I got cat class and I got cat style

22 04 2015

Time and thoughts are both scattering. Nothing serious, just: life.

So how about some pictures of tiny Jasper?

Jasper July09a

Jasper Jul09h

Jasper Jul09d

He was a smelly, feral little boy, and lordy, did he do a number on my feet, ankles, and calves.

He’s pretty clean now, and only rarely goes gonzo. And, of course, he’s big.

009

But I still call him my kitty-boy.





Monday, Monday

2 02 2015

It’s a Monday in February, so how about some beached cats?

001

Her seal pose

This does not look comfortable to me.

This does not look comfortable to me.

Washed up by the pink sea on a teal beach.

Washed up by the pink sea on a teal beach.

All appendages accounted for.

All appendages accounted for.

That pink blanket, by the way, should probably be relegated to the closet, but I am a damned sentimentalist stubborn about some things: that’s the blanket that was on my bed as kid.

Anyway, Jasper seems to like it.





What a drag it is getting old

31 12 2014

Hey kids, what kind of fun are you going to have tonight?

Yer not out partying or else you wouldn’t be reading my rambling bits—so maybe you’re like me, sacked out on your (new-to-you!) loveseat, drinking beer (and maybe later, whisky) and watching bad t.v. shows and/or movies you’ve seen before, on Netflix.

Whoo-hoo!

Well, I will celebrate—not New Year’s, just the end of the evening—with my cats later. After I shut down the computer and turn off the lights, the critters run to the bathroom for big fun: Trickster yells at me until I set the faucet dribble to just the right rate of runny-ness, and when Jasper hears me scraping out the catbox (TMI?), he jumps in the tub and bats down the foam golf ball I’ve set atop the unused soap dish, and waits.

Yes, people, it is not even 2015 and I have discovered a great cat toy in the golf section!

Big Red Box Store was out of the foam cat toys, so I wandered over to the sports section on the off chance they’d have ping pong balls. No dice (which was probably good, as the noise those things make is annoying as hell), but I espied these foam golf practice balls.

I was intrigued.

I looked at golf wiffle balls, but came back to the foamers. They were light. They had give.

They were cheaper than the foam cat balls.

Sold!

Now, if you’ve used the foam cat balls, you know they kind of go dead after awhile, and then dry out completely after a greater while. That may happen with these things—lemme see if I can find a picture. . .okay, here one is:

Only mine’s in yellow, because orange isn’t my color. (Okay, yellow isn’t either, but but that’s all they had. And besides, it makes it easier to find underneath the new-to-me loveseat.)

. . . but the denser material makes me think it may last longer.

The real bonus is that, unlike the foam cat-balls (stop thinking that, you perv), these can get wet without getting gross. Which means I can leave in the tub for Jasper to play with without worrying about fungi or general disgusting-ness.

Since I’ve put one in the tub for Jasper, he now expects me to bat one around with him for 5 or ten minutes every night before bed.

Exciting, I know. And I wonder why I don’t have boy- or girlfriend.

Anyway, happy feckin’ new year to youse, however you may celebrate it.





Get back

16 09 2014

You know how people give you the back of the hand?

Well, this is Trickster’s preferred stance toward me:

Ignore that clawed-up ottoman.

Ignore that clawed-up ottoman.

Of course, sometimes giving me the back is simply a second effect to much larger (and known-only-to-her) purpose.

002

There is nothing on the other side of that door except floor and more doors. Doesn’t end her fascination, though.

007

No, I don’t usually have extra bags of cat food sitting around, but there was a sale!

She can’t even face me when she’s sitting in my lap.

010And when she’s had enough of that, she slithers on to the desk and comports herself just so:

012

Yes, I am clearly the center of her existence.





Here kitty kitty

10 04 2014

Jasper, who normally leaves me to eat my meals in peace, will grab my plate and try to stick his nose into my food whenever I eat one of my spicy homemade bean or mushroom burritos.

I know it’s the spice which draws him: when I spritzed my plants with a capsaicin spray to deter him from munching on the leaves, he responded by munching avidly.

Trickster, on the other hand, prefers dairy products: yogurt (both Greek and regular), and Parmesan—or, in a pinch, Asiago or Pecorino Romano—cheese. She’s also a water baby who likes to drink from the droplets dripping down her face.

Weirdos.





The lady don’t mind

24 03 2014

Trickster doesn’t care that I have work to do.

She doesn’t care that I’m eating breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

008

She doesn’t care that I just want to sit where I want, how I want, or how comfortable I am.

Trickster wants in my lap.

004

Now.





Gimme some water

16 03 2014

I think I’ve established that I have no plans to live forever.

Still, I’d like to hang out for awhile longer and, while so hanging, to be in relatively decent health.

I’d been using these old pedialyte-type plastic bottles as water bottles for both me and my cats—separate bottles, people! And what, you don’t refrigerate your critters’ water?—but have been thinking for awhile that maybe I should make the switch to glass. Or at least newer plastic bottles.

Then I listened to this Leonard Lopate segment on WNYC on plastics and, well, while I’m not chuckin’ my Tupperware—and yes, I have actual Tupperware from an actual Tupperware party—I thought that yeah, maybe cutting down my use of plastic would be. . . prudent.

So out went the pedialyte bottles!

And the new water bottle?

011

Knew I kept that around for a reason.

As for the cats? Well, they get an old marinara sauce jar—at least until I finish my bottle of Talisker.








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