"That's not writing - that's typing." --Truman Capote
Okay – this one’s for the serious Milo fans…
…or the serious knitting content fans (“Look, ma! Knitting!”). I’m very lucky that none of our cats are terribly interested in playing with, eating, or otherwise molesting my knitting. So here’s Milo, modeling the current status of the “Bee Fields” shawl.
And just because I’m geeky enough to want to play with Flickr video for myself, here’s the Tiny Dictator demanding his dinner in a laid-back, yet acrobatic manner:
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.
Robynn has promised some 4theanimals dosh, so here’s my first YouTube effort to say “thanks!”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYZYpWq9M6U1. Thank you, Marilee, for being the first contributor to the Poplar Springs 5k fund! Her donation coincided with a particularly fortuitous afternoon’s snaps of the Smith household animals, so here’s a photographic “thank you” from those worthies:
2. Thanks to: a.) the fact that my husband actually reads the Birchmere‘s occasional missives, b.) my friend Melanie’s quick response to a call to arms, and c.) my credit card, I can report that Mel, her sister and I are actually going to get to see Eddie Izzard. (John’s not interested, but thanks for noticing he’s not included). As my mom is fond of saying in reference to hot flashes, “Faint, but don’t fan: it’s a dead giveaway.”
3. In other theatrical news, we’re going to see Teller’s Macbeth this weekend at the Folger Theatre. I feel a bit ashamed to say that I have lived in the DC area for a total of over nine years and have never been to the Folger. Cultural cretin – that’s me.
4. Who thought of this daylight savings time palaver, anyway? And who thinks it’s a good idea to extend it? Clearly someone who doesn’t work for a living. Feh.
…but MAN, the resemblance is scary (no, we’ve never even tried to put any of our cats on a leash).
Smith shoots, it’s high….
OH! And it’s blocked by El Milo!
What a save – DC United’s defense is lucky to have such a promising young keeper…
Still not 100% in the old “healthy” column, but getting back a bit. I do, however, have some cute photos of my friends Miklos’ and Michelle’s first-born (second-born is due next month). Martin was terrifically intrigued by all our critters, though he was leery of Tosh at first. He spread toddler cheer all around the place for a very pleasant evening (yes, he’s only almost three, though he looks about five).
He angled quite successfully for the orange creamsicle cat-fish:
Got a consultation from Dr. Melanie on the best way to snag the critter:
But this one has to be my favorite – you could photoshop them onto the end of a pier and it would look like they’re fishing together:
Milo wasn’t the only beneficiary of having a kid around the place. Tosh did his nice, patient puppy routine while Martin learned how to give a dog a cookie:
And was rewarded by a big game of tug (Martin had clearly gotten over his worries that the dog would eat him by this point):
Lest you think the humans didn’t get to have some good kid-fun too, let me dispel that notion. One of the many examples of Martin playing with the grownups, here with Yvonne:
That’s all for now. As much as I’d like to crawl back into bed, I must head off to work. ::sigh::
We had an amusing weekend – John’s all for getting a Christmas tree at the earliest opportunity, so we went off to our usual tree vendor and got ourselves a fine, fragrant little evergreen.
Here’s a shot of John finishing it off (he loves that I take a picture of his butt every year).
Of course, having a new kitten in the household means some amount of anxiety about trimming a tree. Over the years we have collected a wide variety of ornaments, and we have a system: the really delicate ones go up at the top, and there is a sort of graduated arrangement whereby the sturdiest ones hang at cat-height. The older cats really couldn’t care less about the tree, but we’ve kept to this scheme over the years just in case. At first blush, Milo gave us his most innocent pose:
“Who, me?”
Then he was clearly intrigued:
“Come to meeeee!”
Then there was the tap-tapping of a wee white paw:
And then, well:
“Nom nom nom!!”
That was about the time we decided we didn’t want seed beads in the cat and threw that particular fancy away.
Milo was back to playing Mr. Innocent in no time:
Yeah. He’s getting bigger.
(Knitting content post-script: yes, those are handmade socks. BMFA “Socks that Rock” heavyweight in the “rose quartz” colorway, purchased at Stitches late-ish so I was forced to go out of my usual color comfort zone. I rather love them. They knit up in about three days and I adore the combination of delicate color and sturdy, warm boot-sock).
…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:
“May I get madame a glass of champagne?”
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.
