left rev. -- Sorry, darlin'; the moms was in town from your neck of the woods.
L.E. is inside a collapsible mesh clothes hamper. When I leave for work each day, it is upright. When I return, it's ipped over on its side, and all the dirty clothes inside are covered in cat hair, for some reason. :)
Fireworks: Neither of the boys care for them, but they didn't completely freak out and like hide for hours on end. They'd just zoom down the hall, and a few minutes later, come back and chill, as usual.
Heh. He's just missing you all day, Dad, and wants to get next to your scent.
The Wyoming thang: Mr. left rev. would never spend any money doctoring up his barn cats. So we'd go to the feed store and get big ole boosters for rabies and whatever lese they had on sale, and we'd get over the counter antibiotics whenever one of our guys tangled with something bigger. You had to veeeeery carefully, scoop up said feline, love on him a bunch, and then, when he least expected it, PLUNGE HIM HEADFIRST INTO A WORKBOOT. That left only the relevant part hanging out and put a damper on the knives they'd bring to the needle fight. Of course, once the injections were over, you had a rather pissed off friend who needed to be released from the boot.
My method was to drop the boot on the hay bales and run like hell, but sometimes they'd unwind out of that boot like they were spring loaded, and they'd go for whatever part of you they could reach.
.
3 comments :
What, exactly, am I looking at here? What has poor LE gotten himself into?
Were there fireworks when he was released? Remind me to tell the story of how we used to vaccinate our farm cats in Wyoming :)
-left rev.
left rev. -- Sorry, darlin'; the moms was in town from your neck of the woods.
L.E. is inside a collapsible mesh clothes hamper. When I leave for work each day, it is upright. When I return, it's ipped over on its side, and all the dirty clothes inside are covered in cat hair, for some reason. :)
Fireworks: Neither of the boys care for them, but they didn't completely freak out and like hide for hours on end. They'd just zoom down the hall, and a few minutes later, come back and chill, as usual.
Do I wanna know about this Wyoming thang?
.
Heh. He's just missing you all day, Dad, and wants to get next to your scent.
The Wyoming thang: Mr. left rev. would never spend any money doctoring up his barn cats. So we'd go to the feed store and get big ole boosters for rabies and whatever lese they had on sale, and we'd get over the counter antibiotics whenever one of our guys tangled with something bigger. You had to veeeeery carefully, scoop up said feline, love on him a bunch, and then, when he least expected it, PLUNGE HIM HEADFIRST INTO A WORKBOOT. That left only the relevant part hanging out and put a damper on the knives they'd bring to the needle fight. Of course, once the injections were over, you had a rather pissed off friend who needed to be released from the boot.
My method was to drop the boot on the hay bales and run like hell, but sometimes they'd unwind out of that boot like they were spring loaded, and they'd go for whatever part of you they could reach.
Oh yes...there would be fireworks.
-left rev.
Post a Comment