Wednesday, February 22, 2012

I Never Get My Way

Not much to say...

I had to take Flufferpants to the vet today because he was sneezing and his eyes were running, and he didn't leave the garage AT ALL yesterday.  I was tempted to wait it out and see if he got better, but Popcorn made me promise to take him to the vet because she was worried.  She told a friend the other day that "kittens come and go, but Oliver is forever." 

He graciously decided to clean his face when I needed a recent photo of him.  His eyes were so gross, I was totally okay with that.

This is the same child who will not go to bed at night until all three cats are in the garage. This frequently involves me dragging on extra layers to go find cats that don't come when called...Then I give up and leave the front door open with just the storm door closed, and eventually they come "meow" at the door, and then I let them in.

I dread the day they don't actually come meow at the door.  Because then I will have to deal with the fact that I might have possibly fibbed about them being in the garage, when in fact they were outside, and I was waiting for them to come to the door to be let in.

Of course on a beautiful day the darn things won't come OUT of the garage.  I keep taking them out today, and they keep dashing right back in every time the door is open.
 Anyhoo, Oliver has an upper respiratory infection.  So he got a shot and ten days worth of antibiotics. He is obviously suffering as he has dropped all the way down to 17 pounds.  I tell you, he is just wasting away before my very eyes!  He's seven years old and lived lots of adventures, not the least of which involve an ongoing rivalry with a yellow tom that keeps trying to come visit.  I saw Oliver chasing him down the street a few days ago, and seeing his big prissy self chase that short stocky yellow cat was a sight!

I also scheduled the other two cats and Chesney to be spayed next month.

I was trying to take "good" pictures of the animals running my life.  While this is not great, you can see that six month old Chesney has passed Kelsey.
  And I am seriously questioning my wisdom in so many animals, because animals are expensive, then I went over and read Taylor's blog, and her COW (Comment of the Week) really hit home...

She really is a sweetheart.  Of course, areas of my yard look like the surface of the moon, but at least she doesn't eat everything in sight!  (Please disregard the sock she stole lying on the ground in the background.)

And now I'm thinking perhaps I should refrain from buying the chickens I eye at Atwoods every spring, and try to convince my husband to let my buy...Then he just says Kelsey would kill them anyway, and then I stomp my feet and try to convince him that I can train her to think she has to protect them. 

Is this the face of a chicken killer?  Well, actually it IS, but perhaps I can train her to love them instead?

(Please, do not laugh at my expense, as I'm quite earnest in saying this.)

Then he rolls his eyes and never lets me have what I want.


Unfortunately my camera couldn't catch this whole progression.  This little battle was ended by Chesney laying on the ground mournfully whimpering as she gazed on Oliver's untouchable beauty.

Today is a beeYOOtiful day.  I need to clean house. 

But I'm not going to.  I'm going to go sit outside and play in my flower beds.

Or take a walk.

Or read a book.

But I will NOT be doing housework.

And that, Gentle Reader makes it all abundantly clear that I NEVER get my way.


NaomiG said...

You can absolutely train them not to eat the chickens... I don't know about protect, but definitely not eat. All you do is get one extra chicken, because you're going to lose one. :-) Or two, if you have two dogs. Then, when the dog kills a chicken you take the chicken carcass and you tie it to the dogs neck, and you make that dog wear it until it rots away to nothing. I've never actually done it, but I'm related to farmer people who have, and it works like a charm. :-)

Dawn Castor said...

Ive heard of the cramming down the throat method. But I'm sure it only works field men named Wayne. And I'm not sure it really works. You never get your way--pobracita!!

gianna said...

My husband doesn't let me ever have anything I want either! You are not alone!

Crazy Sister said...

I can imagine what your girls would say if your dog had a dead chicken tied to its neck.

"Ewwwwww" doesn't even begin to cover that...

Marilyn said...

Yes, Wayne has tried them both and they do work. Poor Dixie and Missy they had to learn from the farmer the hard way.

The Accidental Housewife said...

My husband's away for work for a couple of months. I started building the chicken coop two days after he'd left! I figure by the time he's home, the kids will be so attached that he probably won't have the heart to complain...