Feeling uninspired and short of time. This should indicate my cats’ mood when I’m not to bed earlier. Goodnight, and good morning.
This last year has been trying for all of us, but there’s a bright spot in the clouds. Fellow blogger and friend Kate Campbell has three friends to help get her through the day: Mister Eccles’ friend Jigglypuff, with her Guinea pig pals May Gibbs and Beatrix Potter. As well as helping out around the house and ‘assisting’ in Kate’s online activity, as I suspect Mr. Eccles may do with mine (looks back to glare suspiciously at Mr. Eccles…), the girls like to play games, though my mere monkey intellect fails to grasp the intricacies of such subtle sport. What plans might the girls be up to at this hour? Taking over the world, perhaps? The photo collage below and other images are hosted here: http://muzy.com/l/6fv2d49l. I’ll let Kate put things in her own words:
Jigglypuff is a calico (which we call tortoiseshell here in Australia. She was originally a country cat, but now she is semi-rural/not-quite-city cat. She is 12 years old. She is named after the Pokemon of the same name. May Gibbs is the chocolate brown guinea pig and Beatrix Potter is the tortoiseshell one. They are both short-haired and they are both 1 year old. They love eating a variety of fruit and vegetables every day. They were named after two of my favourite children’s writers.
They are all skeptics, except they believe in unicorns.
Thanks for guesting us.
Love Kate & the girls
Well, I kind of saw this coming, but our oldest cat, officially named Nedaulec, better known as Gumbyman, was put to sleep this last Saturday morning in a final act of release from further suffering from his many infirmities, including renal failure at his advanced age.
Gumby was our last surviving Katrina refugee, found in a kennel in New Orleans abandoned with some of his ‘lady friends.’ Neutered only two weeks before we got him from an animal rescue service, he spent many good years with us in a life of relative peace and relaxation.
We’ll always remember him as a really sweet old fella with his grouch-face and his abundantly fluffy tail, the favorite plaything of Mr. Eccles…
You’re gone, ‘old man,’ but hardly forgotten…
Here are some of his best moments…
We have a new addition to our menagerie of feline buddies, and here’s the latest, our female, Gorgeous…
As my Twitter friend @chaosagent23 said, she is so fluffeh! — and so laid-back! — a new friend for Doctor Mew…
All hail the latest of our feline masters…Kilrathi (or K’zinti for that matter) have nothing on our cats!
I’ve been accused of being a good blogger, so in protest of this dreadful affront to my dishonor, I hereby post my objection… Do try not to claw your eyes out, I hear that too much cute can lead to brain-melting seizures :-)
One of my interests is the mythology and folklore of one of my favorite countries, the PI, and I’ve got a story to tell about a sort of ghoul-like creature called buso, which only eat dead people, but have no problems with making live ones into dead ones. Cats can serve as protection from them, says the lore, as you’ll see…
One night, a buso wandered from the forest into a rural village, a little hungrier than usual, since few people had died lately of the usual causes. Spying a nipa-hut large enough to house a family, in a village housing several, the buso approached, thinking it would have an easy meal, but noticed the family cat sitting before the entrance, checking it out with inquisitive kitty eyes as it approached.
“Let me in, cat, since I’m feeling a bit peckish tonight, and there’s food within.”
Now, cats are prone to f*cking with people, even creepy undead ghoulish ones, and this cat was no exception, so he said to the buso,
“Well, I could let you in…but you’ve got to do something for me first. I want you to count every hair on my tail, and if you count all of them, down to the last one, I’ll let you go inside…Deal?”
This undead critter, being particularly dim, nodded its head, said “Deal,” and began to count…1, 2, 3, 4,.. and so on, but just as it was approaching the last few strands of fur on the cat’s amply fluffy tail, the cat, true to form, flicked his tail, forcing the buso to begin again, and again, and again, to its increasing frustration, for its tummy was beginning to growl with emptiness.
“Stop that!” The undead thingy said, as the cat did his best to look mockingly apologetic, and it began counting again, but it was several hours since it had begun, once again beginning count. As the buso got to the last few strands of fur, the morning sun began to rise about the horizon, causing it to run off screaming into the forest, never to trouble the locals again.
- Meowloween MemeCats: The Business Cat Culture (icanhascheezburger.com)