wee3beasties' photostream  

(Photo from last May)

I have all but given up on my blizzard. Seems as though that will need to wait till next year. Amazing to have a winter without one. Our snowshoes remain hanging in the garage, untouched in over a year. Bet Magnus would have loved to bound through a few feet of snow. . .

Speaking of Magnus, i suspect spring will be a challenge. At least the transition from winter into spring. Why? Not only does Magnus' fur hold onto burrs, it also carries layer after layer of mud and grime. How do I know? I gave him a bath today. Every time I thought I had finally done a thorough job, we ended up standing in yet more grimy water. After the fourth attempt, I gave up. Sigh. And I know that we need to get one of those drain guards. I think even a small stick made it past me down into the bowels of our water pipes. Amazing what all his fur can hide.

[SOOC, f/4.0, ISO 100, shutter speed 1/400]

When I first met Bootsie--now my precious Cumin--I didn't have any true connection to her. But I took her home from the no-kill shelter that day anyway. I guess you could say I acted in faith. After all, I went to the shelter specifically to find a feline that would do well as a pet therapy cat. I recognized that the caretaker of the shelter knew the felines well, and, out of 226 cats, she knew two felines very clearly fit my request. Both Bootsie and Velvet had been born in the shelter. Somehow they were both overlooked when it came to being adopted in their "prime." You know how that adorableness of kittenness supposedly fades (I've never felt that way, by the way, as I have always believed that it actually blossoms into a deeper beauty). Regardless of what happened, both Bootsie and Velvet grew up making regular visits to the local nursing home and continued to visit long into adulthood. I met both girls that day. Velvet, at that time, had no interest in greeting any visitors. Bootsie, however, tolerated my presence. Yep, tolerated. We didn't bond. And yet, I still left the decision in the caretaker's hands. She selected Bootsie to go home with me. I drove the hours back home with Bootsie in a cat carrier on the seat next to me. While I talked to her all the way home, we simply didn't bond. When we arrived home, my heart started to crack. I've learned over the years how to introduce new felines, but none of that was necessary that day. Why? Not a hiss (and Ariel very clearly knows how to hiss, right, Magnus?). Bootsie and Ariel became fast friends. And soon Bootsie--renamed Cumin--started bonding with me as well. I am so, so grateful that I brought her home that day. That act of faith has led to a lifetime of love and devotion.

[SOOC, f/1.4, ISO 200, shutter speed 1/250]

Hmmmmmm, I was trying to figure out what kind of photo I would take for "bubbles" while out for a romp with da boyz. Wasn't quite sure what would be best. Thought I might do a macro of the tiny bubbles that gather by Bogart's teeth along the lines of a photo I took in the past. And then Magnus turned his head. Well, there's nothing tiny when it comes to this boy. Not pretty, but it gets the job done. Thanks, Magnus!

#4 Bubble(s)
112 pictures in 2012

[SOOC, f/2.8, ISO 400, shutter speed 1/400, +4/3 EV]

Mine, not Vidalia's. And the good kind of wet cheeks. You know, the kind that you get when you receive an unexpected e-mail, one that starts with "one year ago" and goes on to thank you for allowing that person to adopt a feline. I had not heard from Kiwi's new owner for quite some time, but I knew that she had moved to Florida because my vet told me that they received a phone call requesting records. I didn't think I'd ever hear anything regarding Kiwi again. Actually, I was okay with that as I felt completely comfortable with the young lady who adopted Kiwi. And yet, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to receive a heart-felt note of thanks telling me how wonderful Kiwi is. Truly blesses my heart.

[SOOC, f/1.6, ISO 100, shutter speed 1/4000]

You may note a wee bit of sarcasm in some of my expressions. You see, last night I intended to get to bed before 10pm as I have a long day ahead of me today and I am still fighting that upper respiratory crud. Well, as I was sitting on the couch cuddling with a few felines, this big boy started those rhythmic movements that spread to more and more muscles all the way into the abdomen until some prize is unceromonously urped on the carpet. Well, Magnus tends to produce larger amounts of such undesirable fare that causes even Bogart, connoisseur of feline emesis, to turn up his nose. I leapt up quickly from under the felines and grabbed Magnus' collar, racing the two of us to the door. Imagine my relief when the puddle akin to pale roux--with some lump obviously not content to reside in a canine belly splat in the middle of it--landed on the front porch rather than inside our four walls. Phew. I was relieved. I didn't know if more was coming, so I tied Magnus outside for a bit. Magnus, beig Magnus, quickly went and wrapped himself around the far tree where the dog run ends. I opted to come back inside for a little while before going out to rescue him. In a matter of about five minutes I peeked out again and Magnus was sitting on the blue dog bed on the porch. He had untangled himself. Thrilled to see me, Magnus smiled (yes, dogs smile) and jumped up wagging his tail. He quickly plopped down by the door. . . yep. Right by the door. Right where I had been so relieved only minutes earlier. And his tail swished back and forth smearing the "roux" from one end of the porch to the other. Oh, great. Our water isn't on outside during winter, so I opted to allow Magnus into the house. We trained him well to sit when at doors, both coming and going. I fought his urge to sit once in the house, blindly grabbing at the towel we use to dry their feet. Poor Cumin was innocently sitting on the towel draped across the railing as I yanked. Thankfully, that table trick of pulling out the tablecloth underneath the setting worked on Cumin. Instead of falling down into the stairwell, Cumin ended up grasping the railing with all claws extended. She succeeded in gaining her balance. Meanwhile, I had to pull Magnus back up and start wiping his back end. Where the towel ended my sleeve began in both directions, so that I successfully wiped "roux" on both my arms and smeared it into his tail and rump. Not quite sure why I thought it would be easier than a bath, I then opted to fill the largest bowl my husband had in the kitchen with soapy water so I could dip Magnus' tail and wash it off. You all can guess where this is going. All over the kitchen floor. Magnus startled once his tail got wet and knocked over the bowl. Poor Kevin came home to a very wet kitchen floor pondering what the horrendous odor lingering in the air could be. Finally, once Kevin was home, I marched Magnus to the bathtub. We washed Magnus' back end and tail without much ado. Then I managed to crawl into bed at 10:55. My husband very kindly cleaned up the mess left behind. Now that is true love. So there may be sarcasm in that title, but not nearly as much sarcasm as truth.

[SOOC, f/1.4, ISO 100, shutter speed 1/500, +4/3 EV]