MICKEY AND EVA AND MY COMPUTER

Can't get enough of these two rascals who won't leave me alone when I'm at my computer? Well here they are again, the little pests.

MICKEY AND EVA

In less than 48 hours the newly named Mickey and Eva, the 13 week old kitten siblings have taken over the house. They aren't afraid of other cats. They investigate anything and everything, particular my computer when I'm using it -Mickey is currently sitting in front of the screen. They love being stroked and when I woke up this morning they were curled up next to me. 

They will drive some lucky person mad but it isn't going to be me. I want rid of them asap. Just have a look why.

JEFF'S KITTENS; THE LAST PHOTOS EVER (THIS WEEK)

I'm sorry. I'm trying to give up. Really I am. It's just so hard. I can't help myself. Every time I see one I want to do it. Just one more and then I'll stop. I mean it. But, well, just see for yourself. You can't really blame me for being so weak.

A HOUSEFUL OF KITTENS

Well, maybe not a houseful. I might just be exaggerating there.

I know and I know you know that I would never exaggerate. It just isn't in my bones. I can hardly conceive of even exaggerating a little. And if you believe that then you might like to invest in this sure-fire scheme to make us all lots of money with absolutely no risk at all. Email me for further information and include all your financial details including passwords.

But getting back to kittens. It may not be a houseful but it certainly feels like it even if there are actually only four of them. They've spent the last hour in the living room while I sat watching Holby City. You'll see where they were in a moment. Except I couldn't take a photo, for obvious reasons of little Belle the tortoiseshell -oh I like that phrase "little Belle the tortoiseshell", go on, say it out loud- who was snuggled into the crook of my elbow with eyes tight shut.

So it's kitten season again. You know what that means? Well, if it's anything like last year it means my chest, arms, legs and the backs of my hands will be covered with a mass of thin red lines which looks, to anyone who doesn't know my circumstances, as if I'm into self harming. Who knows, maybe I would give it a try except I don't need to when I've got kittens to do it for me. But it's not it's caused by kitten attack, just kittens climbing up and all over me for a cuddle and drawing blood in the process. I swear that one of these days I'm going to have to have a blood transfusion.

Who would want one of these things anyway? They are a literal pain. Plus they're destructive. A year ago when I moved into my nice clean done-up house everything was perfect. Within weeks of getting kittens they'd ruined my vertical blinds, crapped on my bedroom carpet, knocked most of my small British Bird Collection figurines that I'd bought specially for the house (and, just as well, cheaply too) off mantlepieces, windowsills, and any other convenient high flat surfaces I'd put them on, destroyed the backs and fronts of a settee and armchairs with their tiny little sharp claws, do a smelly poo just as the TV programme I'm watching is coming to its climax, jump on the keyboard while you're typing and then cuddle up in your arms when you move them (which has just happened), used any wooden upright (like table legs) as a scratching post, all but demolished any wicker furnishings, knocked books, CDs, and DVDs off shelves (and there are a lot of them in this house), chewed any thin cable like those for my Ipod and Ipad, electric shavers, phones -ah, sorry, no that wasn't them, that was Fifi (see photo in the sidebar), but it if hadn't been her getting there first they'd probably have had a go.

Kittens, I must be bloody mad. Alas I have no choice as our re-homing centre isn't really suitable for them and there's only one person who can take them in and is stupid enough to do so. At least they tend not to stay very long. One of them might not even be here this time tomorrow and another may be gone by the weekend. That being the case I took a few photos while they were all together in the living room.

Just as a reminder as I'm putting them in no particular order: Belle is the tortoiseshell, Shadowcat is black, Emma is black and white, and Gerald the Ginger Kitten is ginger. Plus there's a guest appearance from Aelfric who hates to miss out on anything.

If you want to know which cats and kittens have been re-homed, check out the bottom of the page of Animal Krackers: Cats Needing Homes site -see sidebar.

Kittens, it's only because they're the cutest thing in the world and I hate cute. Really I do. And kittens.

WHY YOU SHOULDN'T STICK YOUR HAND IN A DOG'S MOUTH.

What?

You mean you were expecting me to tell you why you shouldn't stick your hand in a dog's mouth. Come on, guys. I mean, like really. Surely the answer to that has to be obvious. You know what can happen if you stick your fingers in a dog's mouth.

It's what happened to me on Wednesday.

Look, it's a mistake that anyone could make.

So next door's boxer dog has its paws up on the low wall with metal railing on top of it and it's looking at me and barking. Okay, so I don't see that much of the people on the right side of me but we are acquainted and I have had friendly encounters with the dog in the past so it's not entirely unreasonable for me to put my right hand between the railings in order to stroke the dog, despite it going wuff wuff, ruff  ruff, row row.

I didn't know it was going to rip the flesh off the middle finger of my right hand.

Only some of it. But enough of it for me to go back into my house and place some sticking plaster around the finger to stop the bleeding. And I did get a bit of a shock.

So I went back out as I was going out in the first place. This time the guy next door was there and I told him what had happened. I didn't blame the dog, just my own stupidity for sticking my fingers near the mouth of a barking dog. He thought it might be because he hadn't been there and suggested I try it again.

To quote the legendary Will.i.am: Saaay whaaat?

But I did, tentatively, with my undamaged hand.

And it wasn't because he hadn't been there.

Wuff wuff! Row row row! Bark, bark, bark! Damn, missed.

**************************************************************************

If anyone asks me how many cats I have in my house I have to paws (sometimes I'm just so clever and funny I even amaze myself) and count on my fingers because it varies from week to week and sometimes from day to day. I've had three new arrivals since last Friday.

One is Belle, the little loveable ten week old torty kitten who gets more loveable and affectionate every day. She now sleeps cuddled up just under my chin every night and every evening curls up on my chest while I'm watching TV, often to the annoyance of black and white kitten Emma who likes to do the same. 

Tuesday afternoon and Susan phones and tells me she wants me to come round to meet someone. Well I'm not daft (though opinions vary about that) and I knew that meant she had a cat she wanted me to take. And I was right. Fortunately, Belle didn't stay in the conservatory for more than 12 hours before she was socialising (terrorising?) with the other cats.

This young cat was a bit nervous but again, within twelve hours, he was rolling over on his back when saw me and now, three days later, is about ready to join the others.

I've deliberately not described the cat and not included a photo because he was found locally and handed in at the shop. He's so pretty and photogenic, he's not going to anyone unless they can describe him. If he's not claimed by next Tuesday, I'll have him checked over at the vets and put him on the re-homing list.

Already on the re-homing list is his conservatory mate. 

Wednesday afternoon and I called in at the vet's to pick up a cat which had been spayed. While there I was asked if I could take in a kitten/cat about 5-6 months which had been handed in having been dumped over someone's garden fence (yeah sure, not heard that one before, whatev-er). As I already had kitten-cat 1 in the conservatory I said I'd take her in a couple of days or so when k-c1 would be with the others and could they spay her in the meantime. However, by the time I got home I'd changed my mind and rang them to said I'd take her tomorrow after the spaying and just hope the two cats either got on or were indifferent. Pretty much the latter as it turned out.

Me saying no and then later changing my mind after I've had time to think about is a bit of a habit of mine. I did the same thing a couple of weeks when Pets at Home rang me about a stray (see previous posts).

Sue, the receptionist at the vets, suggested I call her Shadow (she's black) which I went nrrr, nah, I don't think so. Later, after some musings on alternate names, I decided to call her Shadowcat, a one-time used code name for the X-Men's Kitty Pryde. (And if you think it's odd I should know that, try reading a few posts of my other blog which shows a very different side of me. On the other hand, maybe it's best if you don't.)

Anyway, nervous at first, after twelve hours or so (what? you expect to time these things?) she too started rolling over when she saw me and looks like being a very loveable little thing. Excuse the crap photo, she's darker and cuter than she seems and you can't tell she's got a soft coat.

Expect a new post soon as I've a busy-ish weekend ahead.

YO, FRANKIE!

I'm a big fan of late period Dion so that explains the title.

It doesn't? Oh, okay.

Dion (Di Muci) was a 50's teen idol, a tough short Italian-American kid, whose star faded with the arrival of The Beatles and the rest of the British groups. But he never went away and from the late 80s onwards made a series of excellent intelligent albums. One of them (and one of his best) is Yo Frankie (1989) so, having seen his nature, I decided to call the new kitten (see previous post) Frankie-

-because he's a tough little dude (though I gave him the name when I thought he was dudette -the song's about a girl).

After a day I decided to let him out of solitary (semi-solitary, that is, he was sharing the room with Growler) and put him in with the gen pop (general population, that is; of cats). And he fitted in just fine, soon playing with the other kittens and play-chasing them even though they were twice his size. Like I said, he's a tough little dude.

Then last night I got a shock and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before. Embedded firmly in his little head was a number of small ticks. Next morning I took him to the vets, along with (not-so) Tiny who had been booked in to be spayed. Helen, the nurse, who saw him must have removed well over twenty before spotting him with tick-killer. Not just on his head, they were inside his ears and on various other parts of his body including between his toes. 

Just a few minutes ago I found another. The stuff is supposed to take about 24 hours to work completely so I'll check him about eleven tomorrow morning to see if it'll drop off. He's back in solitary till then.

He is a nice little cat and often follows me around or climbs onto my knee (with his tiny sharp little claws) as I sit at this keyboard. Fingers crossed, it won't be long before he gets a home.

Post Script.

We've re-homed another couple of cats from the re-homing centre. But I also transferred Ellie from my house to there. I've got to get the numbers down in my house to about four because it's just too small and, as they currently can't get outside because the only safe way into the garden is through the conservatory (aka solitary/ isolation which has been use from within a month of me moving in.

Also got a new volunteer cat cuddler, a nice young woman who seems keen.

Give Dion a listen, you might be pleasantly surprised.

KITS & PIECES

New arrivals update.

When Mollie's not on my computer chair, because I'm sitting in it, she's usually to be found just a few inches away sitting on top of my printer. Her feeding station is also next to the computer desk. She will roam around a bit more but only when Aelfric isn't as she's not keen on other cats and growls a lot. With me, she's very affectionate and will let me know when she wants attention and, truth to tell, I'm growing rather fond of her.

 

When Tiger ventures anywhere from behind the settee it's to sit in the sun  on the window.  To be honest, I'm worried about him. When I took a couple of a fosterer's cats to the vets for their first flu jabs on Tuesday I took him along because he's hardly eating. Wendy thought it was just the trauma of finding himself in a new place with other cats but two days later and his appetite still hasn't improved. I'm taking them both for their first flu jabs tomorrow and I'll get them both checked out. Mollie doesn't eat a lot either but it's more than Tiger.

Kittens.

Bombino and Tiny are, when they're not sleeping, racing around, chasing each other, destroying anything they can get their teeth and claws into, and climbing over me like a piece of furniture. I used to think that Tiny was the friendliest of the two but around ten last night Bombino climbed into my lap, stretched out and went to sleep. Whoever ends up with these two will get kittens which are well adjusted, socialised, and friendly. Tammy (aka Brian), the homed grey one, is already playing with her two new older friends and delighting her owners.

The younger kittens are now around four weeks old and taking an active interest in their surroundings, though they're still a little way off climbing furniture and are a bit wobbly on their feet. 

KITTENS TOGETHER

I came downstairs this morning to check on the kittens and found mother, two babies, and three older kits all snuggled up together in the cat bed tucked securely under a chair. All seemed comfortable. It's now a couple of hours later and they been fed, watered (cat milked to be exact), the older kittens have run around, and all are now back in the bed. 

The photos were all taken this morning.

Lastly a photo of my pedigree British Shorthair Aelfric who loves sitting on the other side of the conservatory door watching the kittens. On a few occasions I've opened the door and he's sniffed any brave enough to approach him. He likes other cats and just wants to be friends. He is, however, shy of people and, while I can stroke him when he comes on the bed next to me which he loves, it's only recently he's begun to sit on the settee next to me.

 Okay, I'm off to do the Monday morning food and litter run.