Yeah. We’re easily amused.
This morning started with some Santa Hat silliness:
Some of the zoo were less into this idea:
And some are game for anything:
John got power tools, because he’s been a very good boy this year:
Brian and I took a walk with Tosh:
And all that’s left is to make and eat a fabulous dinner and wish everyone a safe, happy, and healthy new year:
All the best to you and yours.
We’re doing Thanksgiving at our house this year – our usual routine is to go to my aunt’s, but she’s had an emergency in her family, so we dropped back, punted, and John’s brining a turkey this very minute.
As the household baker, I am in charge of pies. Mom and I powered through pumpkin and had the apple in the oven, when I came in to see Dash on the counter and this:
Dead. Cat. Walking.
You wouldn’t think he was evil, to look at him:
Anyway, there’s another pie in the oven. Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends, and happy Thursday to the rest of the world.
We’re not huge cat-toy buyers. Our cats aren’t terribly interested in gee-whizzery, and the Kitty Can’t Cope Sack represents the pinnacle of technology to them. Milo’s favorite toy, when he’s not getting his kitty buzz on, is a crumpled receipt (and his zeal for pursuing them, even in an uncrumpled state, makes entering expenses into Quicken an exercise that would impress the Flying Wallendas). We are well aware that for the feline imagination a cardboard box is a castle, a TARDIS, and a treehouse all in one.
So why we were enticed by a $5 IKEA nylon cat-hut, I don’t know. But I’m happy we didn’t listen to our wiser voices for once. The thing’s a hit at our house, and for some reason we find it endlessly amusing to find our cat-family enjoying its cozy Swedish vibe.
Simon a/k/a "Big Papi" (for his increasingly strong resemblance to David Ortiz ):
Little Milo, happily sharing space with several Kitty Can’t Copes:
Dash, examining the environs:
…and deciding that he draws the line at sharing.
We’ve had heavy rains around these parts recently (though nothing to what the folks in the Gulf Coast are facing – I’m watching those reports with dread). Dash, always afraid of thunder, now seems to have extended that trepidation to mere heavy rain.
Not usually a lap cat, he sniffed at the slider the other morning and insisted on sharing the available space on my lap with my computer. I was able to snag his chagrin with the PhotoBooth program. Poor dear.
…No, it shall never be. And to prove it, just in time for the Fourth of July weekend, several minutes of pointless video that might only be of interest to a small subset of my friends and relatives*:
“This is not how I am” indeed, Simon – get yer paws off of the coffee table.
Happy holiday weekend, at least to the US folks who are looking forward to beer and barbecue tomorrow.
*And of that small subset, there’s probably an even smaller subset consisting of John and my mom who will actually be amused by this video.
Cute cat photos…
…and also arty cat photos
Things I have done recently include:
- Going to see Eddie Izzard (love you! Call me!)
- Going to MD Sheep and Wool with friends
- Purchasing a spindle and managing (with a quick tutorial from my friend Rachel) to actually produce yarn with it (portable spinning! Brilliant!)
I will (hopefully) talk about these things anon. However for now, the cute cat images will have to do.
We have both here today. It has been pouring out for most of the day – a storm system stretches from north of us in the DC area down to Savannah.
For Milo, born in a summer drought, and having lived through one almost snowless winter, this is a novelty:
For Dash, who is terrified of thunder, this is a very, very bad day. He has been clingy and moan-y, sticking close to anyone or anything who can give him comfort:
Poor little guy.
…Though we are sad here at Chez Writingortyping, because wee Milo is off to the vet for that… operation. The one all good cat-owners have done if they don’t want to be vicarious kitten-mommas or -daddies. So, despite the fact that I have been a lame blogger of late, I shall only give you a few photos of the little guy. He’s going to be gone for a whole 24 hours, and John and I are wondering how we will cope without our dense, warm little fur-bundle purring away on our laps. We have already suffered through this morning’s agony of trying to ignore him on doctor’s pre-surgery no-feed orders as he squeaked furiously at us, completely incensed that his usual demands were met with no kibble. (Our neighbor likes to say, “Dogs have owners; cats have staff.” It is all too true.)
We had a party recently – Milo appointed himself Sommelier:
Feeling like quite the wildlife photographer, I also caught Milo and Dash performing the elusive head-lick:
Lastly, a similarly elusive group photo of all three of the feline members of the household:
At least I don’t have the heartrending task of actually leaving the wee one at the vet’s – that job goes to John, as the vet is on his way to work.