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juushikaBe warned that if I ever have the occasion to housesit and watch your cats (or other pets—I don't discriminate, much) for a few days, I will spend most of those days with a camera by my side.
For the last few days I've been watching Spike, who would like to know why.
"Nevermind, human. You can stay."
Spike remains locked away in Dee's room while we continue the cat pee crackdown, thus the static (if beautiful and cat-flattering—although to be fair, most of the house is so) setting. But rest assured, and ignore his piteous meowing: life isn't so bad in that room if you're a lazy, old, sleepy cat.
When I locked August in the bathroom for a few hours yesterday, well, that was a different story. It was for a good cause, though. (We needed to not have cat hair flying everywhere for a little while.)
Case in point: Spike in his sunspot.
One day I will get a shot of Spike with his eyes wide open—they are remarkable. For now, this will have to do.
I almost forgot! While we're doing close-ups, have this freakishly crisp shot of Spike yawning.
So, yes. That's Spike.
He'll be thrilled to see his person when she gets back tomorrow, though, I've no doubt of that.
I bring you also bonus August. When I washed bedding before Devon got here, I wanted to wash her microfleece blanket—but the rest of the bed was naked and she was (as usual) curled up on said blanket at the time. So like the sap I am, I went downstairs, got the other microfleece blanket, brought it up, laid it out on the bed, and carefully lifted my cuddly cat from one comfy blanket to the next.
And she stayed there for hours, and adopted it for the weekend.
Having two blankets upstairs also meant that my boyfriend and my cat didn't have to fight for bedding every night. But the second blanket is back downstairs now because so help me, not even my cat needs two.
For the last few days I've been watching Spike, who would like to know why.
"Nevermind, human. You can stay."
Spike remains locked away in Dee's room while we continue the cat pee crackdown, thus the static (if beautiful and cat-flattering—although to be fair, most of the house is so) setting. But rest assured, and ignore his piteous meowing: life isn't so bad in that room if you're a lazy, old, sleepy cat.
When I locked August in the bathroom for a few hours yesterday, well, that was a different story. It was for a good cause, though. (We needed to not have cat hair flying everywhere for a little while.)
Case in point: Spike in his sunspot.
One day I will get a shot of Spike with his eyes wide open—they are remarkable. For now, this will have to do.
I almost forgot! While we're doing close-ups, have this freakishly crisp shot of Spike yawning.
So, yes. That's Spike.
He'll be thrilled to see his person when she gets back tomorrow, though, I've no doubt of that.
I bring you also bonus August. When I washed bedding before Devon got here, I wanted to wash her microfleece blanket—but the rest of the bed was naked and she was (as usual) curled up on said blanket at the time. So like the sap I am, I went downstairs, got the other microfleece blanket, brought it up, laid it out on the bed, and carefully lifted my cuddly cat from one comfy blanket to the next.
And she stayed there for hours, and adopted it for the weekend.
Having two blankets upstairs also meant that my boyfriend and my cat didn't have to fight for bedding every night. But the second blanket is back downstairs now because so help me, not even my cat needs two.
