(Nothing much today. I’m hard at work on a treatise disputing the neurological relationship between visual snow and tinnitus. Okay, I confess, I’m bracing myself for the mall. There are certain life events for which I don’t have appropriate clothing here in Florida, so this is going to take a whole day in which I will be screwing up my courage to
brave the gates of Hell enter the world of shopping again. Plus I have to tie many multi-colored streamers to the basic black, non-descript, low-end mini SUV we drive down here so I can find it again in the parking lot. I will be dropping by to say hello- those who can’t blog, comment- and then later in the week it will be time for FINAL FOUR. Yes, it’s a "spouse sports perk." I will be coming to you live from Atlanta, where I’ll be more interested in a behind the scenes tour of the Georgia Aquarium than the commissioners pre-game dinners, but hey! Get your questions and photo requests ready- I’ll be happy to oblige. Ol’ Hoss- I was so looking forward to getting you something Ducky and wearing my sweatshirt. It’s what scientists call, "too bad.")
This whole pet food scare would have me worried except that Sophie and McCloud never get anything but high quality dry food. McCloud, not unlike his mistress, is always searching out some fine delicacy that is on a plate right around the corner; as a result we could both use to lose a few. (It’s sad, though, when your cat is so fat you each need to lose the same five pounds.)
Sophie is not driven by food. It is the fuel that allows her to explore, climb, groom, jump on top of tall appliances and bookshelves and generally go about her business. She does not ingratiate herself around mealtimes and, given the opportunity to get out and about as she has this winter in Florida, she maintains a trim and healthy figure.
Except for the lizards. Back in Michigan, she had a fondness for spotted salamanders at Wit’s End and it’s been my understanding that none of these small creatures taste good. In fact, they are supposed to taste noxious, as a means of defense. Sophie loves them. The worst thing is it turns her into a feline hunting machine and it’s appalling the way she can milk one small lizard for several hours of fun and entertainment. Stalk, pounce, carry around, poke, perform a tailectomy, wait, chase, hide, poke,poke,poke. You get the idea.
This morning she was at it again- I could see a lot of gray commotion in the middle of one of my newly planted bushes. I spoke sternly to her and this is her response. Sassy little thing, isn’t she?