There's a New Cat in Town

After Fred died, we said we weren't going to get another cat. I really enjoyed not sharing the bathroom. I noticed that it really was easier to keep the house clean. We held out for 4 months. Meet the new cat at our house -- he came with the very appropriate name Leon.

 Leon first belonged to a neighbor. We fed him for her several times when she traveled. He was young, playful, neater than many cats. Neighbor had to move and find a new home for Leon. We couldn't take him because Fred was so pathetic. So Leon went to someone else, and I recently heard thru the grapevine that his new home wasn't working out very well. We had the chance to take him in and pretty easily made the decision to have him.

He's a noble looking beast, isn't he? Really large (fits right in at our house) -- 24 pounds. I think he is 4 years old. The longer he's here, he is relaxing some and becoming very playful again. A real romper and stomper!

 This lovely quilt showed up on Facebook and I'm struck by how much it looks like our new boy.. 

Quick Postcard

A few pics from the last few days -- for one reason or another everything has a yellowy-greenish glow:

My Aunt Doris has new cats: Marsh(mellow) and Yum(Yum). Are they cute or what??

Last week was spent determining I have no signs of heart disease so that is good news:

ooey ooey oow oow1

And here's my latest knitting project -- a sweater for a little girl we know.

That's all for now!

Not a Bad Winter So Far

Knock on wood.

I have been knitting, knitting away on a blue sock.

And even though it's not as cold here as it is most places, Fred and Ethel don't know that and they are careful to seek out the late afternoon sunbeams for their last nap before dinner each day.

Back to my knitting.

a post referring back to a previous post about all the places our cats sleep

The previous post I'm referring to is the last part of this one.
Sometimes Bizarro just nails it.In this case, just a couple of weeks too late.

Touching Base

Oh boy, the days just fly by and I never get to Fried Green Tomatoes anymore, though I often compose mini blog posts in my head, mostly while I'm driving.

The posts in my head are snippets about the new preacher at Circular who is working out very well, thank goodness (in last Sunday's sermon, Pete Seegar was likened to the old-time bibical psalmists. Well, of course, but I had never quite thought of it), but just now I have lukewarm enthusiasm for church as a regular thing -- couldn't I just read his blog?

They are snippets about the "campaign season" which I can hardly stand to turn in to. . . but still I had this reflexive feeling that I wanted to watch the party conventions.

And that leads to a snippet about living sans television, but that is a real quick snippet because it's hard to really know what we're missing because we're um, . . . missing it. All I know is that whenever I do get to see television I think "No, I really do not want this going in my house all the time."

I miss commercials. Annoying as they are, they are a bit of cultural lingo I miss being tuned into. Sometimes in the conversational swirl, I realize I've just been eliminated because I've dropped into the "we don't have cable so no TV reception" hole. But really, the only things I miss are The Olympics and The Oscars (and Masterpiece Theatre and Sunday morning news talk shows but now we're back to not wanting to go to church. . .)

For mindless diversion, we have Netflix and this summer we watched five seasons of a show that ran from 2006 - 2011 on BBC called Doc Martin. He was a surgeon in London but developed a phobia of blood, so now he's a GP in a small village in Cornwall. He's the stereotypical surgeon with no social skills, no bedside manner but he's in a small community where he really needs them. It's filmed in a lovely seaside location and has wonderful quirky characters. Now that we have run through all the episodes, we actually miss the people who populated the little village of Portwynne. We're looking for something else to love but haven't found it yet.

Here's a recent weaving project:

Using these particular colors was an assignment from my weaving study group -- and I made myself use yarns I already had so I dug into these novelty wools and mohairs -- I suddenly remembered these are not ideal for warp threads. Anyway, I'm not crazy about it, it looks very 1970s to me.Plus, it is too much wool for our Lowcountry winters.  I think I'll take it to GreenPeace and let it be the house scarf for anyone who needs one. It gets cold enough up there to appreciate it even if the colors are a bit blah.

And of course every other day I'm sure I have something totally original to share about Fred & Ethel.

This is My Chair

This is my chair

This is my couch

That is my bed

That is my bench

There is my chaise

There is my settee

Those are my footstools

Those are my rugs

Everywhere is my place to sleep

Perhaps you should just get a hotel room

          from I Could Pee on This and Other Poems by Cats

I'll try to check in here a little more often.

Cat in the Bag

Ethel has discovered a paperbag makes a great toy. She circles it, she bats at it, finally, she gets in it.

 

I lay down on the floor with the camera because she is so-o-o cute, but she decides she doesn't want to be cute for the camera.

I'll bet she wishes she could take MY picture.

Changing the subject, I bought this African Violet for $0.75 off the "almost dead" table at K-Mart.

Stay cool, friends. It's entirely too hot outside.

Fred Does a Trick

Meet the Mertzes

Well, Eloise completely went off the deep end and got to where she not only wouldn't come in the house but she wouldn't even stay around our door. She took up on other neighborhood decks. We worried, we fretted, we passed cans of cat food out to neighbors who were "hosting" her but there was nothing she would let us do for her. So I told Duncan I wanted a new cat -- one that we were sure would be a good lap cat.

We ended up with two -- a brother and sister, 10 years old, declawed, sort of plump, big sleepers, and they don't mind being picked up and cuddled. Perfect. Since they are older and a bit frumpy, we named them Fred and Ethel.

Fred

Ethel

The Charleston Animal Society made a big deal about wanting them adopted together because they had always been together but we have discovered they don't really like each other all that much. Ethel is definitely alpha and sometimes out of the blue she'll pounce on ole Fred and they'd yowl and round around in the floor then shoot off in different directions and act like nothing happened.

Last week we looked out the back door and wouldn't you know it, there was Eloise! Ethel fluffed her tail up real big and started hissing, Fred started prowling around with his tail all fluffed up and Eloise blew her tail up to 3 times its normal size while she held her ground. Uh-oh. . . Busted!

I'm sorry Eloise, but we tried to do everything we could for you. You are welcome to be the porch cat. I promise you will eat well. But Fred and Ethel are the indoor cats now and we simply will not allow you to come in and rip their throats out.

Eloise has come around several more times after that. We've always taken food out to her and the three cats have paid less and less attention to each other each time. So, we're going to make this work -- awkwardly, but it's going to work.

Fall is Coming

Here are a few random images captured during the last week or so. Clearly, nothing imperative to impart. . .

I saw these cute little ducks in the window of a shop downtown.

This was the sign in the window. Typical artist? Typical Charleston business mentality? I don't know, but I still really like the ducks.

And on an unrelated note: This is Tripod  -- the stray cat we regularly feed. You can see his missing paw. It is only because of this handicap that Eloise tolerates his presence on her deck. In her own haughty way she is kind to him and sometimes sits guard at the top of the steps while he eats.

He comes to eat with us regularly, but is skittish and will not let us touch him. He is all-boy and cannot behave inside the house (we've tried). We've talked to the pet shelter about him and they will not take him because there is little likelihood that he would be adopted. We should get him to a vet, but we haven't undertaken an attempt to catch him . All we do is put food out for him and try to make him feel safe here. That he let me close enough to take this picture is sort of a break-through.

We also call him Tripodius, TP, and Hiya Handsome.