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A Whole New Meaning to Late!

Momma-D! Momma-D! We jus’ founded stowy we wuz s’posed to put up a LOOOOOOONG time ago! We are hanging our headzes in shame. Bud I hopes you enjoys it!

It’s crazy. I did this way back when the package came…which was March of 2013! I thought I’d posted it, but I recall now, I had about six stories and I was trying to dole them out. I’ve decided I must get all the pics processed and up and I’m several stories behind, so…enjoy!

12 comments to A Whole New Meaning to Late!

  • Awww…

    A little late is okay, trust me! You have not seen the piles of unprocessed files on my doll photos external hard drive! So many stories, so little time.

    So glad you like the pressies! I had fun finding the little things for you to play with. I thought of Pook inside the Slinky like a dog agility tunnel.

    Talon has a mug of green beer, too and imbibes quite a bit himself. He can keep up with Eiri!

    The party store down the street has the cowboy hats in all the basic colours (primary and secondary). If you need something specific, let me know and I will send it up to you.

    Adorable photos! The poses are darling!

  • chondrite

    The Pookster has obviously been talking with DH about what to do with spiders… spiders give DH the grues.

    • oh noes!!!! I catch the spiders that get into my house, using a clean jar of some kind, and then take them out to the garage. It’s not as warm as the house, but it’s not as bad as being outside, either.

      • chondrite

        I’m kinda live and let live in the spider department, but they seem to know DH despises them. It doesn’t help that they frequently get inside and have babies; there’s nothing like a swarm of teeny tiny spiders everywhere. It’s cute when it’s Charlotte’s Web, not so cute when it’s your bathroom. Since we don’t have a cold season, they don’t die back either.

        • I don’t think Pook has any problems with spiders. I think he was patting it to get a rise out of it, and when it didn’t move, he began stomping on it to make it react. When it finally begins to buck, he’s in heaven! I should have had him sleeping with it in the last frame, but I couldn’t set it up so you could see them both.

  • Wiishu, make sure Pooki stays out of the fried ice cream……

  • chondrite

    I was naughty. Junky Spot is having their Black Friday sale, and they were selling the nano version of their Freya kittygirl for cheap… so I got me one. I believe she is going to take more after the Pook than her more decorous big sister, D’kaan, but we shall see what happens when she gets here.

    I will be using the suggestions CJ made for the Mexican white sauce to make 2 huge pans of enchiladas. We got tapped to host our weekly gaming group on Saturday because our usual person is visiting on the mainland. There goes the leftover turkey! Actually one pan will be not-so-spicy, and the other one will kick it up a notch with chorizo sausage and hot salsa. Ole!

    • Oooo…I resisted. Carolyn’s still got some Freya to do up. We never really got around to faceups this year…which has become a serious must do. Poor Wiishu desperately needs a clean face and to get his original protected.

      How’d the enchiladas go over?

  • LOL! Aw, Wiishu and Pooki! You guys are so good.

    Uh, all that slurping going on….

    When Goober first arrived as a kitten, he ate, drank, and needed to be with someone. I tried to get him to use the new letterbox. Nope, he thought he didn’t need that, thanks. I was moving into my present house at the time. (Or rather, I was still moving, due to complications here, there, and with caregiving.) So there was a futon in my new bedroom, because that was cheap. (I would’ve been better with just the futon mattress, I later decided.)

    Well… Goober, little kitten that he was, was OK enough with me, his new person, to curl up to sleep. Only…well, being just a little guy and all…he curled up, started to relax and…the floodgates opened. Little guy peed all over me and the futon mattress and bedding. I think he was all tensed up, scared before, and finally relaxed, and so…yeah. Or it was about like a little kid who hasn’t learned bladder control at night. He wet the bed.

    Ack, ack, ack! Sudden, hurried activity! Poor little guy must’ve been further scared, as I realized I had to move the bedding, then the futon mattress, outside to, uh, *drain*. (The mattress was a loss, by the way. I tried hosing it down to no avail.) The bed linens washed out fine.

    Fortunately, I had moved a sleeping bag with us, so that’s how he and I spent the night. (The next morning, he’d acquire his name, Goober, for a lovable but klutzy kinda guy.

    —–

    Smokey, who is like Eushu’s virtual cousin, arrived as a street kitten rescued and given to me. When he first arrived, he was very tiny, half-starved, and rescued before it could get way below freezing that night and the next few. (His “birthday” is between Christmas and New Year’s, when he arrived.) He had damage to his tail and was terrified of the giant two-legged creatures who were probably gonna *eat* him. (He thought.)

    I put out a food bowl and a water bowl and litter box for him as soon as I got him. He went for the water bowl, first thing, and I’d swear he drank his full body weight in water. Imagine a scrawny, tiny kitten, ball of fluff, clearly not in good shape, and now imagine the same, with a tummy that looked like a water balloon. Poor little guy was desperate for water. He ate a little food, not much. … He promptly hid under the bed, and later, tried to hide under and behind the pillows. (That wouldn’t work, because I was scared if he got under the pillows, I’d turn over and hurt him, in my sleep.) Managed to convince him that wouldn’t work, but he retreated under the bed again.

    Fortunately, the little guy *did* figure out the litter box right away, a very surprising thing, since I don’t think he’d ever seen one before.

    But that image, of a kitten who drank his full weight in water right away, has always stuck with me.

    It took Smokey many days before he finally got the idea that the big two-legged monster was not going to eat him, but actually *liked* him. This was helped by having the most non-assertive cat in the universe to be his big buddy. When he discovered he could have a whole house to play in, when he wasn’t cooped up in a small bedroom at my grandmother’s, Smokey apparently decided he had been favored by the gods, and the big monster must be OK and love him, and so … Smokey must obviously be master of the universe. He is Mister Assertive and his middle name is Trouble. Heh. Wouldn’t take for either of them.

    So … Pooki’s slurping up of the festive brew, and maybe the Mountain Dew too, reminds me of both cats.

    (Goober is now over 8 and Smokey will soon be over 4 years old. They are as dorky as ever.)

    • Awwww….Poor widdow kitteh. You’re probably right…just relaxed and it all went. And I’ve seen that water-balloon tummy, only it was milk on a starved rescue kitten’s tummy. Still kinda funny in a pitiful way.

  • Darned browser spellchecker. Letterbox? No. Litterbox. Box for Cat Litter.

    Any other typos in there are also thanks to the browser’s auto-incorrect function. Harrumph!

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