I usually only post to prompts, but I can’t resist posting this photo of Kukla and Diego. There doesn’t seem to be much animosity between them, but if she were to jump down on “his” side of the fence, a chase would certainly occur. Gates and walls make for a peaceable kingdom.
Oops..I can see this video here but not when I try to view it on Notifications or the Reader. Please let me know if it works for you. It should last about 15 seconds, but it looks like this video doesn’t work except on Facebook. I’ll see if she can send it in another format. Sorry.
I received this message from my friend Kristina who is housesitting for me on my birthday. Hope you can see this video of Ollie and another who remained his playmate and not his prey, but I fear the worst.
Where’s that naughty kitty been?
Even though it’s nearly ten,
she’s not had a single nibble
of the tuna and the kibble
that I put outside the door
long ago—two hours or more.
If dead from curiosity,
she’s passed her illness onto me!
Kukla hasn’t quite figured out my filing system yet.
My cat is very subtle, so I named her Innuendo.
Not so for the dogs, who always speak in a crescendo.
When they feel romantic, cats may wail an eerie tune,
but dogs need no testosterone to prompt their nightly croon.
Cats vocalize for grand events. Dogs blather on at small things:
a squirrel on the garden wall–literally all things.
Every passing siren causes canine howls to bloom.
They seem to herald catastrophe–to signal the world’s doom.
If cats should chance to dream a tune, they keep it in their bosom,
but I think dogs release their songs simply to amuse ’em.
The old cat yowls a caustic moan—a banshee’s rough lament.
It rips my slumber wide apart. My gentle dream is rent.
A night comprised of eight-hours sleep would now seem heaven-sent.
My friends urge euthanasia, but I’m of another bent.
I toast the bread and spread the jam. I let my coffee vent,
then take a sip and watch the cat sip oil but not dent
the surface of the tiny can of shrimp and cod I’ve bent
to plop into my grandma’s dish that was never meant
to house a meal for animals—that family heirloom leant
power by its years of use—everywhere it went.
No human family member can know the full extent
of what this antiquated vessel means in its descent.
It is a loving blessing. A secret grand event—
a little ceremony to honor her ascent
to wherever old cats go when it’s time to absent
themselves from an easy life that’s turned into torment.
Why can I not cut loose the cord? I am a dissident
regarding being left once more. Those other loves that went
more silent into that good night, finally content,
somehow have not prepared me for this coming event.
I cannot be the agent hastening her demise.
The cat and I return to bed to close our stubborn eyes.
After the dinner and party at the Raquet Club, we came to my house to play Mexican Train, and at 9:30 went to Olga’s down the street to watch her night-blooming cereus open. Gorgeous. (Click photos to enlarge)
Olga and the King of Cats.
For Cee’s FOTD.
Every time I think Annie has cornered the market in weirdness, she comes up with a new angle. With a comfy cat bed, numerous rugs and cushions, two sofas and two people beds all awaiting her presence, tonight I walked into the bathroom to find her comfortably bedded down in her litter tray! Go figure.
Here are some photos I snapped today in the Vet’s office waiting room. How many forms of feline confinement are there, anyway? Share yours with me by posting links to your blog below in comments. (Click on photos to enlarge.)
Annie and I have been to the vet twice in the past two days and since tomorrow is a holiday (Mexican Labor Day, when ironically nobody works for a day) they want us to come back on Thursday. Since her treatment is exactly the same if it is cancer or no, I decided to spare her that long needle for the biopsy. So we’re home with one medicine, another available Thursday, another expensive healthy cat food she won’t eat and, blessedly, for her, the freedom of the whole house. She did not like her sojourn in the dread black bag pictured.
Here are some photos I snapped today in the Vet’s office waiting room. How many forms of feline confinement are there, anyway? Share yours with me by posting links to your blog below.
Cat Burglars – Breaking & Entering.
Kitten Break-In Artists
The four tiny kittens dropped at my doorstep were of huge distress to my 17 year old cat, so as soon as they were old enough for shots, spaying and neutering, they became outside cats, with their own luxury cathouse as well as a huge cushy bed in the garage. The old cat chose to remain permanently inside, with her litter tray in my shower. I used the guest room shower. This drove the kittens mad, however, and they continually plotted on how to gain re-admittance to my house. In this video, they had removed one of the glass slats on the master bedroom’s bathroom window–not an easy task as there were bars on the outside of it and a screen fastened by metal rivets into the wall. The slats were held by spring-action long metal clamps and were hard for even me to remove. But, where there are determined kittens, there is a way. When I heard the ruckus, I had to come view it and returned with camera, never thinking they would succeed.
I have been looking for the video for a year, fearing it was lost when I switched over to a new computer. Then, yesterday, I found it on a thumb drive. Couldn’t wait to share it with you!