…for every time someone viewed Daphne’s video on YouTube? I’d have over (place pinky on corner of pursed lips) ONE MILLION DOLLARS. She only needs 57,400,000 more hits to knock out the most viewed video of all time. Damn, I should have taught her how to dance.
For the last couple of weeks, a tortoiseshell kitten with beautiful green eyes has visited our patio. The first time it came around, I noticed it was wearing a collar with a license hanging from it, and a flea collar. Obviously kitty belonged to someone, so I wasn’t concerned that it was hungry. I thought about writing down the license number and calling San Jose Animal Services to make sure the kitty wasn’t reported lost, but just like a cat, it tired of my attention and jumped over the wall of our patio for further exploration, before I could get the number. The next time Kitty came over, the license was gone, and so was the collar.
Yesterday the flea collar was missing.
This morning the kitty was at our front door, so I picked it up. It purred and kneaded my shoulder and made tiny mews while head butting my chin. So cute! There have been no LOST KITTY signs posted in our complex, but this little kitty was being missed by someone. Matte looked on craigslist and found nothing, so he and I agreed to take the little cutie to the shelter, so its owners could hopefully find it.
First, I tried the Humane Society. On the way there, Kitty cried to be let out of the carrier. I tried to reason with it, of course, as if that would do any good. Kitty cried. I comforted. This went on for awhile. I put my fingers through the grate, to pet the kitty’s face.
Suddenly there was a smell in the car. A bad smell. Dang! Kitty had some heinous gas! P U! Upon further investigation, I discovered it was a bit more than gas. Kitty had taken a dump in the carrier. A gross, smelly, steaming dump. The smell was suffocating me with just the AC on, so even though I was driving on the freeway, I opened the windows. The road noise made the kitty more upset and it protested more loudly, but the fresh air was…well…a breath of fresh air.
We arrived at the Humane Society and I took Kitty in, poop and all. (I was afraid if I tried to clean up the mess, Kitty might escape from its purple prison.) The odor followed us everywhere, as the kitty had stepped in and sat in the offensive turd. Poor baby.
I took Kitty to the counter and they told me they only take kittens smaller than 2 lbs, unless it is from one of the cities on their list. San Jose was not on that list. (sigh) They provided me a map (so helpful!) to the other shelter, so Kitty and I went back to the car. During the ride, Kitty quieted a bit and became more comfortable, while also smearing more mess all over herself. Ugh. I opened the sunroof for more ventilation.
Halfway there, the sweet little mews began to change, becoming deeper and more like mumbles. I knew that sound. Surely the kitty wasn’t going to..nope, here it goes…the mmp-mmp-mmp sound. Sure enough, Kitty puked in the carrier.
Awesome.
I arrived at the second shelter and took the pooping-puking feline in. The shelter girl removed the kitty from the carrier, while trying not to inhale, and put it in a cage. She started cleaning up the biohazard and said the little kitty had worms. (I decided to let the shelter keep the carrier, because well…EW!) I told her that someone was missing this kitty, and mentioned seeing the license earlier. Kitty got scanned for a microchip. No chip. People, please. If you let your cat outside, CHIP IT! I hope the owners call the shelter looking for their pet, but they’d better not let that kitty go back home (or to any home) as an outdoor kitty, without a chip.
Matte and I don’t ever let Daphne outside, but after this adventure, we are chipping her…once we get her a new carrier. I’m sure she will yell and scream at me in her carrier, but she’d better not relieve herself or hurl in my freshly-detailed car.
Meet Galileo:
We are cat/dog/house sitting for our friends this weekend. Galileo seems to like having his photo taken. At least, moreso than Siena, the pup does. She would rather bring one of her toys to me than pose for a picture. Moments before this shot, Galileo licked Siena on the nose, and in this photo, Galileo is eying Siena, plotting his next move.
There was a teensy bit of milk at the bottom of Matte’s glass. Jasper just had to get it. My SD card was in my card reader, while I edited photos on my laptop, so I couldn’t capture the moment. Lucky for me, the little man obliged when I staged the second try. I call this one Jasper, Under Glass.
In the meantime, Daphne was in her cat tree, practicing putting her foot behind her head.
She can hardly contain her excitement for college basketball. Her favorite team? Why, the CATS of course! Kentucky Wildcats, that is.
I don’t get to see a lot of Kentucky Wildcat basketball here in California, and as this is California, we don’t get a lot of sports news about Kentucky either. So when I saw Big Blue would play the Tennessee Volunteers, and would air today, I set the DVR to record it. In high-definition, no less. I watched part of the game while it recorded, then went out to see my boyfriend Joe (Trader Joe, that is), confident that my magic box would record the rest of the game for me to watch when I returned.
I arrived home from TJ’s, put away my groceries, popped a frozen Thai green curry entree into the microwave, and turned on the TV and Comcast DVR to watch the recorded game.
I fast-forwarded to the end of the part I had already watched and listened to the game while feeding the cats as my dinner spun around in the microwave. Suddenly, Kentucky was down by 3 and the game was almost over. Whoa.
Just as I started to head to the TV to rewind what had just happened, I heard…nothing. Silence. What? Where did it go? Momentary satellite loss? No picture either. Just dark. Then, just as quickly, the audio and video both came back on, but the channel had switched to the local news coverage. Wha? Who changed the channel? I was the only one home. The remote was on the coffeetable, and the cats were in the kitchen, their heads shoved into their food receptacles.
Why? What? Huh?
I ferociously pushed buttons on the remote to take me to the DVR screen that showed my recordings and fast-forwarded through the game to nearly the end. I hit play and watched as the clock ticked down. There it was, 84 to 81, Tennessee. And then? This:
It just STOPPED recording after 112 minutes. WHILE THE GAME WAS STILL PLAYING IN REGULATION. Mind you, the game was on the Comcast schedule from 4 pm to 6 pm. That means 120 minutes (I’m not good at math, but I think that’s right). Yet, the recorder let me down. Instead of living up to its promise of 2 hours, it decided to stop 8 minutes early. Just when there was a mere 29.5 seconds left, and the ‘Cats were down by three points.
I am very disappointed in you, Comcast.
Kentucky lost, by the way (sigh).
