Sanna's Bag

“I never seem to have what I need when I need it. I’m going to make a belt-bag that’s bigger on the inside than on the outside, and just carry everything with me.”

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Bathing cats

I gave the boys a bath. They were pitiful, miserable, and reasonably well-behaved. One tried to claw his way out of the sink, but I caught both his paws in one hand, stared into his eyes forcefully and said, "You are going to get this bath!" and he settled down. Can't say he took it like a man, because he still wriggled like a greased piggy, and I finally had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and suspend him for the final rinse, but at least the claws stayed in after that. The other boy was just pitiful. "Why are you being so mean to me, Mom? I'm a good cat." This is the one that craps on the floor. But a skinny, wet old cat is about the most miserable thing in the world. I held him on my lap for about two hours, getting him all dry and fluffy again.

Then I went to pick up Candy, and she lay contentedly with her paws tucked under her, looked me in the eyes and said, “You may be Momcat to those weakling males, but I am a queen in my own country, and I choose not to bathe right now.” So I put Frontline on all of them ($10 a dose!) and left it at that.

Now the boys smell quite lovely (I used lavender-scented glycerine soap on them.) and don’t itch at all any more. And Candy was being nibbled all night long, poor girl. But she has settled down, so the little buggers must have all died by now. I can’t bear to kill a mouse directly, but I positively ENJOY killing fleas! (If you catch one, roll it between thumb and forefinger to stun it, then crush it between your thumbnails. Nothing else seems to do the trick.)

O damn! There's a possum in the walnut tree. Anyone who has ever seen one of those verminous critters up close would never think "cute" in the same paragraph with them. Possums are so ugly that I think they must have to mate in the dark! They carry diseases and beat up on kitties and plunder unsecured garbage cans, spreading their spoils all over the neighborhood. and I can't do a thing to make it go away. Damn!! I would throw rocks at it, but I can't throw that high. I would squirt it with a hose, but the hose won't squirt that high. I will wish it a brief and glorious life, with emphasis on the brief part. And if it sets foot in my yard, the ferocious flapping woman will ride out on her broom and make it feel unwelcome!!

When frightened, possums flop over and play dead. Oddly enough, this never fools cars and trucks. Crossing a road with a possum is one of the most dangerous things in the world to do.

Finished the hot sunshine hat last night and cast on for a scarf to match. I am running a strand of white yarn along with the Blue Moon hand-dyed to make heavier yarn for faster knitting on big needles. I do love my good old Susan Bates nylon size 10s circs! These are my favorite needles!! No join, so they work very fast, but the nylon isn't so slick that stitches want to drop off. I am knitting the length of the scarf in seed-stitch. the white lightens the colors, but doesn't mute them at all. It's GORGEOUS!!

4 Comments:

  • At 10:06 AM , Blogger Lucia said...

    Q: Why did the chicken cross the road?
    A: To prove to the possum it could be done.

    I hate hate hate giving flea baths. When we moved we somehow left all the fleas behind, and now we just do endless battle with ticks.

     
  • At 2:47 PM , Blogger Starfish said...

    Ick. That's why I don't let my cats outside. We have possums around here too, they're even nastier than the racoons.

    So where's the picture of the scarf??

     
  • At 4:34 PM , Blogger Pat K said...

    I washed a cat.

    Once.

     
  • At 11:30 AM , Blogger Amy Lane said...

    ah...washing cats... haven't done that since we've decided to consign the dumb white thing who hates us and all our spawn to the garage...

    but well done on your part...fleas, I hates 'em! We're watching Over the Hedge ad infinitum at my house...sorry,all I can think of when you talk about possums is "Ozzie! You can't kill Ozzie!" Kids cartoons do that to you...

     

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