Friday Cat Blogging
Jan. 19th, 2007 11:07 amHmmmn. Gotta get some new photos. Keep saying that, I know, but really.
Still seem to have a few OK ones I haven't put up yet.
So, here ya go:

Moni looks deep in thought. Moni has no capacity for thought, let alone deep. Her world consists of "Mommy," "Mine," "Kill," "ME!," and "What?" An admirably simple worldview. Right now as I type, she's lying in my lap, purring, and jealous of the attention I'm giving the computer and keyboard, leaning her hard occasionally in to get between me and whatever-it-is-I'm-paying-attention-to-that's-not-her. She is sweet. but stupid and jealous.

Here, Berit holds Hooker. Now that I see this better, on a good monitor, I see that Hooker looks a bit wary. This is not unlike how he looks twice a day currently when we have to force him to take his antibiotic and ear medication.
Berit prepares the medicine in the kitchen while I spread a towel out on the bed and find the boy. I pick him up and hug him and try not to make him suspicious (more and more, an impossible task) as I carry him to the bedroom. Berit comes in with the medicine, sets it down, and takes him from my arms, hugging him and reassuring him. Then she THROWS him down on the bed onto the towel and quickly tries to wrap it around him like a papoose as I try to help by holding it together so his flailing legs don't get out. Then I hold his head as Berit squirts the antibiotic in his mouth and puts the drops in his ear. Moni stands there and makes complainy noises 'cause she's not getting the attention, he is. Then they get half a can of soft food to share as a reward (they normally only get dry food), which seems unfair, as Moni didn't get tortured, but there's no way of giving one of them food and not the other that they'll put up with. This goes on till Sunday.
The aural hematoma in his ear is even bigger, and it now looks like there's a superball in there. I worry, but everything I've read tells me it's okay. Back to the vet on Tuesday.

Oh, Lord. After writing all of the above a half-hour ago or so, Hooker had another epileptic fit. Pretty bad one. Really messy one. He's lying on a towel on the bed now, recovering. Hope he's okay -- I spent most of the half-hour comforting him and manually blinking his eyes so they didn't get damaged. Then I tried to clean him up and he started growling (which he NEVER does), so I backed off for a bit. Finish this up and check in on him now.
Still seem to have a few OK ones I haven't put up yet.
So, here ya go:

Moni looks deep in thought. Moni has no capacity for thought, let alone deep. Her world consists of "Mommy," "Mine," "Kill," "ME!," and "What?" An admirably simple worldview. Right now as I type, she's lying in my lap, purring, and jealous of the attention I'm giving the computer and keyboard, leaning her hard occasionally in to get between me and whatever-it-is-I'm-paying-attention-to-that's-not-her. She is sweet. but stupid and jealous.

Here, Berit holds Hooker. Now that I see this better, on a good monitor, I see that Hooker looks a bit wary. This is not unlike how he looks twice a day currently when we have to force him to take his antibiotic and ear medication.
Berit prepares the medicine in the kitchen while I spread a towel out on the bed and find the boy. I pick him up and hug him and try not to make him suspicious (more and more, an impossible task) as I carry him to the bedroom. Berit comes in with the medicine, sets it down, and takes him from my arms, hugging him and reassuring him. Then she THROWS him down on the bed onto the towel and quickly tries to wrap it around him like a papoose as I try to help by holding it together so his flailing legs don't get out. Then I hold his head as Berit squirts the antibiotic in his mouth and puts the drops in his ear. Moni stands there and makes complainy noises 'cause she's not getting the attention, he is. Then they get half a can of soft food to share as a reward (they normally only get dry food), which seems unfair, as Moni didn't get tortured, but there's no way of giving one of them food and not the other that they'll put up with. This goes on till Sunday.
The aural hematoma in his ear is even bigger, and it now looks like there's a superball in there. I worry, but everything I've read tells me it's okay. Back to the vet on Tuesday.

Oh, Lord. After writing all of the above a half-hour ago or so, Hooker had another epileptic fit. Pretty bad one. Really messy one. He's lying on a towel on the bed now, recovering. Hope he's okay -- I spent most of the half-hour comforting him and manually blinking his eyes so they didn't get damaged. Then I tried to clean him up and he started growling (which he NEVER does), so I backed off for a bit. Finish this up and check in on him now.