Garbo's Better, Sort Of

Garbo's Elizabethan collar was finally off for good by November 1.

She had figured out how to get it off once about a week after she first got it, early October. I cleaned the e-collar of dried Garbo snot and saw that she wouldn't leave her back alone so the e-collar went back on, this time with a real collar with clasp, bell removed, instead of the gauze pseudo-collar.


A week later her wound was healing enough that hair was starting to grow again. I took the e-collar off for observation; Garb just went right back to licking her wound like crazy. After cleaning the e-collar again, I put the e-collar back on Garb. Week three, I took the e-collar off and Garb groomed herself all over, essentially treating her old wound like a regular dirty spot that needed cleaning instead of something that needed to be chewed off.

You can still see where the spot is on her back but instead of chawing on it, Garbo nudged Spook for comfort and, like the good man he is, he always complied. I'm not sure, but I think he was dead-asleep when he put an arm around her this particular time. Garb and Spook, Jenny and Forrest, peas and carrots.


Thinking Garbo's runny nose was due to a food allergy, the vet had given me a Ziploc baggy of some hypoallergenic food to see if the cats would like it. That food was like cat crack and I used the dry morsels like treats. For a while Spooky sat on command in anticipate of a hypoallergenic triangular bit of ecstasy. I'm pretty sure he'd have jumped through hoops of fire while riding a tricycle and juggling bowling pins for them.

I bought a bag. This stuff goes for about SEVEN BUCKS and change A POUND; the cats practically inhale it before their food bowls hit the floor.


I got a letter from the IRS early October saying I owed them a bunch of loot from a mistake I made on my 2012 taxes. My immediate reaction was "screw you" and then "okay, I see the mistake you painstakingly described to me in every possible way, but if I'm going to give you any money I'm going to spend that much on me (my Harley) too". I got the Harley rocker box gaskets - front, the leaky one, and back - replaced, new grips put on, full service, and detailing, something I never thought I'd pay labor for, particularly the detailing. (Shout out to Cycle Doctor! They're awesome!) My point is that if my kidlets, Baby Girl Garbo and Spooky-Dook, aka Booger, can eat meals of $7/lb, I should too. As soon as the vet bill is paid off, it's on. Don't be surprised if none of us can fit out the front door in a year.

Trust

Nate was down Thursday and asked about Spooky. Yep, Spook's still around. I dug up some photos I'd recently described to Chuck. About a year ago, Spook was laid out in his customary September 10 a.m. heat-disperson/absorption pose. I took the opportunity to demonstrate via photos how much Spook trusts me. Or how he's way into bathing. Or is so lazy he appears dead. If I took the same photos today, you'd see the results are the same except Spooky's lunch box is bigger and my shoes are more raggedy.

Photos as taken from my view:


Did Spook move at all? I rotated the same pics above so that Spooky was essentially in the same direction (no, I didn't break out a scale/ruler for precision) but cropped them so there wouldn't be tons of blank field.


 

That cat's got major trust. He didn't even blink, switch an ear, or twitch his tail as I moved around him, closer each time. I love this animal and swear he wasn't drugged at the time.

Meanwhile, Garbo was all "I'll throw up $5/lb food all over the kitchen floor before I chillax in the 5 cent paper bag I'll shred Spooky's face over if he gets too close".


It's all about trust.

Growing Celery from Celery, Week 4

The celery leaves were lookin' good, the stalks were still stalky, but there wasn't any extreme growth happening.

Apparently, all of the plant energy was going into the roots. What looked like a nubbin of a baby tooth the week before was really long and even had a sister root. Both of them were smooshed against the cut bottom of the celery as they'd been pinned between it and the container.

It was time to let the roots grown like they were meant to, downward in some dirt. I had purchased some Miracle Gro Organic Choice Potting Mix for another something and used some on the celery.

I dumped some of the mix into a pot, made a little well in the mix, plunked the celery in there, mooshed some more mix around the celery so just the new green growth was sticking out, put the pot in the old Glad container, and watered the celery.

Spooky conveyed to me, "I'm concerned about the quantity of attention you pay this simple plant. I feel neglected. It seems you love this green inedible thing, I can't believe I'm saying this, but that you love it more than me." And I was all, "Dude, c'mon! Get out of the friggidy frackin' light!" I think I hurt his feelings.

Because I went to work and came home and found this horror!*

*Ok, not exactly, but very close. I started cleaning up the mess, realized how wet the dirt was and that sucking it up in my Bissell immediately probably wouldn't be the brightest thing to do. I see I neglected to return the celery to the scene of the crime.

 

Thankfully I'd purchased Chobani yogurt to make dumb, gross lemon muffins and saved the container for recycling and was too lazy to take it to the recycling center promptly.

 

Some of the broken clay pot went into the bottom of the container (for weight and to prevent celery drowning) before fresh wet dirt from the floor was used to repot the once-potted celery.

Spooky Tearin' Shit Up

I never, ever, not even for a second, thought I'd buy cardboard for the sake of buying cardboard. Spooky is fully-clawed as nature intended and thus his tendency is to loosen-the-dead-and-sharpen-the-new claws in each of his paws regularly on the leather chairs. This behavior has, in turn, caused me to grow as The (pussy-whipped) Cat Master.

What the hell, it was buy one get one free. What's dumb though is the leather on said chairs is essentially cooked already. Wood is clearly visible in a few spots. They look really shabby. Spook's lucky he's so cute and has personality and facial expressions I adore. Otherwise I'd pack his bags and take him to the bus station with a ticket to Toledo.

I'm kidding! Spooky doesn't know anyone in Toledo! What do you think I am, a monster? I'd get the ticket for Grand Rapids, where Spook would learn a trade, like welding from the vantage point of Dad's shoulder. That Spooky's black would help conceal the oil-residue his fur coat would accumulate in the first 1.3 minutes in Dad's garage.

Each cardboard box of cardboard honeycomb had a little packet of dried catnip beneath the honeycomb. I opened the first box, removed the honeycomb and catnip packet, sprinkled the catnip on the bottom of the box, returned the honeycomb to the box, and put the box of catnipped-honeycomb on Spook's chair.*

At first, Spooky just pulled at the honeycomb and sniffed it all over, becoming slightly aggressive about it, rubbing his cheeks against it, standing on it, sniffing it some more, rubbing against it further, occasionally drawing his claws.

Look at those little claws, extended just slightly. I think that's about the same pressure he applies to my face in the morning when he desires feeding. So sweet.

And then he became stock-still, pupils completely dilated, ready to kill. Suddenly Spooky freaked OUT on the cardboard, scratching it, rubbing it, and pawing at it, flipping it over onto the floor.

I wish I'd caught that and the rest on video. Spooky gave that box hell. It was all teeth and nails for a furious four minutes. That box nearly made it's escape via the bathroom (window?) but the Great Black Hunter seized it and worked it over vigorously before it got any further. I managed to capture the moment immediately after the kill.

Now that it's dead, Spook has no further interest. $15 in cardboard was entertaining for about 8 minutes. That about $2 a minute, right? For CARDBOARD.


*Yes, one of the leather chairs is his and the other is mine. His is laid out with cush sheets (3 million count, Egyptian, if I remember right). Spook doesn't understand personal space and I need the separation during my conscious hours. His tendency is to spread out all over me at night when I am asleep or trying to get to that dreamspot; that's too much closeness already. If I didn't know he thinks he's a dog, I'd think Spook requires co-dependency therapy.

Apparently, Spooky's Hungry

Twice a day, I feed Spooky by putting food in his bowl, I swear. He even gets fresh water each time.

I think Spooky thinks he's hunting when I bring home a new bag.

That or he's telling me the last bag went stale. Hmm...

Oh crap.

Spooky Eats Grass

C'mon Spooky, Just TRY It

The Kitty Grass instructions said that once the grass was an inch or taller, my cat could enjoy the taste of the Kitty Grass.

My Kitty Grass was certainly more than an inch tall, maybe even three inches tall, and I had to talk Spooky into trying it.

I tried talking Spooky into it for so long that his eyes became glazed over.

Zombie Spooky. He gets this look when he's trying to mentally erase me from Earth.

Finally, Spooky realizes there is no way out. He has to give it a try just to get me to shut up about it.

So he sniffs.

And is pretty sure this grass is just not right.

Teleportation Spooky: "If I concentrate hard enough, I'll be outside of this apartment."

That didn't work, so he tries another tactic:

"Momma, I'm happy with smelling the grass. See? I'm smiling for you, even showing teeth; I'm really happy. Can I go now?"

NO!! You MUST eat the grass! I spent five days making it for you and you WILL eat it!

So Spooky bats at the blades, sniffs them, and thinks this is just dumb.

Hey, wait! Spook! You get your butt back here and eat this grass!

Oh well, at least the grass is pretty.