Tuesday morning mayhem
This morning was another crazy one of catering to all our critters.
There’s the outside cat food container at the back of the yard to fill, along with three bird feeders. Wendy the Dog has to have her Milk Bones after her trip outdoors. Osh Kosh has his Science Diet dry food. Ellie routinely turns up her nose at anything except things she can’t have because she bolts them and then throws up. Shadow, my youngest, will ONLY eat Friskies from a can. And now former stray Toby has decided that since he’s become our barn cat (“deck cat” would be more accurate) he is no longer required to eat Friskies from a can, but prefers dry food, if you please: Chef’s Blend, to be specific. Therefore, last night’s dish of wet food on the deck, uneaten, has become this morning’s lump of brown ice.
So this morning Toby is hanging around the front door (the French doors from the deck are dangerous territory because Wendy can see out way too well). Shadow is sitting on the front porch howling as if he's about to be killed. Now, I know better-Toby is definitely a lover and not a fighter, though he’s not above teasing-but Wendy the Dog, Shadow’s self-appointed protector, does not understand this. So Wendy, all 95 pounds of her, is standing by the sidelight of the front door raging at Toby. When I shoo her away to open the front door and retrieve Shadow (who, while screaming, is doing his best possible imitation of a Halloween poster), Wendy races to the front window, hair sticking straight up along her spine, and tries to charge right through the glass. In the process, she knocks over my potted rosemary bush, whose pot is the ONLY one of all the overwintering plants with a built-in reservoir. Water, soil, and rosemary leaves go flying all over, including down the heat register under the window.
Well, folks, I lost it at this point. Wendy was banished to the family room and threatened with dismemberment if she moved a muscle. Shadow ran upstairs before I could dismember HIM. The two other cats disappeared under furniture, only their eyes showing, and my partner aborted her trip downstairs to see what the noise was about. I cussed and squalled as I mopped up water from the soaked carpet, swearing I would take every one of them to the Pound as soon as I could catch them.
Now, a couple of hours later, I’m calmed down. Everyone has been fed their particular choice of food and I’m back here at my desk. Ellie is sitting on a towel in front of my computer glaring out the office window at Toby, who’s camped out on the hillside where the sun would hit if it were to come out from behind these thick clouds. Shadow and Osh are sleeping innocently, and Wendy is napping on the landing. Life goes on.
There’s the outside cat food container at the back of the yard to fill, along with three bird feeders. Wendy the Dog has to have her Milk Bones after her trip outdoors. Osh Kosh has his Science Diet dry food. Ellie routinely turns up her nose at anything except things she can’t have because she bolts them and then throws up. Shadow, my youngest, will ONLY eat Friskies from a can. And now former stray Toby has decided that since he’s become our barn cat (“deck cat” would be more accurate) he is no longer required to eat Friskies from a can, but prefers dry food, if you please: Chef’s Blend, to be specific. Therefore, last night’s dish of wet food on the deck, uneaten, has become this morning’s lump of brown ice.
So this morning Toby is hanging around the front door (the French doors from the deck are dangerous territory because Wendy can see out way too well). Shadow is sitting on the front porch howling as if he's about to be killed. Now, I know better-Toby is definitely a lover and not a fighter, though he’s not above teasing-but Wendy the Dog, Shadow’s self-appointed protector, does not understand this. So Wendy, all 95 pounds of her, is standing by the sidelight of the front door raging at Toby. When I shoo her away to open the front door and retrieve Shadow (who, while screaming, is doing his best possible imitation of a Halloween poster), Wendy races to the front window, hair sticking straight up along her spine, and tries to charge right through the glass. In the process, she knocks over my potted rosemary bush, whose pot is the ONLY one of all the overwintering plants with a built-in reservoir. Water, soil, and rosemary leaves go flying all over, including down the heat register under the window.
Well, folks, I lost it at this point. Wendy was banished to the family room and threatened with dismemberment if she moved a muscle. Shadow ran upstairs before I could dismember HIM. The two other cats disappeared under furniture, only their eyes showing, and my partner aborted her trip downstairs to see what the noise was about. I cussed and squalled as I mopped up water from the soaked carpet, swearing I would take every one of them to the Pound as soon as I could catch them.
Now, a couple of hours later, I’m calmed down. Everyone has been fed their particular choice of food and I’m back here at my desk. Ellie is sitting on a towel in front of my computer glaring out the office window at Toby, who’s camped out on the hillside where the sun would hit if it were to come out from behind these thick clouds. Shadow and Osh are sleeping innocently, and Wendy is napping on the landing. Life goes on.