etumukutenyak: (skull with nails)
After taking care of all the adult cats (Loki sniffed my finger, refused food, and didn't want to be petted), I braced myself and entered the Lair of DOOM. They were all, naturally, asleep in one pile of cuteness. I opened the lower door of the cage, and they let themselves out, one by one. The first one out met noses with Hercules, who was more nervous than the kitten (he ended up staying behind me to protect him from the mean kittens). The second one out sat and stared at him, and then made spitting noises when Hercules tried to sniff a little closer (that's when he moved behind me). Third one out ignored him and started exploring. Fourth kitty stayed inside the longest, then came out and was a bold explorer too; this last one then tried to hide from the Giant Hand and actually had a hissy fit when I caught him/her. My goodness. S/he got so mad, s/he hooked a claw in her/his own face. We had a little chat, and I processed her/him back into the cage.

I bathed each little bundle of cuteness in warm water, towel-dried them, and put them into their slightly-cleaner cage. I removed the scratching pad which they'd used as a litter box (but they're pooping on their own! I don't have to wipe them after each meal!), and put in fresh KMR along with fresh fud (very wet canned food). They all had a snack, and settled back down.

First one out has a tie on her/his chest, a nicely-dressed tuxedo. The one who really hissed at Hercules has a black chin. The last one, our hissy fit and boldest explorer, is mostly black. Someone, don't remember who, has a spot on the front paw (black spot on white toes).
etumukutenyak: (skull with nails)
Last night, after a long day of running around -- work and family stuff -- all I wanted to do was lie down, prop my foot up for it to unswell, and relax. Which I did, for a goodly bit, as the other members of the family unwound and got ready for bed.

Then, just as Honey got into bed and settled down with her PDA, the dog -- who had been quietly resting on his soft pad in the doorway -- picked up his head, woofed, and got to his feet. This requires more effort than you might imagine, as he is elderly and arthritic, and not inclined to rise up for anything less important than food, drink, or outs. Not even the arrival at home of his beloved family will cause him to do anything more than thump his tail on the floor and perhaps raise his eyebrows. Thus, when he climbs to his feet, it requires attention. In this case, it required an escort to the door and out.

Along the way, as we were traversing the length of the house in order to use the entrance without stairs, I noticed a cat in hunting posture. Pointing his face at the junction of a box and a wall, a classic "cat hunting bug" pose, so I thought very little of it as I shuffled past with the dog.

We went out, he did what he needed to do, I shooed him back in with many shooings and pushings (did I mention he is an elderly dog, much prone to stoppings and lookings around, and sniffings, and more stoppings, about every other step?). We came in, and I saw both cats in hunting pose, only they'd moved from near the front door into the new area of the house, and then I could see in the near dark something scuttling. Awfully big for a bug, think I, so I naturally turned on a light.

It was a mouse. A young mouse, just past weaning age. Nearing exhaustion, still paddling behind things, anything, just to get away from this cat or that cat, only without much success.

I sighed. I am so not in the mood to kill anything right now. The mouse crawled behind something while I grabbed a large plastic mug and some heavy paper. I did the usual cover and scoop, and deposited said young mouse outside the door. I figured he might still die, from exhaustion, but it wouldn't be my fault.

The cats were nearly frantically searching for the MOUSIE! that they knew to be in this area. I managed to distract them with TREATS!! and gave the dog his own treat for just being himself, and trundled off to bed.

This morning, Brady was still looking for MOUSIE! that he was sure was still around here, somewhere. Here? No. Here? No. Then he gave up and attacked the rug instead, where there were still some crumbs of catnip.
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February 2017

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