Cat Love

It's a grey, snowy day at the farmette. We got 2 inches (about 5 cm) of snow over 24 hours, with a total of 14 inches (35 and a half cm) on the ground. Lotsa, lotsa the white stuff this year.

Trump has gone nuts, invading another country and kidnapping its president. Gotta wonder when (if) there's any stopping him. It's worrying, but life must go on and cats must be loved. Which is my theme today.

Our two eldest, Bea(trix Potter) and Hobbes are 17 and 13 respectively. They are both showing their age, and becoming more sucky and demanding in their dotage.

This is my favourite photo of Bea from when we lived in Guelph. She looks so regal. And she's showing off her wee white toes. We adopted her at 11 months from the shelter. She and her sister were left in a box by the side of the road. Sister was adopted right away. Bea languished, frightened, at the back of the cage until they were going to put her down to make room for more adoptable cats. No way was that happening on my volunteer watch. So we made room at our house. So glad we did.

Bea's taken to jumping up on the bed at about 6:30 a.m., just before feeding time. She does 'chest hopping' from Rob to me, with some vigorous face nuzzling as a side benefit. The drool is extra special. This is new behaviour.

Bea has been the scaredy cat of the family for most of her life. Always wary of other felines and humans. We actually had to keep her in a separate room from our other tabby Lily, who wanted to send Bea to the rainbow bridge long before her time.

She's still pretty spry, given that she was diagnosed with cancer in March last year. We're going to just enjoy whatever time we have while making sure she doesn't suffer.

We rescued Hobbes from our own barn shortly after we moved to the farmette. Rob had to bury two of his sisters when their mother buggered off. He refused to have to bury the wee scrap of wheezing orange fur who became Hobbes. So, we took him in.

He wasn't exactly enamoured of us at first. Hissing and spitting, the poor thing was terrified. But when we mixed some of our cat food with warm water, he dove into the plate like a zamboni after the first period.

Chest, chin, feet, all were covered in glorious stinky sustenance by the time he was finished. He liked us after that.

We worried about him being accepted in the feline family, but Nick, being the loving tuxedo, took to him right away.

Hobbes has always been pretty laid back too. This is the pose he's in most of the photos.

Lately, he's started draping himself over top of Rob's head during nap time. He's also become a snuggler, and Rob enjoys being the recipient.

In November, he was diagnosed with hyper-thyroidism. We pulverize half a pill twice a day and hide it in a 1/2 teaspoon of his favourite yogurt. We took him for blood work on Friday and are waiting for the results. Whatever they are, we're determined to keep our wee barn cat as healthy as possible for as long as possible.

So that's it until next week. We do love our felines and are grateful for their love in return. Plenty of non-gratuitous cat photos here, but heck, why not throw one more in? A much younger Hobbes chillin' on the back of the chair.