it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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You know, I'm not convinced that those peel-off cucumber-mango-rare-Australasian-fish-oil masque thingies do anything for the texture and/or health of one's skin, but I have to admit, they are serious good gross fun. Like a peeling sunburn, only without the attendant skin cancer and agonizing pain.

Today's cute cat story: We have three cats and two dogs. Four of those animals are rescues, either shelter rescues or found-on-streetcorner rescues. The most recent of these is Mithrandir, who is a 23-lb monster of a grey tuxedo shorthair with the body structure of a puma and the soul of a wallflower, who probably would have been named "Beaker," if we'd known his personality better when it came naming time.

To wit, I brought this cat home as a three-month old. Both the shelter and I thought he was a six-to-eight month old, which gives you an idea of his size as an adult cat. He's just enormous--a long, tall feline with a head as big as a regulation softball. He's also the softest, sweetest, shyest cat I have ever known. And declawed, which always makes me furious.

Anyway, Mith doesn't meow of snarl or hiss. He meeps. Exactly like Beaker. meepeepmeepeepitymeepeeepmeep. Like that. Even when he's wrestling with Marlowe, who is the 8-lb cat (That's right; literally a third Mith's size) who is his constant companion, shieldbrother, and beloved torment. So, not infrequently, I will hear something that sounds like this:

scuffle scuffle
rowwwr?
meepmeepeeepeeepeeeeeeeep?
scuffle
meeeeppppppp!
scufflescuffle
rowrrrrowrroworrrowrrr
meeep!
scufflescuffle

*break, and wash*

Anyway, as I'm lying in bed last night, I hear scuffling and meeping. Meeping and scuffling. and I think nothing of it, until I realize (1) Marlowe is sleeping on my butt and (2) it's missing the rorrwwwrrrwwwwow! component. So I drag my loathesome self out of bed, and slide open the closet door, and lo and behold... there's Mith, blinking at me with big yellow eyes.

And he says (wait for it!) "Meep!" and bounces out of the closet, and shakes himself--very thoroughly--and saunters down the hall.

As near as I can figure, he must have been in there from when kit_kindred got dressed, at about 3:00 PM.

Yes, this is the same cat that got caught in the recliner last year.

Meep, indeed.


Today's APOD: weird platey looking things on Mars that could be a frozen sea. Or, yanno, something else.

Capitol Hill Blue still hates everybody, but Jeff Gannon and George Bush more than most. Don't hold back, Doug. Tell us how you really feel.
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