on People, so it must be true.

IMDB says he’s almost 40, too. Two sources mean it must be true! I LOVE Nolan – he’s so deliciously shifty-eyed. I hated him at first, but it didn’t take long for me to like him. I think I like him the most of any character on that show.

I forgot my other favorite thing about this show: when Emily shows up in flashbacks in that horrible black wig. Oh, it makes me laugh so hard, because it’s SO bad!

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There is an app to store all your store reward card numbers into. For Droid phones, the link is here.

Apple has one, too.

If I can ever reliably connect to the Virgin Mobile Market on my phone, I’m going to download that!

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Y’all should go read the comments for this entry. I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one who has issues with other people who don’t know their own email address! (And Elayne always makes me laugh!)

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Watching the babies move was awesome. Then I heard a meow and thought “IT’S COMING FROM INSIDE THE WOMB!” before I remembered there are other cats in the house that could’ve made that noise. heh.

That meowing in the Emmy’s-belly video was Miz Poo. She picks up a toy somewhere in the house and then she travels the entire house, howling, until she finds one of her humans, whereupon she drops the toy at our feet and then expects to be praised. Here’s a video I made of it when we lived in our previous house:

She is SO proud of herself!

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Why can’t da Corbs jump? Did I miss something due to my sporadic blog-reading ways?

The muscles in Corbie’s back end are not as developed as they should be. If you see him, he looks normal from the “waist” forward, but his back end is very thin. One vet had no idea why it would be (blood work showed that there’d been some damage to the muscles; skeletally, he’s perfect), and the other vet suggested that it could be due to his being born to a mother who had FIV. We tried different supplements to build up the muscles. None of them seemed to do anything but make him nervous if we tried to pet him (he’d think we were trying to give him a pill), so we took him off of everything. He’s not getting worse, and he might be a little bit better – we encourage him to climb and to stand up (putting treats in a location that he has to stand on his back legs to get to them). It doesn’t interfere with his ability to get around at all, thankfully!

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What’s on the list of “best reasons to adopt a black cat?” I’ve got a beautiful black cat & I’m curious. I can reincorporate it into a list of “why my black cat is awesome.”

The top ten reasons to adopt a black cat:

1. We are always sleek, stylish and elegant.
2. You’ll never lose us in a snowstorm.
3. You’ll save money on our Halloween costumes.
4. Statistically speaking, we are friendlier than other cats.
5. We are happier because we look thinner!
6. In many cultures, black cats are good luck.
7. We can be slimming when draped over your lap.
8. We can easily accessorize our collars because everything goes well with black.
9. We are always appropriately dressed at cocktail parties.
10. We take the longest to get adopted and need your help the most!

I did a Google search on “best reasons to adopt a black cat” and came upon that list, which I cut and pasted into a document, added some pictures, and voila! The perfect list.

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Are you familiar with the adorable Murkin and his various foster kitten friends on his very own YouTube channel? It’s here.

“Murkin goes to WAR with the kittens” is my current favorite.

I had never seen those – that is FANTASTIC! You’ve got to love a dog who’s that good with little kittens.

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Here’s a good story!

That is such an awesome story, and that is one beautiful cat!

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It appears Everett is a gravity cat.

Indeed he is!!

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Don’t you just want to kiss on Emmy’s belly??? However, I am sure she would smack the snot outta ya! LOL.

If I even thought about kissing her belly, I suspect she’d hook one of her claws in my eyeball. Fred kissed her on top of the head the other day, and she hissed at him. Twice!

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Have you seen this?

I had not! Very neat.

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I must be incredibly slow on the uptake because the fact that Emmy’s name is an award too just dawned on me. Is that what started this whole thing and it just went over my head? I’m not a skimmah I swear but menopause/medication brain is not what it used to be. Not on the finer points anyway!

Actually, I decided that I liked the name Emmy because it was a good, simple, strong name and then someone pointed out that it was the name of an award, and with the Oscars coming up, maybe that should be the naming theme, awards. So really, the name came first and then the theme came second. I think. It’s been what, a week? It’s kind of fuzzy now, honestly. 🙂

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I suspect you will love this video.

You are correct! That is just too adorable.

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Mama Emmy and her babies are doing just fine. It got really warm in their room, so I ended up turning the air on for a few hours last night to make it more comfortable for them. Emmy is bound and determined that they’re staying in the wooden box, and so in the wooden box they’ll stay for at least another day before we try to move them.

Every time I go into the room, those babies are eating. Emmy eats everything I bring her, which is good – she’s got to provide food for the little monsters, after all.

I’m intending to get a picture of each of the kittens’ faces, but don’t want to stress Emmy out, so haven’t done that yet, maybe later today. They all seem to be healthy and vigorous and in good shape, which is good! Right now, for identification purposes, I’m calling them “the dark one”, “stumpy (the one with the half tail)” and the two stripey ones. Once I get a closer look at each of them, I may have different nicknames for them!

Little stumpy the half-tailed kitten. Look at that little half-tail! Cutest thing ever, right?

Look at the little flailing legs!

The Noms, nomming. THE NOMMING-NEES! (Oh, I slay me.)

Little stumpy half-tail, little stripey legs, little adorable claws. Yep, I’d say this one is my favorite.

The dark one. LOOK at the little claws! Yep, this one is definitely my favorite.

Awfully dark, this one. Almost black, I’m thinking, but Fred disagrees. It’s so hard to tell at hours old what they’re going to look like, I know. My prediction: this one’s going to grow up to be beautiful. I know, it’s a stretch that I’d make such a wild prediction, but mark my words. Beeyootiful.

The dark one from another angle. Love the stripes. Maybe it’ll be a dark gray tabby?

Little kitty mosh pit.

TOES.

Bellied up to the milk bar. I love how that one on the right has Emmy’s tail flung around her like a mink stole. (Psst! That’s my favorite kitten!)

Left to right: the dark one, little stumpy, and the two stripey-pantses.

Such a good, patient mama. Hey Emmy, you think you might like to settle down somewhere more comfy?
“NO. Emmy is perfectly comfy right here. Where’s my food? You go away. But scritch under my chin first.”

Toes and tails and stripes, oh I am dead from the cute.

That’s little stumpy.

Snoozin’ babies.

Amazing, aren’t they?

(I expect I’ll be posting at least short posts this weekend with pictures because I’m sure there will be roughly one million pictures snapped this weekend. LOVE digital cameras!)

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Corbie, alert. He looks around… he listens… he thinks.

“But… they’re not more beautiful than ME… Right, Mom?”

“…RIGHT?”
That’s right, Corbie. You’re still the fairest of them all.

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Previously
2011: Maybe tomorrow I’ll be less cranky.
2010: Mother Nature is a whore.
2009: March came in like a lion yesterday.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Yes, they’re AWFUL. They taste like my grandmother’s attic*!”
2006: I call him Bob.
2005: Bouncing like that just can’t be a good thing.
2004: “DAMN it’s cold in here, give me some ass!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Let’s just hope she wasn’t preparing him for the slaughter.
2000: No entry.

3/1/12 – Emmy and her babies

I am so sorry, you guys, I didn’t even think of the fact that a lot of you are reading from work and can’t go to Facebook! Here’s a quick post to get you up to date, and of course there’ll be lots more pictures tomorrow. Fred gets up in the morning at 3:40 am … Continue reading “3/1/12 – Emmy and her babies”

I am so sorry, you guys, I didn’t even think of the fact that a lot of you are reading from work and can’t go to Facebook!

Here’s a quick post to get you up to date, and of course there’ll be lots more pictures tomorrow.

Fred gets up in the morning at 3:40 am (not 3:41, and for GOD’S SAKE, not 3:42! Are you CRAZY?), and at my request, before heading downstairs he’s been going and looking in on Emmy. This morning he went in and sat with her and petted her. He said he was pretty sure she was having contractions, he could feel them under his hand. At 4:30, he came in and woke me up (he always says goodbye before he heads off to work) and said he thought maybe there was a baby coming. He opened the door to her room, then closed it and called to me “I think there’s already a baby in there!”, and as soon as he said it, I could hear the sounds of a little kitten with big lungs howling and howling. I got right out of bed, and we both went into the room.

Emmy did NOT want us in there. As soon as Fred stepped away from the door, she growled and she meant business. So we looked as closely as we could, saw one baby in there next to her, and then left the room. Fred kissed me and left for work, and soon I could hear a second irate baby voice in there.

I didn’t want to stress her out, so I didn’t go in there again until 5:30, and only because I realized we’d left the light on in there (Fred had turned it off, but then Emmy growled, so he turned it back on, which I didn’t know until I was crossing the hallway to go to the bathroom). I stepped in, and it was pretty hard to tell what I was seeing.

I had an appointment that required me to leave the house at 8:45, and to be gone for OVER two hours (it was pretty important or I would have rescheduled), but before I left I took up a plate of food for Emmy, and I snapped some pictures. I could pretty clearly see three tails, so I figured we had three babies – though the way she was positioned, it was really hard to tell! Definitely three, though.

Now, a note: although there was the kennel, all set up with nice soft bedding, Emmy had decided that not only did she want to give birth in the wooden box (which Fred and I have been using as a chair of sorts), she pushed the cat bed OUT of the box before she did so. Emmy wanted what she wanted, and who were we to tell her there was a better way to do it, right? Fred did push the bed part of the way into the box at one point, and she pushed it back out. Okay, Emmy. Message received!

I went off to my appointment, was gone for OVER two hours (couldn’t stop thinking about Emmy and her kittens the entire time), and the first thing I did when I got home was go up and check on them. Emmy had turned around, and when I walked through the door, I was greeted by the sight of four wee babies, belly up to the milk bar.

Someone put on their striped leggings for the occasion!

This afternoon, Emmy was MUCH calmer. She let me touch her babies and she let me touch HER, too. I didn’t try to pick up any babies and kiss them, I have SOME self-restraint, y’know. When I went up a little while longer to see if she still had just the four, one of them had escaped the box and was worming around right outside the box. I picked him up and put him back in with Emmy, and the kitten yelled, which caused Emmy to growl, but it was a pretty calm growl, just letting me know that I better STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.

But here’s the interesting thing about that wee kitten: he only has half a tail! I haven’t gotten a picture of it yet, but I’ll definitely get a picture and post it for tomorrow’s entry.

So that’s the state of Emmy and the Nominees. Because they were born sometime between 3:40 and 4:30 and one person chose 3 am in the Emmy Pool and another chose 4:40, I’m going to let each of them name a kitten. So congrats, Catsy and Lesley, who will be choosing and naming their kittens as soon as we can tell them apart and tell which are male and which are female.

Thank you, everyone who entered in the Emmy Pool!

3/1/12 – Crooked Acres Thursday

BABY NUMBER ONE IS HERE!!!! Emmy doesn’t want us in there, she growled at us. We don’t want to stress her out, so left her alone. I’ll be reporting more when I can, over at Facebook. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/1/12 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

BABY NUMBER ONE IS HERE!!!!

Emmy doesn’t want us in there, she growled at us. We don’t want to stress her out, so left her alone. I’ll be reporting more when I can, over at Facebook.

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New month, new banner!

I made this one. I adore that picture of the duck, flooping up out of the water.

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Sights from around Crooked Acres.

Male and female House Finches.

They just love those homemade seed blocks so very, very much.

The daffodils around the cat house in the back yard have started to bloom. I love daffodils, they’re my favorite flower.

Happy Gracie.

Sweet Miss Gracie keeps an eye on the flock.

Her “let’s play!” pose. You can’t see him in the picture, but George is not far away.

Dirty, dirty dawgs.

Gracie, keeping an eye out.

Pup in motion.

George, slurpin’.

Gracie, coming down off Dirt Mountain.

Toasty the rooster keeps an eye on his wimminfolk.

I don’t know how she stays so clean and blindingly white. Probably she doesn’t venture forth from the coop when it’s muddy out.

Young rooster, chasing after a hen.

One thing that good roosters do is, when they spot food, they cluck so that the hens will know that they’ve located food. It’s similar to the noise a mother hen makes for her babies. Toasty the rooster called this little hen over, and she came running because hens so love them some food.

Between the two of them, they polished it off in no time.

Two young roosters, facing off. The white one on the right displays what we call “Umbrella Neck.”

Note that the adult chickens have no time for this nonsense.

The young ones are all “Yeah? You’ve got Umbrella Neck? ME TOO! MY Umbrella Neck is way more Umbrella-y than yours!”

Then the black rooster took it to the next level and jumped at the white one, who reacted by clutching his pearls and running off while clucking hysterically.

Roosters keep watch while the wimminfolk eat.

Chicken on Dirt Mountain.

Another daffodil.

I need to get out near the fruit trees with the camera – at least a couple of them are already covered in blossoms, and they’re awfully pretty.

Is it Spring? Because it certainly feels like it!

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Tuesday night, little cross-eyed Lucy got herself adopted! Here’s a refresher on just who Lucy Peppers is:

The story is that the people who ended up adopting Lucy were originally looking at Sally. Lisa got Sally warmed up and they were petting her, then she opened the cage that Everett and Lucy were in, and Lucy was friendlier, so they ended up deciding to take her. Hey, I’m just thrilled that Sally was allowing them to pet her at all! Everett was still hissy (did I mention that when I put him in the cage with Lucy on Monday he hissed at her, then hissed at me, and then hissed at someone walking by?). I’m sure that given a few more days, Everett will be his big ol’ loverboy self.

This is HUGE – Lucy only had to spend another week in that cage before someone came along and fell in love with her sweet little self.

I’m hoping that this weekend will be the weekend that Everett and Sally go. Fingers and toes crossed!

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(This was written last night; as of this moment I can hear two babies in there yelling away!)

No babies. I thought for SURE she was going to have those babies on the 29th! Oh, she’s a stubborn brat – still eating like crazy, if anything her appetite has picked up. She’s getting bigger by the moment, I swear.

Smug little face.

Poppin’ out all over.

Clearly she trusts me enough to sleep while I’m in the room mere feet away.

“Were you just thinking about bringing me food? Because I could eat.”

A couple of people requested a belly video the other day, after I mentioned that her belly was a squirming mass o’ babies. It took some doing, but here you go:

It’s really kind of mesmerizing, no?

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Look! It’s Joe Bob NOT on the scratcher!

You wild and crazy boy.

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Previously
2011: Have I ever mentioned that I can hardly stand how gorgeous Corbie is?
2010: I guess it’s March’s plan to come in like a lion
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: Natalie Maines could use some wardrobe advice, though, and I hope I’m not trampling all over her Right to Freely Dress Like a Bag Lady when I say that.
2006: It was so friggin’ cute I made Fred listen to it, too.
2005: I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture, apparently.
2004: A day in the life.
2003: What makes me crazy.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Okay, enough of the wallowing.