Mittens & Kittens
I took both mittens to the vet last week for their shots and check-ups. The vet picked up Greebo, and said "We have a little girl." And then Scraps. "And another little girl."
Me. Stunned silence. Much pointing, and finally "when the hell did that happen?! I didn't think you could get ginger females!"
The vet says they're quite rare, but it does happen. The thing is that because most gingers are toms, people assume ALL gingers are toms, and Andy and I never thought to check since they're both still babies. And its rarer that they're twins. As December said when I told her later, "You have special cats."
Scraps took getting her jab fine, made a bit of a rumph face but was otherwise okay. Greebo, on the other hand, was not happy. She was not happy at all. When the vet jabbed her she whipped round and grabbed the first thing available to bite. My thumb. Fortunately there was no breaking of skin, and next time the vet laughs at me over my idiot animals he will get certain surgical appliances inserted into him. The last time I had dive sideways to catch Max in mid air as he took a flying leap off the damned table. The vet was no help as he was busy laughing his ass off.
I travel an hour down the track to see this vet because I know they're good. The one I've seen in Croydon was bloody unhelpful, uncommunicative and rude, so we don't go there anymore.
The cats spent the last few days while Andy and I've been at Fusion tormenting the doggies in Burgess Hill. My Mother is trying not to like them, but since one of 'em scared Princess off her lap and happily took up purring residence earlier today I don't think she's succeeding.
We're all home now and the cats have spent the evening reminding us why we love them, which probably means they're going to spend the night reminding us why they're lucky they're pretty.
Tomorrow's job is moving the rest of my kit into my workroom and sorting the living room so it's cat friendly. And I need to install a catch on the workroom since the door is a bit loose and they can open it.
Fun and games, fun and games... Time to not go to bed.
Me. Stunned silence. Much pointing, and finally "when the hell did that happen?! I didn't think you could get ginger females!"
The vet says they're quite rare, but it does happen. The thing is that because most gingers are toms, people assume ALL gingers are toms, and Andy and I never thought to check since they're both still babies. And its rarer that they're twins. As December said when I told her later, "You have special cats."
Scraps took getting her jab fine, made a bit of a rumph face but was otherwise okay. Greebo, on the other hand, was not happy. She was not happy at all. When the vet jabbed her she whipped round and grabbed the first thing available to bite. My thumb. Fortunately there was no breaking of skin, and next time the vet laughs at me over my idiot animals he will get certain surgical appliances inserted into him. The last time I had dive sideways to catch Max in mid air as he took a flying leap off the damned table. The vet was no help as he was busy laughing his ass off.
I travel an hour down the track to see this vet because I know they're good. The one I've seen in Croydon was bloody unhelpful, uncommunicative and rude, so we don't go there anymore.
The cats spent the last few days while Andy and I've been at Fusion tormenting the doggies in Burgess Hill. My Mother is trying not to like them, but since one of 'em scared Princess off her lap and happily took up purring residence earlier today I don't think she's succeeding.
We're all home now and the cats have spent the evening reminding us why we love them, which probably means they're going to spend the night reminding us why they're lucky they're pretty.
Tomorrow's job is moving the rest of my kit into my workroom and sorting the living room so it's cat friendly. And I need to install a catch on the workroom since the door is a bit loose and they can open it.
Fun and games, fun and games... Time to not go to bed.