And this is why my Christmas tree is full of holes and broken branches.
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Animals
And by “flying” I mean “falling with style”.
NaNoWriMo is nearly here and I’m freaking out. FREAKING OUT.
I had a plan. It was a great plan – and then I scrapped it in favour of something I thought I actually had a hope of finishing. So I worked on plan #2, with Nathan quizzing me on motivations and evil and plot twists. At which point I scrapped it in favour of something I could actually publish under my pen name.
So I took to my third idea, which is a mere germ, and I ignored it. I’ve written it down, but I haven’t got a character, a plot, any subplot, or ideas.
I AM FLYING BLIND AND I HATE IT.
But I’ve got three more days, right? Three days. That’s like FOREVER. Except it isn’t and I’m terrified.
Upside: It’s nearly November and I’m going to have to start whether I’m ready or not.
Downside: It’s nearly November and I’m going to have to start whether I’m ready or not.
Unrelated, a story about chickens:
I have eight baby chickens at the moment, to three mothers. Three chicks belong to one hen, and the other two hens have a sisterwives agreement and they’re sharing their nest and five babies equally. That’s the setup. This is information you need to know.
The sisterhens have been scratching around near the house, showing the babies the tastiest grubs to be found under my fruit trees.
Also around my house are the cats.
Earlier today I was minding my own business when the hens started freaking out. Suddenly, Alfred flew across the yard at full speed, one of the mothers hot on his heels, clucking angrily, fluffed up like a beachball. The other mother stayed close to the babies, protecting them from all evil.
Only they hadn’t actually checked on where the babies were, and when the mothers finished fluffing at Alfred, they called their babies directly into the netting surrounding our jumping castle.
Cue freakouts. The mothers were freaking out, two babies were trapped in netting, and Alfred was trying to figure out if he could work this to his advantage.
I ran outside to rescue the babies, because I AM NICE.
The mother hens didn’t see it this way, and they fluffed up and tried to attack my face. I freaked out, they freaked out, and Nathan laughed at all of us. When asked to help protect me, he stood there, thought about it and replied “Nope, it’s too funny to ruin. Although I could go get the video camera…” Bastard.
So there I am, trying to rescue two very frightened chickens from collapsing netting while not one, but two mothers try to attack my face.
Jumping into the deflated castle, I managed to lift the netting and create a shield to protect myself from the raging balls of fluffy fury while I rescued the babies. And by rescued, I mean “swiftly caught and then threw at their mothers, trying not to lose my eyes in the process.”
Everyone survived. I needed a cup of tea to recover though.
From my Facebook Page:
Alley the cat caught herself a starling and ate it. Confidence boosted, she thought that the next thing to catch and eat should be a chicken.
The chickens disagreed. Alley will not be catching chickens any time soon.
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Two Days Ago:
“So, honey. There’s another cat hanging around.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him of course.”
“Him?”
“Well it’s ginger. I’m assuming it’s a boy.”
“You are not allowed to keep this one.”
“I’m sorry, but if it’s in my yard, hungry and cold, I’m going to feed it.”
“How do you know it’s hungry? It might be an accomplished hunter.”
“He was trying to catch a chicken. They had him bailed up against the side of the shed. He obviously wasn’t counting on our attack chickens.”
“Do not feed it.”
“Too late. Anyway, I’m almost sure it won’t come back.”
“But you FED it.”
“Yeah. I seem to be like a magnet for stray cats. I’m still almost sure that it won’t come back.”
This morning:
“Your cat is back.”
“The ginger one?”
“Yep. I just saw it run across the yard.”
“Well, I’d best go put some food down. He’s probably hungry again.”
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This is Alfred.
Some of you will know Alfred as the half dead, starved kitten that showed up on my property a few months back. Today, Alfred is sporting the beginnings of a double chin and enough personality to fill a large room.
He adores Evelyn. Mostly because she smells milky and delicious. She sticks her fingers in his mouth and he bites them. She tastes good, apparently. He’s a little bit psycho, and will occasionally wrap himself around my ankle and for no good reason attempt to kill my foot.
Alfred has taken to exploring on top of my bathroom cupboards, knocking things to the floor, at which point he’ll run away and pretend he was never there. That’s where he was when I took this photo.
As soon as I get my boobs out to breastfeed Evie, Alfred is there, wiggling between us. He thinks breastfeeding smells really interesting and sometimes he’ll even let Evie pat him as she feeds. Mostly he bites her though. Which doesn’t stop her patting him. I tried squirting him with milk once, when he had driven me mad and distracted Evelyn over and over. I got him right in the eye. He wasn’t fazed and I don’t think it helped.
He loves me, a lot. If I’ve got an empty lap, he’ll sit in it. He’ll sit on my keyboard to stop me typing, He’d be bothering me right now, except he heard Amy roll over in bed a few minutes ago and raced down there to sleep on her tummy.
Alfred drools when you pat him. This is kind of gross. I warn people, but it doesn’t stop him pushing under their hands for affection and then drooling on their legs. Before he showed up here, we don’t think he’d ever been touched with affection. Now he’s addicted.
He went to the vet a fortnight ago and came home missing his testicles. He stalked around the house for three days looking offended and pointedly licking himself. I’d hoped it would curb the biting/killing/wild behaviours, but no luck. It’s okay though, because he tries to hunt mice.
Mostly I keep cats because they’re useful. They’re soft to pet, they kill pests and they make sure that I never ever look too clean or well put together. But Alfred, I like Alfred. He has personality, and I like to think that he has a little bit of extra gratefulness to me for saving him.
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Text: I steal tea from my owner’s mug. Not Sorry.
Text: I climbed into bed with the baby and purred so loudly I woke her up.
Text: I was nearly dead when Veronica found me. I repaid her by vomiting on the carpet. Lots. I have a sensitive stomach.
Text: I got scared by the dog and ran up my owner’s leg. There was blood.
Text: I run around the house pretending to be an ELEPHANT. No shame!
Text: I like to pretend to nurse from the dog. She reminds me of my mum. (Even if she smells weird.)
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