the ad-dressing of cats
First on my to-do list: stop procrastinating. (It is also the second item. And the last.) Next: wash clothes, begin packing for Alaska. Look up Greyhound routes to Pittsburgh airport (have tried, not really getting anything at all; also the Greyhound website is virtually useless), call bloke who might be able to give me a ride on Friday. Decide about snacks. (I think I shall subsist mainly on bread and cheese for meals. Why? Because it is magnificent. Bread and cheese and, er, chocolates.) Decide which books to bring. Oh dear. Make baked goods? Also must hole up at some point and listen to Patrick Wolf's new album, possibly in the book closet with candles. (This is important. Shut up.) And: play with tiny tiny kitten.
Yes yes yes! I have a wee fluffy kitten! Sarah and Hannah's cat just gave birth again last month, and I was promised a kitten, and she was dropped by yesterday. Good heavens, kittens never stop moving -- until suddenly they fall over and sleep for ten minutes without warning. Half the night she was hurling herself around my room, batting at bits of paper and candy wrappers and my shoelaces and the air, jumping here, leaping down again, pouncing hither and thither...
(both pictures taken by spockodile, as my camera was then in my father's car. the first one is actually in my old backyard, now the Meholicks' again, a day or two before she came to live with me.)
So yes. KITTEN. VERY IMPORTANT. Her name is Willow (or Pussy Willow, or Tib -- after the heroic cat in Dodie Smith's The Hundred and One Dalmatians -- or Great Ball o' Fluff -- Mum called her Fluffernutter, which is appropriate as she was a complete nutter last night -- or, hey, Miss Kitty Fantastico; let's hope there's no crossbow lying around), and she has broken our record of only ever having greyscale cats. No, really! First cat, Miss Mistoffelees (Misty for short): white and grey. Second cat, Roscoe: black and white. Third cat, Bartholomew: black. Calico is a very welcome change in the pattern. She is very dainty, but reasonably fierce when she wants to be -- she was accidentally introduced to Bartholomew when she leapt out of my arms and onto his back; they stared at each other for a moment, the air vibrating between them, and then Bartholomew let out some kind of indescribable horrible cat noise and attacked. Willow let out a series of tiny ferocious burblings in turn and fought back in the three seconds before I reached into the fray and attempted to extract her. She kept shrieking and clawing furiously after I had removed her, hissing like a pro (well, she does have big brothers), and clawing my hand to pieces before I finally calmed her down. So, hopefully the cats will come to an agreement soon. It took some time with Roscoe and wee Bartholomew, too. And it's really all on Bartholomew's side -- Willow is a sweet cat (if fierce, like certain of her namesakes), and as soon as Barty Cat, Jr. gets over his Alpha Cat complex, they should be fine. Oh, cats.
Yes yes yes! I have a wee fluffy kitten! Sarah and Hannah's cat just gave birth again last month, and I was promised a kitten, and she was dropped by yesterday. Good heavens, kittens never stop moving -- until suddenly they fall over and sleep for ten minutes without warning. Half the night she was hurling herself around my room, batting at bits of paper and candy wrappers and my shoelaces and the air, jumping here, leaping down again, pouncing hither and thither...
(both pictures taken by spockodile, as my camera was then in my father's car. the first one is actually in my old backyard, now the Meholicks' again, a day or two before she came to live with me.)
So yes. KITTEN. VERY IMPORTANT. Her name is Willow (or Pussy Willow, or Tib -- after the heroic cat in Dodie Smith's The Hundred and One Dalmatians -- or Great Ball o' Fluff -- Mum called her Fluffernutter, which is appropriate as she was a complete nutter last night -- or, hey, Miss Kitty Fantastico; let's hope there's no crossbow lying around), and she has broken our record of only ever having greyscale cats. No, really! First cat, Miss Mistoffelees (Misty for short): white and grey. Second cat, Roscoe: black and white. Third cat, Bartholomew: black. Calico is a very welcome change in the pattern. She is very dainty, but reasonably fierce when she wants to be -- she was accidentally introduced to Bartholomew when she leapt out of my arms and onto his back; they stared at each other for a moment, the air vibrating between them, and then Bartholomew let out some kind of indescribable horrible cat noise and attacked. Willow let out a series of tiny ferocious burblings in turn and fought back in the three seconds before I reached into the fray and attempted to extract her. She kept shrieking and clawing furiously after I had removed her, hissing like a pro (well, she does have big brothers), and clawing my hand to pieces before I finally calmed her down. So, hopefully the cats will come to an agreement soon. It took some time with Roscoe and wee Bartholomew, too. And it's really all on Bartholomew's side -- Willow is a sweet cat (if fierce, like certain of her namesakes), and as soon as Barty Cat, Jr. gets over his Alpha Cat complex, they should be fine. Oh, cats.