They are back.....

Like vampires creeping from the earth at dusk, they arise. Cautious. Skittish Deprived of access to food and water by the arrival of their nemesis, they are slow to trust. They sense he has left, but are they sure? One of their number was caught earlier, held and enveloped almost beyond endurance before he escaped. They slink forward...look right...look left....HEY CATNIP MOUSE ON A STRING!!!!!! WOO HOO!


That's right Skeeter came to visit Sunday morning and stayed all day, much to the distress of the cats. Bing was loved a bit, but he WILL survive. All in all we (humans) had a really good day, but no pictures, I'm sorry to say. The more fun I have with him, the less think to grab the camera.


Our new fun is playing with trains. Last summer I bought some trains from a friend whose sons had outgrown them. Did I say trains? I mean multiple battery-operated Thom@s the Tank Train engines, train cars, tons of track, risers to make overpasses, tunnels, trees and a table with rolling storage drawers for all it. So cool!

Actually the table was in my living room for months, but it was so big I couldn't access the drawers well and we didn't use it. I just dismantled it recently and took all the stuff to the back bed room. A couple of weeks ago, he and his mommy came over and I took him back to grab a few pieces to play with. We lay down the tracks on the living room floor, but it wasn't really big enough. "We need more tracks!" I said and hurried down the hallway for more with him close on my heels. I distinctly heard SOMEONE (no one is fessing up)in the room behind us say "It's like there are two little kids not one." We increased the track and played for a while, then he looked up and said "More!" And he went flying down the hall with me at HIS heels. With a couple more trips down the hall, it him occupied for three hours or more the first time. He was so cute laying on the floor, eye level with the trains as they passed by, he "helping" them along as they passed.

Thank you, Lisa. These toys ARE the greatest.

Introducing Twinkie the Wonder Cat

AKA - G has a new friend. Which is great, as little kids in our family are genetically required to own felines. Seriously! Skeeter is already 2 up on her...

Goodbye my boy.

Victor-Buzz in better days.

I had to put down my Buzz today. He is the only cat I ever took to college with me. He was seventeen, diagnosed with thyroid problems and a heart murmur when he was ten. I've been shoving pills down his throat for seven years. Finally his quality of life was so poor, I needed to help him go.

He was old . He was sick. He was sweet. He gave kisses upon request. I miss my Kalamazoo Room-mate already. I don't want to write anymore.

Two red heads taking a nap

There is no two ways about it. My mother has stolen the heart of my orange beastie. She denies it of course, but only because she doesn't want to take a turn at the litter box with a shovel.

Oh, what a bad blogger I have been.

I have been so uninspired! I have my excuses…. I haven’t been feeling well… I have new duties at work that are depressing the shit out of me…. It has been so fricken cold... And sad to say, when I have been at the computer I have been driveling away my time playing computer games instead of posting. Turn back the clock 24 years, picture really big hair, throw in some "oh my gosh! Fer sure! As if!" and this is exactly how I avoided my 10th grade history term paper!

The top on my unhappy list is this. One of my boys, my senior pet Buzz, is in the beginning stages of kidney failure. He also has a thyroid condition and heart murmur. I have been stuffing meds down his throat since 2001, and I am well aware this is where the end was heading. Still I am wracked with the dilemma of having to put down a beloved pet. I give all my four-legged friends fantastic and long lives. Buzz is 17 years old, so no spring chicken, but all my cats that don’t meet an accidental end live to be 17 or 18. With the exception of 3 months in 1992 when he lived with me in college (my room-mate was beating him when I wasn’t around,) everyday has been Happy Cat day for him. Heck, our dog PeeDee the Lhasa Apso lived to be 17, they have a 13 year life expectancy. My secret? I personally think it is better living through gratuitous itchies, as I don’t buy any fancy food. They are indoor/outdoor cats and medical attention usually limited to an emergency basis, so who really knows.

Buzz is so skinny but not in any pain (yet.) He is slower yet still himself. Aside from not wanting him to ever suffer, my problem is pet expenses are getting too dear. The special food he now needs is $34.00 for 24 cans, his meds run @$50.00 a month and blood work is running $75.00 a visit. If he were in pain, I could put him down in an instant. I am perhaps too sentimental, but I just CAN"T put down a animal that depends on me because of money. I don’t think I can live with myself if I did that.

I need to not dwell on this so much…need happier thoughts. So guess what 7 month old has his first tooth? I’ll give you one clue.....but do you really need it

Our Boy Bing

Scene: My living room, July 2007. I am reading the newspaper in chair. Eight year old G meanders in...

G: Wheeeere is my boy Bing........

Aunt K: (newspaper is lowered with a rustle) Pardon me?

G: (Sigh...eye roll) Where is my AND your boy Bing...

I love all my pets and they are all special to me, but (shush don't tell) this little boy is my favorite of the cats I have now. He is also the favorite of the two little girls in my life. (Sorry L, sixteen is still little to me.) He has those certain qualities that I love in a cat; he is beautiful , he knows how to suck up, and he will do almost anything for an scratch! Only one other cat is my all-time-favorite, and bless his four-legged soul, he died at the age of 17 almost a decade ago.

Through the Internet grapevine I have heard that G isn't feeling well. So for you Georgie-Porgie, here are some pictures of our Binghee. I was wiggling my fingers in the international sign of Itchie, and he came a running... Love Gugu.

Proper Name: Bingly (Named after a Jane Austen character by L when he was going to be her cat. That was before we discovered her BIG dog "Beelzebub, Hound of Hell" thought he looked really yummie.)

Nicknames: Bing, MR. Bingly, Binghee, Ba-ging-ghee, Kitty-Kitty-Bing-Bing (G's fine four feathered friend,) Bing-a-ling, Bingalbean, Bwackie-Bing (had an identical brother whose 6 year-old owner named Bwackie-Sam, so you know.)and the list keeps growing...

Forbbiden names: Bingo, Itchie-whore (thank you, sister-mine.)

Henry had the snott beaten out of him...AGAIN

What I am I going to do with this orange boy... Oh well, here are his "Glamour Shots."

This time we were beyond my meager ouchie-healing-skills.

Dig the new haircut the Vet gave him. Something chomped on him good!

Making him an indoor boy isn't really an option, yet. He stalks the back door, humming "Born Free" to himself, as he waits to be allowed out on "patrol." He is wily. He is quicker than I am.... And Hankie is also not adverse to using his bodily fluids and bad behavior to get his butt tossed out. Until he outgrows the great outdoors, I guess I'm stuck with wound tending and vet bills. Buzz outgrew it. He use to be be my huge fighting beastie, and now he barely goes out.

Oh well, time to shove another antibiotic down the orange beast's throat.....

Henry had the snott beaten out of him yesterday...

He is one of the cats previously mentioned. He is huge, orange and white, and if he had his own set of thumbs to operate the back door, he wouldn't need me at all. Except when he is hurt. Then he is a big fat baby...

I washed his wounds with soap and water, mostly to determine how badly he was hurt and if I needed to be late to work and hustle him to the vet. I've had cats since I was six, and I can handle most minor cat injuries myself. A little wound on his hind foot, a puncture on his ear was the source of most of the blood, and a lot of little scrapes. I think the greatest wounding was to his pride, not from being thoroughly whomped, but from the indignity of my first-aid skills. That boy bitched me out! I bundled him up and he slept for almost 18 hours. Two hours ago he was begging to go outside again. Guess he has a grudge to settle. It will have to wait for another day, at least until he has stopped limping.

I have five cats in all, and that is more than plenty. Three is my "happy cat" number, but seven years ago I found a stray who was too wonderful not to save. She had obviously been someones pet. Friendly, skinny, de-clawed, and (I thought) fixed, she ended up having 4 babies on my brand new (purple) Egyptian cotton sheets. After years of finding homes for kittens, I had run out of friends needing cats and could only find homes for half the kittens. Let me tell you, the potty box gets full fast with 6 cats. Three years ago we lost the the oldest mamma cat, she was 18. She had originally been my sister's cat, but when she moved into an apartment, Tootsie didn't adapt to high-rise living as an indoor cat. She spent three days under the guest bed yowling. Constantly. Finally B called me, begging me to take her back. Tootsie never forgave her for those three days. When we finally had to put her down, B, her husband E and I took her in. The Vet asked who's cat she was, and simultaneously we all said "Mine!" So now I'm "down" to five cats.

Oddly enough for someone who has had cats for most of her life, I don't like all cats. I love MY cats. I raised them right. They make me laugh. So call me a cat snob, but please god, DO NOT call me the cat lady! :)