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August spam: anecdotes and a hard drive's worth of various pictures.
Meanwhile, there's this:
After I heard of Madison's death, I went out in the hall (which is where August spends her early evenings, napping outside my door—why not inside on the comfy bed? who knows, but it makes her happy, so who cares) and pulled August into my lap. Don't let her delicate little kitten features fool you: August is surprisingly large and has a solid warm physicality to her, wide soft flanks and handfuls of rich smooth fur. When she came home with us she was a bit uncomfortable about being picked up—she wouldn't squirm out of it, but her tail would twitch and she'd climb away when she could. She used to live in a home with small children, which may explain things. It bothered me a little because I love holding cats, but I gave her her space and over time she's grown increasingly tolerant. But that day she sat in my lap, her torso pressed to mine, and let me hold her with nary and tail-twitch, warm and soft and so solid.
And today so help me if she will not leave me alone for the hour I need to edit pictures and write this post. She is full of cuddles and purrs, and let me clip a mat from her haunches, and she tries to bite my knee but it's too big to fit in her mouth.
I love this cat. She's not a Madison-replacement, although in a way I think I initially intended her to be. She is her own independent beast, and she is ridiculous, and I love her and am so thankful to have her near me right now.
So it seems like a good time to upload what I've been saving up on my hard drive, and give you some sundry August pictures and anecdotes (and one video clip) of the cute and beautiful and silly variety.
This will be barely visible on most monitors and behold how I do not care, because August is just that cute.
ETA: This is for Express, who requested I outline the cat.
I give you: August floof.
On top she's so smooth, but down below she has floof sprouting from tummy and butt and between her toes, to say nothing of her tail. It mats so easily and there's still some mats I have to deal with on her inner thighs; it's also too long to fit in her tiny mouth—she can groom from root to about midway through, and then she can't reach out far enough and the tips get left as little wet un-brushed spikes. I have my best luck grooming her while she grooms herself, so that I can brush out those spikes and because she's most tolerant of it when she's already in a fur-maintenance mode. Occasionally when we're deep in a grooming session, she'll lift her head and sniff my face. If I put my head down for her, she'll give one lick to my hairline (and then make a funny face at the texture of my hair).
I give you a near pointlessly short clip of August kneeding and almost suckling her omnipresent microfleece blanket.
She purrs while doing this, too. August is almost more attached to her bedding than I am, which is saying something.
This is August's white chin hair.
She actually lost it a few weeks ago, but since it's actually a single white chin-whisker I figured she'd regrow it and, lo and behold, there was soon a white wisp a'startin'.
August asleep on the living room couch (with one of my mum's quilts in the background!).
Her initial comfort here was almost deceptive, because in a way being a floopy floofy love was her way of coping with a new situation—it wasn't until later that her initial shyness and wariness became visible. Her comfort now is more whole-hearted and authentic, and if I'm downstairs she'll sometimes come and lay down on the couch behind me (I usually sit on the floor) and sack out. She has made this whole house her home.
Now it's ridiculousness time. (And snapshot and trackpad handwriting time—sorry.)
August is a fastidious-to-the-point-of-obsessive litter box user, which means she comes out covered in litter dust.
And sometimes I do mean covered.
This is what happened when she tried to groom off the dust.
It is an out of focus snapshot and oh how I don't care.
I feed August in my bedroom, so I store her food in a resealable bag that I don't need an entire paper bag of cat food on my shelf. Not long ago Dee made an offhand remark that August would probably chew through that bag if she could, and lo and behold:
She did.
The kicker: there wasn't anything in it. It had fallen because I'd forgotten about it after emptying it and switching to a larger and sturdier bag, but that did not stop August from chewing the whole thing and ripping two big holes so that she could, I presume, lick every crumb from each corner. Rest assured that there are no pieces of plastic missing, and so her stomach will be fine. Her brain I think has long been a lost cause.
That's August.
After I heard of Madison's death, I went out in the hall (which is where August spends her early evenings, napping outside my door—why not inside on the comfy bed? who knows, but it makes her happy, so who cares) and pulled August into my lap. Don't let her delicate little kitten features fool you: August is surprisingly large and has a solid warm physicality to her, wide soft flanks and handfuls of rich smooth fur. When she came home with us she was a bit uncomfortable about being picked up—she wouldn't squirm out of it, but her tail would twitch and she'd climb away when she could. She used to live in a home with small children, which may explain things. It bothered me a little because I love holding cats, but I gave her her space and over time she's grown increasingly tolerant. But that day she sat in my lap, her torso pressed to mine, and let me hold her with nary and tail-twitch, warm and soft and so solid.
And today so help me if she will not leave me alone for the hour I need to edit pictures and write this post. She is full of cuddles and purrs, and let me clip a mat from her haunches, and she tries to bite my knee but it's too big to fit in her mouth.
I love this cat. She's not a Madison-replacement, although in a way I think I initially intended her to be. She is her own independent beast, and she is ridiculous, and I love her and am so thankful to have her near me right now.
So it seems like a good time to upload what I've been saving up on my hard drive, and give you some sundry August pictures and anecdotes (and one video clip) of the cute and beautiful and silly variety.
This will be barely visible on most monitors and behold how I do not care, because August is just that cute.
ETA: This is for Express, who requested I outline the cat.
I give you: August floof.
On top she's so smooth, but down below she has floof sprouting from tummy and butt and between her toes, to say nothing of her tail. It mats so easily and there's still some mats I have to deal with on her inner thighs; it's also too long to fit in her tiny mouth—she can groom from root to about midway through, and then she can't reach out far enough and the tips get left as little wet un-brushed spikes. I have my best luck grooming her while she grooms herself, so that I can brush out those spikes and because she's most tolerant of it when she's already in a fur-maintenance mode. Occasionally when we're deep in a grooming session, she'll lift her head and sniff my face. If I put my head down for her, she'll give one lick to my hairline (and then make a funny face at the texture of my hair).
I give you a near pointlessly short clip of August kneeding and almost suckling her omnipresent microfleece blanket.
She purrs while doing this, too. August is almost more attached to her bedding than I am, which is saying something.
This is August's white chin hair.
She actually lost it a few weeks ago, but since it's actually a single white chin-whisker I figured she'd regrow it and, lo and behold, there was soon a white wisp a'startin'.
August asleep on the living room couch (with one of my mum's quilts in the background!).
Her initial comfort here was almost deceptive, because in a way being a floopy floofy love was her way of coping with a new situation—it wasn't until later that her initial shyness and wariness became visible. Her comfort now is more whole-hearted and authentic, and if I'm downstairs she'll sometimes come and lay down on the couch behind me (I usually sit on the floor) and sack out. She has made this whole house her home.
Now it's ridiculousness time. (And snapshot and trackpad handwriting time—sorry.)
August is a fastidious-to-the-point-of-obsessive litter box user, which means she comes out covered in litter dust.
And sometimes I do mean covered.
This is what happened when she tried to groom off the dust.
It is an out of focus snapshot and oh how I don't care.
I feed August in my bedroom, so I store her food in a resealable bag that I don't need an entire paper bag of cat food on my shelf. Not long ago Dee made an offhand remark that August would probably chew through that bag if she could, and lo and behold:
She did.
The kicker: there wasn't anything in it. It had fallen because I'd forgotten about it after emptying it and switching to a larger and sturdier bag, but that did not stop August from chewing the whole thing and ripping two big holes so that she could, I presume, lick every crumb from each corner. Rest assured that there are no pieces of plastic missing, and so her stomach will be fine. Her brain I think has long been a lost cause.
That's August.