A short little tree clocking in at 4 feet tall, and not much to speak of quality wise.  It’s a cheap tree with limbs bent back on themselves to give the illusion of being full with some garland being wound in to sort of fill in the gaps. Heck, I don’t even remember from where the tree orginated.

But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that it is covered in ferret & cat ornaments. The cat ornaments are a heck of a lot easier to come by than the ferret ones. In fact, all the ferret ornaments were either made by crafty ferret friends or me.  (We used to have an awesome group called Creative Weasels a few years ago. We did all kinds of craft exchanges.)

The topper is a stained glass ferret made by a talented ferret owner in Australia.

One day the ferret ornaments will probably overrun the cat ornaments. (The cats won’t mind, they think we put up Tree #1 just for them.) And one day maybe I’ll get a proper tree for the ornaments. (Hint, hint Santa.)

Merry Christmas Everyone!

And so it went on Thursday when Chad rounded up our wayward Siamese and brought her home.

She prefers to hang outside during the summer and has apparently developed a fan club who, upon seeing Chad stop to check on her, have been known to ask “You’re not taking her home yet, are you?” Yes, Kimi knows more of our neighbors than we do.

Ghost’s reaction to the (annual) return of an extra sibling was typical of our grumpy tabby. Angry stares of disbelief in our general direction. I’ll give her until tomorrow to walk into the room, stare at us and then turn her back on us while pointedly staring into a corner.

Seti’s reaction was also typical. (Seti is beautiful, but as dumb as a post.) Although at least this time she didn’t run and hide immediately after I snapped this picture.

And Freyr, well I never know what to expect from him. He went from pretending the situation did not exist to being defensive. After all he is the “boycat of the house”.

And thus as the sole male critter of the house (aside from Chad, but Chad has thumbs) he feels compelled to protect this house! If only I could find him some kitteh size Under Armour (although I suspect he would use his sharp pointy claws to shred me to death).

Let the jockeying for Chad’s attention begin. (Me? I’m not worthy of the effort.)

From the get-go it was obvious that Arcas, so named due to her little nubbins of a tail that made both Chad & I think of a tiny bear, was hell on wheels and most likely suffering from “Short Tail Syndrome”.  She had such an attitude and nothing would dissuade her from being the little shit that she was. We tried all the tricks in our bag: scruffing (neither of the girls had a scruff reflex); hissing (they hissed back); time outs in the cage (they ransacked the place); whistle (they tried to steal it); squirt gun (What’s this new game? they both asked). I was so desperate that I consulted a pet psychic. In the end, it was Arcas who trained us.

Our poor cats were in for a terrible surprise the moment Arcas & Orlando cleared the threshold of our house. With these two, the cats learned that the rule of “Paws Off!” was more or less for their own safety. And they learned quickly, for living in a three floor house, constantly climbing the steps meant Arcas grew to be one strong ferret, even at only 2 lbs. We would find her in places that baffled us. The cats had to rethink their escape plans – couches were no longer safe.

A few days ago I took Arcas outside for a little bumble around the back yard. She had a grand time surfing in the newly cut grass, drinking water from places I care not to think about and, even at the grand old age of 7, pulling herself up onto the top of the pond wall (no mean feat since it is smooth flagstone on top). Apparently the water from places I care not to think about wasn’t tasty enough. She wanted some fish water.

Last night around 9:30 my little girl came down to beg for treats – although it was more dignified than begging really. Mostly it was stand at my feet and make me feel guilty. Worked like a charm every time of course. Arcas always got what she wanted. I held her and let her have some delicious NOMs and the cats stared, as they tend to do, wistfully. After more delicious NOMs and some general being fussed over, Arcas bumbled off to bed.

This morning I found my little girl had fallen asleep never to wake. It was a horrible shock. Chad & I buried our little girl alongside her predecessors in the light fog of the cool morning.

Godspeed little Bumble, we’re going to miss you.

6/29/04 – 8/18/11

Still, somehow he ended up clean and I ended up dirty.

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So, Villian + Hose = Extremely Wet Villian & Extremely Wet Me.

You will notice in the photo below that Villain does look quite nice and shiny. And he smelled good too thanks to the awesomely expensive shampoo that I happen to have stashed in my tack trunk. Honestly, that horse has more product than I have had in my entire life.

His bath went like this….he protested by dancing about the wash stall, putting his head up as far as he possible could in order to avoid getting his face washed. He does not like having any tiny bit of water (or perceived water) getting near his ears. So when I start to get his neck wet he tosses his head WAY up in the air. What he has failed to factor in is that if he kept his gi-nor-mous noggin DOWN I wouldn’t have to spray to get the top of his neck wet.  And if he would do that….there would be no (perceived) water in his ears and I’d be a damn lot dryer.

And so after both of us getting a bath, and me ending up dirtier than when I started, I took him out and let him graze so he could dry off. And then he went back to his nicely cleaned stall to have a snack.

And so…Nice, shiny, happy Villain.

And in contrast….Tired, soaked, smelly (and on my 3rd set of clothes for the day) me.

It’s great to know that the day after I gave the mighty beast that scrubbing, it poured. He’s probably covered in mud already. Figures.

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It was a constant source of annoyance. And confusion.

And then we walked into the kitchen and saw Orlando standing IN the salad plate eating the cats’ food.

Well, it may not be the biggest mystery in our house, but now it’s solved. Which means we can now spend our extra time concentrating on Orlando’s little “problem”.

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Of course Villain wasn’t the only one who was looking for some attention (and apples perhaps). Sammy the Percheron is too adorable. And really fuzzy too. (Also stinky.)

My attempt at taking a pic of Villain & me together didn’t go quite so well because he was wanting scratches, not photos. He is usually such a ham.

I was amazed how much snow was still in the paddock since the rest of the world was well on its way to melting and turning to mud. Guess a little elevation change will do that.

Villain was a love, of course.  And by that I mean he was pretty much as lethargic as he could get.  The most he was up for was plodding around the arena with his quarter horse neck stretched out as far as possible.  [I'm smart enough not to try to frame him up with a bum arm.]  That two minute ride only whetted my desire to be back in the saddle for real, but at this point I’ll take what I can get & behave myself  before I end up grounded.

And so for my pleasure, more than anyone else’s, I present gratiutious shots of Villain.

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Mommy’s little Red-Eyed Demon Arcas (aka You’re Too Cute Shortie) turns 5 today, June 29.

[I know, horrible parent being so late with the birthday post.]

We love you, Bumble!

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(littlest in terms of size I mean)

Happy Birthday little ‘Nannerhead!

We love you