Thursday, October 29, 2015

The glaring facts about my household

Did you know that a group of cats is called a glaring?  I have enough feline population in my house to actually say I have a glaring.
In honor of National Cat Day, I'd like to formally introduce my brood:

First up, Kendall:

She's our oldest cat...somewhere around the 13-14 year old age.  She recently cost me a small fortune and the better part of my day off when I thought she was dying of terminal cancer that was bloating her body and causing her distress.  Turns out she was just fat and had a UTI.
Also?  Every time our daughter has had a boyfriend of any duration, when they'd break up and the guy quit coming around, Kendall would go into mourning and groom all of the fur off of her stomach.

Then there is Izby:

He was the runt of the litter of a feral cat living underneath one of Mileena's friend's house.  We got him when he was teeny tiny. Being the runt, he always had sort of a fragile constitution.  He is also incredibly bow-legged:
These days, he isn't such a delicate flower anymore.  He does have a weird fascination with the sticky sheets from lint rollers.  He begs for them.  Seriously.  He'll hear you using the lint roller, come running and meow at you until you tear off a sheet and stick it on his back.  At that time he will act as if his back end is paralyzed:

But after he's schlumped around the house dragging his back legs behind him for awhile, he stops and pulls the sheet off his back and eviscerates it:

Then there's Daisy Faye:

Isn't she precious?  Daisy only weighs a tich over 5 pounds, and she's two and half years old.  We just got her spayed because the vet really wanted her over 5 pounds pre-surgery.  Being such a dainty, sweet looking thing, you'd have no idea what a whirling dervish she becomes when you try to do anything besides pet or play with her.  Cleaning ears, clipping nails, administering medication?? It's about like oiling a running chainsaw.  I took her back to the vet's office to get her stitches removed and the vet was, "Would you like to hold your baby while I get these stitches out?" and I was all, "Hell no, I'm not paying $50 for this visit just to bleed my own blood, thank you very much." It took the vet and two techs to get the four stitches out.  I was the only one unscathed.  That was half a Benjamin I got my value out of.

Here's Daisy having a Maury Povich-style throw down for squatting rights to the world's most cherished cat-possession: a cardboard box.

Finally, there's Maxx:
Maxx is 18+ pounds of Laid-back dude.

And I mean LAAAAAAID back.

There are only a couple of things that get him riled.  One of the things that Maxx does not care for?

Birthday hats get on his nerves...but he really, really hates hats that are foreign.  He is not one who appreciates the celebration of Cinco De Mayo...lemme tell you.

The other thing that Maxx cannot stand? (and that I cannot explain?  Because let's be honest, the hat thing surprises no one.  Cat in the Hat, my butt, Dr. Seus. Find me a tam o'shanter wearing tabby that is happy about it. I dare you.)
Anyway, where was I? Oh...Maxx's other peeve...the HVAC system in our house.
He goes around the entire first floor pulling the vent covers off:

I've even caught him attempting to pull apart the return grill.

Jeff's of the opinion that Maxx doesn't actually hate the HVAC system, but thinks that it is a potential escape route to the great outdoors.  He (Maxx, not Jeff) is very convinced that he is a wild beast that needs to poop in real dirt (honestly, the few times he's gotten past us and darted outside, he ran to the nearest bald patch in the yard and dug a spot and pooped. What's up with that?)  But since he is basically the color of smoke and shadows, we can't let him out or we'd never find him again.

So this is my clowder (that's another word for a group of cats).  Hope you enjoyed meeting them.

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