You can't have any new ones until the old ones are gone

We have an understood rule about pets and owning them. You can't have a new one until the old one passes away. I really, really, REALLY want another bird (he died a few years ago) to talk and sing with and teach bad things to but I don't want to deal with the mess. So we're birdless.

The other neighbors got two new puppies and they might as well be the Sun and Husband is Icarus. The puppies are miniature beagles and holy cow, they are SO ADORABLE! They're still in the "when I wag my tail my whole body shakes I'm so happy!" stage and that makes them VERY contagious. "I want one!" he says. "We have a dog." I say. "But they only cost $50!" he whines. "Well, when Mya checks out, you can have one." I insist.

But I think I can offer him a trade and we'll both get what we want.

He wants this:

and he can have it if I can have this:

more cat pictures

But I guess I'll need a pantry before I can have an Evil Pantry Kitteh. And the kitteh must be truly evil, no substitutes!

What the hell is in those jars??!! Looks very, very scary!

When Animals ATTACK!!

Go ahead, click on it. Would YOU survive?

These numbers are about me surviving. My wolf odds are looking pretty good. I've known about the cat for years. In fact, I've been whooping his ass on a regular basis the past few days. He is old, 14ish this summer I do believe. He's starting to walk like an old man. And his gut is HUGE so he's got a lot to tote and he often looks "stove up" when he struts around. I found some "hey your cat has old bones" pills at Wally World last weekend so we dropped $8 (!!) for a 60 day supply. He's not really down with taking the pills but I have opposable thumbs and the will to put some pep in his step. And its working, he strolls smooth like a pimp now.

Now Mr. Tat Cat has lived outside for the most part of his life. He'll come inside and hang out for a bit, especially on hot days (he's old and fat, remember?) but he usually wants to spend his time outside and I'm cool with that. He doesn't get fleas, maybe a few but nothing like a manifestation. He's long haired and it's very thick. I think the fleas give up trying to eat him thru all his fur. I don't bathe him often because he tries to kick my ass when I brush him out. Tat doesn't quite understand that if I brush him, I'll get those loose hairs off of him and he won't spend so much time hacking up dang furballs all over my porch, walkway, yard, driveway, etc. Tat just thinks of it as an opportunity to smack me around. Some gratitude!

When we moved into the new house I tried to keep him inside, at least for the first few days so he could get comfortable with our new area. That meant Tat had to take a bath. I didn't want dirty cat butt dragged all over my carpet. I was nervous. I think the last time I'd bathed him was about 5 years ago. And he fights brushing - no water involved - so I was REALLY nervous and I made sure Husband knew how to get to the hospital from our new location. I just knew I was going to need some stitches after Tat's bath.

After I worked out all the pre-bath fretting I filled up the bathtub. I scooped Tat up and we headed for the bathroom. He gave me a "Where do you think you're taking me?" look and I tried to explain how he's pretty dirty and I don't want him bringing dirt or possibly fleas into the new house. He just closed his eyes and looked away. And I put him in the water, expecting him to jump up onto my face and claw my eyes out but that didn't happen. He just sat there, all still and quiet and let me bathe him. LET ME. Then he spent a good 6 hours pouting and hiding under my bed.

Of course, the next day when I thought "Hey, let's put him in the back yard (it's fenced in) and see how he likes the ground." BAD MISTAKE! He squeezed his large ass thru the gap between the fence and the house and ran like hell. We didn't see him for almost two weeks. Every day I'd go outside shaking the food dish and yelling for him, "Fat boy! Here kitty kitty." He finally showed back up and was he ever skinny! I'd never seen him skinny, at all, EVER. He's well back to his non-fighting weight now.

Tat likes living on The Circle. He's got no nuts so he doesn't chase or kill much anymore. He's only brought me one set of mole hands since we've moved here. He used to leave me all kinds of lizards, birds and mice at the old farm. He doesn't even chase the birds who come eat at our eleventy feeders.

Good kitteh!

Iiiiiiiii just want to fly

Yesterday evening we spent some time at the cool neighbors' house so Junior could play and we could recover from our exciting and very hot day. When I decided it was time for me to go water the plants, the cat and I headed back for home (he always follows us and will wait for us to go back home). Mr. Tat Cat immediately spots this little guy:

And for an old, fat, lazy cat, Tat is pretty quick to investigate and start licking his chops. So I run and scoop up 20 pounds of cat and get him back home so he won't eat baby Mockingbird. Can you see his downy fluff on his head? Baby is so cute!

When I go back outside I can hear mama Mockingbird screaming her head off and I also notice that someone else had tried to cross the road:

Yes, that poor small bump in the road is baby's brother. And now...guess who's running straight for the road??!! Baby!! Mother is still screaming her head off and baby's just running full-tilt. No flapping of wings, just running.

Besides the obvious danger of the road, there are about 3 carnivorous kittehs across the street. Sometimes these kittehs will stalk my bird feeders and I have to bust out the air-soft machine gun. Don't worry - they only shoot small plastic BBs and it's powered by 4 AA batteries so it's not even close to being lethal. I only use it as a "get the hell out of my yard" tool and the sound is much worse than the hit. But it is a MACHINE GUN and the boys modified the safety so you just pull the trigger and fire like crazy and watch those bird eaters (or stray dogs, or devient teenagers) scatter! And I'm getting way off topic, back to the story.

Husband and neighbors notice I'm doing some kind of crazy dance in the spare lot and come over to investigate. I put them on cat watch and go inside for something to shoo baby back away from the road. I grabbed the TV Guide thinking if we flapped the pages open and closed at him, baby will be scared and run away.

Not exactly. Husband flapped pages and this made baby just sit there. He tried again and baby gave him his best little aggressive hop, shake and "If you don't go away and leave me the hell alone I WILL KILL YOU" hiss with his open mouth. It was enough to make Husband and I both jump back and I HATE that I missed that pic! Very funny. Trust me, I do not want to come to that kind of ending. What an obituary that would be, "died tragically while trying to save a baby mocking bird."

Neighbor man decided to scoop up baby and move him back near the possible nest tree.

Which really didn't do a lot for mama Mockingbird. She raised A LOT of sand and we all kept an eye on her but not once did she try to attack us. Maybe she knew we were trying to help.

I can't wait to get home this afternoon and see if the drama repeats itself. I'm praying there will NOT be another bump in the road.