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#1
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IBKFergus isn't black
IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close
up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the *neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that the other is simply doesn't exist. IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm, whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little "Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by 9:30:05pm each night. I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather than 'kitten'). Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as chaos can be I guess). Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie |
#2
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Yowie wrote:
IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. Weebs was like that, too. He grew into a very bunny-soft, shiney-black kitty, you can only see his stripeys in the right light now. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! I remember Weeble's first purr - I had just finished giving him a bottle (only had him for about 24 +/- hours), and I hear this weird rattle. At first I thought I overfed him, and he got formula in his lungs and I would find it bubbling up his nose... but nope, he was happy & content with a big fat round belly. I flet his throat and flet the vibrations. The tiny little buggar was purring! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. What better place to have a battle than a nice soft mommy-belly? Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the *neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that the other is simply doesn't exist. IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm, whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little "Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by 9:30:05pm each night. Ooooh - sounds like they need Ernie to tteach them the Puss-n-boots face! I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather than 'kitten'). I always though Weeb's tail looked kinda spindly at first - but now he keeps it curly. Sometimes I call him piggy-tail kitty Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as chaos can be I guess). Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie Sounds like IBKFergus is fitting in quite well. -- The ONE and ONLY lefthanded-pathetic-paranoid-psychotic-sarcastic-wiseass-ditzy former-blonde in Bloomington! (And proud of it, too) email me at nalee1964 (at) insightbb (dot) com http://community.webshots.com/user/mgcmdjeep |
#3
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I'm still here Yooooweeeee, so I can reply to your post about IBKFergus,
so he's out of Nappies, I mean his cage, Its Cary has the nappiesof course, sounds like he's gonna grow up just great, you can bet he and Cary will become very close as they grow up together, and then shmogg will come into his own again, shmogg is really beautiful too and Fluff, did you get the letter about the horse called Fluffy's courage? I dont know if thats in the letter in cyber, { the one that got away }funny things keep happening with this Pc so I'll just keep hoping, and if I suddenly disappear, you'll know why! hugs to you and love and kisses to Cary. Jean.p. Yowie wrote in message ... IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the *neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that the other is simply doesn't exist. IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm, whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little "Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by 9:30:05pm each night. I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather than 'kitten'). Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as chaos can be I guess). Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie |
#4
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On Tue, 18 Jan 2005 13:08:26 +1100, "Yowie"
yodeled: IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. Wow. There is a cat like that in my neighborhood. I thought he was very unusual. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. Sounds like the uneasy peace Mimi and Stinky had for awhile. AFA Mimi was concerned, once she knew Stinky was around, the only thing that would satisfy her would be to sow salt so nothing would grow there for 1000 years. :P But she could ignore him if he didn't intrude directly on her. Theresa Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com |
#5
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Yowie wrote:
Yowie wrote a truly great little piece about a day in the life of her family. Thank you for sharing it with us. Regards and Purrs, O J |
#6
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In article , "Yowie" wrote: Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie Ahhhh, poor Yowie, giggle, sorry. Your life is making great reading right now. Suz Macmoosette =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= =^..^= "People that hate cats will come back as mice in their next life." --Faith Resnick |\__/| (=':'=) (")_(") |
#7
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Yowie wrote:
IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. Snip Yowie I love your stories, I look forward to many more as Cary and IBKFergus grow up together. :-) -- Adrian (Owned by Snoopy & Bagheera) A house is not a home, without a cat. |
#8
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On Tue, 18 Jan 2005 13:08:26 +1100, Yowie wrote:
IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the *neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that the other is simply doesn't exist. IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm, whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little "Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by 9:30:05pm each night. I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather than 'kitten'). Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as chaos can be I guess). Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie When you want to call him to you, do you call "here kitty, kitty, kitty" or "here IBKFergus, HereIBK Fergus.here IBK" or what? MLB |
#9
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"mlbriggs" wrote in message
news On Tue, 18 Jan 2005 13:08:26 +1100, Yowie wrote: IBKFergus isn't actually black. Sure, he looks 100% black except for close up when you can see the odd white hair, but in certain light you can see tabby stripes and spots. And this mornign while he was busy extracting his daily blood sacrifice requirement from my hands, I saw that undereath his black fur, there is grey fur. He is, in fact, just a very very dark grey tabby cat. I am now looking forward to seeing how his adult coat will turn out. I suspect he'll have more in common with Shmogg that both would care to think about right now. Last night was the third night IBKFergus spent out of his crate (I had to give it back tot he rescue lady). Thankfully, he killed most of hte bedmice on his first night, so he can catch and kill the few remaining ones by about 11pm and then settle down. Bed territory has been sorted out so that Shmogg takes up his traditional role of by my head, and IBKFergus curls up at the back of my knees. IBKFergus has turned out to be a power purrer! Who woud have thought such a deep rumbly loud harley davidson sort of purr could come from such a tiny body! Which brings me to the weird point. As long as Shmogg can't actually *see* IBKFergus, and IBKFergus can't actually see Shmogg, they will happily cohabitate on my (well, their) bed - with my reclining body acting as the visual barrier. But woe is me if they happen to actually get a glimpse of each other, all hell breaks loose and I quickly become the human equivalent of Hamburger Hill, I am ground zero as the fighting occurs directly upon me. Now surely Shmogg would be able to hear the purr of IBK (cripes, the *neighbours* probably can), and he can't be *that* stupid as to not realise that it is coming from IBKFergus on the bed, but it seems as long as I don't make the mistake of turning over and exposing each cat to a direct visual confirmation of the presence of the other, both are happy to believe that the other is simply doesn't exist. IBKFergus has yet to work out the morning routine and how to jump on my bladder as a way to hurry up the gooshyfood for breakfast, but Shmogg has taught him about the nightly routine of Getting In My Face. By about 9:30pm, whatever guerrilla warfare has been waged by the critters against each other during hte day is called to a ceasefire, and they all gather around the gooshyfood dispensing mechanism (ie, me) and all give me thier version of hte "I am but a poor and starving critter, please take pity on me and feed me just the merest morsel so I may survive for just one more pitiful day on this earth". Its amazing how all three - who entirely fail to acknowledge get along during daylight hours - can all work in tandem like that. Shmogg of course already knows how to howl if the food doesn't appear within the specified time, and Fluffy knows how to scratch and whimper like she's about to die, but the Oscar for the saddest most gooshy-food enducing act of all already goes to IBKFergus who kneads at my ankles and mews pathetic little "Why isn't my Mummy feeding me? Mummy? Are you OK? Mummy? Mummy? Whats happened to Mummy?" mews. If I didn't know any better, I'd be heartbroken by 9:30:05pm each night. I also have to feed them in the order of most likely to eat the other's food. Which mean Fluffy has to be fed first. She eats *anything* even remotely food like, and some things which I'm sure were probably only edible in a past life. Fluff gets locked inthe garage with her food for the night so she can't steal Shmogg's food. Shmogg is next, and is fed on top of the old washing machine. We started to feed him there so as to stop Fluff from eating cat food, but Fluff grew too big, and at least disposes of whatever SHmogg hasn't eaten before it gets maggoty (very quick where we live). And then we have to feed IBKFergus last, so that the other two are busy with eating their food and won't eat the incredibly overpriced kitten food. Of course, IBKFergus doesn't particularly like kitten food, preferring everyone else's food to his own (naturally) but thats what he's going to get for another few weeks or until his tail stops looking a denuded pencil pine and starts looking more like a cat tail (ie, when he graduates to 'cat' rather than 'kitten'). Cary still thinks IBKFergus makes a great animated toy and IBKFergus still thnks Cary's ankles have the sweetest blood of all, so I figure they are pretty much fair game for each other. They both have the ability to yell out if the other's games get too much (they don't do that as often as you think), but I can't figure how to keep them apart, and also figure that one day they'll work out how to play with each other nicely. Neither seems to actually causing the other any actual damage, so as long as one of us is their to supervise Cary, deter IBKFergus from maiign serous inroads into Cary's ankles with the SquirtGun of Death and to extract IBKFergus from Cary's super-human destructo-grip, things are pretty stable (as stable as chaos can be I guess). Still, my kitten fever is well and truly in remission at the moment. And once all the lights are out, and we all settle down for a good night's sleep, the last thing I do is look into Shmoggs eyes, and we both sigh "Kids!!!!" at each other. Yowie When you want to call him to you, do you call "here kitty, kitty, kitty" or "here IBKFergus, HereIBK Fergus.here IBK" or what? MLB "Gooshy food!" seems to work. otherwise, I'm generally telling him to *go away*. The hicky on my neck was not caused by Joel, or any secret lover (hahahaha), merely a black kitten with a tendency to bite any and all of my exposed flesh. I can't wait till he develops into an actual cat, these psychopathic muffins are hard to deal with. Yowie (Anyone know when kittens stop biting? He won't tolerate me stroking or scritching him and bites me immediatley - whilst purring like mad - and I seem to be his favourite thing of all to bit - particularly my hands and feet. is there any chance he will settle down and *like* being fussed upon?) |
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"Yowie" wrote in message ... Yowie (Anyone know when kittens stop biting? He won't tolerate me stroking or scritching him and bites me immediatley - whilst purring like mad - and I seem to be his favourite thing of all to bit - particularly my hands and feet. is there any chance he will settle down and *like* being fussed upon?) He will likely stop biting when he learns it doesn't benefit him. And will let up once he cuts his teeth and moreso when he gets his permanent teeth. Until them do what mamma cats do. Swat his nose and hiss at him. Jo |
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