Instead, look at this lovely picture of my kitty, Miss P, posing under the Christmas tree.
Happy holidays!
–Robin (Bumblebee)
I posted a while back about the crazy Christmas gifts my little brother, Dale, and I exchange. Each year we take an extraordinary amount of time scheming thinking of the most iinsulting considerate and gross thoughtful gifts we can present to each other.
Well, with the oncoming rush of relatives, ourl little family of three had our own private Christmas dinner a gift exchange this past weekend. Of course, I opened my bro’s gift with considerable dread anticipation.
As I said, I should have seen it coming. I mean, in the past Dale has sent me such things as links to some blog where a fellow was posting a daily photo of, yes, his, well, poo and photos of luxury toilets. And just this past Thanksgiving he happily gave me the “Monthly Poo” calendar–a beautifully produced calendar of dog poo in various stages of decomposition and posed in beautiful, scenic locations.
Well, as you can probably guess by now, this year’s gift had a poo theme. Here were the gifts, all beautifully packaged.
First, there was the reindeer pooper.
This was actually sorta cute. The little reindeer dispenses tan and brown jellybeans. I will be sure to use it next time the garden club ladies come calling.
There was also a can of Poop Freeze. This actually seems to have a practical purpose. Apparently you just “frost and toss.” The spray freezes the offending poop to -62 degrees F. The can label is very encouraging: “Poop Happens–Just Freeze It!” and “Because It’s Your Dootie!”
I particularly liked the Nope, It’s Soap poo soap. It would be too too predicable to use it when Dale and his lovely wife come to visit. I’ll have to store this for just the right occasion–like when the garden club ladies come calling.
There was also the highly educational book, What’s Your Poo Telling You? I won’t go into all the details because I don’t want to ruin it for you when you go out to get your very own copy. But I will tell you the names of some of the chapter titles: “Floaters vs. Sinkers,” “Number Three,” “Soft Serve,” “Pebble Poo” and, my favorite, “The-Honeymoon’s-Over Poo.”
Finally, he found this lovely letter writing paper made from recycled elephant poo. Well, you just know what I’m using to write the thank you note for THIS gift, right? The garden club ladies!!!
I like to think that my gift to Dale was a bit more intellectual. Sadly, I can’t share WHAT that is right now because I don’t want to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak. But I am hoping that my sister-in-law will be sure and take a nice picture of Dale with the gift.
I’ll be sure to share.
Happy holidays!
–Robin (Bumblebee)
P.S.
I have a brand new Bumblebee Blog design that I’ll be launching sometime in January (fingers crossed). In the meanime, this is a temporary new design that I couldn’t resist. It’s a new template from SquareSpace. Do you like it?
But I do take exception to the fact that Miss P took it upon herself to re-purpose one of my shabby pansy planters. After all, a flower is still a flower, no? And a flower with a cat sitting on it is nothing more than a squished flower.
But Miss P has taken more than one liberty since we wooed her into switching homes from under a kudzu-covered bush and into our home. I suppose she figures that since we tolerate her slovenly grooming habits, her preference for warm and furry food, how she can get away with occasionally whomping up on an unsuspecting dog and how she can rouse us at 4 a.m. on the coldest of mornings to open the back door so she can enjoy the early morning air, she can get away with anything.
But really, my pansies?
Perhaps it’s time to think about re-planting these containers or putting them away for the winter anyway. The problem with re-planting is that the options are fairly limited when the temperatures outside dip below freezing.
Let’s see…what are my choices?
Helebores in November
I have had very good success with hellebores. It took a couple of years for them to get established, but they are now growing nicely on the shaded north side of the house. They are green all winter long and bloom dark pink to purple flowers starting in February. But given that they take time to get established and these are rather shallow containers that perch on my deck rails, I doubt that they would be suitable.
I could plant with some English ivy. That seems a bit dull and one dimensional though.
I know!!! I could go the route of some creative, color-loving souls and plant faux flowers!!!
(Hah. Just kidding.)
If you have any great ideas for me, please let me know.
Oh, yes. I managed to coax Miss P out of the pansy planter. Much better, don’t you think?
The whole day started off alright. The sun was shining. The hunting was good. The little dogs were the usual annoyance, but under control nevertheless.
Suddenly she realized that she wasn’t being allowed to go back outside. She sat by the door waiting for me to read her mind. Then she stepped up the campaign with some meowing. She knew something was wrong. Miss P is used to having a voice-actuated human and suddenly I was not responding to commands.
It was starting to look bad. She decided it was best to head to the basement for little siesta until things blew over.
That’s when the trouble really started–when she saw me heading for the cat carrier.
“Oh, crap,” I could see her thinking.
Only…the door kept falling off when I picked it up.
Okay, that’s bad. I didn’t want to carry a crazed cat in the car for 30 minutes to the vet. I could just see her bouncing around from side to side trying to escape. Neither of us would arrive alive. So I had to resort to the prissy dog carrier with the Velcro closure. Oh, that was a good idea. Did you know that cats can easily escape from carriers with Velcro closures?
At least I had Ben to drive for me. So he drove while I rode shotgun and kept poking Miss P’s paws back into the carrier whenever they would snake out from the little cracks around the warped Velcro closure. It took constant vigilance to make sure she didn’t make a break for it and cause an accident.
And I never really thought much before about the full range of meows in her repertoire. There’s the standard “meow.” Then there’s the more emphatic “MEOW.” There’s the very sad and somewhat desperate “Whooooeow.” Then there’s the angry “EEEOOOOWWW!” We had the full concert.
As much as she did not want to go into the carrier, when we got to the vet she didn’t want to come OUT of the carrier. Suddenly that carrier looked like a pretty fine place to be.
We pried her out and the veterinarian did a nice, thorough annual wellness exam. Happily, Miss P didn’t seem to mind much the three shots.
Then Evil Bumblebee showed up and asked the doc if he could knock Miss P out, give her a bath and brush her hair.
See, Miss P has lived with us for 8 years. She is not at all prissy and I rarely see her grooming. She is a VERY DIRTY cat. We call her the Pigpen of the cat world.
During those 8 years I have given her ONE bath. You would have thought I was killing her–and she was NOT going down without a fight. Given her extreme and aggressive response I guess we were both lucky to come out of it alive. But I learned one important lesson: Don’t give the cat a bath. She doesn’t even want to be brushed.
Eight years is a long time to wander through the woods, kill things, take dirt baths and NEVER bother to attend to your own personal hygiene. Oh, she may take the occasional token swipe at her chops, but that’s the extent of this cat’s grooming. As a result, things were looking a bit grungy wherever she decided to take a rest. Her white pillow in the basement has a black spot in the middle. The guest room bed has a dirty grey spot where she camps out. I can even tell where she’s been hanging out on the outdoor furniture cushions. She leave trails of ick wherever she goes.
We’ve been pretty tolerant of her general untidiness, but it had gone too far. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, I hired the paid mercenary vet to do the dirty work and Miss P got her bath. At least he could knock her out, where I had to do battle without the benefit of drugs (for either of us). She had to spend the whole day at the vet hospital during which time they did bloodwork, knocked her out and then bathed her, brushed her and cleaned her ears all while she was asleep.
When she got home, she was still woozy and staggering around a bit. But today, she’s like a new kitty. She looks about three pounds lighter. She wants me to hold her all the time, which I no longer mind doing because she’s not disgusting anymore. She actually seems quite happy with herself.
But perhaps that’s just my projecting my pleasure at her finally being clean onto her. Or maybe it’s because she’s just pleased that she gets to start fresh at getting dirty all over again by wandering through the woods, killing things and taking dirt baths.
P.S.
Yes, I know Deli Cat is feline junk food. It is all that Miss P will eat. On the occasions when I have tried to give her a better, more nutritious food she spends DAYS standing at the food bowl yelling at me and generally making life miserable for everyone. I have given up since the Deli Cat is just a small part of her overall diet, which consists mostly of critters. (Eeeww.)
What do you think about having chickens?
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