You can hide. Feather does not like company. So she hides in the closet. Then the kids know where to go to find her. New hiding place? Not yet. Smart – cat? Kid? Unknown? It’s an experiment in progress. I still find Feather in her spot. Leave the cat in peace please. Who told on her?
Feather loves mint chip ice cream. How? I don’t know. She was all over me one night as I ate. She proceeded to lick my bowl clean. Now she gets the cold treat before I’m done. I put some on the table and she licks and gobbles it up. None of the other cats have shown any interest in ice cream. Chocolate is bad for cats. I didn’t notice a small chip. Feather was smart enough to leave it behind. Now I have read cats won’t willingly eat chocolate on their own. Maybe it’s like broccoli and peas for me?
We have water with minerals. Who doesn’t? And, it stains the porcelain in the toilet. The brown ring makes us look like poor housekeepers. As a guy I can ignore small things. We’re clean. Period. But, well, Colleen has been embarrassed. She has tried to clean the stains without success. It took a while but I have finally replaced the bowls. I did it with a little help from Ray. Later on Ray was not so anxious to cooperate. Meanwhile, Colleen has the ground floor toilet fixture she always wanted. …when you gotta go, you gotta go.
It got out of hand. We live in the midst of projects. Sometimes things sneak upon us. We have been quietly blissfully buying sheep fleece. The source! It has to be less expensive to start with raw material. A finished skein is costly $$$. It’s often sold by the ounce and the money quickly adds up. Weaving can be expensive. So, we found ourselves with more unwashed fleece than we knew what to do with. Don’t ask! But it meant a lot of fleece needed washing. And it meant a lot of space was needed to dry it after the wash. No, you cannot put it in the dryer. I told you not to ask! It was already crowded. Now, it’s a mess. We don’t actually have two places to sit and eat among two tables and twelve chairs. Don’t ask!
Elle? Yes, she really is hemmed in by the mess. The cats love it. It’s an obstacle course with lots of hiding places.
Nutley and Ray are restricted on the outdoor deck. They wear a collar on a tether in order to prevent them from going over the gate and into the wide world. I anchor the rope to the outdoor table and move the anchor as they tangle up going around the furniture. Got it? I looked down and noticed blood on the deck. It was funny looking thin almost like grape juice. Nope! Blood! Colleen and I checked. No mosquitoes. Neither of us was bleeding. It was Nutley. Big! All over. There was a trail of blood around the planter. Dunno? The cut was small – right on his ear. But it kept bleeding. Pressure did not work. We went through several paper towels. I’d get the bleeding to slow down and Nutley would shake his head vigorously and start the bleeding all over again. Normal bleeding time for humans is under 8 minutes. In cats? It just kept bleeding. …. til it stopped suddenly. It bled once more with another head shake. But after that it stopped. To be sure it was a traumatic experience for us both (human and cat). Nutley howled pitifully. But it all stopped. And Nutley lives!
What do you do on a slow day? I write about my cats. I try to take a picture every day. Some days it’s cats. Presently I’m food obsessed. Writing about food would only make me hungry. Elle is now the smallest. She’s oldest too. It doesn’t stop Spice from picking on her. Elle holds her own. Spice goes in ‘timeout’ if I catch her whopping Elle. Détente! (I know what you’re thinking [Spice]. Don’t even think about it!)
My cat drinks beer? That is a pottery beer stein/mug – or so I have been told. I don’t recall the name they called it. And, there is my nutcase cat – Nutley – drinking from it. There’s probably not enough beer for me to be chastened for giving beer to a minor (cat). Nutley, that’s his name.
Spice has the look of freshly pulling her own paw from an electric socket. No matter what, she has tangles. I realize that the background loom is not helping. Poor thing. We are working there. She’s resting. Possession is the word. We let her sit. Good kitty!
We took a basket making class. Don’t ask. I used to joke about basket making as a throw away college course in which to get an easy “A.” Now I have nightmares about the final exam tomorrow in a college course in which I neglected to attend a single class. I’m retired! No classes! Ever! I cannot fail. And I will not take another final exam. Ever! As you can see our work was immediately appropriated and put to good comfort and use.
It’s not flattering (to me). It is a snap arranged and taken by Colleen. She calls me the Pied Piper. I sit and the cats gather. We have one, two, three here. She says these are my cats…as opposed to hers. Cats have preferences too. I would deny it. But, there are favorites. All are given the love they demand. Some demand more than others.