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I can tell he’s crazy by those big eyes. Dead eyes, like a doll’s eyes.

stay warm! and unpunctured.

I should explain – Mr Paranoid here gets antsy if he doesn’t back-up to an external drive a lot . The trouble is the connector on the back of my drive is… sensitive. And Mad Jack regards all cables as snakes. One day I may be glad of this (badgers hate snakes) but for now it means Jack and the external drive need to be kept on separate planets.

Still, he’s a good lad. Earlier I had a snooze, to be woken by one of his whiskers tickling my nose, He’d been asleep for ages within inches of my face and I hadn’t even realised.

All together now.. ‘Awwwwww’… 🙂

Unca B, since you have control of the innnertubes and you might be surfing Ms Weasels site for naughty people, maybe you could ask her if she knows of an album of Big Band music done on a kick ass big huge church organ, not some pansy evangelical organ but a great big possibly St Paul’s sort of thing. Thanks!!

It wasn’t cuteness, he was slowly sneaking up you a mm at a time so he could suffocate you. You woke in the nick of time!

Uncle B,
Your story of sleeping kitty whiskers reminds me of my ever-favorite cat Georgio (known to his friends as Jo) whom I always called my ‘gentleman cat’. He never bit or hissed at anyone nor would he scratch them. Jo dearly loved his breakfast and would get on the bed next to my face and wait for me to wake up, for then it was breakfast time! However he never deliberately woke me (as certain cats whom politeness prevents me from cursing naming) by slapping me or pulling my hair with his teeth. Still, he did take great interest in finding out if I was really sleeping. Therefore he would creep closer and closer to my face until his cold, wet, cat nose touched my warm sleeping one. If I opened my eyes he would stare deep into them and then start to dance around in little circles of delight. Yet, if I managed to keep them closed, he would just….wait….and try again in a few minutes. I loved that cat.

Wait … wait! Did I black out? I thought his name was Buster? I must have missed a post.

Dang. I just looked at the weather forecast for your neighborhood. Reckon Mad Jack’s internal barometer is reacting to the falling pressure? You’ve good reason to be paranoid about backing up your data. I’m glad y’all have a little time secure Badger’s Ark before the storm hits. Hope the chickens get to come inside. I’ll be watching the weather news and praying until we hear from you again.

Awwwwwwwwww!

/obliging Unk B. 🙂

I had a kitten who used to climb
my back and bite my neck.
Oh so cute! My little kitten is trying to kill me!

Think of momma cat, with 4-5 of those little monsters stalking her tail…

I had Dr Goats New Zealand ‘cousin It’ for dinner tonight.

Very tasty.
Cousin it was lovingly prepared, and turned into a gamey meatloaf in a cast iron cook pot.

I’m sorry Dr Goat … burp.

🙂

We were calling him Buster, Deborah, when he was little and did nothing but snooze and purr. When he woke up and became a wild man, my own preferred moniker — Mad Jack — seemed more appropriate.

To be honest, though, we call him Burt when he makes that little brrrt sound (which is often), Buster, Budge, Buddy and BooBoo. Also, Monkeyface.

I’m afraid all of my animals have to endure this. I call them by their proper names when it’s important — like when there’s a particularly nice treat, or they’re about to step on something hot — and they do seem to learn their names okay.

I like Mad Jack!

The above are the names Her Stoatliness calls him. I have… other names. Especially when he is swinging from my trouser legs with his claws ripping at my flesh.

But right now, as I type, he is curled up on my back paws, fast asleep. Jack. Mad, sometimes.

“Kitties Rip My Flesh”…

I’ve always dreaded the day when the cats figure out that we are all made of meat, and lots of it, hidden behind a flimsy, also edible, wrapper.

“A loved child has many names.” – Finnish proverb

My mother used to say that a lot.

Hey Stoaty, I saw this on Imgur and thought you might enjoy it.

http://imgur.com/gallery/GBJr6Kg

Fair enough. We had English food in the ethnic section in RI.

Ah, but did you see THIS on Imgur?

What the heck, Pupster. Where’s the light beer?

I had no idea there was such a thing as Reese’s Puff cereal.

OMG AliceH it is a wondrous thing, and the milk tastes like a peanut butter shake at the end.

Also – http://tinyurl.com/kq884kz

Didja get a little rain and wind over there, Sweas?

Ah yes, the joys of therapeutic Kitteh-Puncture….

Many of my cats have had nicknames. Arizona, the big red Maine Coon mix, was known as Plumus Tailius Arizonicus; Marie-Antoinette, as Twanette. Chekov the Siberian is known as Lampkiller (for his hobby) and Tubbo (for his barrel-shaped form). And Wolf, the big black thug, is known as — well, see my screen name.

All of them, of course, were and are known from time to time as “Dammit.”

My neighbor’s name is Mad Jack…..
I, too, have been a victim of Kitteh-Puncture…..Mine are named Thing 1 and Thing 2.

Kitteh puncture and the raspy sandpaper that is a kitteh tongue scouring every bit of imagined dirt from your nose. Or eye. Or ear. Or whatever the cat can reach.

We do not own them. 🙂