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Cats & People
Aug. 6th, 2005 04:18 pmSis called this morning, way too early. (I went to sleep way too late, and had to get up slightly less early than she called.) She perpetually worries me. She sounds reasonably happy, though, and Moshie was doing his usual morning "feed me feed me feed me" routine, mobbing her ankles.
I miss the Mosh.
I miss the Mosh.
I've finally developed, picked up, and uploaded some of the rolls of film that had been sitting around ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
templeravenmoon forever.
Perhaps the cutest photo of them all:
That's the Little Fayoumis, with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shammash sharing the bathtub. That's a very well-behaved cat, I must say. He doesn't scratch or bite, even when provoked. He doesn't like being washed, but he's become resigned to the process. This is an old photo, before the "Don't see me naked!" phase, and before Moshie's ear got beat-up. The Little Fayoumis wasn't in the habit of bathing with his cat-brother very often, but this time they were both dirty at the same time, so ... washing!
templeravenmoon forever. Perhaps the cutest photo of them all:
That's the Little Fayoumis, with
shammash sharing the bathtub. That's a very well-behaved cat, I must say. He doesn't scratch or bite, even when provoked. He doesn't like being washed, but he's become resigned to the process. This is an old photo, before the "Don't see me naked!" phase, and before Moshie's ear got beat-up. The Little Fayoumis wasn't in the habit of bathing with his cat-brother very often, but this time they were both dirty at the same time, so ... washing!
"Pornographic mermaid" makes perfect sense in the context that you were promising us mermaid sex if we wrote you some, and I haven't seen any yet, so it's obvious that you're still deviously crafting it.And he's still yowling out in the living room. I put him back out when the moshing got too bad.
But then, I've been woken up at a time that I do not prefer by a former tomcat with an existential crisis (the one that involves, "There's a very hot lady out there, and I have no balls, and anyway why are you locking me up so I can't see her? Huh?") so I suppose I'm sleep-depped enough to understand.
If I can, I think I'm going to try to go back to sleep. Doubtful. But I just am tired enough. I hear the hummingbirds waking up; they're making their little metallic twap twap twap noises.
Ooog: sleep? what's that?
Jan. 17th, 2004 07:22 amBedtime: 2 in the morning. Not bad.
Wakey-time? 7. Why?
M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow?
shammash was having some existential crisis or other, mostly composed of the element I didn't learn about until the second round of this, little miss half-siamese outside the back door. I opened up my door, he came in, he got a snack, he wandered back out, I shut the door, thinking that the issue had been the munchies, and what but the m'yowling doesn't start back up again. I scoop up Raver-girl, head out there, and oh, there's the miss outside. So I scoop up the Mosh and bring him in my room, and of course now he's asking me, "M'yow? M'yoooooooo? Meep-meep mrrrrrr?", followed, of course, by crashing as he plays with Eris and moshes into things, especially trash cans.
shammash is used to having access to the entire apartment, and he complains when he doesn't. eris_raven is used to my room.
Now Mosh is hyper, and when he's hyper, he makes Eris hyper.
Fuck.
Wakey-time? 7. Why?
M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow? M'yow?
shammash was having some existential crisis or other, mostly composed of the element I didn't learn about until the second round of this, little miss half-siamese outside the back door. I opened up my door, he came in, he got a snack, he wandered back out, I shut the door, thinking that the issue had been the munchies, and what but the m'yowling doesn't start back up again. I scoop up Raver-girl, head out there, and oh, there's the miss outside. So I scoop up the Mosh and bring him in my room, and of course now he's asking me, "M'yow? M'yoooooooo? Meep-meep mrrrrrr?", followed, of course, by crashing as he plays with Eris and moshes into things, especially trash cans. shammash is used to having access to the entire apartment, and he complains when he doesn't. eris_raven is used to my room. Now Mosh is hyper, and when he's hyper, he makes Eris hyper.
Fuck.
Joanie Smash
Aug. 12th, 2003 10:25 pmMy phone card has joined with the ghosts of the legions of socks that once marched proudly, two by two into the laundry to emerge with their numbers seriously depleted, ravaged by the dark forces that lurk there.
So I guess I won't be calling Mama just now. Pity.
Bad geek did not update her service packs. Bad geek. No Tim Tam. (mmmm. Tim Tams. Mmmmm.)
The lady next door or her minions are hammering. Not that I mind; it's just that I'm used to being the loud one. (Dust Puppy is so cute. "Pitr told me I could be his mini-onion!")
Anyway. Rambling random update.
Downloading files and patches. (Patches was our cute busy banty rooster. He was shaped like a triangle. He got married to the Bantam Bantam. It was a sweet wedding. Lixy and Greybird-ha! were the attendants; FatherSir officiated. There was a cornbread cake. Bantam Bantam wore white, even though it wasn't strictly appropriate.)
Visiting a random website yesterday morning, I got a popup ad for DeVry. I was amused.
theonlyasd, at first my busy/tired mind parsed "sandpiper rug" as "sandpaper rug", which did not at all make sense, but would be a really interesting decorating statement.
I washed cats.shammash has decided to forgive me, I guess, because he came prowling in, and mrrrrooed at me, and came right up when I patted the bed for him to jump up, and he let me scritch his ears. eris_raven is still invisible. She didn't panic too badly for the washing this time, and didn't scratch at all. I guess she's becoming domesticated?
Tick tick tick goes the biological clock? Dunno. A locked post made me start thinking (again) about that. I know whose genes I want in me; I know I still want a few more years of freedom before I have to keep watch over my own children. And I don't want a competitor to slide in early.
...If I'm going to have kids of my own, I want his genes with mine. If that's not to happen, I suppose I'll adopt. Eventually. I've already given the Little Fayoumis nearly three years. These have been good years, too. He's so tall. You can tell by his nose now that he's not biologically mine. Barely. If you look closely enough. He's still so small. I can still lift him up and flip him around easily. What, 70 lbs? Maybe?
So I guess I won't be calling Mama just now. Pity.
Bad geek did not update her service packs. Bad geek. No Tim Tam. (mmmm. Tim Tams. Mmmmm.)
The lady next door or her minions are hammering. Not that I mind; it's just that I'm used to being the loud one. (Dust Puppy is so cute. "Pitr told me I could be his mini-onion!")
Anyway. Rambling random update.
Downloading files and patches. (Patches was our cute busy banty rooster. He was shaped like a triangle. He got married to the Bantam Bantam. It was a sweet wedding. Lixy and Greybird-ha! were the attendants; FatherSir officiated. There was a cornbread cake. Bantam Bantam wore white, even though it wasn't strictly appropriate.)
Visiting a random website yesterday morning, I got a popup ad for DeVry. I was amused.
theonlyasd, at first my busy/tired mind parsed "sandpiper rug" as "sandpaper rug", which did not at all make sense, but would be a really interesting decorating statement. I washed cats.
shammash has decided to forgive me, I guess, because he came prowling in, and mrrrrooed at me, and came right up when I patted the bed for him to jump up, and he let me scritch his ears. eris_raven is still invisible. She didn't panic too badly for the washing this time, and didn't scratch at all. I guess she's becoming domesticated? Tick tick tick goes the biological clock? Dunno. A locked post made me start thinking (again) about that. I know whose genes I want in me; I know I still want a few more years of freedom before I have to keep watch over my own children. And I don't want a competitor to slide in early.
...If I'm going to have kids of my own, I want his genes with mine. If that's not to happen, I suppose I'll adopt. Eventually. I've already given the Little Fayoumis nearly three years. These have been good years, too. He's so tall. You can tell by his nose now that he's not biologically mine. Barely. If you look closely enough. He's still so small. I can still lift him up and flip him around easily. What, 70 lbs? Maybe?
Since we got Little Miss Lady Eris, we have had to give both the cats ear drops for ear mites. Eris puts up and yells about it; Shammash, 10 pounds of muscle and fight, has decided that he's doing no such thing.
He got his ear drops today.
First I clipped his claws. He did not like that. Then I held him down. I pinned him down under my thigh, used my hand to hold his ear open and his cheek into his mouth (so if he bit, he'd bite himself) and put the crap in his ear.
I remain unbitten, though the back of my left thigh has some nice scratches, which I washed off with alcohol.
Cats do not overly concern me. I have a high level of pain tolerance, and a history of trimming the beaks and claws of uncooperative chickens.
He got his ear drops today.
First I clipped his claws. He did not like that. Then I held him down. I pinned him down under my thigh, used my hand to hold his ear open and his cheek into his mouth (so if he bit, he'd bite himself) and put the crap in his ear.
I remain unbitten, though the back of my left thigh has some nice scratches, which I washed off with alcohol.
Cats do not overly concern me. I have a high level of pain tolerance, and a history of trimming the beaks and claws of uncooperative chickens.
Felines...
Nov. 23rd, 2002 01:14 amThat cat is sneering at me. Or smirking. It's that "I'm perfectly aware that you're right there, but I'm not even going to deign to look at you" expression.
