rurrrr, rurrrr, rurrrr.”
“Oh,” I said. “The growling sound they make when they play fight?”
“No,” she said. “The sound they make when they’re just laying there.”
“Purring? You don’t like the sound of them purring?”
“Yeah.”
Freak.
Stanley was so bothered by the fact that we kept the guest bedroom door shut at all times that every time the door would open, he’d haul ass in there and hide under the bed. One morning, Liz didn’t want to have to hunt him down, so she left the door open while she showered. The next morning, she discovered that some of her clothes had been peed upon. It appears that TubbyThatBastard found an opportunity to sneak in there and show his displeasure, and he seized said opportunity.
I was fucking MORTIFIED. I mean to have him PEE on the clothes of a houseguest, well, I wanted to kill that little fucker. ARGH.
At least Liz thought it was funny, or pretended to.
* * *
Pet store kitty pics are
here.
* * *
Yesterday it was sunny and close to 80. This morning, it’s rainy and 35. I was wanting it to cool off a LITTLE, but not THIS much. Brrrr. I’m glad I made Fred get the fireplace pilot lit, so that all I have to do is go into the living room and flip the switch to get the heat going.
I am in the midst of a raging case of PMS. Strangely, knowing that my mood (which makes me want to write very very bad poetry (“my world is gray and i am blue and the cat, she purrs. give me chocolate.”) and throw myself down on the bed and throw a temper tantrum) is due to PMS doesn’t make it go away. I know I’ll be over it in a day or two, but it sure is hellish while it’s here, goddamnit.
And the cold fucking weather doesn’t help at ALL. ARGH.
* * *
So those lily bulbs I was supposed to plant back at the beginning of the month? Still not planted. Still in the box they arrived in. Which is located next to the boxes of daffodil bulbs.
But that’s not the point.
The point is that when the lily bulbs arrived, I took the box and set it on the
desk next to the garage door. Later that evening Stanley began sniffing around the box, and I swear to y’all, it was as if he was sniffing around a big box of catnip. He immediately started acting high as a kite, and it was funny as hell.
(NOTE: I AM AWARE THAT LILY BULBS ARE POISONOUS TO CATS. THE BOX IS A SEALED BOX AND THE BEAN COULD NOT GET TO THE ACTUAL BULBS TO EAT THEM AND THUS POISON HIMSELF.)
I finally put the box of bulbs out in the garage so that Stanley would stop reeling around like he was on the tail-end of a three-day drunk, and thought no more about it. Except that this morning when I opened the door between the garage and the house, Stanley ran like hell out into the garage as he usually does. Instead of trying to chase him down, I just left the door open so he could come back inside whenever he wanted. Ten minutes later I went out to get something out of the big freezer, and what did I see?
That’s right, Stanley lolling about on the garage floor next to the box of lily bulbs, his eyes madly twirling.
So anyway, my question is thusly: have you ever heard of a cat getting high off lily bulbs? Just curious whether this is a wide-spread phenomenon or a Stanley-only kinda thing.
* * *
I’ll be taking the spud to get her learner’s permit this Friday. You can imagine how very much I’m looking forward to this.
* * *
Da Bean.
A year ago: Ah, pms. Ain’t life grand.
Two: Huh. I didn’t get online until after 12:30 (central time!) today, and the world didn’t stop and mourn me or anything. I don’t know if I like that.
Three: Robyn’s Theory of Feet
Four: If you look closely at the picture, you’ll note that it’s very close to the color of bile.]]>