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Cat Day at the Farmette


A friend and I were commiserating yesterday about the state of the world - with Trump, and racism and bigotry and anti-everything going on. She said that with all the crappy news, she sometimes just wants to take a break and look at nice pictures of happy things.

That got me thinking about the odd things that my furry family does that I’ve managed to catch on camera over the years. So, in the spirit of never having enough cute cat photos on the internet, I’ve decided to do my bit and contribute (again) to the gallery.

Here, for your enjoyment, is an escapist round-up of fun pictures:

No cat can resist a cardboard box. If it’s on the floor (even for five seconds), that’s just an invitation to climb on in. These were taken more than a year ago. No fights occured - everyone was surprisingly orderly in taking their turns.

Dear now-departed Nora, being the alpha female, had to be first in the box. Nick, with his suave Cary Grant-esque demeanour, was number two and Lily, with the spy face thinking no one can see her, was three. This all happened within about an hour - almost like they had it scheduled. Recently, there were pictures doing the rounds on Facebook of their larger cousins like lions and leopards and panthers squeezing themselves into too-small paper products all over the world. I guess cardboard love is just hard-wired into the feline psyche.

The boys have taken to making me into the ‘meat’ in a cat sandwich. I’m not sure how the ritual started, but every night after I knock off work for the day, Nick and Hobbes take up their sentinel stations. It’s kind of adorable, in an odd, Queen-of-Sheba way.

Unwrapping any kind of present at any time of year is an especially big hit. It’s even better if tissue paper is involved. Sometimes, they get so excited racing through the crackling detritus that they run smack-dab into one another.

This generally ends in a flurry of paw-thwacking, hissing and growling - which is over almost as soon as it starts. Bea and Hobbes are demonstrating the behaviour at Christmas this year.

So that’s it - a little reverie of goofy furball antics to break up the nauseating news of the world.

Have a happy Sunday, and I’ll be back next week with a feline-free post.


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