Practicing my new art form.
Did someone say HAM?
I know I am cute.
Going somewhere without me? I don’t think so.
This is that dear, sweet, little rescued kitten all grown up. He has just spotted an aerial munchy near the window.
Three boys together. A very old Humphrey. He was about eighteen then. Next to him is little Jasper, the kitten found in a box at the side of a range road in the middle of Canadian winter. He was six weeks old when we got him. In the background, on the chair is Frank the cat. He was a rescue from Petsmart, courtesy of the Edmonton Humane society. Frank the cat was a Snowshoe, just like an apple head Siamese except with white bits on him. One white foot is showing there.
Frank the cat, miffed because the sun has dared to move when he was bathing in it.
That is not cat grass, that is my Boston fern he is eating.
This is Casper Cat, a blue, lynx point Rag Doll cat and also a rescue. He likes sunbathing.
The boy on the roof is a domestic cat, although a tad on the enormous size. This is one I hand-reared from a six-week old kitten after he was flung into our backyard in a shopping bag. He particularly enjoyed hunting and would bring home rabbits, which goes to explain the size. It took approximately three hours for him to finish his huge meal and would only leave the ears and the gall bladder. My hero would then come in and expect his catfood. Right.
I found a great picture of one of my lost boys. Here is Frank the Cat. He didn’t come to us as a kitten, not that this made any difference. Like all our cats, he was a rescue and deeply loved until he went to join the great ceiling cat. Very much missed.
Since we were both outside working in the yard today, the VBC was happier to come out with us. Of course he didn’t stick to the grass area. Oh no, he had to go infest a flowerbed and suck up all the dried detritus into his fur. Looks at my sittingroom and the hardwood floors I have just swept and cleaned and are now covered with the aforesaid detritus. Looks at the VBC, asleep on a couch, totally zoned out, zonked and happy. Priceless.
The Very Bad Cat
I don’t know what his biscuits were doing downstairs, but he obviously thought we weren’t paying any attention to what he was doing.