I love my cats.
They're so daft! Before I begin . . . A link to the things of fur
Mind you, these pictures are OLD. Simon (who is now five years old) is a kitten in these photos and I no longer have Stinky (don't ask about his name).
Anyway, on with my kitty stories . . .
One night last week (Thursday, I believe), I was in the living room watching C.S.I. (C.S.I. is love) or Ghost Hunters. I can't remember which. And the cats were out in the living room with me as I was watching T.V. Sam (our momma cat) had me somewhat worried. She started coughing and it lasted about thirty seconds. She's got no reason to be coughing for that long. (I know it isn't long but this is a cat we're talking about here so . . .) I called to her when she was done and she started to take off. As she neared the end of the love seat, one of her hind legs gave out on her. It was like a momentary thing. Anyway, I picked her up and held her for a while. (I wanted to be sure she was okay. She gave me a bit of a dirty look as I was holding her but the great thing about Sam is she likes to purr. Nine times out of ten, she starts purring when you pet her. Sometimes, all it takes is a look in her direction and she'll purr. Yes, she loves attention. :)) I don't think it was anything serious. She was fine once I put her back down.
My mom and stepdad are aware of this. I am a great worrier for the furballs. Maybe more so than what I should be but then . . . well, when I wake up in the morning, both Sam and Simon are in bed with me. And Sam tends to sit by me when I'm at my mom's computer. It's like she's my guard cat. ;) (For those of you who've looked at the pics, Sam has the wild orange and black colouring. Vet called it tortoise-shell calico colouring.)
And now for a little bit on Simon. He's the real reason for this entry. :D
Saturday night, we went to Traverse City for Dinner. Outback Steakhouse (Yum!). We got back and I went into my room to continue plodding my way through The Redemption of Althalus by David and Leigh Eddings (excellent book. Quite hilarious in places). Simon had hopped onto my bed but he wasn't demanding attention from me. Rather, his attention was on this black fly on my wall. He . . . didn't like it being there. He meowed at it (which, he's been rather vocal since we've moved here . . . not constantly but certain things just . . . he wants attention for) and watched it.
He was trying to catch it. It was funny watching him. The fly would take to the air and Simon was on his hind legs, batting at it. He was stalking it, too.
Cats are so cool. :)
And if anyone's wondering about the names, here are the stories for that.
My cat, Stinky, was originally named Frodo. He was born to a cat that was owned by my best friend and he had three siblings: Sam, Merry, and Pippin. One guess as to the kick my best friend and I were on when those kittens were born. ;)
Anyhoo, the day after our cat had been killed (he'd been hit by a car), my mom and John went over to my friend's house to get Frodo. I must say that, at this time, John and my mom were not married to each other at this time. He was still with his ex-wife but that would soon change. However, I digress. They went to get Frodo because I'd been begging for a second cat and we'd just lost the one that we had. This little orange and white fluff was technically a replacement and ended up becoming my cuddlebug. His name was changed from Frodo to Stinky (much against my wishes) because his fur had a very peculiar odor to it.
Skunk odor.
My best friend tried to tell us that it was rotten egg because the shed where the cats took shelter at had been pelted with eggs by her dad. I forget why. But I do remember that a skunk had also taken up residence in this shed. Which animal that actually got sprayed by the skunk, I don't know. I don't think it actually happened but the smell was there just the same.
Stink got three baths in two days to wash this smell out of his fur. It eventually faded but I will tell you this. It was NOT rotten egg, like my friend had, at the time, insisted that it was. It was skunk and we had no tomato juice to wash him in.
That's how Stinky got his name.
Sam got her name because of her colouring. My mom and stepdad had gone to one of the local humane societies and brought her home (we'd just moved into the place in Manton). I was told she was my stepbrother's but I think they got her so Stinky wouldn't try to make his way to my great aunt's house. That's just my opinion, however. ;) Anyway, it was in the morning, I hadn't gotten up yet to see this new furball and I heard my mom talking to her. It went a little something like this:
"You need a wild name. You have a wild colouring so you need a wild name. We've already had a Cyndi Lauper and a Weird Al so I guess you must be Sammi Hagar."
Yes. Our female cat's name is Sammi Hagar. That's one of the few rock stars my mother is aware of.
And Sammi gave birth to Simon in the winter of 2001 (February). He was all white when he was born. That's why we kept him. I don't know where my mother came up with Simon. It just was . . . there and it stuck.
And that's our furballs. :)
Mind you, these pictures are OLD. Simon (who is now five years old) is a kitten in these photos and I no longer have Stinky (don't ask about his name).
Anyway, on with my kitty stories . . .
One night last week (Thursday, I believe), I was in the living room watching C.S.I. (C.S.I. is love) or Ghost Hunters. I can't remember which. And the cats were out in the living room with me as I was watching T.V. Sam (our momma cat) had me somewhat worried. She started coughing and it lasted about thirty seconds. She's got no reason to be coughing for that long. (I know it isn't long but this is a cat we're talking about here so . . .) I called to her when she was done and she started to take off. As she neared the end of the love seat, one of her hind legs gave out on her. It was like a momentary thing. Anyway, I picked her up and held her for a while. (I wanted to be sure she was okay. She gave me a bit of a dirty look as I was holding her but the great thing about Sam is she likes to purr. Nine times out of ten, she starts purring when you pet her. Sometimes, all it takes is a look in her direction and she'll purr. Yes, she loves attention. :)) I don't think it was anything serious. She was fine once I put her back down.
My mom and stepdad are aware of this. I am a great worrier for the furballs. Maybe more so than what I should be but then . . . well, when I wake up in the morning, both Sam and Simon are in bed with me. And Sam tends to sit by me when I'm at my mom's computer. It's like she's my guard cat. ;) (For those of you who've looked at the pics, Sam has the wild orange and black colouring. Vet called it tortoise-shell calico colouring.)
And now for a little bit on Simon. He's the real reason for this entry. :D
Saturday night, we went to Traverse City for Dinner. Outback Steakhouse (Yum!). We got back and I went into my room to continue plodding my way through The Redemption of Althalus by David and Leigh Eddings (excellent book. Quite hilarious in places). Simon had hopped onto my bed but he wasn't demanding attention from me. Rather, his attention was on this black fly on my wall. He . . . didn't like it being there. He meowed at it (which, he's been rather vocal since we've moved here . . . not constantly but certain things just . . . he wants attention for) and watched it.
He was trying to catch it. It was funny watching him. The fly would take to the air and Simon was on his hind legs, batting at it. He was stalking it, too.
Cats are so cool. :)
And if anyone's wondering about the names, here are the stories for that.
My cat, Stinky, was originally named Frodo. He was born to a cat that was owned by my best friend and he had three siblings: Sam, Merry, and Pippin. One guess as to the kick my best friend and I were on when those kittens were born. ;)
Anyhoo, the day after our cat had been killed (he'd been hit by a car), my mom and John went over to my friend's house to get Frodo. I must say that, at this time, John and my mom were not married to each other at this time. He was still with his ex-wife but that would soon change. However, I digress. They went to get Frodo because I'd been begging for a second cat and we'd just lost the one that we had. This little orange and white fluff was technically a replacement and ended up becoming my cuddlebug. His name was changed from Frodo to Stinky (much against my wishes) because his fur had a very peculiar odor to it.
Skunk odor.
My best friend tried to tell us that it was rotten egg because the shed where the cats took shelter at had been pelted with eggs by her dad. I forget why. But I do remember that a skunk had also taken up residence in this shed. Which animal that actually got sprayed by the skunk, I don't know. I don't think it actually happened but the smell was there just the same.
Stink got three baths in two days to wash this smell out of his fur. It eventually faded but I will tell you this. It was NOT rotten egg, like my friend had, at the time, insisted that it was. It was skunk and we had no tomato juice to wash him in.
That's how Stinky got his name.
Sam got her name because of her colouring. My mom and stepdad had gone to one of the local humane societies and brought her home (we'd just moved into the place in Manton). I was told she was my stepbrother's but I think they got her so Stinky wouldn't try to make his way to my great aunt's house. That's just my opinion, however. ;) Anyway, it was in the morning, I hadn't gotten up yet to see this new furball and I heard my mom talking to her. It went a little something like this:
"You need a wild name. You have a wild colouring so you need a wild name. We've already had a Cyndi Lauper and a Weird Al so I guess you must be Sammi Hagar."
Yes. Our female cat's name is Sammi Hagar. That's one of the few rock stars my mother is aware of.
And Sammi gave birth to Simon in the winter of 2001 (February). He was all white when he was born. That's why we kept him. I don't know where my mother came up with Simon. It just was . . . there and it stuck.
And that's our furballs. :)