Sights from around Crooked Acres.
The garden in progress.
The pickup at the spay/ neuter clinic went just fine. I don’t think I was in the clinic for more than three minutes, just long enough to tell them who I was picking up, and to take the carriers. Razzie meowed her husky little meow at me, and then they were all quiet on the way home. I put them in the guest bedroom and gave them a snack, then let them out into the house. They played and slept, slept and played, and basically acted like nothing had happened at all.
Several of you pointed out that Norland looks like a grumpypants. He certainly has that grumpy look down pat, but underneath he’s just a sweet little snugglebug. Fred came into the foster room while I was taking pictures, and Norland herded him across the room, rubbing against his leg the entire way. What a sweetie.
I love the look on Kennebec’s face. Like he’s in a musical and staring earnestly off into the distance about to start singing. Wouldn’t he make an excellent Valjean? “God on high/ Hear my prayer/ In my need/ You have always been there…”
Stop! Flehmen time!
Hey! Riddle me this, catman.
Are you listening?
See if you can get the correct answer to this.
What’s better than three orange tabbies. Anyone? Any idea.
Tuesday evening, the neighbor two doors down knocked on the door. Her oldest daughter had rescued this wee kitten from a dog down the street, and could we take him? Well, whatcha gonna do, right? This is the same neighbor whose daughter rescued The Cookies several years ago, by the way. The neighbor initially said that she thought he was six weeks old.
I don’t think he’s six weeks old, I believe he’s more like four weeks. He’s underweight, but I’ve been able to get a decent amount of formula into him. I’m going to start trying him on food in the next few days.
He is a little lovebug and all you have to do to get him to purr is to barely touch him. He loves to be held and petted.
Fred got to name him – apparently Cicero is a type of potato, who knew? I had to talk him out of naming the kitten Flava. Heh.
He’s too little to join the Taters, even though we gave him a Tater name, though perhaps after two weeks in solitary I’ll change my mind about that.
It kinda looks like it’s shaping up to be a Summer of orange tabbies for us, doesn’t it?
2010: Are they not the happiest little monkeys?
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: Guess what? New fosters!
2006: No entry.
2005: When will these little monsters let me snuggle them?