Maintenance and ... Cats

I find that at this time of year, it's all about maintenance. Weeding. Pruning. Tie-ing up. Feeding.



Admiring.

Big pat on the back for me, when last year was a kind of wilderness!

Herbs growing beautifully on the sill. Basil of course, and a new pot of dill. Both won't last through the frost so I will make the most of them as I can.




And also, cutting and using. I am up to my eyes in salad, and so have just cut, cleaned, and spun two large bags of salad, which I'm taking in to work tomorrow for the general delectation of my colleagues, many of whom seem to be salad eaters. Yum!

Well, then I had a bit of a thing with little Ginger.

I decided, since it is obvious he has fleas, that I would use a potion I purchased back in the States, when I was at my parents last Christmas. A "Hartz" thing, whereby you squeeze this little tube in between the shoulder blades ... seemed like a good idea at the time, considering I've been bitten to buggery and he clearly has the pesky predators. He bites and scratches himself all the time.

No. Not a good idea after all - Ginger was very mad at me! I think he's forgiven me now, but it took some doing.

Firstly, big brother, Big Ginger, is now a regular visitor, and doesn't just want food, but also wants some kitty lovin' - yikes. I think he's still "their" cat, and not ours, but he does come round on a regular basis (like, every night). So Little Ginger was off his food, having licked himself and spread the stuff all over him, and was seeming a bit sickly. He was curled up, back by the back fence. Big Ginger was in my kitchen, eating food out of my hand. Don't ask.

I decided to fetch Ginger in, as it was near bedtime, and so went to get him, and also offer some of the treats Big Ginger was getting. I picked him up, and he hissed. I took him in, plonked him on the bed, and for the first time in ages, he decided to curl up on me.

After several minutes, when I realised I couldn't move and it was time to ready my own self for bed, when I tried to disengage, he gave that low, gutteral cat-growl. Like, don't even try it, because I'm really, really pissed off.

Yikes.

I did disengage, both myself and husband watching in fear, and he did sleep for a while. He woke up middle of the night as usual, went and had a bite, then I soothed him and brought him back to bed, for a bit.

He woke up again, I refilled his bowl, he had another bite, barfed it up, and then asked to go outside. I let him.

We seem to be okay now, and it was meant well! Cats. Fleas. Bites. Hope that's over, for a bit!