Breaking News

DATELINE-- House of the Flying Furballs-- At approximately 7:00 o'clock this evening EST, a surprise attack was launched by feline guerilla forces against Fort Christmas Tree.

The first and only casualty in the lightning offensive was brave Lt. Roderick Redcoat, whose shattered scalp and headgear were recovered from the callous batting paw of a pink and white floofy kitten. A further search discovered his hanging hook near Tree Skirt Plain and his torso at the foot of Bookcase Cliff.

It is not known why Lt. Redcoat was stationed in a position so vulnerable to capricious cat attack. An unnamed source has suggested it was due to a bad deployment decision made higher up the chain of command. A Congressional investigation may be ordered.

When asked to make a statement, the Commandant of Fort Christmas Tree insisted that the feline foray was an aberration and that the position was basically secure.

The remains of Lt. Redcoat have been removed to a safe place, where they await final deposition.

A Christmas Miracle

I brought a fresh-cut, live Christmas tree home and set it up in its stand a week ago on Friday.

I strung the lights on it on Christmas Eve.

I put on the decorations late on Christmas Day. (OK, so I'm time-management challenged! But it helps to celebrate Christmas during Christmas. Hey, I sometimes keep my tree up till Candlemas!)

And the wonder is, with one cat, two kittens, and a large dog, the tree is still up!

And there are no ornaments rolling around the floor!

Miraculous!

Maybe it's the distraction devices I set up on the other side of the front room. Gwenith and Huw have been a lot more interested in the dangly doggy toy with the little jingle bell hanging from the floor lamp and the great big jingle bell hanging from the music stand. Those they can do something with.

Since I put the two e-collars over the tree water well, der Tannenbaum has not been much fun at all.

Except for hiding behind. Always except for that.

Pushing It!

Life has been very exciting around here lately. Exploratory trips into the attic storage space. A live Christmas tree brought into the house and put up. Strange boxes full of long stringy things with shiny bits on them, perfect for cats and kittens to rummage through. Batch after batch of chocolate candy and cookies and buttery bread issuing from the kitchen. A big pot of chicken stock simmering, simmering on the stove. Odd green and red things hung all over various surfaces. Felines racing up and down the stairs in exuberance and glee.

It can be a lot for a self-respecting dog to deal with. It's prone to get his canine mind a mite addled. Make him forget his sense of timing and appropriate behavior.

So I couldn't really blame Llewellyn when he lifted his leg in the upstairs hall yesterday, only four or five hours after he'd been out to do his business. The excitement just got to him, that's all.

But this evening, he went too far.

This evening, Christmas Eve, things were quiet. I was standing at the stove, nursing a sauce through a very delicate stage, when I noticed Llewellyn sit down in the corner by the back door. He wasn't quite settled there waiting or signalling: it was more like he was going through the motions to see if he could get my attention.

He did, but that didn't oblige me to act on it. I'd taken him out to the alley barely three hours before. He could jolly well wait. The sauce I was making could not.

Whereupon he casually rose, walked over to the refrigerator, and lifted his leg and did a wee right there on the kitchen floor!

Guess again, doggo! It's into the crate with you, and if you wet it, that's your problem!

I finished the sauce and cleaned up the mess, in that order. Fortunately, the cats had no interest in either.

And then I took Llewellyn out the back.

Was I being mean? I don't think so. He can hold his water when he wants to.

Unless it should turn out there's something wrong with him? And he needs to go to the vet?

Guilt!!!!

Or does a certain mutt simply need a gentle but firm refresher course in just who is alpha in this household?

I'll see what develops after the holidays.

Good Dog!

I confess it: I haven't done any systematic training with my dog Llewellyn since that abortive attempt at dog class last spring. The one where he dragged me through the grass trying to get his fangs into the neck of another owner's dog.

No, everything I do in the training line is casual: Sometimes making him sit before I put down his food bowl. Telling him "Naughty!" when he swipes stuff off the counter or gets too pushy with the cats. Putting him into a Stay while I go down the basement to fetch something, hoping to goodness he obeys and doesn't swipe anything off the counter. That sort of thing.

But nothing so far has broken him of the habit of flinging himself at the back door whenever he believes he just might get to go out. Nothing could ever curb his enthusiasm, or prevent him from taking flying leaps worthy of Barishnikov in his prime.

Until now.

The last couple of days, I've noticed that when it comes time for him to want to go out back and do his business, Llewellyn has been sitting down calmly in the corner next to the back door. Where he looks at me like, "OK, get the leash, I'm ready to go!" And stays sitting until I get the leash on him and we're out the door.

How on earth did he teach himself that? Because I certainly didn't!

Amazing.

Good dog!

Peeking

Yesterday I stopped by the local PetsMart to buy food and a slicker brush for the kittens. As long as I was there, I picked up Christmas presents for my four-leggedy children.

For Llewellyn I chose a giant stuffed carrot. Suitable, considering his penchant for eating everything within reach, not excluding vegetables.

For Rhadwen, Gwenith, and Huw I got a collection of mousies, fuzzy batting balls, jingly rolling balls, that sort of thing. I'll share them out among them all.

So I get home, and I put the bag with the brush and the toys on my bed, out of the way. Then I went up to work in my study.

Time to go to bed last night, here's the PetsMart bag on the bed with the brush and the carrot-- but no kitty toys! Where could they be?

Oh, yes, the bag came open in the back seat of the car on the way home. I'd probably find the plastic pouch of kitteh jollies on the car floor.

Come the morning, I'm getting dressed. I drop an article of clothing on the floor and stoop down to retrieve it.

And what do I see, under the bed? That plastic pouch of kitty toys! So that's what Gwenith and Huw had been up to when I found them lying on the bed so nonchalantly last night! The little peekers had pulled it out of the sack and had been playing with it already!

I guess I hadn't figured on the attraction of the teaser tail toy that's fixed on the outside the pouch.

But who could have figured that even four-legged children would get into their Christmas toys ahead of the day?

Cross Post

I wrote this post on my main blog, Hiraeth and Hwyl, because it's mainly about people. But the animals play major supporting roles, so the link is hereby made.

WCWF

Over-amplified announcer: Laaaadieeeees an' gennelmennnnnnn! Welllcommme to t'night's champeenship bout of the Whirld Cat Wrassling Federation!

Tooonighttt! in this corner, wearing the calico spots and weighing in at 10.9 pounds, we have the nine-year-old deefending champeen, Rhadwen the Great!

An' in this corner, wearing gray-brown stripes and a white bib and weighing in at 8.5 pounds and ever-growing, we give you the six-month-old challenger, Huw the Bold!

Referee: OK, you cats know the rules. Hissing, spitting, snarling, tackling, swiping, givin' the evil eye-- thass all okay. But keep them claws in, okay? We don't want no blood spilt in this house-- I mean, in this arena. Okay, shake paws and may the best cat win!

Announcer: Ladies an' gennelmen, we got a reelly beeg cat wrassling battle in store for you tonight!

Rhadwen leaps full force on Huw! Huw springs away and down he goes on his back, he's got them pointy ends up in full defensive position! Rhadwen leaps again! but Huw scrambles and swipes with paws, front and rear! But now the Champeen has her mouth around the challenger's neck! Huw ain't lying down for that, nosirree-- he swipes! one! two! three! with his fierce front paws and springs clear! Will the Champeen go in pursuit? No! she turns her back and gives young Huw the advantage! A hit to the backside! Another! Another! Quickly Rhadwen turns and pounces and the battle is jined agin!! The contenders are locked in an all-out roll-and-wrassle head-and-body-lock duel to the finish! Who will win? Will Rhadwen keep her creown? Or will Huw be the new champeeen?

. . . Wait a minnut. There seems to be some problem in the ring! Llewellyn the Magnificent has vaulted the ropes and jined the action!

Ref: You dumb dog! You got no business here! This is Cat Wrasslin we're on for t'night! Hey! contenders! Git back in the ring! You run away like that, you both forfeit the match! Git back heeere! No, not you, you dumb dog, the cats, the cats!!!!

Announcer: Ladieees and gennelmen, the Management's apologies, but tonight's Whirld Cat Wrasslin Federation Champeenship match seems to be over before a decision could be reached. Thank yew all fur comin', and jine us agin for the nex WCWF match, to be held any time, any place, at a multiple-cat household neer yew!

_______________________

Notice: No felines (or canines) were harmed in the production of this blog post. Not so far, at least . . .

Sharing

When I first acquired the kittens Gwenith and Huw in August, I pulled out a couple of small square casserole dishes for them to share, one for their water and one for their food. They were so little their tiny heads fit together in the food dish just fine.

But as you can see, the kittens aren't so small anymore. And life was getting a bit crowded in CorningWare land.

So the other day I bought them two new, separate, food bowls.

Aren't they cute and blue?

And look how my sibling kittens are using them!

(Don't worry. They'll get over it!)

Hed Esploshun!

I saw this
on icanhascheezburger. It reminds me so much of Gwenith, that whenever I look at her I--

Oops!! Get teh mop! Hed esplodid agin!