Pattypan, Calabash and Ambercup think this basket is pretty awesome.
Calabash. She’s such a pretty girl!
Torres prefers a nice cardboard box to hang out in. The cardboard’s much tastier than the basket.
Ambercup seems a little worried.
Zuke prefers the smaller basket. That basket cannot contain those ears, though. I don’t think anything could!
Pattypan’s all “How YOU doin’?”
Louganis approves of this basket.
Spitz would like a few more toys in that box, if y’don’t mind.
I’m pretty sure this one is done with the bottle, thanks.
At this age, all they really do is eat and sleep and kick their wee little legs (which I just LOVE) while I’m pottying them. I get in some snuggle time with them while they’re awake, but most of the time, they’re in their crate, curled up asleep.
Fred took another look at their back ends yesterday and still wasn’t sure, so for now I think I’ll call them “black” and “brown tabby” because I’m creative like that.
Videos! We’ll call these the Klutzy Kittens videos. In the first, Calabash fights with the handle to a basket, leaps from the basket, and face-plants into a cardboard box (she was fine).
And in the second, Pattypan does some spinning and then runs face-first into a cat toy. She’s also fine, but if you listen closely you’ll hear my exasperated “Missy!”
Maxi, rolling around in the garden. That girl likes her dust baths so much she MUST be part chicken.
2014: Oh, Polo. Why you gotta be so stressed?
2013: No entry.
2012: No entry.
2011: We got ducks.
2009, part 1: (Trick sentence! Nothing will stop me from worrying!)
2009, part 2: Ike (just passing through)
2008: I have no idea what Kaylee does with herself at night, maybe she sneaks downstairs and snuggles with Spanky, who knows?
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Ye GODS does that hurt, to have a kitten climbing up your back.
I actually said, “Oooohh” and “ouch” when the wee ones smacked themselves. Poor klutzy dears.
Maxi is so pretty with her splashes of red and one swipe of white!
Those wee little heads make some pretty loud thuds! I giggled only because, thankfully, you told us ahead that they were both fine! 🙂
Pattypan in the basket, looks like you caught her taking a bath or perhaps she’s on a boat. So cute!
Calabash looks like she’s playing lava floor, jumping from one thing to the other!
We’ll get pattypan a sit and spin for Christmas unless you think that she’d get too dizzy from going around, and around, and around…
Love those old entries, especially the 2011 one. Tommy!! He was so loved. And Jake was so looney.
Never liked flea markets, despite the cheap socks. I look at 90% of the stuff and think, “I ain’t dusting that.” However, that table of silver spoons floors me. Like some Civil War scene after the siege of Atlanta. People bragging about what they hid from the Yankees, although half the silversmiths/patterns weren’t around till after 1900.
Except for the littlest ones, there are quite a lot of big ears in situ at Crooked Acres. A cyberkiss for all concerned, elephant ears or otherwise! Can’t wait to hear what names you and Fred have on tap for those adorable newbies, and thanks for sacrificing your sleep for a good while longer.
Maxi is part chicken? That explains a lot!
Pattypan in the black and green basket…. “the most interesting kitten in the world”
good thing the kittens are fine after the bonkings! wouldn’t want spilled marshmallow fluff!
So. Um. When you say: “At this age, all they really do is eat and sleep and kick their wee little legs while I’m pottying them (which I just LOVE).” You mean you LOVE the kicking of their wee little legs, right. And not the pottying. Right?
Yes, I love the kicking. If they were born willing and able to use the litter box, I would be SO happy. 🙂
I had a Crooked Acres dream yesterday!
(A little background first: on weekends, I work at a big box retail store, and one of my responsibilities is maintaining and fixing the self-checkout registers.)
So anyway, in the dream I saw you and Fred shopping in my store, and one of the Permanent Residents was with you (and by “with you,” I mean the cat was trotting along at your heels without a leash, like a dog might.) Since I’m terribly nearsighted, I couldn’t tell which cat it was, but I was certain it was one of yours.
At this point, the dream fast-forwards in time, and I find myself at the front of the store where the registers are. There is some commotion near the self-checkout area, and I walk over to investigate. You and Fred are scanning your purchases through the register, but the cat that came with you (who turns out to be Alice) is absolutely freaking out over something. She is in full-on adult cat floof-suit mode: her tail is straight out, fluffed up to its maximum; her eyes are dark, her ears are back, her mouth is open, her fangs are bared. Her paws are still on the ground, but you can tell that all her claws are extended. She is alternating between loud hisses and heart-stopping screeches. Some of my dumber coworkers walk up and tried to shoo her out of the building, but I hear you say, “Don’t touch her!” (Of course we all know why — anyone who approaches a cat in full battle-mode will draw back a bloody stump.) Everyone is frozen in place, as we all look at Alice and try to figure out what is setting her off. She appears to be howling and hissing directly at one of my registers! On a hunch, I carefully walk past Alice and swing open the door of the register mechanism…to reveal a large angry rattlesnake! I jerk back, Alice lets out another loud hiss, and the snake advances on us. Just then, Fred strides forward in a casual manner and THWACKS the snake over the head with a shovel. Having dispatched the snake, Fred leans over to examine it, and says, “That would make a nice pair of boots.” He then scoops up the lifeless snake with his shovel, and ambles out of the store. In amazement, I look back at you and Alice. You’ve finished paying for your stuff, and you chirp, “See y’all later!” (as if all this is part of a normal day for you and Fred!) as you follow Fred and his snake prize out of the store…with Alice, restored to her calm, mellow self trotting after you.
(As I was typing this out, it occurred to me that it might be outside of Fred’s normal behavior to casually kill a poisonous snake. Also, Fred doesn’t seem like the boot type. Maybe it’s my Texas upbringing that’s coming out in this dream.)
So…thanks, Robyn, Fred, and Alice, for coming to my workplace and saving the day! 🙂
What a cool dream!