(no subject)

[nonelvis]

Cat to the left of me! Cat to the right of me! Cat in front ... (Oh, wait, that's not right ...) You may safely assume that if I am making bad poetry references and taking stupid cat photos with my phone, my brain is 100% fried. Let's just say that when the high point of the day is discovering that the aged Toyota that's been parked in our driveway for five years is finally being towed away tomorrow (admittedly, that is a little exciting), it probably has been a very long day.

Cat to the left of me Cat to the right of me

Comments

[platypus]

I like how the calico's patches are all on the outside of the curled-up ball of cat. And Mr. Peterson has white whiskers! (That is Mr. Peterson, right? You only have two?)

There is something disturbing about having three cats. It means there is a cat EVERYWHERE YOU LOOK.

[nonelvis]

We only have two; I have no idea how you deal with three, because just having the two means I am tripping over them constantly. Plus with two, there can be one on either side of me -- kitty détente, with neither getting more than the other. Does having three lead to even more cat jealousy?

I took some other shots of Mr. P with the real camera today, none of which I'm totally happy with, because I really wanted to show all the little white hairs he's getting in his coat to match the whiskers.

Also, you mentioning the placement of Inu's patches reminded me of a shot on my older, much crappier cameraphone, which prompted me to finally download all those photos -- a good thing to do before recycling the phone. I therefore present Lump o' Inu:

[platypus]

That picture is awesome. She sleeps in very interesting shapes.

There was a point when I was in college where my family had four cats in a tiny house. Those were normal cats, though, and they would disperse and sleep for most of the day. Toeffe and Moly are both really big people cats, and even Penny (though she does not want to sleep on the bed, thank god) has a certain need for attention. I think Toeffe's the only one that gets jealous, but he does it quite enough for everybody. He'll insert himself between person and TV/keyboard/other cat/dinner/other human if given half a chance.

Mostly, though, the cats just want to be in the same room as one of us. If we leave one room, even cats that appeared to be happily asleep will gradually drift after us and settle where we do. They're usually not too demanding, but they're very... present. At least Ken's the one who has to contend with a cat that shares his pillow every night.

[nonelvis]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: for supposedly independent creatures, cats are awfully needy!

Into the Valley of Litter Rode the Six Hundred

[profrobert.livejournal.com]

Inu's not a cat; she's a throw pillow.

Mr. P is looking like an old man. I'm going to stop having to do THE TER-ROR with him; he needs less excitement.

Re: Into the Valley of Litter Rode the Six Hundred

[nonelvis]

Inu has started whining to be put up on the couch. She is perfectly capable of doing it herself, but I think she's decided that now that she's an old lady, we owe this to her.

And yeah, Mr. P is definitely looking like an old man. He used to have exactly 11 white hairs on his nose. Now his fur is turning salt and pepper. Not unexpected at 16, but still a bit sad.

[otherwise-nyc.livejournal.com]

Mr. P is definitely getting old -- he regularly lets me pet him now, although he does still complain.

I love how Inu looks all in a ball! She would make us all millions if you would just sell her likeness to someone! Plush Inus! FOR EVERYONE!

[nonelvis]

Dude! You could KNIT AN INU.