Black Doggerel

My cats would like all of your cats to know that smoked salmon taramosalata is really, really good. Particularly in view of the fact that they got to have a bit and your cats didn't.

( Five large cat pictures under the cut )

Naamah is an awkward bastard to photograph, because she never keeps still and she's fascinated by anything I'm doing. I have about 2000 blurred close-ups of her nose butting the camera lens and almost none of her doing anything else.

This morning I was woken up by Squish whining his head off in tattletale mode. He had woken me up to tell me that Spike had realised he could open the cat room door. He can only open it from one side, though, so he had shut himself in with the cats and couldn't get out. He didn't consider this a problem, but Squish and the cats were less than pleased. Bloody collie.

Still hurty fingers and low on ideas, so I bring you ( Catpics! )

I've missed having a camera.

More than half done, yayy! The coffee is kicking in. If only the anti-inflammatories would too. Voiceposts saved my arse last year. I may die if i can't do them this year.

Dear Cass,

If you absolutely must eat all the food at lightspeed and then hork, it's pretty cool of you to go and hork in the litterbox. Don't get me wrong, cats still suck, but you suck a lot less then most.

Love,

She who can open the fridge

xxx

This is my cat.
( These are my cats on NIP! )
In other news, been for my smear test and now feel all sore and disgruntled in the girl parts. Cheered myself up by getting Mum to stop at the pet store on the way back, where I scored the catnip and petted the store's African Grey. Apparently said Grey doesn't usually like people, but I haven't lost my touch. I spoke to him quietly for a few minutes, bobbed my head and didn't stare, touched his foot very gently in an "I'll stop the moment you tell me to" sort of way, and he bent over and asked me for head scritches. Want. Parrot. Can't. Have. Argh!

Have also been to Sainsbury's searching for Guinness Marmite. They haven't got it yet but the customer service lady assures me it's on order, so I will be getting some.

- also, what part of the HTML in the posting-pictures routine makes all the fucking paragraph breaks disappear? I've had to put them all in as HTML commands. *grumble*

Well, I just blew off a possible forever home for Saffron Cat by refusing to let her go without a home visit. The couple were friends of Downstairs Neighbour Couple - she was OK about a visit but the boyfriend apparently wasn't.

I'd ask you to reassure me that I did the right thing, except I know I did. I'm sure the couple were fine. Nothing I heard gave me any red flags. But these lives are in my hands and I can't decide their future on someone else's bare words.

Dear Pets,

I had an entry all written out in my head this morning about how nuts you've been driving me. Spike with the barking and lumberjackassery, Squish with the whining, the music (he now sings when he hears the Doctor Who theme) and the guardy, Naamah with the wriggling (lapcat is fine - lapcat with eighteen windmilling paws and your arse in my eye, not so much) and the borderline pica (why were you trying to eat a metal spring anyway, and where the fuck did you find it? I thought we had the place pretty well kittenproofed by now); Hamish with the food stealing, the growling on the windowsill and the heavy-footed zoomies (ok, you're not a small cat, but how do you make more noise than a 60lb gundog?); Cassie with the bathroom fixation and the Death Glare whenever I try and eat anything, and Saffron with the darting out the front door and trying to get stepped on.

And then I spent the afternoon curled on the couch watching ER, with Squish against my feet, Spike nestled against my back, and Naamah fast asleep on my chest, purring (and holding still for once). And I don't have a single bad word to say about any one of you. You make my life worth living.

Love,

Liz

So I'm chopping vegetables in the kitchen, surrounded by a ring of hopeful cats, and the Time Warp comes up on the playlist shuffle.

So then I'm singing along and dancing with the cats, as you do, and Naamah and I were just doing the pelvic thrust bit, and I glance up. And I see Squish staring at me, head cocked to one side, with the biggest WTF??? you ever saw in a thought bubble over him. It's a good thing he hasn't got opposable thumbs or he'd probably be ringing for the men in white coats as we speak.

Fireworks are moderately bad tonight, but Spike is doing a lot better than last year. I've dosed him with Rescue Remedy, and every time I go to the bathroom he pops in to be massaged and stroked, and he's had a really good brushing which soothed him a lot. In previous years I've spent a lot more time holding and stroking him, and I think it may have been counterproductive. The cats make a huge difference, too, especially since the worst of the banging happens at prime cat zoomie time. I may rethink my plan of taking them to Mum's tomorrow. There's less noise and better soundproofing there, and he does find his Granny very soothing, but I'm thinking the cat distraction factor may just outweigh that.

Note to self: find them something new, cool and zoomie-inducing to play with tomorrow.

Oh joy! Happy fun fireworks again! Oh, I do so enjoy watching my dog shaking like a leaf and trying to fold himself into non-existence every few minutes!

He came and plastered himself to my legs while I was in the bathroom and I gave him some Rescue Remedy. Note to self - don't do that while sitting on toilet. I had the lid off the bottle (because the lid incorporates the useful little dropper-thingy necessary to get the magic juice past his clenched teeth) and spilled about a third of what was left onto the floor, where every animal in the house except the one I wanted to give it to fought to lick it up.

I didn't let them - that stuff's like pure grain alcohol. The last thing I need here is drunk kitten zoomies. The flat's quite trashed enough as it is thanks.

Thank [higher power of your choice] I'm not likely to get any happy little candy-bandits on sugar-highs yowling outside my door tonight. There are advantages to being a mad single cat lady with scary loud dogs in an apartment block full of stoners, drunks and men who look like serial killers. I love this place.