Gadget may look like a Miniature Pinscher, but he’s apparently really a cat at heart. A very, very good huntin’ cat. About once a month or so he somehow manages to catch a bird, dispatch it, and leave its remains (usually just feathers) at our back door. I don’t know if he actually eats them, or just picks them apart and strews the bits around. Dude is old as fuck, has grey around his muzzle, has back problems, and has seizures. Yet he still manages to somehow sneak up on, capture, and kill birds. In our back yard. This dog, who is the opposite of stealthy and subtle, who hasn’t brain one in his head and barks at air, has more kills under his belt than our shut-in house cats, and that INCLUDES the crickets the cats routinely pull apart and leave stranded with but one leg to gimp along in circles until they die of, well, whatever it is that crickets with one leg die of, sans squishing.
Zoe, for some reason, is absolutely fascinated with the tray in the DVD player. Every single time we load a movie or a CD, and press the button to open the tray, she comes running from wherever she is to chirp and chitter and prrowt, rub her nose and scratch her head along the edge, and stare with fascination at the movement of the tray as it ejects. As the tray disappears back into the DVD player, she actually moves around to look behind it, trying to figure out where it went. You’d die of the cute, I swear. I’ll sit there and eject and push in the tray, like, five times in a row, all the while saying in an annoyingly cutesy voice (I accept and embrace my flaws), “Where’s your friend goin’, Zoe? Where’s your friend?” And she rubs on me and chats and discusses and speculates as she stares, excitedly waiting for the tray to appear again. A good ten minutes after I’ve given up the game and have gone back to sit on the couch, she’ll still be sitting there in front of the DVD player, staring at it. Weirdo cat fits in quite well in our cra-zay-zay household.
I caught Kali shedding for the first time ever – that is, it’s the first time I ever saw her do it, not the first time she’s actually done it. She sheds about once a month or so – maybe once every six weeks. Usually she picks the dead of night to shed – we go to bed with her all sulky and milky-eyed, balled up in the corner of her tank. By the next morning she’s all glossy and bright-eyed, with a pile of dead skin laying, trophy-like, on the floor of her vivarium. But one night last weekend Calvin happened to glance into her cage while she was shedding – it was right after I soaked her in the tub, so that’s probably what started it. He said, “Cool, check it out, she’s shedding!” So I looked into the tank and then just stood there, fascinated, for about fifteen minutes, just watching the process. It was cool and gross at the same time, with her undulating and tying herself up in knots to use the pressure from her own muscles to peel the skin down off her body in one long piece. We’d been holding off getting her a rat until after she’d shed (she doesn’t feel like eating right before she sheds), so by Monday afternoon she was One Hungry Snake (it’d been about three weeks since her last feed, at that point). I tell you what, that thing didn’t have a chance of survival. It took Kali all of two seconds to strike and strangle after Calvin dropped the rat in the tank. Doin’ it like they do on the Discovery Channel, that’s us.
Ozzy seems to be doing better, after a week-long run of peeing in random places. There is nothing on this PLANET that pisses Calvin off (no pun intended) more than a cat who goes potty in places other than its litter box. When Oz pee’d in the bathroom sink right in front of Calvin, at first he thought it was a once-off behavioral issue. But when Oz pee’d on the walk-off mat in the kitchen, again right in front of us, and THEN the next night sprayed in the workout room, we knew there had to be something wrong. I mean, Ozzy can be a brat sometimes, but this was totally new behavior for him. So I took him to the vet, and poor Oz got poked and prodded and felt up – a swollen bladder and tenderness in the belly (punctuated by a mighty “MROW!” when massaged) revealed an inflamed bladder. He got a shot, and gets another one later this week, and that should be it. Just in case he has negative feelings about the closet the litter boxes were in (he gets chased in there when he’s in trouble) I temporarily moved them to the upstairs spare bathroom that nobody uses because we’d rather wait for the downstairs bathroom to be available if it happens to be occupied when The Need Arises than walk all the way upstairs to pee, we’re that lazy.
Also, I am so lazy that I prefer run-on sentences to proper sentence structure and grammar.
Also #2, apparently Gypsy (the beagle) and Cheeto and Lucy (the bearded dragons) are so well behaved that I can’t think of any interesting anecdotes about them to add to this pet-centric entry. Not that I don’t love them just as much, they’re just, well, calmer. But here’s some pictures of them, anyway:
This concludes my update on our Animal Planet. Clicky clicky on any of the pictures to see larger versions. ~MWAH~ dahlings!