Kitty Shrink

A recent photo of my cat Harry, who turned nine July 4th.

They cut the lawns on Monday morning, perhaps other times during the week depending on whether or not it rains while they attempt to do the work. 

If I’m home, someone will complain about the lawn crew adamantly in his own way. That being is my cat, Harry. He will jump up on my bed and sleep, or go under it if the lawn personnel are nearby. 

In my observations with cats in my life, which wasn’t all that much before Harry came into it, cats simply don’t like noise. Yet it’s something to see a middle aged cat cower like an infant and display a sudden need for protection and attention. 

Meow Mix

I don’t know what possessed Google Photos to make this video for me. I certainly didn’t ask them to do it. It probably saw that I was taking all of these photos of my cat Harry and made a nice little collage out of it.

Warning: the jazzy song in this tune consisting of one word, the word being meow, will stick in your head. You’ve been warned.

Thank you Google Photos…I think. I’m a little creeped out over the whole thing.

Practice Makes Purrfect 

At Petco, April 27, 2017, Pinellas Park.

A couple of weeks ago, I took Harry for his once every three months nail clipping at Petco. 

But, I had to take Harry to the store twice in three days. The first time I took him, I learned that they had adjusted the hours they offer pet grooming, from noon to 8pm.  Before that, you could go anytime they were open. 

Harry doesn’t like being caged up, as I figure most cats wouldn’t. He hangs on to me and meows what sounds like a “No!” when I put him in before eventually concedes. 

He also, in his older age, vomits in his cage when I take him there. Don’t know how that “car sickness” got started.  But I always give him treats (catnip flavored Temptations) when the ordeal is over. 

Life With A Hambone

Harry is a champ at sleeping.
I will be the first to admit I spoil Harry a bit. He gets his way a bit too often, and gets a bit pouty at times. 

When I can’t give him attention at times, he howls at me. 

There are times he’s worth the fuss. Sometimes when he’s trying to coax me, he chirps at me, changing his pitch as if he is saying, “Hey bud, help me out here.”

Then, he occasionally says “Ah roo-roo” to me, as I think I’ve documented before here. Is he trying to tell me he loves me?

But more likely, I’m reading something into things that’s not there. None the less, “Hambone” is a thrill to be around. 

A Word From The ASPCA

It’s a slightly foggy morning where I live here in Florida. I’m waiting a couple of hours for the threat to die down completely before I take Harry to the local Petco for his quarterly nail trimming. 

Speaking of the devil…

I tend to watch Fox News if I’m at home during the day, and they sometimes run those ads for the ASPCA. There must be some philosophy that they have that those ads have to make everyone feel bad if they don’t own a pet or something

It’s always soft violin music, close ups of sad pets. I’m not saying that there are pet population problems in parts of the country. It’s logical it exists. 

I’m just saying they could make their ads a happier place. Show the happiness of pet ownership as opposed to the sadness of not being an owner. 

Next week, I will have owned Har for two years, taking care of him on and off since 2010. Generally, he improves my daily mood, making me feel better about myself. There are days he tries my patience, but you have to take the good with the bad in all of life’s elements. 

Not everyone can own a pet. If you can’t, that’s life I guess. No need to make everyone cry their eyes out over a commercial. 

Harry On The Pounce

cartoonedharry

I was playing with Harry this morning, and all of sudden, he saw my arm as a piece of steak and started attacking it, crashing his small body into my limb and attacking it like a competitive eater.

I yelped, “UHHH!  AHHH!  Harry, NOOO!” He attacked with such zest, I had to smack him one to get him off of me.

A few minutes later, marks started to appear on my arm.  Off to the bathroom to apply Neosporin and peroxide.

He does this occasionally. Most of the time he’s fine, but there’s that one time in 100 where he thinks he’s a tiger. The odd thing is he’ll cry a bit while he does it. Maybe he realizes the remorse he has attacking is friend…me?

Harry always has had a bit of feral cat in him, but I thought in the last week or so we had bonded better than we ever had before. Then, this happens.  Oh well, back to the drawing board.