Big Meanie

             Today the cats voted me the meanest pet owner ever. Here it was, a glorious spring day--sun shining, birds singing, bugs hopping--and I was completely ignoring their heart-wrenching pleas to go outside.  My husband had sprayed the lawn with weed killer and until it dried, there was a "no cats on the grass" policy in force.  
              I calmly explained this to the clowder, many times.  I brought them each a tender shoot of catmint to munch on.  I opened the windows to draw  the outdoors in to greet them.  Did they appreciate any of this?  Of course not!  Instead they piled into the five square feet of space by the kitchen door and howled in discontent.  If I left the kitchen, they followed, continuing their mournful cries.  After an hour of this, cat turned on cat and fur and claws flew in angry frustration.  (Actually, this may have been a ploy to get kicked outside--starting fights is usually a sure way to be evicted.)  
             The hour of fighting turned into another hour of despair.  Mutual misery turned enemies into friends.  Wonder of wonders, Biff and Frank actually snuggled together on the kitchen door threshold.  The remaining three ganged together for a campaign of chaos, another tactic to get ejected from the house.
             By this time the lawn was dry and I couldn't take another minute of their presence.  I threw them all out.  Hopefully their systems can take a little weed killer--it can't be any more dangerous than the wrath they inspired in me.

Man's Best Friend

Finny greets us from the car hood

            Non-cat people often ask me what the point of having cats is.   I'll admit that I've asked myself that more than once, usually after an especially "cat"astrophic  moment or when feeling "cat"atonic from another sleepless night due to cats hogging all the bed space and covers. (My deepest apologies for the "cat" references--I just couldn't resist!  I'll try not to let it happen again.)
             All I can say is that there are moments when they love you unconditionally and make you feel special.  Like when we return from a trip to the grocery store: Finnegan is on the car hood meowing about how much he missed us before we can even open the doors.  Sometimes a little love IS the point of having cats. 

Special Delivery

                Hmm...The box says it contains one "LP Gas Tailgate Grill" in hunter green.  It doesn't say anything about varmints and it didn't come with airholes.

Bath Time

            We really need rain.  Every time I put my face near a cat I sneeze thanks to the thick coat of dust they picked up from rolling in the yard.  Jersey, our once black and white cat, gets her annual shots tomorrow, so we just forced her to bathe to lessen her street urchin appearance.  As you can see from the after photo, we only succeeded in removing the first layer of grime. If there were more sunlight in the bathroom, we could grow plants in  

Almost white again

  the soil left after draining the sink.
              I'm also including a picture of Henriette's bath time.  Hedgehogs are buoyant and are suppose to delight in floating on their backs in water.  We haven't found this to be true.  Henriette spends most of her bath time frantically trying to escape the tub.


                  

Henriette's bath