It’s been awhile, and more’s a-comin’, but in the meantime:
Katy Laveck-Foster/Comedy Wildlife Photo Awards/Barcroft
I’m hearing Get your motor runnin’. . .
I think these are Celebes crested macaques, the same species that gave us all the famous monkey selfie.
Anyway, more Comedy Wildlife Photo winners here.
Beauty at work:
Photo by Roman Robroek, Via
If we must labor for a living, we should be able, occasionally, to look up, look around, and wonder.
When I was a kid I remember a poster of a black cat on a cement sidewalk.
“City Cat”, I think, was the title.
A variation on a theme: “Windowsill Cat”.
Places in my apartment where cats sleep:
On the desk.
Annoyed that she is no longer sleeping.
On the bed in the sun.
In a file box on my socks.
Again, annoyed I woke her up.
At the threshold to the bathroom.
Yep, also annoyed.
These are not the only places the cats sleep.
No, these cats are pros, and can sleep anywhere.
Time and thoughts are both scattering. Nothing serious, just: life.
So how about some pictures of tiny Jasper?
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.
But I still call him my kitty-boy.
It’s a Monday in February, so how about some beached cats?
Her seal pose
This does not look comfortable to me.
Washed up by the pink sea on a teal beach.
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.
Are you afraid of pit bulls?
I’m a little afraid of pit bulls.
(Have I ever been bitten by a pit bull? I have not.)
(I’ve been bitten twice by dogs: one was a Doberman, and the other, a German Shepherd.)
(I am afraid of neither Dobermans nor German Shepherds.)
I’ve been trying to get over my fear by asking to pet any nearby pit bulls—their people almost always say yes—and that’s been working pretty well.
But this?
Adam Rifkin.
How could I even think to be afraid of this pup?
~~~
h/t Cute Overload
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.
Of course, sometimes giving me the back is simply a second effect to much larger (and known-only-to-her) purpose.
There is nothing on the other side of that door except floor and more doors. Doesn’t end her fascination, though.
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.
And when she’s had enough of that, she slithers on to the desk and comports herself just so:
Yes, I am clearly the center of her existence.
A fox, which flies. From India. An Indian Flying Fox.
Otherwise known as a “bat”.
Traer Scott Photography
What a glorious thing is chance and necessity, allowing for the emergence of mammals with wings where their arms could be.
And she is a night animal—my kind of animal. Along with the serval and the otter, the kangaroo rat and the possum, the snow leopard and the moth, creatures great and small and maybe a little bit creepy, Traer Scott has photographed them (not quite all).
But this is the one which captured me.
What a magnificent shot of a magnificent creature.
~~~
h/t Daily Dish
Gray cat:
Brown river:
Tan factory-turned-into-apartment building (on the brown river):
Small down-town in Wisconsin on a Sunday afternoon:
First Monday in July. What else could I do?
AbsurdBeats 