Yes, it's that time of week again, and despite missing my best (and fattest) feline buddy, I still celebrate me some kittehs on a weekly basis (in between daily and hourly celebrations, of course, which are required by Our Feline Overlords).
What are the little fuckers up to, or rather, what have they been up to lately?
We got Bandicoot some chewable vitamins because he's getting old, and the sparkle in his eyes was dimming some. Needless to say, he quickly figured out that these are dispensed of a morning right after the hoomin wakes. Right, you got it. Every morning on the dot, 17 pounds of fat, hairy, stomach-swinging Bandicoot (with inch-long claws of a painful sharpness) proceeds to leap on me in anticipation. And if I don't wake up, why, he just extends those little razors and pokes me till I do. He will lick noses, exhale on me, sneeze on me, poke me in the eye with a paw, all until I wake and give him his treat.
Cat snot, ew.
Gojira would like a taste of Bandicoot's chewy vitamins, but since she already acts like she's huffing speed, she is SO not getting any. Ever since Zingiber abandoned La Casa de Los Gatos for his other home (I still maintain they're xenoanthropology grad students from a different planet out here doing fieldwork), she's taken to dragging this little toy around and making "Come watch me hunt and kill, kittens" noises (Zingiber took to doing this after he adopted Gojira and took her under his Mighty Muffin Maker -- not with real mice, of course. He was too stupid for real mice. But he regularly hunted (mostly unsuccessfully) a series of toy mice which he would then bring her, dragging them up the stairs with loud yowls).
Every night she brings the stupid thing upstairs and places it on the floor on one side of the bed or another. Throwing it down just means she'll repeat the trip. She's also (for whatever reason) decided she can't be touched or looked at with intent at certain times. Any attempt to make contact, real or virtual, leads to loud, indignant meeps, leaping and running away, frequent licking of the spot on which someone might have touched her if they weren't across the room, and terrified expressions, sometimes in quick succession.
What do I know? I hear cats make a substance in their brains that's analogous to LSD. I could believe that.
Madu is a punk cat. He got two ear piercings last week. He's a fucking idiot, too. He never seems to win a fight, but he sure knows how to get in them. Of all the animals who have lived at La Casa de Los Gatos, this is the only one who seems to get in a fight every fucking week of the year. The others got in a couple of fights, and that was it, they got the shit beat out of them and it never happened again. I'm beginning to think this dumb fuck goes to sleep in the middle of a fight. There's no other explanation for the weekly bod-mod attempts.
Gustav has taken to mugging us for pettings. Yes, the same Gustav who spent the first two (or more) years in this house acting as if he was going to be eaten by the Horrible Hoominz is now sticking his face in a person's face occasionally, asking loudly for hugs and kisses and pets. See, Prozac works miracles.
They're all getting old (except Gojira, in whom youth, quite literally, springs eternal). Right along with the rest of us, I guess.
But it's Caturday, and the garden is calling, so I'm off to enjoy the beautiful greenth, and the hot golden sun and deep blue skies of Paradise! Happy Caturday, all!