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There's a long hair black cat, who lies not far from my front door. I've seen him a couple of times, and it's obvious he wants to come up to me and be stroked, but just can't quite summon the bravery. Sad really, for both of us.
 
There's a long hair black cat, who lies not far from my front door. I've seen him a couple of times, and it's obvious he wants to come up to me and be stroked, but just can't quite summon the bravery. Sad really, for both of us.

Aye, we have a little female tabby who lives with one of our neighbours, she's often out and about and clearly a loved pet but a little shy - I did get to stroke her fur the other day after a few weeks of courting her with slow blinks - of course then she decided she liked me and tried to follow me home :eek: (I prevented her from following me indoors - a) she's not my cat and b) I have 3 cats, 2 of whom would probably decide to redecorate my home with urine and 1 of whom who would probably decide that under the bed or in the laundry bin is his home now, if another cat came indoors!)
 
I took Radar to the vet today to see the nurse for a claw clipping - when you have senior indoor cats this becomes a thing - and I find it difficult to do myself due to a bit of arthritis in my hands - and they charge just £6 for it. I noticed his claws had become very overgrown and am upset with myself - it occurred to me when I noticed it that possibly the reason that it is happening now is that he has always overgroomed including chewing his claws - but he had all his teeth (except his canines) removed not so long ago due to feline tooth resorption - he can no longer chew his claws, cannot retract them properly due to to age, and therefore they grow quickly, and can press into the paw pads with less claw growth - he had one pressing into his paw pad and I feel dreadful about not noticing it before that happened.

I also had him weighed as I felt he had lost weight - he is down 150g on his last recorded weight which is actually not as bad as I feared and probably just accounted for with eating less because of the hot weather. The vet said he is a little on the skinny side, but is in good physical condition. I think since his episode where he stopped eating (he was emaciated, my poor love) and being on the feeding tube for more than a month I am a little bit obsessive about whether he weighs enough, he loses a little weight and I am worrying too much.

He is currently 3.47kg, he was 3.6kg last visit. I was worried he was down to 3kg - I basically have some sort of body dysmorphia on behalf of one of my cats. After his illness I kept a diary for 6 months of everything that went in and came out :eek:

Some of that weight loss may be accounted for by the fact he puked in the carrier in a way that would put Linda Blair (in The Exorcist) to shame - it was wall to wall - he sometimes gets travel sick. The staff at the surgery were great about it, they took him out back and put him in one of the recovery cages while they hosed down the carrier and dried it, and put in some puppy pads in case he was sick on the way home too. Apparently he chilled out in the recovery cage like he owned the place, and got a lot of attention from the vets and nurses - he is so cute it is like going somewhere with the latest hollywood star, even if he pukes all over the place everyone starts fawning over him!

(I have the added bonus that I am probably not going to get my face swatted in the middle of the night by anything more than soft little paw pads for at least - oh, maybe a week? :D )
 
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We had our best early morning cuddle for a while this morning. I just have to lie on my back and not move, whilst she buries her nose and claws in the duvet above my chest, whilst purring very loudly. A close-up view of flexing claws is quite something.
 
Aw bless: she's got some sort of small foliage stuck to her back, and I don't think she's noticed yet.

She's also lying on the floor directly behind my seat, which might not be the most sensible location.
 
the girls looking at the window

win.jpg
 
:D I've heard that about ginger cats. Mad bastards all round apparently.

I concur. My sister has both a big ginger fucker and a black and white. The latter used to be terrified of her own shadow, and she'd sit by the front window, peering out with these saucer eyes.

Jeffrey (poor fucker got named after Jeffrey Archer) is a LAD. If he was human, he'd likely be the worst type of footie fan. He once ate an entire chicken vindaloo, most of a naan, and as much of a pint of Stella as he could get (he got the glass stuck on his head, then somehow managed to get it off). He then burped, farted and promptly crashed out. He woke up the following afternoon and my sister was still proper freaking out because she thought that amount of curry would kill him. He couldn't understand what all the fuss was about, went out the back door and returned 20 minutes later with a vole. He didn't even have the shits. I struggle with anything hotter than a Madras!

He loves spiders - the bigger, the better. In their last place, he used to sit on the rug by the sofa and slowly dismember them whilst they were watching telly (he needs an audience). In their last house, he very quickly learnt that he was almost the same colour as the carpet on the stairs and landing, and he used to ambush ankles, ended up with a full mug of tea over him more than once, but he just stopped for a quick wash and then waited for his next victim. They tried putting a baby gate at the bottom, but that doesn't work with cats.

They're both seniors now. Not that Jeffrey has realised it yet… Ginger cats are basically feline labs, in that they will try to eat literally anything (or perhaps just all the ones we've had).
 
We had our best early morning cuddle for a while this morning. I just have to lie on my back and not move, whilst she buries her nose and claws in the duvet above my chest, whilst purring very loudly. A close-up view of flexing claws is quite something.

I miss Luna coming in for cuddles and a snooze on the end of the bed. She's not my cat, she lives at number 40 (3 doors down the road), and she was forever at the bedroom window demanding to be let in. So I'd oblige and she'd curl up with her head on my chest, I even tolerated the claws. I have a Dunelm blanket that she used to go batshit over, she made it clear in no uncertain terms that, whilst she was in the house it was HERS.

Now…? Now, I just get hissed at (been like this for over a year) and, when I try to give her chin scratches (which used to make her drool and ramp up the purrs past 11), I almost lose a finger! She's just come in the kitchen, sporting shaven front legs. Hopped up on the sofa, and started nudging me, like she used to when she wanted fussing, so I ventured to scratch her chin - it wasn't her who ended up getting scratched. She then hissed at me, and demanded to be let out again! I've never been sure how old she is, but she wasn't very old I don't think when she first started coming here about 5 years ago, she was probably still a kitten(ish).

Here she is in better times, asleep on 'her' blanket (I don't have any of her actually looking at me - save a 'live' photo (which, obviously, I can't upload)).
 

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I like this thread.

Mousch, the fluffy black and white one, found a piece of my florists wire to play with last night at 2am on the wooden floored landing, which was rather tiresome and noisy.

Cilla, the older, smaller one, then threw up a hairball on the same spot at approx 3.30am prefaced by that special prevomit yowling.
 
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