So, kitty pictures. These are all the kitties in my parent’s house, and most of the kitties I grew up with. I’m going to have to search to see if I can find a pic of Cloudy to put up here. My parents are the crazy cat people on your street, except they make sure to get their pets spayed so there isn’t a crazy cat overflow, with the inevitable visit by animal control.
Mr. Fuzzy, peering up at me through the vines in my parent’s dining room. You can’t tell from this picture, but he’s ginormous. He killed a jackrabbit once, and I didn’t know whether to be horrified or proud. I settled on proud because he also ate the rabbit. We’re pretty sure he’s older than 12. He may even be older than Sasha.
Sasha, lying in bed waiting for me to get my ass in bed. She hovered over me all night, worried I was going to get up and leave if she went to sleep. She’s my baby, and I wish I could have brought her with me.
George, on the same bed. Not to be confused with Sasha, who has similar coloring. He likes to give hugs, and much prefers guys to girls. Aaron led me to him in 1999, I think.
This was the best picture I could get of Genghis. Asking him to hold still when you’re looking at him is like asking the tide to stop. He looks guilty because he just finished swatting Mr. Fuzzy in the butt, which he knows isn’t right.
This is Jello, the cat I found with Dirk back in ’98 or so. She’s supposed to be half the size of the rest of the cats, according to her bone structure, but she made up the difference in fat. The photo’s a little blurry, but you can see that her body is framed with fat folds.
And here we see the lovely Desdemona. She reminds me a great deal of Robyn’s cat, Miz Poo. Tortoiseshell cats are typically very high-strung and demanding of attention. They tend to be neurotic and kind of weird. Desdemona fits all the stereotypes, plus some. I woke up in the middle of the night because she was beating on Jello, who rather ineffectively tried to hide behind a door. Content that she’d beaten “the favorite”, Desdemona then started hopping in the air at random intervals and yowling.
Poor Pturd (officially named Peaches, I think). She always has an Elizabeth collar on to keep her from tearing herself up. I think the official explanation was that urea crystals get stuck in her capillaries near the surface of her skin, causing the itching. It’s pretty obvious that the real reason is she’s allergic to herself. She’s been getting too many steroid and cortisone shots, so she just has to itch for a while. She slept on that countertop all night. I think she only gets down to eat and shit. Honestly, when she’s not all torn up, she’s a gorgeous cat.
And here is Sasha again. She’s trying to stand up on her hind legs in this picture. I had my fingers waving, trying to get her attention, and she thought I wanted her to lift up so I could pet her. 14 years old, and you can’t tell.Also, here’s the surprise I was talking about yesterday. Click here. (If that link doesn’t make your player popup immediately, save the file to your computer by rightclicking on it.) Dirk’s program also converts tapes to digital. This is his old band with my ex, GABOC. My ex is singing, adenoids and all. Hee!
