Kitten #2

Yes, you read that right. We now have 2 kittens.

When Paul learned that I had adopted Tippy, he said we should get the other one also, so the siblings could be together. Plus, he liked the look of the other one, mostly black with a little white.

So the boy cat, as we now have confirmed, was trapped on Thursday, neutered on Friday, and came to live with us Friday night.

I'd love to tell you more about him, but I have seen him only very briefly and have not held him yet.

I hope that he will soon tire of life under the sofa. You'd think he'd want to stretch his legs. I have been feeding him under there and was pleased with his intake until this morning I saw the rear end of Tippy sticking out from the sofa where she was inhaling the food meant for him.

Tippy is looking pretty plump, she lets us hold her most of the time, and is right now running from the den to the kitchen looking for a way to escape. While this behavior seemed manic to me yesterday, today I am labeling it as the way half-feral kittens play. It's better than cowering under the sofa. At lease she is getting exercise.

We can't really name the new kitten till we get a good look at him. And of course a photo is out of the question. But please know I am staying on top of this situation. Literally, I am sitting on the sofa he is under. That's sort of a bond, isn't it?

Tippy trots back and forth. Pepper growls at her once in a while. Sofa cat seems calm. I guess this is how domestication works, slow but sure.

Hey Paul Krugman (A song, A plea)

wow, Paul Krugman likes cats and economics. Very sexy

Kitten Update

Meet Tippy! One of her ears is cropped a bit. Not sure if that is the best name. We'll have to see.

Paul is waving a peacock feather at her right now as part of the play therapy.

Pepper has asserted herself as senior cat and is engaged in her own kind of therapy that involves growling and hissing.

She's very anxious to get outside and resume her life of panhandling and sleeping under a bush.

We'll see about that.

Breaking News

This may come as no surprise to some of you, not to include the man of the house who is traveling right now, but there is a kitten in my laundry room. The cat who is upstairs and refuses to come down is filing a grievance against me.

Background: for some months now there has been a lot of stray cat activity on our street. In our yard we've seen a black cat who looks just like the one hiding upstairs, and at least 2 kittens that seem to be related to the black cat. The kittens are black and white. Paul started feeding them in February, right after Pixie died. I was not in favor of this, but on the other hand, no one wants to see cats go hungry so how could I oppose it. I heard from a neighbor that several of us were feeding the same cats and through the miracle of the internets with its new-fangled mail machine, we all agreed that neighbor Lisa would take over the exclusive feeding so we could trap the cats and take them to get shots and neutered and so forth.

During a moment of weakness I said I'd take one of the kittens.

So now there is a kitten in my laundry room.

I'd provide a photo but she won't allow herself to be photographed.

Julie, don't read this. I let the kitten out of the trap last night. She and Pepper made eye contact. The kitten did not come out of the laundry room, and in fact, she is so well hidden in there that for a while I thought she was somewhere else in the house. But this morning her food dish is empty, so I know she is in there.

I also know she is in there because this morning the curtains have been pulled down and a candle holder is broken in the bathroom sink. I'd say we are off to a good start.

So now the laundry room door is open and we are waiting for her to get bored with wherever she is hiding. "We" is really just me, as Pepper is boycotting the whole caper by refusing to come downstairs.

The kitten looks like our cat Rosebud, who died in December of 2005. I don't know how anyone can resist a black and white tuxedo cat.

I know I can't.

Spring is My Favorite Season

Whew, it's been a busy week here with all the Barbie parties and interviews. Original Barbie is back in her box now, waiting for a granddaughter to discover her. She stood on the kitchen table all week, next to the vase of daffodils. They complemented each other very well.

Every year at this time I decide all over again that spring is my favorite season. Each day brings a new treat as life bursts out of its winter hiding place. I worry that plants I had last year won't make it back, but lo and behold, one day they shoot up through the ground to give it another try. Now that's optimism.

I am glad that it is time to spend more time outside as I am struggling mightily to tune out all the political craziness. I keep saying to myself "relax, Barack's got this." The man is quite capable of figuring out what needs to be done and then doing it. I have my job, he has his. Thank God.

Here's a photo to distract you from the scary fascists in charge now, "that one" who, according to the SOB who used to be VP, is making us unsafe. Good Lord, stop shoving a microphone in that man's face.

See what I mean, here I go all over again. Here's a nice photo to calm me down. You are on our own.

Barbie's Birthday

We're celebrating at our house. It's Barbie's birthday! You know, the sexy new doll who arrived on the scene in 1959 on a mission to turn all girls into sexpot hooker airline attendants.

Well, I am here to tell you that having a Barbie did not do that to me, or hasn't so far. I am neither promiscuous nor anorexic but I sure did like playing with my Barbie. She's having a fashion show at my house. Have a look.

I believe that I received my first Barbie in 1962 when I was 9. I have to guess at that; the little fashion booklets have a date of 1962 but one of the booklets has no cover and looks older. So it may have been 1961 when I got my #1 Ponytail, as she is called by collectors. My Barbie is not NRFB*, but she is in good shape. I have lots of shoes and accessories. I am proud that I took such good care of her. The secret is to preserving your toys is to never let your children play with them. Take a look at dopey Ken in this photo:

My children did play with him and he looks it. I never had much use for Ken. His clothes were boring and he has a zombie-like demeanor.

I also had a second Barbie for whom I never developed much of an attachment. I have dressed her here in the fanciest dress in the Barbie closet, to make up for all the neglect she suffered over the years.
My original Barbie is in good shape. Her only defect is a bad case of "green ear" which comes from her metal earrings. Your ears would be green too if you'd worn the same earrings constantly for 49 years. She shows no signs of fading or chipped make-up or nail polish. I think my original Barbie is much prettier than my second Barbie. See what you think:

Second Barbie has sort of a zombie look, not unlike Ken.

Here's orginal Barbie in her iconic swimsuit:

If I had a figure like this, this is the only outfit I'd ever wear.

Have a great day at the beach, everyone!

Miscellany

I am happy that we had our big snow of the year and got that over with. For some people, this was their very first snowfall. Here's one of those folks:

And here is a photo that has no relation to snow at all:

It came from Amazon. I ordered a Kindle and this is what they sent me. Should I keep it?