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Oct. 20th, 2009
State of the pusscat
Oct. 20th, 2009 05:25 pmMadam Harley has had her stitches out, and is busily regrowing her shaved tummy. She's now 'chipped' and I can actually feel the lump of the chip along her spine.
Her skin is unfortunately doubling in flakiness; not sure if this is cumulative effect of moving to an indoor lifestyle, having the heating on (started in earnest last week), or a change in diet to the 'neutered cat' food.
To combat the spread of flakies, we're brushing her with an old clothes brush (not the lint brush type, but an old-fashioned brush-dirt-off-your-suit-cuffs type).
It's proving to be the Purr-o-Matic Brush, almost as good as Mom's tongue used to be.
She flops on the futon and wriggles around in response to brushing, occasionally changing position or flipping sides so I can do the other flank, and thus keep her from being lopsided, producing burning-hot cute by the bucketload.
She's not (yet) keen on having her face brushed. China, when presented with a brush, would push her face against it to get a good solid smear of kitty pheromone marking along the brush, and straighten her whiskers at the same time.
Harley has seduced Robert's regular gaming friends, who come to pay court as they arrive and leave.
She's not one for picking up, but will accept humbly offered scritches and pets with good grace and purrs.
The midnight (and sometime daytime) crazies continue: scrabbling at invisible mice under doors, racing up and down stairs for no apparent reason, and crying mournfully at closed doors. We're endeavouring to ignore the evening complaints, so she gets used to being left in the living room overnight, and doesn't come to expect nighttime cuddles on the bed.
Her skin is unfortunately doubling in flakiness; not sure if this is cumulative effect of moving to an indoor lifestyle, having the heating on (started in earnest last week), or a change in diet to the 'neutered cat' food.
To combat the spread of flakies, we're brushing her with an old clothes brush (not the lint brush type, but an old-fashioned brush-dirt-off-your-suit-cuffs type).
It's proving to be the Purr-o-Matic Brush, almost as good as Mom's tongue used to be.
She flops on the futon and wriggles around in response to brushing, occasionally changing position or flipping sides so I can do the other flank, and thus keep her from being lopsided, producing burning-hot cute by the bucketload.
She's not (yet) keen on having her face brushed. China, when presented with a brush, would push her face against it to get a good solid smear of kitty pheromone marking along the brush, and straighten her whiskers at the same time.
Harley has seduced Robert's regular gaming friends, who come to pay court as they arrive and leave.
She's not one for picking up, but will accept humbly offered scritches and pets with good grace and purrs.
The midnight (and sometime daytime) crazies continue: scrabbling at invisible mice under doors, racing up and down stairs for no apparent reason, and crying mournfully at closed doors. We're endeavouring to ignore the evening complaints, so she gets used to being left in the living room overnight, and doesn't come to expect nighttime cuddles on the bed.