May was ok. Izzy is getting her “little girl face” as Jonas gets his “toddler face” too.  Kittens are getting huge as well.  Overall, good stuff.

Total pics taken for May:  ~120 (this looks to be the average now…)

There once lived many of your kind in this home.  They too were saved from the unthinkable fate that awaited too many of your kind.  We did everything we could to make them feel loved and wanted.

There lives one of us that possesses a special gift for your kind.  She loved your kind like no other.  She broke the rules of the home to keep you all happy.  She used every resource to make sure you were all safe and healthy.  Yet, she loved you especially.

For some reason, your small size and fuzzy fur melted her heart more than any of your kind.  For some reason, she took special care of you, more than any of your kind.  She did everything she could for you, more than any of your kind.

But you had to leave too early anyway.

She hopes that you won’t fear for your sisters fate.  She works hard everyday and night, like she did with you, to make certain of her place within our home and this world.

So, good luck little Chrome and thank you.

So. One of our cats is crazy.  I gave her no reason to fear me, nor any other human.  She’s a beautiful long haired  cat and we recently had to bring her inside to shave her mats off.  Ciri gave her some Benadryl that day to help calm her down while we shaved her down.

Well, she might be getting a little bit of cabin fever because I noticed that she’s been leaving me nice piles of stinky urine around the house.  After I found out she peed on the couch, we decided that her new home would be the garage.

Round ‘em Up.

Corralling a cat is difficult.

I left the garage door open and tried to chase her into the garage, but she wasn’t having it.

I started running after her but that didn’t work either.

Finally I decided to try and catch her.  Bad idea.

She was dumb enough to try and run by my legs so I reached out and grabbed her…  Jeez. Just typing this is making my heart rate go up…  As I grabbed her she hissed and growled then immediately followed up with scratching and clawing of my hands.  When that didn’t work she dug her teeth into my finger.

She did not let go.

After what seemed like an eternity she released her grip on my finger and I immediately pinned her down.  It was about a minute total from grabbing her to actually being able to scruff her and throw her in the garage, but man, it felt like forever.

MEDIC!

I rinsed my hands in hot water and peroxide as soon as I could.  My middle finger is swollen to almost twice its size – making typing a chore…

Anyway, Ciri always tells me stories about cats that scratch her up and are just evil.  In the end, she prevails, but not without a good dose of adrenaline and scratches.  I think I finally understand what she goes through after tonight.

P.S. The pictures don’t do my battle wounds justice. My hands are ten times worse than the photos.  Plus, I was still shaking from the excitement when I took them.

Ciri is a veterinary technician and a total bleeding heart. I have a house full of cats to prove it. She’s done well in the past year, until now – um… sort of.  Meet the new “addition:”

She’s sort of a new addition.  I say sort of because the conditions that we agreed to makes the “addition” actually a “fosteree.”  Ciri is supposed to go out and find her real family or a at the very, least, a new family.

The only reason the dog is even being allowed here is this:

We think she was hit by a car, receiving some hip fractures along with the nasty wounds.  She’s a very mellow and friendly dog; it’s really sad to see animals this way, but I’m glad we could offer her something more than a concrete run.

Luckily, Ciri’s coworkers found the owners and the dog went back to her family earlier this evening.  I hope she heals well and lives a long life.

I don’t think they would have found each other if not for the microchip implant.  Love those things.  Anyway, thought that would give some insight into my “twit” from last night.

I don’t like confrontations. I feel that real men should be able work things out calmly and civilized. Confrontations just bring out the worst in people.

My neighbor came over today to speak about his garden and our cats. The cats apparently poop in his yard, in his plants, and in his vegetable garden. Worse still is the fact that they are digging up his vegetables.

I admit that our cats are completely capable of every single one of his accusations, and I genuinely feel responsible for his garden. That is until I give the situation some thought. His garden is surrounded by an 8 foot high fence, he lives across the street from us and cats don’t have any reason to dig up vegetables. Ok, maybe they could jump his fence and maybe they would take a crap in his yard, but why? Why would they go through all that? Our cats are lazy and dumb. They have a garden in our back yard with a four foot fence. They have 50 feet of wetland behind our yard to leave their droppings. And, not only that but I have seen our cats dig a hole in our yard to poop. When they are done, they promptly cover the whole back up. It just doesn’t make any sense. Yes, they can do it, but would they?

Our neighbor is interesting. Before the house next to his was sold, he would drive his truck in the vacant home’s driveway and drive over the vacant home’s grass so that he can pull into his backyard with supplies. I thought it was funny that he felt it was OK to do that, but it also gave me a small clue of this guy’s character.

So, yesterday he comes up to me and says (this is the first time we have spoken, by the way), “I know that this isn’t the best way to start, but you need to keep your cats from shitting in my garden. They can shit on my yard, they can shit on my plants, but you need to keep them out of my garden.” the entire time hes talking, he looks at my face maybe twice. (Oh yea: we have five cats that live outside, but we’ve seen at least four other cats in our neighborhood.)

What the hell do you say to something like that? I can’t guarantee the cats will stop and I can’t watch his fence 24 hours a day. I sure as hell can’t just get rid of them either. And, no, that wasn’t the best way to start, dude. Admitting you’re wrong does not release you of the consequences. I told him I would do my best to keep them out of his yard, but really there isn’t much I can do.

I understand his anger and I want to resolve this without bad neighbor blood. But there is only one way this will resolve in his mind, and it’s an impossible resolution.

Now it’s just a matter of time before he comes over again with the same complaint. I am not the person that responds to anger with anger, but something tells me this hole situation is going to get worse. I’m troubled that this old man felt the only way he could confront us was with aggression; people like that don’t listen well.