Yearly Vet Visit

Once a year, Max cat is subject to the indignity of a visit to the vet. First step is to lure him into the cardboard cat carrier. Hah! First step is to catch him, because friend Sam has shown up and cat does not know him well. Then the cat carrier, then the car -- and, as above, unloading the load.

We go in through the cat entrance, into the cat waiting room.

In the examination room. Once Max had been pulled out of my sweater sleeve, where he was hiding from monsters, he got loving attention from the vet and her assistant. It was all over quickly: eyes, teeth, tummy, ears, temperature, rabies shot, feline leukemia shot. Back into the cardboard cat carrier and home again, with many thanks to friend Sam. Local tidbit: ours is not a climate conduce to flea problems, per the vet. Thank the dryness.

FYI: This is a bad shot I took when Max was trying out for Dunecat; he didn't make it because he does NOT control the spice.

Cat in a box

Like many cats, my Max hankers after enclosed spaces. For example, there is no longer a wastepaper basket in my office -- I got tired of picking up the scrids and scraps left on the carpet when he knocked the basket over as he tried to climb in. On this particular occasion, I had received a package of goodies from Land's End, resulting in a perfect, cozy fit of a box.

End of sequence. Max tired of this particular box, perhaps because I was paying too much attention.

However, I did get the opportunity for a nice close-up of cat (above) and his right ear (below). Too bad his little ear tuft was not in focus.

Another Blogged Cat or Two: Fellow blogger Catalyst features Smoke on his logo at the top of Oddball Observations and regularly posts about his feline collective; his most recent is a paean to Jazz, who curls up in his lap, purrs and Does Not Bite. Quite unlike my Max who figures he should be Alpha in the household and as such, has a right to reach over and take a chunk out of my arm. At his pleasure. How he hates the word NO.

Catz! Why not?

I frequently see this wrought iron cat when I'm out for a short walk -- and when I arrive back home, who should often greet me but my fine Max cat. Nor does he necessarily sit there on the porch, waiting for me -- being a proper semi-Siamese, he often comes running up to say "welcome home!" Not always, of course, being a proper semi-Siamese.

But then, he's a pampered cat. Much like kids who get to lick the bowl in which the cookie batter was mixed, Max gets to clean out the can which holds his "breakfast" when it is emptied every four days. Much tastier than the same food when it is placed in his dish.

Critters & cars in the snow

This is what was happening while I distracted myself with summer and tire swings in last night's post. It was snowing. All day. Much of the night. Anywhere from six inches to a foot, depending on which part of town you inhabit. A lot more in Flagstaff, of course.

Certainly not enough here to discourage neighbor dog number one, digging for the frisbee (or is it simply a discarded CD? I'm sure which doesn't matter to the playful pup.)

Here's his housemate, also digging in the snow.

Friend Patty sent pix Bob took of two of their dogs romping as the white stuff fell...

...as well as the neighborhood ravens they feed on a regular basis.

This is the scene I caught from my kitchen window later in the day. The driver of this car was determined to make it up our little hill. He tried backing in, failed...

...and went around the corner get a better start...

...this time driving up headed forward...

...and had to back out again. I didn't count the number of tries; all I can report is that he didn't make it. "This is the worst snowstorm that DPS has ever had to deal with in Northern Arizona," said Cmdr. Dean Nyhart of DPS's Northern Bureau Highway Division in a press release late Monday afternoon. Huh?


This was the scene this morning after yet more snow overnight. What's more, you should read the comments attached to the Courier story which quoted that overwrought DPS officer. Many much more memorable storms were cited by residents (and not just old-timers, either). I can recall quite a few, myself.

However, the mailman didn't even try driving up our street, but delivered on foot this morning.

Max thought he could explore the new white terrain next the porch by climbing up on it. Didn't work and, turning around immediately, he must have decided that his window perch in a warm house was preferable.

This being Arizona, the sun was already working its magic by this afternoon, though a heck of a lot of snow remains on the ground -- and we're promised another big storm next week. Ah well, it's great for the crops.

Linkage: Sometimes, I get the feeling that Prescott is just too tidy a little town. That's especially the case after visiting Chatoyance, who finds awesomely seedy (but highly photogenic) scenes in the obscure backwaters of Texas. Take her NO PARKING -- SAXOPHONIST front porch -- you wouldn't find anything that outre even in Bumblebee or Cleator. On the other hand, wonderful things do happen here. Thanks to Jarart at Prescott Area Daily Photo, I have learned that not only were the stained glass windows from the chapel at the old Mercy Hospital saved when the hospital burned in 1940 -- but they now have a home in Prescott Valley.

This 'n that

It's been cold, with back-to-back storms in the neighborhood the next few days, plus another storm on tap for the following weekend. Not a propitious time for even a short walk around the block. Hence this 'n that.

Number one: about midday on Friday, the knocker was knocked, the door opened to a strange young lady with a small gift bag in hand. She was from the Ruffner Wakelin Funeral Home , with a one-year remembrance of my mom's death -- this angelic little fellow. Thanks, folks! Totally unexpected!

Number two: back-to-back winter storms always prompt one (at least, this one) to lay in supplies. Sorta like Y2K, but not quite the same order of magnitude. (Or perhaps I am recalling the many tales from old timers about the great 19-aught-67 snow storm.) The kitchen table got very crowded as I unloaded, which prompted Max cat to plop right in the middle of stuff to supervise. Note that cats, too, suffer red eye problems.

Number three. By this morning the snow had arrived. As you may know, pine trees were invented for snowfall pictures. Too bad they shrug off much of the snow by early afternoon. Just four days ago, when the weather was a good 30 degrees warmer, here's the same pine in a different pose, catching the last bright light as the sun hides behind our hills.

Number four. Just part of our blogger gathering -- before we had to add another table for late arrivals. 18 folk (including two spice) were present. A great get together with most interesting people exchanging ideas and information. We're hoping to do this on a monthly basis. (Note: for more pictures of the gathering, click on over to Oddball Observations, where Catalyst has posted several. There will likely be more & I'll post links as they occur...)

I give up!

It's difficult enough to compose a clever or thoughtful blog post with a dang cat in the lap (especially when his chin heads toward the keyboard). But when he wants all the real estate available, it's nigh onto impossible. I think I'll give up for now. See you all tomorrow night!

Among the cats

Max (left), Yoda (right). While the guest cat was visiting, the two animals had a curious relationship. Much of the time, Yoda was penned into the living room so that the two did not have to see one another. But even when our various siamese mutts were available to one another, we did not have a major MROW!!! scene. They sorta tippy-toed around each other, touching noses occasionally, hissing once or twice.

Yoda is a pushy, take-over sort of cat and I think that my dear companion was more than a little cowed by all this Attitude. Unfortunately, I seldom had the camera at hand when both critters were together.

When it came time to leave, the guest cat, who is a good traveler, was put into the car. At one point before departure, he jumped out and ran up the stairs, heading for what he had turned into His House for 10 days. Then it was bye-bye, Yoda.

Now this is interloper cat, a battle-scarred vet who shows up periodically, with every intention of Taking Over the Neighborhood. He even sashays indoors, if I chance to leave the door open to cool things off.

A couple of days after the guest cat had gone, I heard a loud MROW!!! Dashing out to protect my wimpy Max (with camera this time), I spotted the scene above. Look at Max' ears, flat against his head. His turf. Go Max, go!

Sure enough, interloper cat slunk off in the face of this territorial defense (or perhaps my appearance). Good Max! Brave Max! Angry Max! Not often I see him with a razor back.

Fire Note: The Crown King fire is 95% contained, plus more rain today.

Goodyby, Max, see ya soon

There's my cat, packaged up in a fine cardboard carrier from the vet's. I discovered early Friday, when I had to squeeze Max into a tight schedule to get his shots, etc., that my cat carrier had gone north full of turtles. So the cat travelled to the vet's in a laundry bag, and returned in this container.

And there is my good friend, the chicken whisperer, who kindly drove us to the cat storage facility, where Max will remain for two weeks, in what is described as a cat condo.

Here's one of two entrances to the vet's...

While I was avoiding Important Matters relating to travel, I happened upon a storage disk that included pictures of Max kitten which I thought would be nice to include with this post. Max has lived in my house for seven years now -- he's almost middle-aged and, of course, has darkened in the Siamese fashion.

Yes, there was a hint of temper already evident; he's developed that talent to its fullest over the years. If he hears the word NO, he rears back and makes a particular sound that means "I'd like to bite you!"

Max was trained to the leash early and for a couple of years, he was only allowed outdoors while tethered. Being a contrary sort, he would not go walking with anyone.

A talky cat, Max figured out that if he brought me the harness, I would get him dressed to go outdoors; this continued til he got tangled one time too many. From then on, I just allowed Max the freedom to go wherever he wished. Fortunately, his turf is pretty close to the house and we don't have coyotes.

Take a good look at that tail. It was as long as his body; Sson, the biologist, figured Max came complete with a couple of extra vertebrae to produce such a fine appendage.

He has indeed grown into that tail, now weighing in at 13 pounds and barely fitting into my lap. I will miss him while I visit Sson and family in the Bayou country and then the Famous Niece from Memphis, the Other Niece from Memphis and their families. I will try to keep everybody posted.

Carnival Linkage: One of my posts is featured in Berry-Go-Round #4, the new plant and flower carnival; you might like to pay this new carnival a visit.