The more forthright of the two tortoiseshells has just fatally impaled a small, airborne fly with one claw.
Every now and then one of them reminds me that I live in a house with two wild animals. They're only fairly small wild animals, of course, but so are stoats and wolverines.
Our resident wild animal is fond of the little skinks that live around here. I am not so fond of her when she brings them inside. I've been able to rescue a few, but I suspect that the poor little things die anyway.
My corpulent little Gidget swiped her first moth to death last night. Not without my help I might add.
Plaintive wailing such as I've never heard coming from an animal this side of the grave compelled me to hold her luxuriant ginger rolls up unto the skies of the ceiling. So that she could reach the hapless creature harbouring there. Poor thing. This involved the novel idea of me standing on a chair lifting an overweight cat over my head and not falling. While watching Tess of the D'Urbevilles. I mean, God forbid she should actually lose some weight attempting it on her own.
I hope her little cat brain gets that I am a very accommodating big cat. I hope she learns what we older cats discovered long ago - if you render them too lifeless, they aint no fun at all.
Yes, it's good when they do that. Of late Harriet has taken to bringing in leaves from outside and then attacking/shredding them inside at leisure. Not sure if she regards them as slaughtered prey to be rendered up to us, or whether she just wants to keep them for later.
I inherited Mum's cat when she went to the nursing home and I've been catless for so long I'd forgotten how sweet they can be chasing leaves in autumn. I'd also forgotten how much a cat can destroy a budget.
Our resident wild animal is not allowed outside to walk in the wild woods on his wild lone.
Also, I trim his toenails. But his little feet are so soft and sweet. And I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and he was lying behind me with all four paws on my back.
Still Life With Cat is an all-purpose blog containing reflections on whatever is going on in the realms of literature, politics, media, music, dinner, gardening etc. Its original incarnation is Pavlov's Cat (2005-2008).
Read, Think, Write is about all things books and writing, and incorporates Australian Literature Diary (2005-2010) and Ask the Brontë Sisters (May-July 2007).
Blogs are by Kerryn Goldsworthy, a writer, critic and editor who lives and works in Adelaide, South Australia.
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10 comments:
Our resident wild animal is fond of the little skinks that live around here. I am not so fond of her when she brings them inside. I've been able to rescue a few, but I suspect that the poor little things die anyway.
I believe they are Malaysian skinks, so that's OK. The local ones stay away, and are big enough to fight back.
"Forthright" is good. Rarely used for a cat, I think.
Because our boy is an inside cat he has the softest little jelly bean toes. We say he has "baby feet".
My corpulent little Gidget swiped her first moth to death last night. Not without my help I might add.
Plaintive wailing such as I've never heard coming from an animal this side of the grave compelled me to hold her luxuriant ginger rolls up unto the skies of the ceiling. So that she could reach the hapless creature harbouring there. Poor thing. This involved the novel idea of me standing on a chair lifting an overweight cat over my head and not falling. While watching Tess of the D'Urbevilles. I mean, God forbid she should actually lose some weight attempting it on her own.
I hope her little cat brain gets that I am a very accommodating big cat. I hope she learns what we older cats discovered long ago - if you render them too lifeless, they aint no fun at all.
Casey, LOL, also *snort* and *cackle*. Re lifelessness, fun etc -- like the photo under Item #9 here, you mean?
Yes, it's good when they do that. Of late Harriet has taken to bringing in leaves from outside and then attacking/shredding them inside at leisure. Not sure if she regards them as slaughtered prey to be rendered up to us, or whether she just wants to keep them for later.
I inherited Mum's cat when she went to the nursing home and I've been catless for so long I'd forgotten how sweet they can be chasing leaves in autumn. I'd also forgotten how much a cat can destroy a budget.
Talking of claws: http://xkcd.com/729/
"Lasing cat-vity" indeed!
Our resident wild animal is not allowed outside to walk in the wild woods on his wild lone.
Also, I trim his toenails. But his little feet are so soft and sweet. And I woke up in the middle of the night last night, and he was lying behind me with all four paws on my back.
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