1) fly paper is disturbingly effective. While the adult side of me is pleased that it's helping get my fly problem under control, the side of me that likes frosting is horrified at my willingness to unleash a glue-based genocide upon my foe. Seriously, can you think of any worse way to die than rupturing your organs trying to pull yourself free from glue?
2) when your cat manages to knock an unspooled roll of flypaper -- fully laden with fly carcuses (carcii?), mind you -- off its hook, allowing it to become fully entwined into the cat's fur, it is equal parts hilarious and heartwrenching. The more she tried to get it off, the more stuck she got. Scissors were eventually required. Despite having dead flies glued here and there she seems to be taking her impromptu trim rather well.
Penelope (the brown and white one) is very tiny... I have really small hands so the scale is hard to see, but the Wiimote ought to help give an accurate reference. Also: I broked my camcorder, so this was shot with my digital camera. :(
We have a couple new additions to our household, upping us to a grand total of 6 pets. Last week we went to the humane society to look at kittens, but ended up coming home with a nice older cat instead.
Here's Lady Isabella Meowsalot McFluffington:
She is extremely needy and forcibly encourages you to pet her.
Then yesterday we went and picked up Salty, whose previous owner had the misfortune of buying a pair of rats that weren't hetero life mates. If you have a boy and a girl rat together, you'll very quickly end up like this guy. (Don't you hate it when you can't find a news story you were looking at days ago? The first one I found about the story presented the story from the point of view of the guy and how things got out of hand after having mercy on his pet snake's dinner. He spared the rats life, but then it got lonely so he bought it 2 friends. Unfortunately one of the friends was female and soon he had more rats than he could handle. All the stories I can find now talk about how evil the guy was and how he probably has psychological problems.)
Anyway, here's Salty:
Salty is currently rat #5, so we've got a ways to go before we catch up to that crazy rat guy.
Washington State feels that this is somehow unsafe, so I am prevented from doing this.
I brought this up the other day with coworkers, and had to explain how skunks get de-scented and actually make greal loving cat-like pets, just way cooler because no one has them as pets. They also have an amusing behavior where if for some reason they get pissed off at you, like if you forbid them from sleeping on the furniture or hanging out with that paint drizzled neighbor cat or something, they will turn around and try to spray you, just firing blanks.
This prompted a brilliant idea from Travis: install air-freshener reservoirs into the skunk, so if they get pissed off they just make the place smell better.
"Are you baking cookies?"
"No. I yelled at the skunk for clawing on the carpet again, and pssshft: Fresh Baked Cookiestm.
Over the long holiday weekend, my cat (pictured above) got run over by a car. As you can probably guess, this has caused him to be quite dead.
Despite the normal feline annoyingness inherent in all cats, he was a good cat, and will be missed a great deal. Not so much the "constantly bringing in live animals" aspect of him, or the "claws severely scratching my legs down to the floor as he falls off my lap" aspect, but more the warm and the purring is what will be missed.
I must say, setting the cat door to 'lock' one last time felt really strange, as does seeing his bowl still full of food, and hearing his water dispenser go "glug glug" every so often, even though there is no longer anyone to drink from it. Seeing the still mud-covered shovel and pair of boots on the porch is rather awkward as well.
I don't look forward to rounding up the thousand or so toy mice scattered under every surface in the house. See, he enjoyed knocking his toys into places he couldn't get them out of, then struggling to get them back out for minutes on end before getting bored. I'd fish a mouse out, only to see him quite deliberately knock it right back under. Last time I chased down a live mouse under chair in the livingroom, I scared the crap out of myself by tipping up the chair and seeing 20 or so mice where there should have been only one. In the split second of fear, my brain didn't have time to realize that 19 or so of those mice were flourescently colored and therefore not real -- I just imagined an Attica scale revolt by the imprisoned mice, with me and the cat as prison guards.
The funny thing is, I'm kind of "in denial" about him being dead. See, every time I hear the wind move the cat door a little, I actually think for a split second "here comes the cat." Upon coming home and hearing the chainlink fence nearby*, I think "here comes the cat." Upon waking up in the middle of the night, hearing meowing and scratching on my bedroom door, I cower in fear under my covers and think "Oh shit, here comes the cat." But then I wake up, feeling relieved that my backyard isn't hiding an indian burial ground.
This most recent dead pet has gotten me thinking about my many, many traumatic pet experiences over the years, and you fine folks get to look forward to hearing some of the stories in the coming week. Maybe telling them will make me feel better.
*: every day (assuming the weather was dry) he would come running and climb over the chainlink fence when I would arrive home from work, making a very distinctive sound.