Albert Speaks his Mind

reading kittenHi. I’m Albert. My sister Princess Stephanie is around here someplace. We live in a bookstore. Well, we do right now. Someday we’re gonna live in our own house, but I hope it has lots of shelves in it ’cause we’ve gotten really good at bouncing off them an’ using them for hide and seek.

Steph and I came here with our mom an’ brother Alfred. Alfred was really shy which for some reason got humans all excited. “Oh, look at the little one peeking around the corner!” they’d say, all gooey an’ everything. Next thing you know Alfred went out the door, riding high on some lady’s shoulder, giving Steph an’ me this “So long, losers!” look. Kinda makes me mad, ’cause I taught him that corner trick.

stephanie I’m the oldest. It’s my job to make sure Stephie gets a good home, too. That’s her on the left; you can see she’s fluffier than me. She whacks me with her paw whenever I say this, but she’s gonna run to fat when she’s older. You know those fluffy cats who lie on the sofa back all day watching television, between bowls of cream and tummy rubs? Yeah, that’s my little sister.

Me, I’m more of an adventurous guy. I’m studying mousing now; you should see my jumps! Stephie an’ me, we’d kinda like to go together at this point. We’re twelve weeks old, been friends all our lives an’ all that, but I know it doesn’t always work out that way. She’d be okay anywhere, too. We don’t call her Princess Stephanie for nothing.

albertalfredMom went back to the place she used to live. She was barely out of diapers herself when she got pregnant with us. I feel kinda bad for her, but at least she did have a home to go back to, once we were in foster care. I don’t mind being a foster kitten. The meals are regular an’ people cuddle us an’ if mom’s not here, well, we’re not out on the street like some cats.

Steph an’ me, we’re happy cats, like to run an’ play, like our tummies tickled. We’ve got big purrs an’ big hearts an’ we know how to use the potty all by ourselves. We keep our food area clean an’ if you just roll a jingle ball my way every once in awhile, I’ll count myself a lucky kitten. So how ’bout it; wanna come visit and let’s see how we get along?

albert and alfred

There are Greater Things to Fear Than Spiders in Your Hair

Jack and I have a young friend, Blair, who went on Jack’s trip to Scotland this time a year ago with her family. Blair made history by being the only participant to ever take up the tour’s opportunity to shear a sheep.

Jack only takes ten people on the tour, and while they visit internationally known sites, they also get Jack’s home turf advantage and visit a few secret pubs, living room singing sessions, and a working farm, where opportunities abound to do non-touristy things. Like what Blair did with the sheep.

blair sheep II(FYI, while the ewes don’t like the clipper noise, it doesn’t hurt AND it keeps them from getting nasty diseases like heatstroke and fly strike. So don’t believe the ewe’s drama queen pose; she’s neither suffering nor dying.)

Blair doesn’t fear dirt or hard jobs, as you can see, but until recently she and I shared a healthy respect for spiders. About 8 a.m., she posted the following as her Facebook status:

While walking under the eaves of my garage this morning, a slimy slug decided it was a good idea to plop down on top of my head. Thinking it was a giant spider trying to eat me, I quickly start swatting my hair back and forth frantically, further wrapping the slug in a nice cocoon of hair.

After my boyfriend Seth helped me pull the little booger out, we set him free, leaving me to deal with the sticky booger trail he left behind in my freshly straightened hair. And a little fun fact: It’s very hard to get snail juice out of one’s hair. I’m rocking the, “There’s Something About Mary” hairstyle today, swapping the semen with slug slime.

Moral of the story: there are far greater things to fear getting caught in your hair than spiders.

Until Blair posted this, I really wouldn’t have believed that was a true statement. But, okay, I see clearly now.  Thanks, Blair! And I fully expect, given  your prowess with electric shears, that you are sporting a buzz cut now.

Slug juice? Not to worry. This girl knows how to get the root of a problem.

blair and sheep