These five minks came from stoles purchased at the thrift store and cut apart. Scully hunts them regularly, pulling them down from their roost and coming down the stairs, growling softly, prey securely in her jaws. She usually only does this at night; come morning, we often find all five minks in the dining room at the bottom of the stairs.
If there is a sunspot, Scully will find it. Beyond that, the post's title says it all.
The last day of the winter break (for the husband, anyway) seemed a good day to be lazy. I worked out for an hour, donated some platelets, hit a local grocery for sale items for which I also had coupons, read V is for Vengeance, and now am heading to kendo locally since the gym in Alexandria I normally go to on Mondays is closed tonight. Really, this is what passes for a lazy day for me; hence, the photo of one of the cats. When nothing noteworthy is happening, look to a cat for inspiration.
We're giving sanctuary this holiday (the why of which is beyond the scope of this sound-byte blog) to Biscuit, a 14-year-old mix of beagle, Jack Russell terrier, and possibly another breed or three. Her normal home is with someone who works all day and is gone most evenings as well. She's not used to a house in which there are people home and moving around all day, which is what ours is like during the holidays. Our cats are basically ignoring her, and any negative interactions have been quickly terminated. I think it will be a good week all around.
When I got Gruffles, one of the resident cats, Catbert, was convinced that it was a real dog. It will be interesting, then, to see what Catbert thinks of our guest for Christmas, a Jack Russell-beagle mix named Biscuit. The story is too long for a mini-blog; suffice to say Biscuit needs a safe house for the holidays, and we plan to provide it. Sort of like witness protection for dogs.
Catbert is trying to help me clean; really, she is. And at this point, I'll take what help I can get even if it's just making me smile and grab the camera.
Each morning when I sit down to coffee and the newspaper and any evening I sit down to read or knit, the paw appears. I want you to want me, it seems to say, reaching out over and over until I allow its owner access to my lap. Yes, this cat owns me.
I was going to take a photo of my shot in the red zone (i.e., the bullseye) from pistol shooting this morning, but the bag in which the target sits is still in the car that is currently is use elsewhere. So here's the other cat in the hat, er, house, Catbert. As for that bullseye, there was only one, and I'm not gonna tell how many tries it took me to get it.
This is the first photo I took with the new camera. Younger son took the first three, but this is my first. Yeah, I think I'll keep both the new camera and the old cat.
So I could have posted some photos I took wandering around the university today including some cool spiral staircase shots and some shots of the oculus in the university's Rotunda. But no, here is the image of the morning, Scully impersonating a statue.
Catbert is a conversationalist without equal. She has her opinions and is not afraid to let you know them. Most of her opinions involve food or her lack thereof.
The Mystery Cat first appeared on our back deck during a winter storm several years ago. We didn't see him again for quite some time, but almost a year ago, not too long after the dog who used to sleep on the front porch died, Mystery Cat started to appear more regularly. Since the resident cats no longer go outside, we count on Mystery Cat to take care of mice, moles, and other small visitors. The only contact he has allowed so far is eye contact.
Meet Scully. Nine or ten years ago, her kidneys were failing, working at just 30 percent of what they should have been. The vet told me to take her home and make her comfortable. He still jokes about just how comfortable I've kept her. I can't tell you why she's still here, and neither can the vet. She's just that stubborn.
