The Cliffs of Insanity

After years of wanting to have very little to do with us, Foley has now resorted to breaking and entering if we don't let her in the house when she thinks she should be in. The first time I found her on the back porch, I figured that one of us had accidentally let her out there without realising. About an hour later Aunt Tudi let Foley out through the front door. Thirty minutes after that, we heard a noise on the back porch and, when Aunt Tudi opened the door, in stomped Foley. Upon further investigation, a large hole was found in our screen. We'll have to get that repaired before we can let Smidgen and Shmoop out there at night (they can go out all day long, but I prefer they stay indoors at night) or Motley out there before her spaying on 2 March.

I'd cuff Foley and read her the Miranda, but she's such an angel when she sleeps, so I don't have the heart. What an amazing shift in attitude she's exhibited...

( forensic proof of Foley's criminal mind at work )

Yeah, we'll have to get the screen repaired fairly quickly. Aunt Tudi has already expressed alarm at the possibility of Sven and/or Helga taking a shine to this portal and squeezing their little 'possum bottoms indoors. I'd laugh my arse off if that happened 'cos I know Aunt Tudi would have a right old hissy and probably pee her pants. She would then beat me senseless with my own Jesus Stick for laughing.

From the handwritten journal last night

Foley, our oldest cat second only to Jacob, has been with us for 10 years now. She's always been partially feral and unwilling to have much to do with us except for the occasional rubbing. Early this evening, around 6 PM, she came into the house and refused to leave. She took a nap on the carpet, had herself a large meal with Smidgen and Motley (Shmoop was passed out on the couch), and got a fabulous ear-cleaning courtesy of Sheba and her handy-dandy doggie tongue.

( pictures )

Foley came to us at about 5 weeks of age. She was very near death and had been outcast from the colony of that era. Aunt Tudi is the one who rescued her, scooping up the wee stack of bones and holding her in one of our pens until I could get off work and get her to the vet's office. At the time, I was heavily into Kids in the Hall and was particularly fond of the Dave Foley/Kevin MacDonald sketch "Nobody Likes Us." I noted that the kitten acted a lot like these too sad guys 'cos, really, none of the other cats did like her. So I named her Foley.

She didn't respond well to being in the house, being totally feral, and actually escaped before I could finish up her meds. She was no worse for wear, though. The cat grew to be a big honkin' tank of a cat that beeps when she backs up. And I'm happy to say that she's as healthy as a horse now. As she gets older, she's apparently getting tamer, and last night was a true breakthrough.

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Later on, I found a couple of Post-Its on the kitchen table. I don't know where they came from or how they got on the table, but was seriously surprised when I opened them up to find two notes from Timothy dating back to 1990. During that time, I was teasing him about being a hunter and had left some PETA paraphernalia on his desk just to torment him. He returned the paraphernalia with the attached Post-Its, which said:



I'm amazed I still have these notes and perplexed about how they ended up on the kitchen table. Bizarre.