Toms, hanging out on the air conditioning unit.
Stinkerbelle (whom I have taken to calling “Prissy” for some unknown reason) loves to play with the strings on my apron.
In the yard, Miz Poo keeps a watchful eye out for troublemakers.
Hetty McHetterson.
“Hey! Where ya goin’? Can I go too?”
Harbl airin’ is a daily requirement at Crooked Acres.
A scattering of kitties.
Miz Poo keeps an eye on Dem Chickenz.
“What?”
“I hets dem chickens. I just wants to touch ’em with da fangers, and dey clucks and runs away. Het.”
**************************************
I got an email from another woman who volunteers for the shelter. She’s actually an adoption counselor on adoption nights at the pet store. She said that she ran into Gilligan and Spanky (and their owner, of course) at the vet. They were in for a well kitty checkup, and the owner loves them to death. They’re adapting well, are very friendly, and like being petted, though they still don’t like being picked up.
I love a happy ending, especially for that bunch – considering how feral they were when I got them, I’m so glad they’re doing so well!
**************************************
“Hey. HEY! Is there snackin’ going on down there?!”
“BwahahahaHA! I went over by Rhian and I farted, and then I ran away, and when The Man picked her up so The Mean Lady could give her that nasty medicine, he was all ‘Did you poot, little tortie?’ and she was SO EMBARRASSED!”
“Hey LADY! Where’s my SNACK?!”
“I’m not seeing any snack on that plate. Am I going to have to get mean?”
“Bob. BOB! Hey, Bob! Look, you got any of the good stuff? I had me some snack and I’m all comfy and full, and I need me some ‘nip to take me all the way to HappyLand. Jesikat says you’ve got the best stuff around. Don’t hold out on me, man!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previously
2006: Momma Kitty thinks you are acting very suspiciously and if you make any sudden moves, she WILL kick your butt.
2005: No entry.