Category: Beany

Posted on

That Tough Guy

100 Happy Days #6

004

What would a list of happiness be without a picture of my dear, sweet, silly old three legged cat…hmmmm? This sturdy fellow has had a pretty tough old life. As a matter of fact, this guy has been a fighter since he was very young–quite literally–whopping great, big, mean cats out of our yard and sometimes neighborhood, not to mention the dogs, three times his size that are sorry they ever met him.

He’s come home with cuts and scrapes and even a completely broken tail one time. He’s been shot with a BB gun more times than I care to think about–(an angry post that shall forever remain unwritten) and has several nicks in his ears and scars on his head to prove it.

He was kidnapped–no, I’m not kidding–and taken nearly 50 miles away and after 9 days, found his way back to us–terrifically skinny and scarred up, but happily home. Then, last year, as you may know, he broke his back leg and was so brave about it, that we didn’t even know for a month. Eventually, he lost that leg, but sincerely–if you saw him, you’d swear he had no idea it was even gone. He’s gained weight since and his coat is thick and shiny again as if he were a youngster…but he’s not.

He has followed me around since he was a kitten and still seems to be happy enough just sitting a few inches away from me–no matter where I am. This very minute, he is laying dangerously close to the office chair I’m typing in, completely content to stay until I go upstairs. He’ll come with me, I know.

I’m pretty sure, this little kitty is the dearest, most loyal, non-judgemental friend I have ever had. I love him so much.

Please, just live forever, Beany.

Could you do that?

It would make me so happy.

Posted on

Beany Boy Update

As you can see, this old guy is doing great–better than he’s been in years. Why, he’s running up and down the stairs, following me everywhere I go, eating like a horse, catching mice in the garden, and swatting at his little sister Jiffy–just to teach her who is still the big man around here, in case she forgot. He’s even put back on some good solid weight to substantiate the claim. Legoless, we’re calling him, which is a hearty, tough guy name…with a double meaning.

Yeah, he’s even taken to bossing me around these days. “Let me out. Let me in. Let me out and then right back in. Feed me the chicken food. Feed me the turkey this time. Now let me out again–and of course, right back in. Oh, he’s pushing his luck pulling this stuff all day long, but he nearly needs a swat when he tries it at 4 in the morning. Oh, and he’s developed a funny meow to go along with his new “I run the joint” attitude. It’s a howl of sorts. And I’d be happy to ignore it, except that it’s quite impossible at the crack of dawn. This guy’s a nut job I tell you…a twenty year old nut job.

Good thing I positively love the living daylights out of this old, silly cat.

And apparently he isn’t missing the back leg, one little bit.

 

Posted on

AHHHHhhhh! Part 2 or Fate of the Baby Mouse

Since many of you have asked about the little mouse–I’ll tell you.

I almost, almost want to say that he was kinda cute–except that he was a mouse. Blaugh. Seriously, he was so little. Like the top joint of my thumb.

The cats have been soooo good at keeping us mouse free for like 15 years, but I think they are getting old and tired. Pretty sure Beany would have loved that little fellow for lunch–provided we handed it to him on a plate.

But I’m just not that accommodating or barbaric. Not to mention it would have made me sick. So, no.

I was as brave as my lame capabilities would allow but Jillian and Lyndi took more pictures than I did.  You should have seen them. They were very brave.

Lyndi finally scooped him up into an ice cream bucket and Jillian took him outside to live…or perish… in the periwinkle.

To date…his fate is unknown.

His family, on the other hand was not so lucky. Lazy cats or no lazy cats–we don’t do mice around here. Trust me on this.

Nate lifted Jiffy up into the ceiling and left her there to…ummm…roam.

From the sound of her skittering feet, I’d say she was very busy for a couple hours…and seemed quite content when she came down.

I’m never good with all the gory details, but as long as the little fiends are no longer with us–so to speak- I’m good.

Now, can we please go back to “Mouse free since ’93?”

Sheesh.

Posted on

My Friend Beany

A Photo Essay by Baby Chomp–age 2

Photos courtesy of Baby Chomp

Once upon a time there was a big, old, very sleepy kitty named Beany.  Everyone told me since I was really little that I should leave him alone because he doesn’t really like kids.

They said that if I got too close or bothered him at all, he’d for sure scratch me, and if I scared him he just might bite…hard.

They said, believe it because he’s scratched lots of kids that didn’t.

Oh, they believe now.

But I’m not scared because Beany the cat is my friend. I like to sit by him and pet him and rub his back and hold his hands. I like to say, “Heeeere kitty-kitty-kitty,” like Grammy does so he’ll come sit by me. Sometimes, when no one is looking, I even give him a kiss on top of the head–and he lets me.

Maybe he scratches everyone else in the whole world—but he doesn’t scratch me.

I think he knows that I love him…

so Mr. Beany loves me right back.

The end.

Beany and Baby Chomp 2010

676

Posted on

Winter Schminter…

With all the busy-ness and excitement of this holiday season, with all the gift-giving and new babies and stuff to make—I never got around to sending any Christmas cards.

Now, I know that there aren’t actually that many dinosaurs left these days that like to send them…but I do. So I missed it because my days were filled with so much to do all ready.

We even had pictures to send this time (whine, whine). Oh, how’d that baby picture get in there?

Then, while at Michael’s a few days ago, I accidentally took a walk down the dollar aisle–a very dangerous place indeed. For me, the dollar aisle always turns into the twenty-dollar aisle, so I was wary. Then, I spotted some really cute cards. They were a set of 10, Mary Engelbreit notes–with blank insides…on the dollar aisle. They weren’t Christmas or New Year’s cards. In fact, they didn’t mention any holiday at all.

These great little doo-dads are making it possible to connect with all the people that I normally grab up at Christmastime–only now, in the lull of the holidays–at a time that isn’t quite so busy. So maybe instead of that scrawled message inside, I can actually write a real note…or letter even. Depends on my mood.

I think I’ll call them Winter Cards.

Wahoo!

I feel a new tradition coming on.

New Year’s Goal #8– I will write a real letter to Dane–not  just email–every week because sometimes you just need to find something in the mailbox.