Well, I guess either summer has arrived very early up here in the hills, or that first scorpion is way ahead of his coming-out-of-hibernation date. JD told us today that they were surprised to see that scorpion, given the fact that we've only just begun to resume our normal 'winter' temperatures up here. (It was 79 degrees today, 77 yesterday.... my kind of winter.)
The orange cat... still following me from one end of the yard to the other, at times using his claws to swipe my leg, mostly catching his claws in my jeans, but every once in a while giving me a nice scratch. That stupid cat definitely does not want to be ignored, but I can't trust him, even after all these many months. In my mind, he's still a stray cat. (Along with the fact that I do not (do NOT) want another cat.)
My friend V laughs when I call him a stray. "Give that up! He's YOUR cat! He's been there over a year now!" Indeed he has, but only because I can't catch him and get him to the shelter. If he were indeed "my cat," he'd be fixed and vaccinated, and not roaming around the hills for days on end before deciding to come to our porch for a Meow Mix fix. As it is, friend JS has recently discovered a mama cat and two kittens living under her garden shed. For all I know, the orange stray cat is the father of those two kittens. That's probably where the orange cat goes when we don't see him here for days... further on up the hill to JS's property, to visit his kitty-mama and the kittens. And for all I know, he's been impregnating every female cat within twenty miles of our house.
To my friend V: that orange stray cat is not my cat. Even though you have suggested a name for him ("Pumpkin Lawrence") that does not mean that I have to claim him as my own. I have never met such an ill-tempered and belligerent cat. All of the cats I've had over the years have had very good manners (AngelBoy was the exception there) and they've all been as affectionate as puppies (AngelBoy was affectionate only to me and my dad).
That orange cat takes First Place for bad manners, bad temper, bad, bad, bad everything else. And if he wouldn't howl on my porch when he's hungry, I would have quit feeding him months and months ago. I just couldn't stand the excessive howling, and couldn't stand the thought of that stupid cat going hungry.
Sooner or later, I'm going to catch that cat and drive him to the shelter. Or, as I told my friend V, I can box him up and ship him via UPS to her home in Colorado.
And another thing.... "Pumpkin Lawrence?" What kind of name is that for a cat? Give me a blessed break.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Patience is a virtue...
... and I am once again losing patience with that orange cat. Stupid cat... I've been feeding him for over a year now, and do you think he appreciates all the bowls of Meow Mix? Not a chance, by the way he's been acting.
When I put the food dish on the porch yesterday, he grabbed hold of my arm and started hissing at me, baring his teeth and acting like a furry orange and white fool. Luckily, his claws got hooked into my sweater, not my arm... and when I screamed "NO!" at him, he backed away... and one of his paws turned over the bowl of cat food so I had Meow Mix sprinkled all over the porch by the back door.
Give me a blessed break with this cat. My husband said maybe I should just stop feeding him. Easy for him to say. I tried that more than a few times last year when that cat started to hang around the porch. The hungrier he got, the louder he meowed... and it was ultimately my husband who had said "Okay, okay... feed that cat..." Plus, when that orange cat is hungry, he gets more aggressive with our two outside cats.
Since yesterday, I've been using an umbrella to keep that cat away from my arms and my legs. Today wasn't a problem with the umbrella because it's been raining all day, but I have to wonder what the neighbors would think if they should happen to see me walking with an umbrella on all the sunny days. The orange cat tends to rub up against the umbrella instead of my legs... and then without warning, he grabs that umbrella and hangs on with his claws for dear life... better the umbrella than my legs, I can tell you that.
For the past month or so, I've kept a little cube-shaped cat bed out on the chaise lounge for that cat, so he would have a warm place to sleep. I hated that he was sleeping under the guest cottage on the coldest of nights... and it took a couple of weeks for him to 'trust' that cat bed. Now he gets inside of that bed all the time and curls up tight, and he's safe from the wind and the cold. When we had some close-to-freezing nights, I took a blanket and wrapped it around the cat bed, to give that orange cat more coverage, and that didn't seem to bother him.
So now... I'm wondering if I can fit that cube-shaped cat bed into one of the cat carriers... and then I can wrap the cat carrier with the same blanket that's now wrapped around the cat bed, to disguise the carrier. I'm hoping that the orange cat will just go into that cube-shaped bed, which would be inside the carrier, and then I can go out there and shut the damn door of that carrier and drive off to the shelter with that orange cat and say "Here! He's all yours! Keep the cube-bed for him and just give me back the carrier."
Hope floats.
When I put the food dish on the porch yesterday, he grabbed hold of my arm and started hissing at me, baring his teeth and acting like a furry orange and white fool. Luckily, his claws got hooked into my sweater, not my arm... and when I screamed "NO!" at him, he backed away... and one of his paws turned over the bowl of cat food so I had Meow Mix sprinkled all over the porch by the back door.
Give me a blessed break with this cat. My husband said maybe I should just stop feeding him. Easy for him to say. I tried that more than a few times last year when that cat started to hang around the porch. The hungrier he got, the louder he meowed... and it was ultimately my husband who had said "Okay, okay... feed that cat..." Plus, when that orange cat is hungry, he gets more aggressive with our two outside cats.
Since yesterday, I've been using an umbrella to keep that cat away from my arms and my legs. Today wasn't a problem with the umbrella because it's been raining all day, but I have to wonder what the neighbors would think if they should happen to see me walking with an umbrella on all the sunny days. The orange cat tends to rub up against the umbrella instead of my legs... and then without warning, he grabs that umbrella and hangs on with his claws for dear life... better the umbrella than my legs, I can tell you that.
For the past month or so, I've kept a little cube-shaped cat bed out on the chaise lounge for that cat, so he would have a warm place to sleep. I hated that he was sleeping under the guest cottage on the coldest of nights... and it took a couple of weeks for him to 'trust' that cat bed. Now he gets inside of that bed all the time and curls up tight, and he's safe from the wind and the cold. When we had some close-to-freezing nights, I took a blanket and wrapped it around the cat bed, to give that orange cat more coverage, and that didn't seem to bother him.
So now... I'm wondering if I can fit that cube-shaped cat bed into one of the cat carriers... and then I can wrap the cat carrier with the same blanket that's now wrapped around the cat bed, to disguise the carrier. I'm hoping that the orange cat will just go into that cube-shaped bed, which would be inside the carrier, and then I can go out there and shut the damn door of that carrier and drive off to the shelter with that orange cat and say "Here! He's all yours! Keep the cube-bed for him and just give me back the carrier."
Hope floats.
Monday, January 19, 2015
The country vet...
That's where I took Mickey Kitty this afternoon... to the local country vet. And I call him a 'country vet' because every time I've been there, the man tells me that he's "a farm boy who likes to get his money's worth," so he doesn't like to talk people into doing "more than what's necessary" for their pets. "I don't want y'all to be running over your budget," he told me today.
For the past couple of days, my husband and the handyman have been doing yard work out back behind the garage... right about where Mickey likes to sit in the sun on a nice day, and the past few days have indeed been glorious. When there is unfamiliar noise outside, Mickey will run and hide and I won't see him for hours. And, being that I noticed he wasn't eating very much yesterday, and seemed to be somewhat lethargic, I didn't think that having him run off and hide was a good idea.
I brought Mickey into the house yesterday, and kept him in the kitchen all afternoon. He chose a chair, jumped up into it, and didn't move for six hours. Nor did he eat or drink water. When I brought him back into the garage last night, he wouldn't touch his dish of Fancy Feast, and this morning, the food I left there for him wasn't touched either. Never a good sign for a cat, especially one as small as Mickey.
This morning, I again brought Mickey into the kitchen when the work started outside... and he slept in a chair, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. I picked him up to get a better look at his eyes and he hissed and spit and carried on like a fool, which is very unlike his personality. Definitely something wrong with that cat.
I called the vet's office at lunch-time, and they suggested I bring him in for a look-see. Into the cat-carrier went Mickey, and off we drove towards town. All the way there, not a meow out of Mickey. When we got there, he watched a new puppy in the waiting room, he watched an adult dog walking towards the front door of the office, and still not a tiny meow.
The vet examined Mickey, who sat like a lump of black fur on the metal table. The vet, "going by his gut," as he told me, said that Mickey probably had a slight kidney problem, maybe the start of an infection. Taking blood for testing would give us conclusive evidence, but would also give me a large bill to pay, said the man. Being that Mickey is ten years old, the vet suggested that I allow him to administer a shot of vitamins and a shot of antibiotics... within a couple of days, he said Mickey would either seem better or get worse. And if the 'worst' happened, he wouldn't argue with me if I chose to "put that there cat down."
So the vet gave Mickey the shots... and still, no meows from Mickey, no movement... he just sat there on the table and took the shots without a whimper while I put my head towards the wall because I couldn't bear to watch. As the vet put Mickey back into the cat-carrier, he told me the best thing for Mickey would be to eat something... "Put his favorite food out when you get home and see what happens." As I walked to the door of the clinic, the vet told me that he had fresh turnips and parsnips in the back of his pick-up truck... "Free to a good home--- take as much as you'd like," he told me. (I didn't take anything... I'm not a fan of turnips and parsnips.... plus I'd have to wash them and cut them up and possibly ruin a very nice manicure.)
As I walked into the kitchen, Mickey's favorite-flavor-of-the-moment was already in his bowl by his water dish. But that Fancy Feast had been in that bowl since the morning... Mickey never touched any food that had been in a dish for more than half an hour, much less all morning and half of the afternoon. I let Mickey out of the carrier and turned around to put my purse on the counter-top so I could open up a new can of Fancy Feast.
I was standing there with the can of "Flaked Trout" in my hand and there was Mickey... on the floor in front of the food dish, gobbling up every last bit of the leftovers in that bowl. I just watched him, speechless. When he was done with the flaked trout, he stood there by his bowl, his signal to me that what he just ate was not enough.
Into his dish went another serving of the Fancy Feast, and Mickey gobbled that up as well... and then drank a little water. When he was done, he cleaned his paws a bit, jumped up into the same chair that he had been sleeping in when I picked him up to take him to the vet's office..... he went right to sleep and didn't budge until I had to put him into his bed in the garage when the outside work was all finished.
Personally, I don't think the "worst" is going to happen. Mickey has already eaten enough flaked trout to make up for both yesterday and today. And tomorrow, if that cat turns his nose up at another can of Fancy Feast trout, then I know he's really feeling better. Usually, Mickey favorite-flavor doesn't last for more than 48 hours at best.
For the past couple of days, my husband and the handyman have been doing yard work out back behind the garage... right about where Mickey likes to sit in the sun on a nice day, and the past few days have indeed been glorious. When there is unfamiliar noise outside, Mickey will run and hide and I won't see him for hours. And, being that I noticed he wasn't eating very much yesterday, and seemed to be somewhat lethargic, I didn't think that having him run off and hide was a good idea.
I brought Mickey into the house yesterday, and kept him in the kitchen all afternoon. He chose a chair, jumped up into it, and didn't move for six hours. Nor did he eat or drink water. When I brought him back into the garage last night, he wouldn't touch his dish of Fancy Feast, and this morning, the food I left there for him wasn't touched either. Never a good sign for a cat, especially one as small as Mickey.
This morning, I again brought Mickey into the kitchen when the work started outside... and he slept in a chair, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. I picked him up to get a better look at his eyes and he hissed and spit and carried on like a fool, which is very unlike his personality. Definitely something wrong with that cat.
I called the vet's office at lunch-time, and they suggested I bring him in for a look-see. Into the cat-carrier went Mickey, and off we drove towards town. All the way there, not a meow out of Mickey. When we got there, he watched a new puppy in the waiting room, he watched an adult dog walking towards the front door of the office, and still not a tiny meow.
The vet examined Mickey, who sat like a lump of black fur on the metal table. The vet, "going by his gut," as he told me, said that Mickey probably had a slight kidney problem, maybe the start of an infection. Taking blood for testing would give us conclusive evidence, but would also give me a large bill to pay, said the man. Being that Mickey is ten years old, the vet suggested that I allow him to administer a shot of vitamins and a shot of antibiotics... within a couple of days, he said Mickey would either seem better or get worse. And if the 'worst' happened, he wouldn't argue with me if I chose to "put that there cat down."
So the vet gave Mickey the shots... and still, no meows from Mickey, no movement... he just sat there on the table and took the shots without a whimper while I put my head towards the wall because I couldn't bear to watch. As the vet put Mickey back into the cat-carrier, he told me the best thing for Mickey would be to eat something... "Put his favorite food out when you get home and see what happens." As I walked to the door of the clinic, the vet told me that he had fresh turnips and parsnips in the back of his pick-up truck... "Free to a good home--- take as much as you'd like," he told me. (I didn't take anything... I'm not a fan of turnips and parsnips.... plus I'd have to wash them and cut them up and possibly ruin a very nice manicure.)
As I walked into the kitchen, Mickey's favorite-flavor-of-the-moment was already in his bowl by his water dish. But that Fancy Feast had been in that bowl since the morning... Mickey never touched any food that had been in a dish for more than half an hour, much less all morning and half of the afternoon. I let Mickey out of the carrier and turned around to put my purse on the counter-top so I could open up a new can of Fancy Feast.
I was standing there with the can of "Flaked Trout" in my hand and there was Mickey... on the floor in front of the food dish, gobbling up every last bit of the leftovers in that bowl. I just watched him, speechless. When he was done with the flaked trout, he stood there by his bowl, his signal to me that what he just ate was not enough.
Into his dish went another serving of the Fancy Feast, and Mickey gobbled that up as well... and then drank a little water. When he was done, he cleaned his paws a bit, jumped up into the same chair that he had been sleeping in when I picked him up to take him to the vet's office..... he went right to sleep and didn't budge until I had to put him into his bed in the garage when the outside work was all finished.
Personally, I don't think the "worst" is going to happen. Mickey has already eaten enough flaked trout to make up for both yesterday and today. And tomorrow, if that cat turns his nose up at another can of Fancy Feast trout, then I know he's really feeling better. Usually, Mickey favorite-flavor doesn't last for more than 48 hours at best.
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Saturday Stuff
The past two days have been so very nice... sunny and warm, a slight breeze... temperatures getting close to 70 degrees. Perfect winter days.
The neighbor's horse across the road... he was near the fence line the other day, looking over at our property and looking quite sad. I quickly got an apple and sliced it into quarters and walked across the road and up to the horse. (The horse doesn't have a name, by the way... that neighbor isn't into naming his livestock, nor even his pets.)
That poor horse... covered in mud and bits of hay from his mane to his tail... after all the rain we had, I guess he couldn't escape the mud in the fields over there. And I would bet the farm that the neighbor doesn't bother grooming the horse, since he barely 'grooms' himself. I offered the apple slices to the horse... he smelled the apples but wouldn't take the pieces... he just stood there looking at me with the saddest eyes. I talked to him for a bit, offered the apple slices again, but he didn't even bother to smell them the second time. I tossed them into the grass on his side of the fence, and just hoped that he would enjoy them when I walked back to our own property.
That orange cat.... give me strength. No matter how long we have this cat here, I just cannot feel as if he is 'our' cat. And that cat, no matter how many hours he spends on our porch, no matter how many bowls of Meow Mix he consumes, and no matter how many nights he sleeps in that cat-bed out on the porch... he just doesn't realize that we're not here to hurt him, we're trying to help him.... and he still swipes at my legs when I walk by, and tries to claw my wrist as I put down the bowl of cat food.
So many times, I've said "NO!" to that cat as he tries to get me, and he'll look at me with those golden eyes that just won't soften up a bit. That orange cat has a mind-set of a feral, and even though our little friend Miss C feels that he "wants a family but doesn't know how to get one," I know for certain that one of these days, that orange cat is going to carve his initials into my leg.... "O. C." will be engraved on my shin, for all the cat-world to see.
And you would think that after all his time (over a year now) our two outside cats (Mickey and Gatsby) would have gotten used to that orange cat. Not a chance... both of them continue to hiss and spit and howl whenever they get within three feet of that blasted cat. Even the cats don't trust that furry orange terror.
Giving the orange cat a name (Pumpkin Kitty) hasn't worked... he doesn't feel like our cat, he doesn't act like our cat.... and there's no way I can stop myself from just calling him That Orange Cat. So I guess that, in itself, is his name.
I've said it before, and I'll repeat myself here.... if I can get that orange cat into a carrier or a box, he is out of here... I'd drive to the shelter with him so fast that his whiskers would be blowing in the breeze.
The neighbor's horse across the road... he was near the fence line the other day, looking over at our property and looking quite sad. I quickly got an apple and sliced it into quarters and walked across the road and up to the horse. (The horse doesn't have a name, by the way... that neighbor isn't into naming his livestock, nor even his pets.)
That poor horse... covered in mud and bits of hay from his mane to his tail... after all the rain we had, I guess he couldn't escape the mud in the fields over there. And I would bet the farm that the neighbor doesn't bother grooming the horse, since he barely 'grooms' himself. I offered the apple slices to the horse... he smelled the apples but wouldn't take the pieces... he just stood there looking at me with the saddest eyes. I talked to him for a bit, offered the apple slices again, but he didn't even bother to smell them the second time. I tossed them into the grass on his side of the fence, and just hoped that he would enjoy them when I walked back to our own property.
That orange cat.... give me strength. No matter how long we have this cat here, I just cannot feel as if he is 'our' cat. And that cat, no matter how many hours he spends on our porch, no matter how many bowls of Meow Mix he consumes, and no matter how many nights he sleeps in that cat-bed out on the porch... he just doesn't realize that we're not here to hurt him, we're trying to help him.... and he still swipes at my legs when I walk by, and tries to claw my wrist as I put down the bowl of cat food.
So many times, I've said "NO!" to that cat as he tries to get me, and he'll look at me with those golden eyes that just won't soften up a bit. That orange cat has a mind-set of a feral, and even though our little friend Miss C feels that he "wants a family but doesn't know how to get one," I know for certain that one of these days, that orange cat is going to carve his initials into my leg.... "O. C." will be engraved on my shin, for all the cat-world to see.
And you would think that after all his time (over a year now) our two outside cats (Mickey and Gatsby) would have gotten used to that orange cat. Not a chance... both of them continue to hiss and spit and howl whenever they get within three feet of that blasted cat. Even the cats don't trust that furry orange terror.
Giving the orange cat a name (Pumpkin Kitty) hasn't worked... he doesn't feel like our cat, he doesn't act like our cat.... and there's no way I can stop myself from just calling him That Orange Cat. So I guess that, in itself, is his name.
I've said it before, and I'll repeat myself here.... if I can get that orange cat into a carrier or a box, he is out of here... I'd drive to the shelter with him so fast that his whiskers would be blowing in the breeze.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Horrible weather...
We have had frigid temperatures, cold rain, thunder and lightning, and now dense fog. Anything else to be thrown at this part of Texas to make sure we're paying attention?
As I type, the orange cat is on the porch eating his Meow Mix. Last night, a huge raccoon was helping himself to Pumpkin Kitty's dinner, and the orange cat was nowhere to be found. For the better part of this cold weather, the orange cat has been sleeping in the warm cube-shaped cat bed that I've put out on the chaise lounge for him. Took that cat forever to trust the inside of that carpeted cube.... in his little cat-mind, he probably thought it was a trap to catch him so he can be taken away.
Believe me, if he were that easy to catch, he'd have been at the shelter a good long while ago. As our young friend Miss C told us "That poor kitty wants a family but doesn't know how to get one." Indeed.... that orange cat is still taking swipes at my leg and I am still walking around the porch holding a closed umbrella near my legs, with the hope that Orange Kitty will swipe the umbrella instead of my leg.
We haven't seen the stray dog in at least a week now. My guess there is that the neighbor across the road with his own dogs (who had taken a liking to the stray) has re-located that stray. I doubt very much that the neighbor took that stray to the shelter. More than likely, he took the stray out into his woods and shot him. Sorry to say that, but he's done it before, and I have no doubt that he'd do it again.
We drove into town today, after staying home for the past few days... it was just too cold and too windy and too rainy to be going out for anything at all. But today... groceries were needed, so off we went. Driving down the main highway, it felt as if we hadn't been out of our driveway for weeks instead of just days.
There must be a sunny and warm light at the end of this rainy and cold tunnel. And tomorrow is another day.... hopefully a sunny one. At least our cold weather is not accompanied by snow and ice.
As I type, the orange cat is on the porch eating his Meow Mix. Last night, a huge raccoon was helping himself to Pumpkin Kitty's dinner, and the orange cat was nowhere to be found. For the better part of this cold weather, the orange cat has been sleeping in the warm cube-shaped cat bed that I've put out on the chaise lounge for him. Took that cat forever to trust the inside of that carpeted cube.... in his little cat-mind, he probably thought it was a trap to catch him so he can be taken away.
Believe me, if he were that easy to catch, he'd have been at the shelter a good long while ago. As our young friend Miss C told us "That poor kitty wants a family but doesn't know how to get one." Indeed.... that orange cat is still taking swipes at my leg and I am still walking around the porch holding a closed umbrella near my legs, with the hope that Orange Kitty will swipe the umbrella instead of my leg.
We haven't seen the stray dog in at least a week now. My guess there is that the neighbor across the road with his own dogs (who had taken a liking to the stray) has re-located that stray. I doubt very much that the neighbor took that stray to the shelter. More than likely, he took the stray out into his woods and shot him. Sorry to say that, but he's done it before, and I have no doubt that he'd do it again.
We drove into town today, after staying home for the past few days... it was just too cold and too windy and too rainy to be going out for anything at all. But today... groceries were needed, so off we went. Driving down the main highway, it felt as if we hadn't been out of our driveway for weeks instead of just days.
There must be a sunny and warm light at the end of this rainy and cold tunnel. And tomorrow is another day.... hopefully a sunny one. At least our cold weather is not accompanied by snow and ice.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Frozen.
That's what the temperature will be tonight... frozen. As in freezing. As in below 32 degrees.
Give me a blessed break. Yesterday was warm and sunny and beautiful... felt so much like Spring that we all went walking yesterday afternoon and it was just wonderful.
Today.... stupid weather... cold winds, dropping temperatures. I may hide under the covers until the temperature goes back up to 80 degrees.
Speaking of 'under the covers,' my husband spent most of this afternoon wrapping up rose bushes in blankets and old sheets..... and we have an awful lot of rose bushes out there. I just can't get into wrapping up plants and flowers.... if they're that delicate to be freezing in this stupid weather, then we don't need them out there in the first place. But he wanted to wrap them, and that's what he did. On this windy day, it wasn't an easy job, to say the least, but he got it done.
One good thing.... these blasted cold snaps don't last for too long here..... my cousins in NY are coping with much colder temperatures, plus snow and ice, and their stupid weather lasts for months, not just days. Still.... I remember the Texas winters of years ago when we rarely needed to wear a sweater or a jacket from December through February. Those were the days....
Give me a blessed break. Yesterday was warm and sunny and beautiful... felt so much like Spring that we all went walking yesterday afternoon and it was just wonderful.
Today.... stupid weather... cold winds, dropping temperatures. I may hide under the covers until the temperature goes back up to 80 degrees.
Speaking of 'under the covers,' my husband spent most of this afternoon wrapping up rose bushes in blankets and old sheets..... and we have an awful lot of rose bushes out there. I just can't get into wrapping up plants and flowers.... if they're that delicate to be freezing in this stupid weather, then we don't need them out there in the first place. But he wanted to wrap them, and that's what he did. On this windy day, it wasn't an easy job, to say the least, but he got it done.
One good thing.... these blasted cold snaps don't last for too long here..... my cousins in NY are coping with much colder temperatures, plus snow and ice, and their stupid weather lasts for months, not just days. Still.... I remember the Texas winters of years ago when we rarely needed to wear a sweater or a jacket from December through February. Those were the days....
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Cloudy days, rainy nights.
Not exactly the kind of weather you'd wish for to kick off a new year. I can't remember which day it was when the sun was shining.... Christmas Day, maybe? It seems like it's been raining ever since.
The stray dog was here the other day. I had been saving up the last bits of Fancy Feast that the cats always leave in their bowls (and then won't eat afterwards). And my husband bought a small bag of dog food for the stray. So her last meal here was a mixture of dog kibble and leftover cat food. Unlike the cats, that dog will eat anything. When you're a starving dog, there's no such thing as being a picky eater.
The orange cat has also been back, sleeping in the little cat bed that I put out on one of the porch chairs... guess that crazy cat finally came to the conclusion that it's warmer in a cocoon-shaped bed than under the guest cottage. And crazy he still is, that cat. After all this time, he still attempts to swipe at my legs with his claws even as I'm trying to pour Meow Mix into his food dish. Stupid cat. Can't catch him, can't tolerate his rudeness, but he's here just the same. And no, I can't stop feeding him, because I know that he's not getting his meals from anywhere else but our porch.
As I type, I can hear the moo-ing of one of the neighbor's cows. Sad sounds, so I'm guessing that her calf was taken away. Either sold or taken to market. And being 'taken to market' means ending up on someone's hamburger roll.
Good grief. I wish the sun would come out.
The stray dog was here the other day. I had been saving up the last bits of Fancy Feast that the cats always leave in their bowls (and then won't eat afterwards). And my husband bought a small bag of dog food for the stray. So her last meal here was a mixture of dog kibble and leftover cat food. Unlike the cats, that dog will eat anything. When you're a starving dog, there's no such thing as being a picky eater.
The orange cat has also been back, sleeping in the little cat bed that I put out on one of the porch chairs... guess that crazy cat finally came to the conclusion that it's warmer in a cocoon-shaped bed than under the guest cottage. And crazy he still is, that cat. After all this time, he still attempts to swipe at my legs with his claws even as I'm trying to pour Meow Mix into his food dish. Stupid cat. Can't catch him, can't tolerate his rudeness, but he's here just the same. And no, I can't stop feeding him, because I know that he's not getting his meals from anywhere else but our porch.
As I type, I can hear the moo-ing of one of the neighbor's cows. Sad sounds, so I'm guessing that her calf was taken away. Either sold or taken to market. And being 'taken to market' means ending up on someone's hamburger roll.
Good grief. I wish the sun would come out.
Thursday, January 1, 2015
New Year's Day
It's been raining, raining, raining. And very cold. Not exactly the Texas weather we've grown to love. But at least the temperatures haven't been below freezing, and there's no snow on the ground... you don't have to shovel the rain.
That stray dog hasn't been back for the past couple of days. She must have come up on our porch a few days ago because I saw wet paw-prints near the dish of cat food, and that bowl of Meow Mix was empty. If I'd heard the dog on the porch, I would have given her some of the dog food that my husband bought for her. Mind you, we don't want this dog, but she's awfully thin, and really could use some solid meals. It takes a lot of Meow Mix to fill the stomach of a dog that size.
We heard some fireworks last night around midnight. Out here in the country, fireworks are sold in nearly every town, and can be shot off on one's private property. We've done that from time to time out here, mostly on the 4th of July, and only if the fields aren't too dry from lack of rain. Last night would have been a fun night for fireworks, had it not been raining, and had it not been so cold. Standing outside in temperatures below 40 degrees is not my cup of tea, no matter how pretty the fireworks happen to be.
This Spring will mark our 6th year up here in the Hill Country. I've long since gotten over my need to shop in SteinMart every week... the larger town of College Station does have a SteinMart, but all I have to do to look at SteinMart clothes is go upstairs to my own closet. And there they are.... lined up nice as you please, all those city-clothes and high heels that I don't often wear out here.
I do still miss having a really good bookstore close by. Again, there's a great Half Price Books over in College Station, and we stop by to browse and buy every time we're up there. Our town does have a small bookshop, with a huge inventory of romance novels and westerns, neither of which I'm interested in.
I still miss the convenience of living in Clear Lake, with its plethora of stores and restaurants (good restaurants). Plus, we were only a half-hour's drive from downtown Houston and the museums and theaters and even more good restaurants.... and less than an hour's drive to Galveston for all the Island's quaint and scenic offerings.
But.... here we are, on this big piece of Hill Country property with a pond that's more than twice the size of the plot of land that held our Clear Lake house. We look out of our windows and see nothing but our pastures and trees and that beautiful pond. In the Spring, our house will be surrounded with bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes and yellow star-shaped wildflowers.... a three-story Victorian in the middle of an Impressionist/Texan painting.
Life is good. Happy New Year to you all.
That stray dog hasn't been back for the past couple of days. She must have come up on our porch a few days ago because I saw wet paw-prints near the dish of cat food, and that bowl of Meow Mix was empty. If I'd heard the dog on the porch, I would have given her some of the dog food that my husband bought for her. Mind you, we don't want this dog, but she's awfully thin, and really could use some solid meals. It takes a lot of Meow Mix to fill the stomach of a dog that size.
We heard some fireworks last night around midnight. Out here in the country, fireworks are sold in nearly every town, and can be shot off on one's private property. We've done that from time to time out here, mostly on the 4th of July, and only if the fields aren't too dry from lack of rain. Last night would have been a fun night for fireworks, had it not been raining, and had it not been so cold. Standing outside in temperatures below 40 degrees is not my cup of tea, no matter how pretty the fireworks happen to be.
This Spring will mark our 6th year up here in the Hill Country. I've long since gotten over my need to shop in SteinMart every week... the larger town of College Station does have a SteinMart, but all I have to do to look at SteinMart clothes is go upstairs to my own closet. And there they are.... lined up nice as you please, all those city-clothes and high heels that I don't often wear out here.
I do still miss having a really good bookstore close by. Again, there's a great Half Price Books over in College Station, and we stop by to browse and buy every time we're up there. Our town does have a small bookshop, with a huge inventory of romance novels and westerns, neither of which I'm interested in.
I still miss the convenience of living in Clear Lake, with its plethora of stores and restaurants (good restaurants). Plus, we were only a half-hour's drive from downtown Houston and the museums and theaters and even more good restaurants.... and less than an hour's drive to Galveston for all the Island's quaint and scenic offerings.
But.... here we are, on this big piece of Hill Country property with a pond that's more than twice the size of the plot of land that held our Clear Lake house. We look out of our windows and see nothing but our pastures and trees and that beautiful pond. In the Spring, our house will be surrounded with bluebonnets, Indian paintbrushes and yellow star-shaped wildflowers.... a three-story Victorian in the middle of an Impressionist/Texan painting.
Life is good. Happy New Year to you all.
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