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Poor old girl

mapp

Uncle B called me at work this morning and said, “was there a reason you left Mapp Chicken running loose?”

Ah, no. Before I left, I opened the henhouse door, saw “some chickens” and assumed it was all of them. Poor old Mapp. He said she looked very grateful to scoot into the henhouse with the others. It was bitterly cold this morning and she’s the old girl.

Thus began a silly day. I lost our tax paperwork. I found it again (after one of those painful ‘tearing the place apart’ sessions). I got an email from a long-lost first cousin.

I think I’ll have a gin, a long nap and a do-over tomorrow.

November 30, 2017 — 10:40 pm
Comments: 10

And then the vet laughed at his ear hair

earhair

Jack got beat up again this weekend. He came in with blood on his legs, but the wounds were small, he wasn’t limping and he didn’t seem distressed. I didn’t think much of it. Boy stuff.

An hour later, he gets up from his nap and drags his broken body across the floor like he’d been run over by a Buick. Which is now what I thought had happened. Internal bleeding, whispers the displaced maternal instinct.

We took him to the vet, who decided it was cat bites (and no internal bleeding), gave him a shot for antibiotic and a shot for pain and then, to add insult to injury, laughed at his ear hair.

To be fair, he is the Ed Asner of ear hair.

There ensued a discussion where I swore I was going to scoop up the neighborhood’s intact tom, Ginge — who has now cost me a lot of money — and get him deballed. The vet thought the owner might object to that, and there followed a discussion of the ownership of cats.

In Rhode Island, I know, you cannot own cats in law. They own themselves. You can own dogs, but not felis. Which suits their sense of self, but means you can kill a cat without legal drama (I have to assume this doesn’t apply to pedigree cats and animal cruelty is still an offense). I used to follow the blog of a cat rescuer who routinely snuck up on unspayed cats and spayed them without telling the owner. Not on the spot, of course.

Anyway, Jack has been an absolute bastard ever since. He won’t go outside, bounces off the walls and beats up Charlotte to make himself feel better. I’m’a buy him a tiny wifebeater for Christmas.

November 28, 2017 — 10:18 pm
Comments: 18

My personal bodycount: 3

mousetrap

My mother told me before she died that she was going to come back and haunt me, but she was going to come back as a scrabbling noise in the closet, so I’d never really know if it was her or mice. And, whaddya know, I have a scrabbling noise in the closet.

Well, I’ve finally worked it out: it’s mice. I’ve been bailing them out of the mousetrap as soon as I can set it. The horrible thing is, I haven’t even had to re-bait the trap. Apparently, the smell of Bob’s final agony is not enough to overcome the smell of sweet, sweet peanut butter.

My little studio upstairs is the warmest room in the house, at least when the water heater or central heat is going. That’s because all the water pipes run along the outside of the walls. This attracts all sorts of vermin, not just me.

I hate doing this. There’s the horribleness of emptying the trap (all clean kills so far, at least). But also, I rather like mice. I used to keep them as pets.

Oh, well. At least it’s not my spectral mother!

November 21, 2017 — 7:02 pm
Comments: 34

There are no turtles in England

turtle

I’ve posted about this before. They have tortoises (land shellies) but not turtles (water shellies).

Every once in a while, you hear a horrible story about someone ‘rescuing’ a wild tortoise by dropping it in the nearest pond.

I mention this now because I took a nap after work this afternoon and had a vivid and curiously didactic dream about the difference between turtles and tortoises. Also, because I thought I’d be posting a new Dead Pool this evening, but Chuck Manson seems to be clinging on.

Oh, well. Everyone have a great weekend. Except you, Manson. Because fuck that guy, am I right?

November 17, 2017 — 8:23 pm
Comments: 18

They shot muh gurl :(

lynx

The runaway lynx turned up chillin’ under a double-wide in an abandoned trailer park (yes, even here) and the bastards shot her. The answer to your next question is, yes, they probably do have tranq guns here, but she was shot by a hired marksman instead of zoo personnel, in the darkness with night vision equipment.

Maybe he wasn’t taking an opportunity to play with his fun toys.

Brits are animal mad — particularly cats — and this is not going down well at all. The head of the local council should probably have a flunky start his car for a while.

November 13, 2017 — 9:36 pm
Comments: 11

Go Lillith!

lillith

Lillith the lynx has escaped a zoo in Wales. I’m sure I heard Uncle B say they’d caught her, but the news doesn’t seem to think so.

She’s described as the smallest and sweetest of the three juvenile lynxes born in the zoo last year. They aren’t sure how she got out, but they think she got overexcited chasing a bird and…levitated, I guess.

This is my chance to post one of my favorite gifs. You look. I swear this cat climbs up air.

Stupid magpie.

October 30, 2017 — 10:06 pm
Comments: 10

Enter title here

honkboy
 

Boy swallows toy horn, makes hilarious party favor sound when he inhales.

No, seriously, go watch the video. It’s ten seconds of mild amusement.

As a side note, that’s the exact sound Mapp Chicken makes when she sneezes. Cracks me up.

Yes, it’s another lazy, low-effort post from Weasel, and it’ll only get worse this week. I have a lecture to go to tomorrow night, and an all day work-related field trip on Friday. I’m dreading both more than I can say.

Oh, I’ll undoubtedly enjoy myself, but it is in my nature to dread unusual activities. I don’t think people realize what a debilitating handicap it is to be temperamentally low energy and bone idle.

I shoulda been aristocracy. Or one of those maiden aunties who took to her bed with a chill and never got out again.

Perhaps I’ll apply for benefits.
 

 

October 11, 2017 — 9:25 pm
Comments: 12

Cats! Sitting like people!

catsit

reddit

Not my photo. Not my cat. There’s more!

I’ve seen the quote at right differently worded and differently sourced, but I love it.

Anyhoo, I need some time tonight in what we call the “little weasel’s room”. Some arty friends may be putting together a group painting show in a few months, and I have to see if I have anything for it.

Well, no. I lie. I know what I’ve got. I’ve got nothing ready to go. But I need to shuffle through my sketches and see what I’ve got going on for ideas.

You might think to yourself, “ideas? Geez, lady, you paint chickens. What ideas?”

Well, that’s just the sort of ignorant thing I expect to hear from someone who doesn’t paint chickens, to be honest.

October 10, 2017 — 8:49 pm
Comments: 17

…and three…

inktober03

And on Day Three, Charlotte. About whom, update.

The wound on her head healed beautifully, or so I thought. But a week or so ago, I noticed it had opened and within a couple of days…icky abscess.

The vet dealt with it, but left an open hole to let it air. It looks like a gunshot wound.

So I’ve been giving her an antibiotic pill and washing her head with salt water. Twice a day. Fun! Tomorrow we go back for a followup appointment, but I gotta continue this regime until Sunday.

Charlotte is a hissy, growly cat…thank goodness she had all her teeth removed years ago.

p.s. Oh, shoot — I forgot the best bit! The vet also turned up a couple of harvest mites in Charlotte’s ear. That’s when I learned, that little pouch at the base of a cat’s ear? It’s called Henry’s pocket. No, I haven’t been able to find out who Henry was, and they aren’t really sure what the pocket is for. Possibly to absorb lower frequency sound so the cat can better hear the high frequency ones. Like squeaky mice.

p.p.s. I declare tonycc the winner of the Dead Pool. He picked Tom Petty while he was at death’s door, but still breathin’. Tom Petty, that is. Fair’s fair. Meet you all back here Friday, 6WBT for Dead Pool Round 103.

October 4, 2017 — 6:34 pm
Comments: 18

Day Two

inktober002

I realize this will get pretty boring, but I haven’t got the spoons to do a decent post AND a decent drawing. Maybe not even one of those things. Not to worry – I have the attention span of a fruit fly! I’ll never make 31 days.

And no, I do not intend to draw 31 wild pigs.

Talk amongst yourselves…

October 3, 2017 — 8:58 pm
Comments: 14