No, really.
The cat that beat me up when I attempted to adopt it has apparrently found a way to transit into the house, and score food from the cat dishes in the basement.
I’ve got to figure a way to co-opt it, because in a conflict, mano a gato, it will kick my butt, because it already has.
Catnip, I need lots of catnip.
BTW, this is the first time that I’ve ever used Windows Live Movie Maker.
This is chapter 3 of the tale of RP the Cat.
Jake Burris, the campaign manager for Ken Aden’s (D) had his cat beaten to death by some teabagger scum:
Police were investigating Monday after a cat belonging to the family of a Democrat’s campaign manager was beaten to death and the word “liberal” scrawled across its side.
The cat belonged to the family of Jake Burris, who manages Democrat Ken Aden’s bid for Arkansas’ 3rd Congressional District.
Burris was returning to his Russellville home with his four children when he found the cat on his doorstep Sunday night, the Aden campaign said in a press release.
The mixed-breed Siamese cat had one side of its head bashed in to “the point the cat’s eyeball was barely hanging from its socket,” the release said.
Aden told Reuters that the event was “horrible, to say the least.”
If we find out who did this, I would hope that the US Attorney finds a way to treat this as terrorism, and go full Patriot Act on his ass.
Brains, Brains…
Brains, Brains…
Or tuna. Tuna would be nice
Well, I did promise pictures of the new cats, so here are Mousetrap and Hummus (middle pic).
They seem to be settling in fairly well, though there does appear to be a bit of tense between the two of them.
Right now, there Mousetrap seems to be in the pole position for alpha cat, but we’ll see how it sorts out.
If it’s physical strength, it’s definitely Mousetrap, who is built like a tank, though I think that Hummus might be a bit quicker on her feet.
Two actually, with fur, tails, and whiskers, two and three years old from the Humane Society, one black and one a tabby/tortoise shell.
Sharon and the kids will be picking them up tomorrow afternoon, Hummus and Mousetrap, at least that’s the name the Humane society gave them.
Pix to follow later.
Well, it looks like catching that stray cat last night came to naught. It jumped up on the shelving, and found its way into the ceiling of the basement, as I noted last night, and it appears that there is a passage between that and the outside.
When I came home, I saw it running away from the (still somewhat full) cat dish of food.
It’s a bit of a relief actually, because I was concerned that I would have to cut a hole in the ceiling to rescue it.
We do want to get another cat, but I think that we will go the Humane Society route.
Now I have to get all the ceiling panels back into place.
This is chapter 2 of the tale of RP the Cat.
Since Tudza has died, we have been trying to catch/adopt a young (my guess, less than 9 months) stray cat in our area.
Well, with the aid of a rescue trap, we got him, and he’s hiding in the basement ceiling now. (I’m giving him a few minutes to cool down before I try to extract him)
In getting him out of the trap though, he expressed his displeasure with his treatment in a most forceful manner.
And it is cats:
We had to put Tudza to sleep today.
His kidney numbers continued to rise, and his hematocrit fell to 10%, and it was time.
We’re going to bury him in the back yard now.
It looks like my cat, Tudza, has only a few months left.
Renal failure.
Patty cake.
You can read the rest at the Oatmeal, and I highly recommend that you do so.
Received via email:
TRIP TO COSTCO
Yesterday I was at my local COSTCO buying a large bag of Purina dog chow for my loyal pet, Biscuit, the Wonder Dog and was in the checkout line when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.
What did she think I had an elephant?
So since I’m retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn’t have a dog, I was starting the Purina Diet again.
I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in the hospital last time, but that I’d lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms. I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Purina nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in line was now enthralled with my story.)
Horrified, she asked if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me.
I told her no, I stepped off a curb to sniff an Irish Setter’s ass and a car hit us both.
I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard.
Costco won’t let me shop there anymore.
Better watch what you ask retired people. They have all the time in the world to think of crazy things to say.
Forward this (especially) to all your retired friends……it will be their Laugh for the day
Have Americans become so slovenly that the mere act of flicking one’s wrist while holding a laser pointer is too much effort?
(Click pic for vid)
After 10 years, my daughter (the 10 year old), and the cat (age 15 more or less) how they have finally come to an appreciation of each other.
It might be more accurate to say that Natalie has finally come to understand, and acquiesce, to Lavi being a cat.
Natalie has always been Lavi’s person, just as Charlie has always been Tudza’s person. (I’m the mommy, they imprinted on me)
However, Natalie has only recently come to internalize the fact that Lavi is not a doll.
I don’t mean that she did things like dress Lavi up in dresses, but rather that unlike an inanimate toy, you have to reach an accommodation with a cat.
Natalie has never been comfortable with the cat sleeping on her, or with sharing her pillow with her, but finally, Natalie has created a space on her bed, right next to her own pillow, which is Lavi’s.
The surprising thing was that she could find space on her bed for this. There are about 80 gazillion stuffed animals on it (Only a slight exaggeration. This Weekend she said that she was at 357).
So now Lavi has her space, and Natalie has her space, and I don’t have complaints that, “Lavi is sleeping on me.”
Works for me.
A man put his shotgun down, and his dogs blasted hunter with his own shotgun.
Luckily, dogs do not know the difference between bird and buck shot.
