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a long and a sad tale
Tuesday, 13 August 2013 02:47 pmApparently the week needs cats being ridiculous. Snow leopards have really long, fluffy tails. I live for the day I can catch Hobbit doing this. (Pics circulating Tumblr at the moment, with the usual trail of reblogs all characterised by an utter lack of attribution - I've tracked down and linked the source for only one of them, the others apparently generated spontaneously on cute animal pic sites. If the internet has, in fact, reached critical cute animal pic mass to the point where the stuff leaps into being without human intervention, we're possibly screwed. Or at least doomed to a virtual experience in which all possible communications are gradually replaced by cute animal pics at a rate somewhat faster than the current status quo.)
I am suffering from Cat in another form. Not Golux: we have decided not to have the operation, and she's as well as can be expected with a sore nose which she occasionally swipes a paw over accidentally while grooming, causing a yowl of pain and surprise. Our cat problem is Macavity, who has recently stepped up the heartrending nature of his appeals to be adopted, which means if you come into the living room in the morning he won't leap off the sofa and run away, he'll leap off the sofa, stop, cower and eye you intensely while mewing pitifully. At this rate, if we give him any encouragement at all he'll soon be at a point where we can catch and box him. Does anyone want a cat? Ginger, tom, somewhat battle-scarred, desperate for love, has entirely given up on the nasty spraying habits, and doesn't actually beat up our cats. We'll spring for the neutering. In default of any other option I'm afraid it's going to be the SPCA for him, or, if they're in the cat-inundated state I think they probably are, a quick and terminal trip to our vet to save Macavity the stress and the SPCA the money. I wish the consciousness of being realistic was enough to outweigh the guilt at being heartless.
I am suffering from Cat in another form. Not Golux: we have decided not to have the operation, and she's as well as can be expected with a sore nose which she occasionally swipes a paw over accidentally while grooming, causing a yowl of pain and surprise. Our cat problem is Macavity, who has recently stepped up the heartrending nature of his appeals to be adopted, which means if you come into the living room in the morning he won't leap off the sofa and run away, he'll leap off the sofa, stop, cower and eye you intensely while mewing pitifully. At this rate, if we give him any encouragement at all he'll soon be at a point where we can catch and box him. Does anyone want a cat? Ginger, tom, somewhat battle-scarred, desperate for love, has entirely given up on the nasty spraying habits, and doesn't actually beat up our cats. We'll spring for the neutering. In default of any other option I'm afraid it's going to be the SPCA for him, or, if they're in the cat-inundated state I think they probably are, a quick and terminal trip to our vet to save Macavity the stress and the SPCA the money. I wish the consciousness of being realistic was enough to outweigh the guilt at being heartless.
Subject line dreadful pun is verbatim from Lewis Carroll, the Mouse's poem for Alice, the emblematic poem in the shape of the tail. Carroll's puns are particularly shameless. Possibly the "condemn you to death" bit is also ringing in my ears with undue force.
