Friday, April 10, 2009

Friday catblogging a'la Kevin Drum


So, every Friday my Mother Jones magazine email update shows up with a feature which I think provides a nice contrast to stories about environmental plundering, economic woes, and the US relationship with Iran. . . cats. MoJo reporter Kevin Drum has a feature called "Friday catblogging" which consists of a few pics of his cats, Inkblot and Domino, and a description of what they're doing, or what their mood is like.


I'd like to attempt to imitate (sincerest form of flattery, right?) Kevin's sucessful feature with my own, of Friday catblogging. Today's blog post features Ameilia, who we've now had for 6 whole days!

Well, you've probably never before experienced a cat who behaves this nicely at the vet's office. She was alert, responsive, quiet and patient throughout the visit, that is, once she was able to leave her cat carrier. She hates the cat carrier. After we'd waited for 20 minutes in the waiting room, I had to ask the receptionist when we were likely the to see the whites of the eyes of a vet, because she was literally doing somersaults inside the carrier. And she started to talk. When you can make an essentially mute cat talk, you're doing something wrong!
But, once inside the room and outside the cruel confines of the cat carrier, she was as polite and curious as a cat can be. I would call for her to jump on the exam table, and she'd do it. She liked it when the vet tech brushed her teeth with poultry-flavored toothpaste. She didn't mind when the vet felt all around her chest and stomach. She was a very good girl!
These pictures wer taken during the consultation time of the vet appointment, when I was discussing the pros and cons of a heartworm prevention medicine. As you can see, she helped herself onto the supply table, and then started licking her chops- damn! that chicken flavored toothpaste sure is delicious!
Happy Friday, from Ameilia and the entire Brown and Catanese animal menagerie.

1 comment:

pbrownie said...

I love your resolve! Dad