A commenter asked how Lucky Tux was doing. Here's a photo update. She's now a healthy, over-active cat. So active, trying to get this portrait taken with Cota took a few extra shots than expected. At first I thought it would be a snap. Anyhow, this was the best I could do. Lucky kept wanting to jump off the table and Cota wouldn't get any closer to Lucky because she still likes to hiss and scratch.
9 comments:
That Lucky Tux looks gorgeous.She and Cato really compliment each other.
You really like cats now, don't you?
Lucky Tux is turning into a beauty. I hope she and Cota get to be pals.
Living with you, those two animals should be renamed "unlucky fux"
Dear virgina herts - I imagine you are a patriotic American and you have the best intentions for Rogers Park - the great thing about animals is that they love us unconditionally in spite of our failings. I hope you find an animal to love you, because it's clear that your attitude would preclude a human being from doing so.
clearly you are a wise woman.
i'm a bitter, angry lonely heart with only animals to soothe the ache. I pass my time writing blogs filled with rage, hate, self loathing and self pity.
hmm. know any single guys like that?
any ducks and geese in this picture? Why does an animal lover not care about the entire animals alive on this earth? Take a look at the animals not in your care, please and then ask yourself why you would attack the one person in Roger's Park who stood up for all animals for heaven's sake.
vanessa, you're a cretin.
How can you say that Moore stands up for "all animals?"
His idiotic little initiative targeted one practice in one industry, leaving out any consideration of the brutality of factory farming in this country, from whence we get most of our meat. I did not hear Joe call for a ban on veal, for example. I do not hear him call for an investigation of the practices of the meat industry in general, which would not bear scrutiny.
Joe's fois gras initiative is just another shallow, meaningless "feel- good" for Limousine Lefties who want to salve their consciences, and egos, at no real sacrifice of their own comfort and convenience.
Right On!.. North Coast.
and Craig.... thanks for posting an
update. Give them some time and they
will be good friends. since getting
my two dogs... my cats have slowly
become tolerant to all dog/puppy mannerisms. a typical introvert
vs. extrovert situation.
The Dog's Diary
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My
favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
The Cat's Diary
Day 983 of my captivity.
My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little
dangling objects.
They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other
inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry
nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations
perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something
in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of
escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again
vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and
dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped
this would strike fear into their hearts, since it
clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they
merely made condescending comments about what a
"good little hunter" I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices
tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for
the duration of the event. However, I could hear the
noises and smell the food. I overheard that my
confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I
must learn what this means, and how to use it to my
advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to
assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around
his feet as he was walking. I must try this again
tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are
flunkies and snitches.
The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly
released, and seems to be more than willing to
return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird must be an informant. I observe him
communicating with the guards regularly. I am
certain that he reports my every move. My captors
have arranged protective custody for him in an
elevated cell, so he is safe.
For now...
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