Kitteh Kredenza

Okay, it's not really a credenza. But it IS our new solution to feeding the cats off the floor (so that the dogs don't steal their food) and keeping them off the kitchen table. And look, all three fit at once: Naomi the tiny perfect tortie cat, Julius the fluffy orange Nova Scotian cat, and Alex the three-legged manipulator. "Manipulator" because when we saw him at the SPCA, he was all love and cuddles, but the minute we got him home it was, "Eeyuw! Human! Don't pick me up! Don't touch me! Okay, you can scratch my chin, but that's enough. Now where's my food, woman? Food. I NEED FOOD! Now. Now! NOW!!!"


Alex is beyond obsessed with food. I often wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that he was found in a leghold trap, where he'd been suffering for who knows how long. Some kind soul rescued him and the SPCA found a vet to amputate his maggot-infested hind leg. He's a great cat and very mellow, but he has his moments! If he wants food and you don't pay attention, he starts by throwing his metal bowl on the floor (it used to be on top of a small chest of drawers.) Ignore that and the plastic tray under it went. He broke two nice glass water bowls before we got a clue and started making the cats drink out of the dog bowl on the kitchen floor.

If everything has been thrown on the floor and you still ignore him, he stares at your until his eyes bore holes in your forehead. It's hard to keep him on a diet, but we do.

"Does this Kitteh Kredenza make my butt look big?" Well, in his defense, Alex is a big, solid cat but he's not as humungous as this photo makes him look.

I have much to post and there's a backlog of photos piling up. Bee stories, chicken stories, head-in-jar updates... it's coming. Yesterday at 8:30 am we went to help our friends take bales of hay off the wagon and stack them in the barn. I am now a whiz with a hay elevator. I am also apparently quite fit for a middle-aged fart: all the yoga and walking and slaving around the farm seems to be keeping me healthy, knock wood. I spent a hour heaving 40-lb bales onto the elevator and barely broke a sweat. This stuff matters to me because both my parents were dead before retirement age, and I am really hopeful I can overcome my lousy gene pool and live a long healthy life! Chasing around after chickens will no doubt keep me young.

PS: Wallpaper. I hate wallpaper. The kitchen has the least offensive, least floral wallpaper in the house, but I want it on record that I did not pick that stuff currently adorning the walls, and one day it will be GONE.