I woke up early this morning, so I decided it was just about time to give the cats a bath. They were getting grimy and I was getting allergic. Kind of like Winchester getting washed down with a wet towel, only I actually throw them in the tub and hose them down and shampoo them and everything. And they take it. Because they have to.

Usually Mogget, at least, takes it quite stoically. He hates it but knows it's inevitable.  Tildrum--he's a fighter. So I just make sure that their claws are clipped beforehand, and make it as quick as possible. 

This morning, it wasn't quick enough. I'm scrubbing Tildrum's back, trying to get him rinsed off before he jumps out of the tub, and without any notice at all--no hunkering down, no eyeing the outside. Suddenly he's just sailing through the air, and there's a wet tail in my face, whipping my glasses away. That cat can jump.

Revenge is sweet, though. He's all clean and fluffy and smelling fresh now.

I think the LOLcat caption of this one should be "Noa's Ark kitteh not ready to sale" or something. The intent was to do a Noah's Ark animals-as-sailors thing, as I had some sailor capes and some animal heads, and I was trying to figure out just how perverse I could get with my ever-patient cats.



It really was torture the kitty night--I couldn't get both of them in the same shot together at the same time looking right.

moar humorous pics

In other news, I'm feeling a little evil genius-y myself. I'm working on a post about self-publishing vs. regular publishing (inspired by the questions of a friend), and I've got some great quotes on writing for children I want to share. I also have two or three other post ideas on the queue which will be coming out in the next few days. I'll keep you posted.

cmpriest's post today (scroll down to the bottom) reminded me that I also have a recent picture of a very silly cat with a discarded B&N bag, from just this Saturday.




Pictures taken by my roommate, because she had her camera on hand and he was too quick for me--by the time I got the right lens on, he was off chasing Tildrum again.

 

But apparently Winchester the cat is more longsuffering.

Not to say we haven't tried, mind. Note the pitiful look in Tildrum's eyes as he wears the baby bonnet my roommate made for her new niece. Note also that none of the pictures of Mogget turned out because he wouldn't hold still long enough.
 


In comparison: the blur that is Mogget:

With thanks to Chris and my roommate (I think--the second one was given to me long ago by someone). I can't find the source of these pictures, so if anyone knows, please let me know and I'll link.

I've never participated in Poetry Friday before, thing many children's lit blogs do. I'm not even sure who started it--I just see it everywhere. But at any rate, my post about little cat feet made me remember that perhaps I might want to share just this one poem.



Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Carl Sandburg


Carl Sandburg was born in Galesburg, Illinois, which is also where my mom is from and where that whole side of the family has lived since before Carl Sandburg's day. We lived there several times when I was growing up. There's even a Carl Sandburg College, a local community college. So I heard about Carl Sandburg a lot, but in an ironic twist, never actually discovered his poetry until I'd moved away and gone to college. This one is one of my favorites. Probably because I love little cat feet.