Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
If you’re a bird that happens to find yourself in our house, I suspect you’ll have to evade Emma, but here’s a little advice: fly high. Unlike our other cats, Emma isn’t so enamored with high places and she isn’t much of a jumper. She’s been getting a lot more comfortable in her jumping since we brought her home, though, so I’m not sure how long the advice will hold.
It’s a home run!
Emma’s a real sweetheart, she really is, but not if you’re a feathered cat toy.
The feathered toy evades Emma’s deadly grasp.
This wasn’t the portrait of the two of us I originally wanted. In the morning Emma was in bed with me and when I rolled over to curl up beside her, she wrapped her paws around my arm. I thought it would make a cute picture so I tried to ease away and get the camera but she followed me downstairs. Later in the afternoon we played with by far her favorite cat toy, the feathered one, I didn’t mean to get my hand in the picture but I like how it turned out.
I can’t resist another shot of Scout as a kitten. We got her this toy beaver (the state mammal of Oregon, since Scout was our only native Oregonian at the time) so that Scout could have one toy that hadn’t previously been Templeton’s.
Of course Scout never played with it much, whereas Templeton took a liking to it. He didn’t play with it all that much, but sometimes I’d hear loud but muffled mewing and then Templeton would walk into the room. I didn’t even have to look at him to know that he had the beaver stuffed into his mouth, it was the only toy he’d do that with.
If we ever had an infestation of beavers in the house, I knew which cat I was going to call …
As long as we’re journeying back to 2001, how about another shot of Scout as a kitten? This one has never been online before. I’m outside with the cats at the moment, Sam and Scout are playing in the catnip while Emma remains a little more dignified and is off exploring on her own.
For today’s post, I set the way-back machine to 2001 when Scout was just a little kitten …
The timing of Scout’s arrival was impeccable. While Templeton was vigilant in keeping the little gray mice in check, he adopted a live-and-let-live policy towards the large pink mice. Their population exploded as a result, but with Scout on the prowl, it wasn’t long before even the pink mice were brought under control.
We’ve had two katydids this year, both of which are hanging around the side of the house where there are a handful of rose bushes and a few stray gladiolus (at least I think that’s what they are). This one prefers the gladiolus and is usually close enough to photograph, while the other prefers a particular rose bush where it is often nearly out of sight and too far away for pictures.
I’ve named them Katydid and Katydidn’t.
Perhaps an even more worrisome sign than saving the lives of your garden pests is giving them nicknames.
I’ve adopted a live-and-let-live policy towards the katydids in our yard. Unlike the swarms of little aphids, there aren’t very many of them and they don’t do much damage, so I tolerate a few chewed up plants in exchange for a few pictures. It’s actually more than a live-and-let-live policy, as when I trim the roses I try to make sure that any katydids on the cut stems make it safely back to the main plant before the stems go in the yard waste bin. The fact that I go to any effort to save the lives of some of my garden pests is probably a sign that I need to see a therapist.
This one preferred the gladiolus over the roses, you can see the holes in the stem it gouged out. The flowers were already spent so it wasn’t hurting anything. I’d usually leave the spent flowers until I was sure they weren’t eating them anymore.
A picture of little Sam asleep on our guest bed back on Christmas Eve, his third day with us. My wife and I alternated time with the new kittens in the guest bedroom and time in the main house with Scout. I thought that my time with the new cats would be reasonably productive while they slept, it seemed like a good time to get back to more serious writing.
However, Sam foreshadowed one of his traits rather early (foreshadowing being a sign of a high quality kitten) in that he wanted to sleep on you if at all possible. And when Sam zonked out, he went into a deep and tranquil sleep and you didn’t want to move for hours, even though your arms and legs were falling asleep. Since he was curled up in my lap, I couldn’t type very well, so I read books or browsed the web instead until it was time to walk to the candlelight service at church.
Rumor has it that I joined Sam in restful slumber a time or two.
In any event I have no complaints, it was both peaceful and comforting. My wife and I had taken time off around Christmas so it was a good time to get the cats acquainted with each other and with us, as well as a good time to transition from the sorrow of losing Templeton to the joy of welcoming new life into our home.
I have many treasured memories of Christmas over my life, but bringing Sam and Emma home will always be one of my fondest.
Boolie 