Funny, I always thought the spud belonged to you and Fred and that you and Fred had been married since the beginning of time.
Nope, I have a whooooole past y’all don’t know about. 😉 I was married to the spud’s father at a very young age, and we were married for 8 years. He stayed in the Rhode Island area (where we were living when we divorced), retired from the Navy, and eventually met his now-wife. Rhode Island is an absolutely gorgeous area – especially where we were, near Newport – and I probably didn’t appreciate it enough at the time.
Fred and I have been married since Halloween 1998, which means we’re closing in on 14 years of marriage. (Yes, we got married on Halloween, and no we didn’t dress up, though I wish now that we had. It was in a small chapel, and the only people in attendance were the spud and a friend of the preacher, who served as a witness.)
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Was Miz Poo terribly lonely in your absence, and did a certain chubby calico mind Logie’s flirtatious TV-watching ways?
Miz Poo doesn’t like it when she sees me packing a suitcase, and she’s always EXTRA vocal when I come home, but according to Fred she’s perfectly fine while I’m gone. She might be a bit needier, so he gives her extra attention, but for the most part she’s fine.
And Alice actually isn’t terribly possessive of Fred. If she goes to climb up on his lap (which she often does at TV time in the evening, but not necessarily every evening) and Logie is there, she’ll look a bit disgusted and settle down as far from Logie as she can. And if Logie gets too much in her face she’ll smack her, but I think she figures there’s enough of Fred to go around!
However, sometimes Elwood also tries to climb on Fred, and he’s usually the boulder that breaks the camel’s back, causing Fred to make all the cats sit on the couch instead of on Fred.
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I wonder if things might go more smoothly between them now that she’s spayed? Not that I blame the boys for being too skeered to go back in there.
That’s regarding Jake and Emmy. Fred took Jake into the foster room with Emmy before we realized that she was going into heat, and when she “talked” to him, I think she was saying something along the lines of “Hey big boy, come here often?!”
Fred tried to take Jake into the room with Emmy while I was gone, and Jake was NOT having it. Emmy was okay – said a few things, maybe called him a chicken – and Jake begged to go back outside. I think an Emmy-Jake friendship isn’t meant to be, since Jake is pretty much avoiding the upstairs at this point, but we’ll see. It would be nice if she could have some feline company in there!
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I forgot to mention this the other day, but I loved that your neighbor thought to get between the bush and the road before he tried to rescue the baby kitty, to keep it from running into danger. He sounds like a good guy.
Oh, he is – they’re definitely animal lovers over there. Fred and I were talking to his mother a few weeks ago, and she saw Joe Bob and asked if she could pet him. Fred went to pick Joe Bob up so she could, and Joe Bob said “I DON’T THINK SO, MON FRERE” and ran inside the house. I’m glad she’s got her own kitty to love on, now! She told Fred that the kitten is a sweet little lovebug. I just wish I knew where he came from! Fred and I have looked all over the place and haven’t found any other kittens, so it’s a mystery.
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Stumbled across this tonight and thought of you. Could be handy for fosterers too. 😉
How neat is that!
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Rupert MUST be somone’s daddy… Maybe Newt? Is he old enough for that? Is it even possible for a white cat and a tux to make an orange tabby baby? Probably not…
I think Rupert is probably a year or two younger than Newt.
Oops, actually that’s not true – I just went and double-checked Newt’s page and Newt’s estimated to be about 6 years old. That’s the same age as Rupert, so maybe they’re from the same litter? Fred thinks that Rupert must be related to Coltrane, because they have the same kind of meow (which I need to capture on video).
Speaking of Rupert, I don’t know if he actually belongs to someone in the area, but he’s here pretty much 24/7. We have a small wagon that Fred leaves under a rain/ sun shade in the old chicken yard. That’s where Rupert really likes to sleep. That, and on the side stoop, and in the driveway. I was working in the garden yesterday, and he kept following me around when I was gathering everything I needed, and kept trying to explore the buildings I was opening the doors to. (The old blue coop is where we store empty feed bags, and the garage is where my gloves were.) That boy has certainly made himself at home, and he comes over without hesitation to be petted when I go outside.
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Do you long for Maine still or has Alabama stolen your heart as well?
I do long for Maine, but I also know that there is just no way on earth that I could ever live up there again. I’ve become the biggest wimp in the past 16 years here in Alabama, and the cold would kill me. When I was up there last week, the cold weather just about killed me – I was in jeans and a hoodie and jacket, and still cold. And people were walking around in shorts!
If I were to win the lottery, I’d buy a place in Maine for the summers, but how much time could I spend there, really? I’m sure trying to move 13 cats to Maine for the summer wouldn’t be traumatic at ALL.
Honestly, the only thing keeping me in Alabama is Fred. It’s a nice place, and I feel like an ingrate for admitting it, but if Fred were to, y’know, accidentally fall in the pond and drown after putting MY GOOD WOODEN SPOON in the dishwasher (WHO THINKS THAT PUTTING WOOD IN THE DISHWASHER IS A GOOD IDEA?!), I’m not sure I’d stay in Alabama. Actually, I’m fairly certain I probably wouldn’t.
(Luckily, we have an agreement that I get to die first. Just not anytime soon.)
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45 is “very old”?! Say it ain’t so!
and
How does it feel to be about 1.5 years away from “very old?” 🙂
Even when I wrote that, at the age of 32 (god help me, I had to get out the calculator to figure out how old I was in 2000), it was tongue in cheek. I don’t consider 45 “very old”, honestly I don’t.
It’s ancient.
(Hee, just kidding! I’ll be 45 myself in January and I find that I don’t consider it all that old. 🙂 )
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I love the name Rufus and will name my next pet that (and hopefully the next pet will be stuffed and not require any care or feeding – and especially won’t drag paper/plastic out of the recycle bin and shred it to bits all over my house ). Anyway, do you trip on those steps or is it just the angle that makes them seem dangerous? Or maybe just my klutz bias showing through?
It’s just the angle – however, we were having an issue with them getting slick in the rain and I did fall down them not once, but twice last year. Fred bought those strips to make the stairs non-slick (I can’t think of what they’re called – they’re kind of like sandpaper), but I’d still like to have a railing to hold on to!
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I know this is one of the unanswerable questions like “How would you describe the color yellow to a blind person,” but — what does lobster taste like? Other than lobster.
Here’s why I ask: I am NOT a seafood aficionado – I can eat the very very mild flavors of fish (I think it’s mostly cod or haddock, whatever it is they usually use in beer-battered fish-n-chips type stuff) as long as I have some lemon and/or tartar sauce for it, and I love fried clams as long as I have lemon and they’re not too huge/chewy. My parents are both nutso for crabs (my mom grew up on the Eastern Seaboard), but the smell makes me a bit queasy. I’ve tried catfish (wild and farm-raised) and nearly vomited; I managed to choke down a piece of salmon with the help of a big swig of water, and I know I’ve tried and/or been exposed to multiple other forms of seafood, having relatives who live in seafood-heavy areas and who like to fish. I like tunafish sandwiches, but the smell of warm tuna (as in casseroles or steaks) makes me retch.
But lobster… the *idea* of lobster has always fascinated me, and I feel like maybe I’m missing out on a wondrous gastronomic delight, but I have never been able to justify the expense of ordering some so I can try it, and never been around anyone from whom I could swipe a bite. And of course it’s not the sort of thing you can easily find samples of.
Given the seafoods that I do/do not like (as mentioned above), do y’all think lobster would be up my alley, or no? (It may just be the butter I’m tempted by… lol)
This is just my opinion, but I think that lobster and crab are very similar, so I’m guessing that you probably wouldn’t care for lobster. The rest of y’all, feel free to jump in with your opinion on the topic!
I like most seafood – lobster and shrimp being my favorite – but I can’t eat tuna. That’s not because of the taste, but because of a mental block I have; I ate a lot of tuna as a kid – A LOT – and I can’t stand the idea of it.
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Corbie reminds me of my Jack, another gorgeous tabby. Whenever we move and find a new vet, they always comment on how gorgeous he is, especially his eyes.
Jack looks like he and Corbie could be long-lost twin brothers, just about! Which is to say, Jack is one gorgeous kitteh. (Also, I love the name Jack, and the only reason we don’t have any cats named Jack is because that’s Fred’s stepfather’s name and it would be annoying to always have to differentiate between Jack the man and Jack the cat.)
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Whipper and the Newbs (aka Logie and Newbery) hanging out on the cat tree in the sun.
Darwin considers…
And decides that Corbie’s box will do nicely, thank you.
Morning sun!
Fightin’ time.
All four Noms – and Miz Poo – in the kitchen. Logie’s face is cracking me up. Here, here’s a closeup:
“STOP PUTTING YOUR STUPID TAIL IN MY FACE!”
Newbery was very interested in what was going on on my monitor. He’s a Gmail fan, apparently.
Sleepy Miss Razz-ma-tazz.
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Are you READY for the Corbs? Can you HANDLE the Corbs? I’m not sure you can, but be warned: his beauty has been known to cause heart palpitations.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned this basket, which I bought off Etsy. It was intended for the foster room, but I left it on the table for a couple of hours, and the next thing I knew, one of the cats was in it, and it’s been occupied ever since. Someone knocked it onto the floor, and Corbie said “This works for me!”
Corbie in his box, happy as can be.
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Previously
2011: Actually, that’s another way Dorothy and Alice are alike: they’re small, but they have NO fear when it comes to the other cats.
2010: Oh, I loved her immediately.
2009: He still says she’s ugly.
2008: No entry.
2007: Vampire Kitty likes to spend his days on top of the cupboards, where it’s warm and relatively dark.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.