Kick The Cat

Dawn’s colors were fleeting this morning.

The MLPs, Shocking Blue and Pink Venus, that Santa gave Laurie and me for Christmas started kicking the cats. I asked what’s up with that, and they said: “Kick The Cat” was a popular kids’ game. I told them the game was called “Kick The Can” and it was like “Hide and Seek”, “Capture the Flag” and “Tag” in one game and did not involve kicking cats. Shocking Blue said: “Oh! I heard ‘kick the cat!’ My bad!” I think they are mean and ornery MLPs. We had Shetland Ponies when I was growing up. One was named Frisky. She was a mean little pony. Frisky would buck us off and play “Kick The Kid”.

Shocking Blue and Pink Venus played “Kick The Cat” on Spunk, Marble, Sasha, and Silver. As it turned out, Silver, who bullies the other kitties, has taken a liking to the MLPs and got Shocking Blue and Pink Venus to settle down and snuggle with him. Maybe the MLPs with help silver stop bullying the other kitties.

The clouds were threatening rain at sunset.

Check Duolingo
Crap! In the demotion zone
Will I make it out?

At 33 minutes left on the clock, I found myself in the penultimate position in the Demotion Zone needing 140 XP to keep from being demoted. I was not the only one in the demotion zone trying to get out, so the number of XP needed to extricate myself increased as I worked through stories trying to amass points. In the end, I did make it out of the demotion zone with only 30 seconds to spare, but I had to get 252 XP to do it.

Wishing You A Lazy Kitty Christmas

All eyes on Loki: Gwendolyn, Loki, Sasha, Glenda.

Loki

Jake? What are you doing in a cat post? “Saying Merry Dogmas to everyone!”

The painter started off well at dawn, but then it rained a washed her colors away by sunrise.

Hubble? Where did you come from? “Lane’s phone stupid Paparazzo!”

Spunk, Sasha, Gwendolyn, Marble, Sasha again.

Selfie in Glenda’s eye.

Marble, Glenda, Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn, Marble

Spunk in the background

Silver

Glenda and Spunk

Color tonight

Sunset

Take That! And That! And That…

…and that you pesky pathetic paparazzo pretending to be a poet!

Silver’s reactions to my latest poem I recited to him:

Free-range dust bunnies
Frolicking around the floor
Evasive moves
Hop over brooms
Impossible to corral
Dust bunnies freely roam
Frolicking on the floor
Oops!
I dropped my buttered toast
Dust bunny’s now a ghost

NOOoooo!

STOP! ”ALTO! FERMARE! ARRÊTER!

Eat this paw sandwich!

Do I really have to listen to this?

Talk to the paw!

AAAARG! I’ll scratch your eyes out!


Happy Halloween

My birthday cake. Costco didn’t have any cakes with Happy Birthday!

This is a display along Corrales Road. I’m happy I got it early. The skeleton disappeared after the high winds last week.

All the cats got to try on the bat wings. Loki in photos 12 and 13 was the best batwing model. Glenda (3rd photo) and Gwendolyn (last photo) were pretty good, also. Black cats know they look good in bat wings. Spunk, on the other hand, told me exactly what he thought about wearing bat wings after I took them off him (7th photo).

Saved From Hell’s Fire Rhyme

Miss Mousie (House Mouse, Mus musculus) in our grill in her nest of pink insulation after I had removed her nest and five tiny mouselettes so I could use the grill. She and her mouselettes were lucky the insulation kept the third burner from lighting before I saw her nest of insulation and turned off the other two burners.

Little Miss Mousie faced the flames of hell
Under cover of an accommodating grill
The third burner it didn’t light
Covered in insulation she stole in the night
Mouselettes were lucky they were not well done
As I gathered them up one by one

I moved them to a waiting pan
With pink insulation she had on hand
I put them in a safe place well hidden
While I grilled the thighs of a Costco chicken
Cleaned the grill shut off the gas
With the mouselettes tucked deep in the grass

I put things in order, went in for the night
I fed the cats, I turned out the lights
When morning came I wasn’t thrilled
To find that Little Miss Mousie was back in the grill.

Silver: “You saved mouselettes instead of grilling them for me? What kind of low life, pathetic, paparazzo, loser of a cat herder are you, anyway?”

Me: “I’m not going to murder innocent little mouselettes who you wouldn’t eat, anyway! Besides, Shey’s Dudes would never forgive me.”

Silver: “Well I think I’m insultated you morbid, mouselette mothering Monothelite!”

Me: “Do you mean ‘Philistine’? I’ve never heard of insulting anyone by calling him a ‘Monothelite’ other than by you completing an alliteration!

Silver: “Are you saying I’m ‘alliterate’? Now I’m doubly instultated! You profligate, pink, pasty skinned prelate of Peromyscus!”

Me: “OK! You’re not ‘alliterate’! BTW, while on the subject of morbid mothering, Silver, the last rather large mouse you carried in the house from the catio like it was a wee little kitten is still hanging out under the stove in the kitchen.”

Silver: “I thought that was a gopher? My bad!”