Category: Cats

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Beany Boy Update

For those who’ve asked how Mr. Beany is doing, I have to say, pretty great….for a hundred year old kitty with a healing hip.

He still walks with a slight limp–but it’s much better than it was. The muscles in his hip are still “sprung” so-to-speak, but he doesn’t seem to have any pain with it.

And see how that same leg is just poking out to one side? Yeah, they say he’ll probably do that the rest of his life because the leg is essentially longer now.  But I pet him and love him and feed him soft food and now and then, I even get away with massaging his hip. I think he lets me because he doesn’t want me to worry about him.

In fact, if he spoke English, which I swear sometimes he does–I think he’d say,

“It’s all good.

Thanks for asking.

Now feed me.”

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Bird Watching Buddies

 We finally took a minute to refill the bird feeders last night, Miss Chompy and I.

It’s been a while and they were wondering if we’d moved to Portugal or something.

So, naturally I was excited to show the girly-girly how many birds discovered their breakfast on our deck this morning.

She gets such a kick out of watching our little flighty friends, but I couldn’t find that chicky anywhere.

It’s really so much more fun to hang out with someone who positively, absolutely LOVES these birdies–like I do.

Ah, well. Guess that works too.

Heh, heh.

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One Tough Cat

No, no…Beany’s not dead. He looks like it…but he’s just sleeping. Would you believe that this ancient kitty actually has a dislocated hip? Yeah, kinda gross, I know. He limps along without putting too much weight on it, but oddly enough he doesn’t act like it is causing him any pain. In fact, he even runs around and goes up and down the stairs…just on three feet instead of four. The doctor can’t fix it because cat hips aren’t like human hips–they can’t just be popped back in. So he has to just go slow and let the ligaments heal. Oh, and somebody asked me the other day–just how old this guy is anyway.

I’ll put it like this~ we have a picture of the Bald Kid—with a baby bottle in his mouth–holding Beany’s sister Squeeker as a kitten.

The Bald Kid turns 21…

tomorrow.

That would make old Beany-boy 96 in cat years.

Yeah, I think we’ll just let him sleep…right there…on the floor.

You’ve gotta be nice to old folks.

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Aaaaaahhhh!

So I step into the bathroom a couple of days ago and happened to glance over at the tub. And what do I see?

What the heck?!

How’d that get in here?! THERE’S A MOUSE IN THE BATHTUB!!

Now, I’m not a goofy, irrational screech-er about mice or anything, but this itty bitty fellow did startle me. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one in the house. I mean, for Pete’s sake–that’s what we have cats for!

Good grief.

They are suppose to guard us against this sort of thing. Honestly.

And then to think that mousey here just fell out of the ceiling or something and landed in the tub. That adds a new dimension to my peaceful, calming shower routine. Imagine me at 7 am—with soap in my eyes, shampoo in my hair and…

and…

…and…

a teeny, tiny baby mouse on my head!! AAAAAAaaaaaahhh!!!!

I sense incredible potential for becoming a screamer on the horizon. I can see it very clearly in fact.

You, my friend, are fired. Clean out your desk.

I’m moving to Sparta.