Owl had been having a grand old time today tossing the litter out of his box. I cleaned up a huge batch of it about 30 minutes ago, and now it's all over the floor again. Yeesh.

Hooboy. 4:03 pm. We had a small earthquake. Made my office rock very slightly for a few seconds.

Made my heart pound for longer than that because you always wonder, "Will it get worse?"

BTW, the cats slept through it. So much for the animal senses. :P

I talked to a woman who has a local cat orphanage/shelter. Once I trap the cat youngsters, I can bring them to her and she handles taking them to a vet who gives them a realy good deal on neutering and shots. There are a few places locally where I should be able to pick up vouchers that will cover part of that cost as well. I'm planning to visit with the woman this weekend, see her shelter and get the final details worked out. Then...let the trapping begin!

I decided to get a short walk in before dinner. It was Randy's turn to cook and I assured him I'd be back in 20 minutes.

But as I got a short way from the house, I looked down the street leading to T.'s house and realized she was there. I debated it for about half a minute and headed to her house instead. As I walked around to the back deck where the door was, a veritable slew of kittens and young cats hurtled away in a thousand directions! Lots of pretty Siamese mixes and every other color of the cat rainbow.

T. was a terrific woman and we hit it off instantly. We had a long, wonderful talk. These aren't actually "her" cats in that they began just as neighborhood strays, then she started feeding them and down the slippery slope she went. I wouldn't know about that, ahem. But now she feels she's responsible for them, since they mostly live in her yard. She's a bit overwhelmed at the explosion this year, I think. She said she counted 35 young and adult cats showing up for food, and she's just discovered 3 brand new litters!

She gave me her absolute blessing to do what I will, offered to help out a little financially if she can, and loaned me a Haveaheart trap. I was just about to try and find one, so this long-term loaner is perfect. I invited her to come over and meet the Horde next time she's in town.

I got home late for dinner, which Randy wasn't terribly happy about. He was in the driveway about to come looking for me. I couldn't believe T. and I had spent that much time talking. The trap is on the porch, not baited or set. I need to work out the rest of the logistics before using it. In the meantime, I want the strays to become accustomed to the trap as an object.

Operation Stray Roundup is poised to begin...soon.

There's another fine addition to the Silly Sleeping Pose Olympics.

As I came outside this morning, I saw the young white cat hanging around. I got the bowl of food and set it a short ways from the bottom of the porch steps. Then I sat down on the porch steps about four feet away and tried to coax him over. He spent some time sitting under the spruce tree watching birds, then cautiously headed my way.

He made a close run skirting around me and ducked under the front porch. I sat still and waited. It was lovely out with a cool breeze and sapphire sky. After a couple of minutes, he came out from under the other side of the steps and went to the bowl. He ate a good breakfast and didn't run off when I talked to him. He only ran off when he'd had enough food.

I've decided to give up trying to connect with T. If she's hardly ever there, she can't be that attached to these couple of cats. I'm going to trap these two that are coming by regularly, get them taken care of and into a shelter, then I'm going to stop leaving food out. I just can't deal with taking care of too many moggies.

I get inside the pen to visit with Owl several times a day and to sweep up the cat litter he tosses about with abandon. Puck wants me to play with him a lot. Tribble demands attention. I try to make sure each cat gets a bit of attention every day, which explains where a lot of my time goes!

The Swedes are invading! I've been inundated with submissions to the Silly Sleeping Pose Olympics for the past few days and about half of them have been from Sweden. I love the international reach of the net. We are all one in our love for silly sleeping moggies.

Anyway, a whole bunch of new contestants have joined the page.

Tribble decided to get inside Owl's pen the other day while I was cleaning things up, so I decided to leave him in there with Owl to see if having company would lift Owl's spirits. Hah! Instead, Tribble whined incessantly and when I looked over, I saw Owl taking whacks at Tribble. So much for that experiment. There's only room for one, I guess.

The white with blue eyes and the white-chested gray tabby strays have become semi-regulars here. I came up to the porch when the tabby was lounging there, so I sat down on the steps and sweet-talked him for a few minutes. Then the white boy came around the other corner of the porch. It was instantly obvious they didn't like one another. White boy went into that funny arched stalking mode males will use when they want to intimidate another cat. I chided him and he suddenly realized I was there. For some reason, rather than run back the way he'd come, he decided he had to go forward. He dashed past the tabby and then cruised right past me. Not slowly, but not at a mad dash either. I probably could have grabbed him, if I'd really wanted to.

I tried to catch T. during her brief visit to her house, but she took off again so quickly, I missed her. I think I may go ahead and trap these two youngsters regardless. Since she's so rarely here to take care of them, I don't see how she could object.

I came out the other morning and found Salem finishing off the last of a chipmunk in our yard, with Limping Tom hanging around trying to get whatever Salem left behind. He ended up with the guts.

Puck is becoming quite the lap potato. It interferes with typing a little bit, but not too much. Not like Tribble, who doesn't so much want to lie in my lap as get attention. What he really wants is for me to give up typing completely and give him scritchies, and he'll keep bumping his head into my hands until he gets them.

I simply can't find the time to catch up, so instead here's a fun batch of Moggy Horde photos.

I came out of my office a bit after 6 pm and was deep in thought as I came up to the front porch. I looked up just in time to see two cats lounging on the front porch. Apparently, they didn't hear me coming because in the next split-second, they hit the rockets so fast, I could hear them skidding around the corner of the porch deck.

Then I walked over to talk to Mrs. S ., the neighbor the next street over (behind me) who is the main person feeding the cats that belong to a woman that lives across the street from her. That woman, T., is the source of all the stray cats. T. inherited the house, but mostly lives somewhere else and is only there for a few days at a time. According to Mrs. S., T. tries very hard to keep the population under control, but this time there's been a kitten explosion.

T. is supposed to be back later this week and is planning to take a whole batch of kittens with her to a shelter that would love to have some kittens. I left Mrs. S. my number, so that she can help me connect with T. and see if we can coordinate some efforts to deal with the strays.

On the way home, I stopped to peer past the gate of T.'s house and saw the most gorgeous little Siamese kitten, maybe 4 months old. I talked to him and he watched me with wary eyes, but didn't run away. I'd be tempted to nab that one. They should have no trouble getting him adopted.

I knew there had to be Siamese blood running through her cats because the young white one with the orange blush and blue eyes is very much like the orange-point kittens Querida used to have in her litters.

I walked into a solid wall of cat urine stench when I came into my office this morning. Yowsa! I searched around and found the origin. It was the big, very sturdy cardboard box that the air conditioner came in. I hadn't quite figured out how to dismantle it, so it's been sitting there. One or more of my moggies decided it was the ideal place to pee a lake. I hauled it outside, let it dry for a few hours, and tackled it with an Exacto knife. Not a fun job.

The small white cat and small white-chested tabby have been hanging around the yard more and more, along with occasional visits from what are likely their brothers and sisters. However, I think last night the bowls of food and water on the front porch were visited by a raccoon. The evidence? First, the snap-on lid of the plastic container of cat food had been carefully removed and set aside, while the container itself was still upright. Secondly, the water bowl was filled with sand and grit from the ground, which could only get there by means such as a raccoon washing its paws in the water.

This means no more leaving the cat food container out at night, and trying to time it so there's no cat food either. The strays will have to show up during the day.

Meanwhile, I came across the local Totally Crazy Cat Lady (Every community has to have one. It's Bast's Law.). She will help trap and neuter strays, and takes them in. I worry about these lovely little guys around as winter sets in, and have been getting more serious about trying to catch them.

Step #1, however, is to locate the woman in the neighborhood from whence they supposedly originate. I need to at least consult with her about dealing with the cats. Maybe she'll help cover the neutering part if I do the trapping. We'll see. Step #2 will be to contact the cat lady, get the traps, etc. Watch out, mogglets. Your dinner is about to cost you your repro organs.

Kate is a world-class panicker. As with many aging cats, she sometimes gets a claw stuck in something and then she wants to panic. Unfortunately, the "something" she often has her claw stuck in is my pants leg. She did that last night and I had to wrestle with her while she's trying to go in ten directions at once in panic mode so I could disengage her claw.

Her most spectacular panic attack was a very long time ago when she somehow managed to get a shoe attached to her butt. I think the shoelace got wrapped around her tail. It was hard to say for sure because all I saw was a terrified brown streak going at warp 9 with a shoe bumping along at her rear end. She finally dislodged the demon shoe by rocketing through the cat door.

Nothing much to report on the moggy front, so I've committed Photo.

6! - count'em 6! new additions to the Silly Sleeping Pose Olympics.

See Owl and Puck plotting, Diva squinting, moggies holding paper down so it won't escape, and gaze deep into the eyes of Theseus.

I just heard a kitten crying outside the back of the office. Puck was up in the window going crazy. I mewed out the window and it mewed back, so I called Randy, grabbed my flashlight and went looking.

I quietly stepped outside the door, sat down in the darkness on the steps and mewed. A minute later, a white kit appeared atop a short piece of fence between the back of my office and the taller back fence that encloses the property. It stopped dead when it saw me, then went back the way it had come.

By this time, Randy came out and by shining our flashlights around we saw kittens everywhere! By "kittens" I mean very young cats, maybe 6 months or so. There was a tabby, a black one, a white one and others that scurried off before I could get a good look. They were taking off in all directions.

Obviously, they've gotten the word that there's food around here, but Holy Bast, the amount of free-ranging cats is getting ridiculous. And I just don't have the money to trap and neuter them, nor is there a program up here to do it.

Owl had his second follow-up visit yesterday. I tried the same tactic of putting his carrier into his pen ahead of time, but he's too smart for that. "Oh, no, I remember what happened last time I crawled into that thing. You fooled me once, you're not fooling me twice." When the time came, I had to gently help him inside.

He was very quiet on the long, tedious drive, while I was tense because I was supposed to have him there by 10 am and the traffic was beyond horrendous. I called at 10 to let them know I would be late because I was stuck on the freeway. "Ah, the 405 parking lot," she said, "Our favorite." I got there at 10:20 am, which was okay but meant I'd have to wait until later to pick him up because they wouldn't release him until the sedative wears off.

They had to sedate him to do his first set of follow-up x-rays.

I went off and did a ton of errands in that part of L.A. The surgeon called to give me a report after the x-rays. She said that he has managed to slightly shift the bones -- even with the damned fixator! -- but the knee is in good shape and the bones are still in alignment, so it's okay. However, she was once again adamant about having to keep Owl confined and as still as possible.

So the unfortunate Mr. Owl has been sentenced to another month in Kitty Alcatraz. His next check-up and x-rays will be in Oct.

I picked him up at 5 and began a two-hour battle with traffic to get home. Owl was agitated on the trip home, plus he got into a wrestling match with the towel on the bottom of the carrier. He ended up with the towel sort of wrapped over his head, so I finally had to pull the car over and take the towel out.

He was NOT happy about going back into his pen when we got back. He spent an entire hour bitching me out non-stop until I gave him some canned food. Then he busied himself with that and gave me some peace.

This morning, though, he made it crystal clear he's unhappy and wants out, so I'm having to be very careful when I get in there to clean things up.

Owl and the rest of the moggies fared just fine with the petsitters for a couple of days.

I was a bit worried about Owl's leg because on Thurs. night, there was an especially raw, nasty looking spot next to the rigging. I slathered Neosporin on it.

I was prepared to take him all the way to the clinic (hours of driving into L.A. and back), but it looked much better in the morning. He has a regular appointment next Tues., so I'm doing my best to hold out for that.

I think I'm finally seeing some improvement in Querida from the antibiotics. Her eyes are much better and the congestion seems to be easing some. The acidophilus is helping at least a little with the negative effects. I need to contact the vet about getting a few more days' worth, since I'm short on the amount I need for a full treatment.

During our short trip, we stopped in at Randy's sister's place where I attempted to say hello to Artemis. She's been with her new people for going on 8 months now and is quite happy. And she has completely forgotten who I am!!! She hid under some covered chairs, wouldn't come out for any amount of coaxing, would barely let me touch her at all.

That's either a really short memory, or she was afraid I was going to take her away from paradise! ;)

Last night was a whole load of Not Fun. The ants had found and invaded Owl's food bowl and water bowl. I've been worried about this since Owl is trapped in there and has no recourse if he's plagued by ants. Blasted little six-legged monsters. I tracked them to the source and dealt mercilessly with them, but this left a lot of clean up to do.

Randy came out and babysat Owl in another part of the office while I cleaned out the bowls and vacuumed out his pen. Owl was delighted and promptly curled up in his favorite cat bed under my desk. I hadn't thought the cat beds would be comfortable for his leg, but he was so happy there, I've taken out the cushion and put the cat bed into his pen.

Of course, I think he was mostly happy that he was under my desk, rather than in Kitty Alcatraz, but them's the breaks.

Puck has been a Major Snot lately, chasing Tosca around and giving her a lot of grief. Right now, though, everyone is curled up in happy moggy piles for the afternoon nap.

The petsitters came by so I could show them Owl's set up, display his bionic leg, and go through his situation with them, since we have to make a sudden overnight trip. I hadn't spoken with them since the end of July, so they didn't know about the surgery.

Tribble made sure to stick double sets of claws into both their legs to ensure that they remembered him. They did. He's such an attention sponge.

I've tried spacing out Querida's pills rather than giving them to her all at once, and this seems to be helping. I give her the antibiotic right away, wait ten minutes or so, and wait a while longer before giving her the Lysine. I hold off on the acidophilus until the middle of the day. So far, so good. She hasn't thrown up since I started doing this.

There's a scrawny little white cat coming around for food now. White with blue eyes. I thought it was completely white, but once I got a closer look I could make out a very faint orange blush on its nose, ears and tail. It showed up with a big, scruffy orange tom that just might be daddy since they clearly knew one another.

We haven't seen the lovely little tabby with the white-chest for several days now, ever since it was jumped very badly by one of the neighbor's big old tabby toms. I ran outside where the fight was raging under the front deck and yelled, but they both ran off without me being able to see if there was damage. I wish the little tabby would show up again, so I would know that it's all right.

Owl is back to being mostly resigned about not getting out of the pen. Note I said mostly resigned. I was inside the pen the other night cleaning it out and had my leg across the opening to keep Owl from escaping. He simply jumped over my leg! The brat! He's not supposed to do things like that!

To give him credit, he did it beautifully without using the rigged leg and without landing on it. But even so...

He's eating well, though he did throw up last night. The antihistamines have gotten his hair-pulling under control again.

I'm having less luck with Querida. The past couple of days, she has thrown up quite a lot about 20-30 minutes after I give her the morning pills. Which means I don't know how whether she's getting the benefit of any of the medicine, blast it. She has hairball problems and is shedding profusely, and that doesn't help.

I went over to comb Querida. As usual, Theseus waltzed up (and he really does dance over) because he loves to be combed. I have all but given up trying to keep his fur under control. It is beyond any tool I've found, including the dematting tool.

He loves to let me groom his head, neck and front end, tolerates me grooming his mid-torso, but the minute I head toward the rear quarters (where desperately *needs* the work)...fuggedabouddit. Somehow, I will simply have to come up with the money for the heavy-duty shaver and shave his rear end. There's no other viable solution.

Excuse me, I must go and save a roll of paper towels from the Puckaroo.

Owl seemed terribly out of sorts and disgruntled with me this morning. He wouldn't even take a treat after getting his pills. I changed the cushion in there, putting in one of his favorites, and he seems happier about having that, but all in all, he seems rather depressed today. I wish I could make him understand how important it is to have his leg heal properly.