Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
I’ve warned Emma to stay out of the coneflower. Oh how I’ve warned her! Time and again I told of how they’d lure her in, let her drink in their beauty, then attack when she let her guard down. But did she listen to me? No she didn’t. Some lessons you have to learn the hard way.
Sam emerged from playing in the raspberries and froze. He felt her eyes upon him, but from where? Then he saw her, the dark shadow under the rose bushes.
“Does she mean to attack me?”
She does. And she did.
Emma’s been complaining that I’ve posted too many aggressive pictures of her, baring her teeth or mauling feathered toys or rough-housing with Sam. So here’s a picture of her planting a kiss on Scout.
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.
Boolie 