Hi folks. Actually the fog has returned, but it was an ugly and hot couple of days. This is normal at this time of year as we begin the change from the summer fog to the winter rain. While it was fine outside, it was a wee bit warm in the apartment for the furry ones. Still, we managed to get a pic or two.
Miss Jenny managed to find a cool spot to hide in. She only emerged in the evenings.
Tito tended to stay in the room with me, so I had another way to keep him cool.
The fog has returned for the time being and we’re supposed to have a good rainstorm coming. Yahoo!
On this day, many moons ago… Ahem, lemme try again. On this day, in the last century… No, not good. Ok. Once upon a time, this young princess came upon a frog…oops, wrong story. There’s no princess in this one.
Today is Lastech’s birthday. Since his birthday is in October, they wanted to dress up for the occasion and make a card for him. They did, and here it is.
Yes, it’s Caturday, but first things first. The proper pronunciation for evil in this context is the same as in the old classic horror films. Instead of pronouncing it as in the name Evel Knievel, it should be pronounced EEeee vill . The first half should be long and drawn out and the second half rhymes with bill. Got it? Good on we go.
Evil lurks in this house, erm, apartment. It has four legs and fur. It also has beautiful baby blue eyes.
Don’t let the fart monster’s beautiful blue eyes fool you into complacency. She’s evil.
Why fear? Well, he found this! [cue the theme to Psycho’s shower scene].
No wonder Tito is scared. I’m scared too. This morning I awoke to find her nibbling on my eyebrows. Then she farted.
So that you don’t have nightmares after that last photo, I’m including an adorable English bulldog named Porter. He doesn’t like his leash. It can be found on cobrakiel’s YouTube page.
As anyone who lives with cats knows, they are mischievous, wicked, naughty, thieving little critters. Some, will steal your food like Kitsy used to do. His preference was bacon, but he would settle for pizza. Some are paper shredders. The Boober’s favorite was the paper towel roll. We used to have to hide the rolls in the cupboard.
Tito is the shelf monster. If it’s on the shelf, it won’t be for long. He’s an expert of knocking items off one at a time. This is quite disturbing at 3am. We learned the hard way that breakable items have to be stored away.
This is what Tito is like in action. His nickname should really be Ruprecht. The important part begins at 3:55 minutes in.
Some, like Miss Jenny, love to steal various items from around the house and hide them in bed. She’s a regular pack rat. Trust me, you don’t go to bed in this apartment without going through the bedding looking for all the stray items. A ballpoint pen in the posterior is not my idea of fun.
This is just a small sample of the items found in our bed.
That’s where the cuteness ends: Jenny starts by kissing on Tito, they exchange a few licks, and settle down for a minute, maybe a few seconds.
Then the wrestling begins. The headlocks and body slamming, what every Trekker recognizes as the Klingon mating ritual, somewhat different from the Vulcan mating ritual which also involves ass kicking, but of a Starship Captain.
As I type this, for instance, Jenny is still greeting me home, dancing figure eights under the chair, pawing at my leg and grabbing my arm to rub against. With purring and claws. I’m already bleeding in three spots. I got bit. Not too hard but firmly.
Must be the Tortie (Tortoiseshell) in her, the little brute. As a wrestler, she has a very solid stance: wide with hind legs bent. We saw her more than once using this position to wrap Tito in an embrace before slamming him down. Then again, he gives as good as he gets, and even has her retreating often, though never for long. Never for long.
I’m bleeding from a fourth scratch now.
Jenny will also walk on my pillow stopping just long enough to nom on my skull. If I pet her, which I always do, she farts. If my wife leans over to nose bonk her, Jenny’ll cough in her face, like Carol Beer on “Little Britain”:
Her newest trick: not a cough, but a vurp (a burp which sounds vomitous). All I can say is thank Ceiling Cat she doesn’t eat mice. Things are gross enough. Annnnd, I’ve got an eighth scratch… Well, a puncture, more like… Still, I feel like one of Jack the Ripper’s playthings.
It’s another Caturday and time for the pointy eared people to have the spotlight. I also want to wish my mom and all the other moms a Happy Mother’s Day! In addition, we want to extend an extra happy Mother’s Day wish to our friend Flumptytail. She is the best cat mum ever. Last year, we wrote about her in Tito and Kitsune Reflect on Mother’s Day.
Here is a small excerpt in Flumpty’s words:
I keep a big cage in the dining room for when I have to keep a cat in it overnight if they’re getting neutered or spayed or their teeth cleaned, etc. in the morning. I leave the door open other times and the cats like to sleep in it. Here is a picture of a pile of kittehs.
I’m sorry we haven’t posted much lately. Lastech went through a schedule change. The schedule means I’ve wandered around for a week not knowing what day it was. I confuse easily, what can I say. At least I remembered that it was Caturday. Here are our pointy eared people.
While Mazuzu continues his recovery, Jenny shows signs of boredom. Add to that the oh-so attractive scent of freshly laundered socks and she’ll leap into action, ‘sploding the contents of the laundry bag all over the kitchen floor.
She spent so much time rolling in it, biting and clawing, that we actually noticed two colored spots on her gut: a solitary dab of orange and a light blue one where she was, erm…- fixed.
Weird, I know, but there you go. Getting the socks all over the place was just the “apéritif”, and she moved on to paper towel shredding on the bed, attacking our toes and my calves, throwing one of her stuffed toys in the air repeatedly (we had to cover our coffee mugs just in case).
Hours later, the little Hellion’s crashed on the cat tower recharging her batteries while Tito’s out chasing some flying thing, perhaps imaginary.
… What Nurse Jenny does most of the time: keep Maz the Schnazz warm:
The night of Thursday into Friday the 13th, a night of celestial mayhem, turned out to bring Tito and I ever closer…
A storm was moving through the Bay Area, with lightning strikes precise enough to hit not only the Bay bridge but a plane in flight. The plane had to dump fuel and returned safely to the airport.
At home, as we turned off the computer and prepared to do the same with the TV, I caught something strange from the corner of my eye: a rug shimmying straight for the kitchen. A second look showed Tito hugging the floor and running for a kitchen cupboard to hide in.
Maz, while none too pleased, was comfortably wrapped in a heavy blanket on the bed and didn’t budge. Jenny herself was sitting on the bed with a bit more nervous discomfort than he and watched Tito darting away.
While I don’t particularly fear that the sky will ever fall, like my ancestors the Gauls, Tito seems to be afraid of it for the both of us. The only spot he considers a refuge is the lower cupboard in the kitchen next to the stove top and behind a crock pot.
This storm kept on moving through, fortunately, and Jenny helped Tito recover with tender grooming and copious amounts of catnip she shared… Tito the Gaul. Wow. We are kin!
We’ve seen worse, but recent days have seen the thermometer dip to about 40 at night and it takes longer for the sun to warm everything up in the morning.
I took this picture a few weeks ago at about 7 a.m.
That means more cuddling time for Miss Jenny, Marshal Tito and the f****g fascist depicted in the banner, pardon my French…. It also means more noms for calories and Maz has now taught Jenny to wake mommy up for them. Lots of pawing, standing on hips, face-licks with hellish breath, etc…
Tito is the only one not begging for food anymore…
Every so often, I do forget and leave food unattended. Maz never forgets.
Wonder what they dream of… The cat version of “the King and I”? Complete with coo’s and chirrups?
Or maybe they dream of centipede bunnies crapping skittles. Who knows?
Naturally in the real world, cats would devour the bunnies, resulting in… Well, just watch.