Itt Snoezez!!

Kanz it B eetid?

Sumbuddy tored up teh skiiy.

Ai kan jummp doan dere. Wach mii!

Stoopy goggie in teh whey agin. Ai goes bugz mai siszterz.

Scare

Early this afternoon I looked out one of the front windows to see how the flower border at the front of the house was doing. I glanced down and "That's strange. There's a window screen lying on one of my delphiniums!"

Sometimes I can be really slow.

Window screen . . . window screen . . . Oh my gosh, there's no screen on the window! The window is wide open! There's no screen on the window, one of the cats must've been lying against it, and pushed it out!

The cats. Where are the cats?

My kittehs are all indoor cats. Safer that way. My former cat, the late, great Didon, lost her life or was stolen when the people I gave her to when I went to England to study theology let her become an indoor-outdoor cat. My previous owners here told me there was a guy on a neighboring block who habitually shot roaming cats with a BB gun. I've seen too many pathetic and bloody kitty carcasses on the roads. No, apart from allowing Rhadwen some occasional R & R in the fenced backyard, my kittehs stay indoors.

But the front window was wide open, with the screen outside.

Ok, don't panic. Maybe they haven't gotten far.

I came outside, and thank God, there was Rhadwen lying casually on the walk that runs by the side of the house, sunning herself. She wasn't going anywhere, so I went to retrieve the screen.

It'd smashed and decapitated the poor delphinium. From the damage, I'd say it wasn't just the screen, but the weight of a calico cat landing on it, too. And the damaged parts looked pretty wilted. How long would that take . . . ? How long would Gwenith and Huw have had to escape, if escape they had?

Happily, Rhadwen was ready to come in, and followed me through the door needing no persuasion.

I tried to put the screen back in the slot. Couldn't make it go. Looked at another window to see if I had it right. Still couldn't figure out how to put it in. Thought about how I hate those windows anyway and wish I could afford to get new ones.

Realized I was thinking slowly again. Idiot! Just shut the darn window and go look for the kittens!

Right. Assume best case-- still in the house.

No kittens on the first floor.

No kittens on the second floor. Looked under both beds, in the closet, everywhere.

No kittens up in the third floor study. That leaves the basement.

Came down from the third floor, and saw Huw walking into my bedroom. Where'd he come from?

I don't care. He's accounted for.

Downstairs, heading for the cellar to look for Gwen. But whew! there she was, stropping herself on the chairs in the dining room.

All cats present! And one dog, who'd been helping me look!

Gelobt sei Gott!

The window is still shut, the screen leaning against the wall below it. Nice to know that the first impulse of all my critters was not to bolt for it. Now I remember it, that screen has come loose before, and I'm taking no chances with it again.

The Invaders

The kittens went to the vet's this afternoon.

They don't know about the vet's, yet. And so they were out to take over the world.

It was all I could do to keep Tiger's little paws out of the used needle hazardous waste bin.

And Fluff ("Cream o' Wheat" is just too much of a mouthful-- so to speak) made a thorough inspection of the examination table, while Tiger was out of the room getting blood drawn.

But they behaved themselves very prettily when they were getting their eyes and ears and hearts examined, and they thought the worming medicine was nom nom nom.

More to the point, they tested negative for worm eggs (but I'm to watch their stools for dead spaghetti-looking adults--feh!). And negative for feline leukemia. First stage of the distemper vaccination today, but the vet told me they can't have their rabies, etc., shots till they're twelve weeks old or so. And he estimates them at about eight weeks now.

So despite what the Internet feral cat fostering advice sites say, I can't let Rhadwen near them in only two weeks. I have to wait four.

That is, of course, if they're still with me at that time.

And in case you were wondering, Tiger, the brown tabby, is a boy, and Fluff/Cream o' Wheat, the pale ginger tabby, is a girl. I'm glad of that. Sounds silly, but looking at her little face the past couple of days, I'd been thinking she made an awfully off-key boy cat. But as a girl, she's adorable.