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Posts Tagged ‘ cats ’

The banished one cries

Mar 14th, 2010 | By
The banished one cries

  Sometimes, when the cat squabbles escalate to cat wars, it becomes necessary for the humans to intervene.  The worst of the offenders is evicted from the cozy warmth of the house for a while to contemplate her behavior.   It’s kitty-cat time-out, so to speak.    Then the whining commences, the plaintive, pitiful cries — usually
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The Day of the Dead

Nov 2nd, 2009 | By
The Day of the Dead

Their house still stands, though it and the rest of the property is neglected and unused now. The county long ago abandoned the road that once bordered the north side of the yard. My youngest daughter and I visited there a few years ago on a long road trip we took for the primary purpose of her gaining a lot more real-world driving experience before taking the exam for her driver’s license. The old farm place seemed a fitting destination for that coming-of-age experience, and I bored her for days with stories of my childhood adventures with my cousins there. Hot summer days picking blackberries . . .

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More puppy

Apr 17th, 2008 | By

Same puppy as pictured here, but twice the size now. I wish I’d weighed them all that first day, just for curiosity’s sake, and so I could say with statistical authority, ‘yes, it’s a proven fact. They’ve doubled in weight.’ Oh well. You’ll just have to trust me. We’ve been calling this one ‘Hippo.’ He
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Just another big box

Sep 13th, 2007 | By

We bought a new stove recently. The cats found a good use for the old one. I told them they couldn’t keep it.

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Naptime

May 1st, 2007 | By

Cats choose odd spots for naps. Although maybe if you’re a cat, napping on the roof doesn’t seem strange. No dogs sticking their wet noses in your ear. No geese tweeking your tail. Nothing to worry about except a little rain . . . and hey, with a fur coat like that, it takes a
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Tracking mud…

Nov 2nd, 2006 | By

I grew up reading tales of pioneers, trappers, and Indians (we weren’t into the whole politically correct terminology thing back then). I loved tales of woodsmen who could track game — and people — by the evidence left on the trail. Broken twigs, a few turned leaves, and of course, footprints. I studied animal footprints
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