fileg: (tolkien)


I only repost this sort of thing when it really speaks to me.


(Usually this is referenced in our house with story of the time Tally, the largest, roundest cat, decided to climb up and block the TV while I was watching Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes. This caused me to say to [livejournal.com profile] notarysojac jim -- Ooooh, he looks just like he does in the book!)


fileg: (drugs)
Frosty should count himself lucky, because at least I have never done this or this

Though Jim once took me to a website where people put their cats on their scanners and sent the results to be posted. The guy had to stop because he was tired of all the scanner flattened cat genitalia shots, and no matter how much he begged, people kept sending that end.

But it did convince Jim and I that if we ever start a band, we will call ourselves "Fluffy's Junk."

flashback

Oct. 17th, 2005 12:11 pm
fileg: (powzie)
Why am I awake? beats me. I just got on a major roll and am cleaning up about a hundred bitsy things I have put off in a folder on my desktop. If I had known I would still be awake, I would have gone for writing instead, though....


It's lovely and autumnal and cool, but I am currently closed up in the living room because of cats.

There is a wiry little odd eyed white on my porch, and it will *not* go away. Frosty has taken this as a personal affront, a statement about indoor cats in general and his prowess in particular, and he is making a noise like a lawnmower being run over a field of credit cards. Oddeye is not impressed, and yowls back in a higher range - that sound that tells you you should have turned off the machine an hour ago when it started making the funny noise, and it's too late now, prepare to boom.

It's annoying, but amusing and just in case it bothers the vacuuming woman, I did nothing to stop it.

after a while it got quiet, and I thought I heard the mailman so I stepped out on the porch. No mail yet, but oddeye teleported over and gave me the major purring leg rub, then tried to saunter inside with me.

I don't suppose I have to tell you how much Frosty enjoyed that.

I just got settled under my powerbook when Armageddon broke out. Frost had gotten up on the dining room table and was displaying his bulk in the open window. He's heavy, but I don't think he could go through the screen even if he *really really* tried, (Powzie once pranced in the bedroom window enough to enrage a labrador to lunge through at her, resulting in a seriously bent frame) but the thought has never occurred to him, and he has no claws.*

Oddeye thought he might make it in, however, and he levitated up and hit the screen with a sound like a marching band if they were all playing the zipper.

I juggled my laptop to the table and hauled myself over to find them paw to paw against the screen, all black and white like that Star Trek episode with Frank Gorshin. (you know the one - stop denying it, you know damn well you do - Commissioner Bele in "Let That Be Your Last Battlefield")

Since I don't have the ability to transport them down to a planet to duke it out, I shut the window.

There was much fluffing and prowling but a session with the catnip suck-sack has soothed our nerves, and now we are comatose on the magic manila envelope from Taiwan.




* I hasten to add that I did not have him declawed - we adopted him as an adult and he came that way.
fileg: (seasonal)
North-sim shares her space with a stripey grey cat she calls Quagga. If you have ever had Sims with cats, you know that they love to bring home the fruit of their hunting encounters as a gift for mom. Quagga in particular likes to try and present North with a mousie carcass under less than optimal circumstances. For example - when Raven, who North is trying to convince to move in with her, becomes suddenly interested in the love bed, Quagga will race in with deceased prey and frolic around the bed with it, and then leave it strategically placed on the floor.


My sweetie had already left for work, but I got a first hand demonstration this morning. We are currently sleeping on an air bed on the floor, so when the mailman woke me to deliver an early package, I thought I would crawl back in for another hour of sleep, but Frosty barreled into the bedroom after me, yowling.

I thought this was a regular cat complaint (you stood up, but you didn't feed me! Mroow!) but when I refused to get up again, he began to frolic around the bedroom, tossing something up in the air and catching it. Usually, he does this with a catnip carrot, but since I am only a few inches off the floor, and I was not interested in getting a drool-y wet cat toy in the face, I rolled over to throw it down the hall. Not a catnip toy, but thankfully not in bed with me... yet.

We then proceeded to have a difference of opinion on dead mice. Mom was very unreasonably trying to take it away for disposal, and Frosty (whose previous rodent experience consists of hiding in the closet when a hamster in a ball chased him) refusing to give it up. Stupid mother, can you not see that miniature mousie carcasses were just made for flinging around the bedroom?

Once I managed to wrestle it away from him, I realized I had no idea if he had killed it himself. Mice do get into the apartment crawlspaces in the winter, especially bitter snowy ones like this has been, and I was worried it had expired from poison. Not to cast aspersions on the hunting prowess of my mighty feline, but I have seen him spend an hour waiting for the laser pointer dot to come back out from under the couch. So, I have spent the day with a dead mousie in a handkerchief in the sink of the bedroom bath, and a very annoyed cat prowling about.

When Jim gets home, I get to present it to him. Mrrrrrow.


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