After last week’s day of rain, the sidewalk’s warming up again. High 70’s and low 80’s for the next few days.
(A favorite spot to warm up and also cuff the corgi’s tail-less bottom as he passes through the feline gauntlet.)
As sometimes happens with this breed, the corgi Ein was born tail-less, or “naturally docked.” The cats had nothing to do with that.
I should keep the steps free of hidden pouncing opportunities, but I love the way the plants drape, and cats and plants love the sun here in winter.
(Strangely enough, there is a song about tail-less creatures, which can be adapted to sing to Welsh corgis.
My husband taught me the song, but I see Wikipedia dates it to 1907. The following is the only part of the song I know.
The Monkeys Have No Tails in Zamboanga
Oh, the monkeys have no tails in Zamboanga,
Oh, the monkeys have no tails in Zamboanga,
Oh, the monkeys have no tails,
They were bitten off by whales,
Oh, the monkeys have no tails in Zamboanga.)
I won’t even list the cats’ names because they’ll only change them tomorrow. Yes, the cats change them, not me.
Which sets up supreme humiliation at the vet’s office, when you present the tabby cat you call Joseph, and their records have him as Jones.
Next time at the vet’s you present the tabby cat known to you as Prof. Joe. B. Tiger, and their records have him as Joseph, etc., etc.
The vet’s office records have the white one as Evie, but I think she goes by Chizzy these days.
The vet’s office records have always shown this one’s name as Newt, but her records have changed in other ways.
Due to a nerve injury, she had one of her fore legs removed a few years ago — its absence outlined by the negative space on the left in the photo.
Thank goodness for the relative stability of plant names. Everyone seems to just be ignoring aster’s new name, symphicotricum, and for good reason. Rudbeckia triloba, bought and planted late in summer, responding to warmer days.
If it’s truly a biennial as I’ve read, this sweet little performance will be all the plant will give.
Rumored to be prolific at reseeding, though. I certainly hope so.
The autumn air smells fantastic.
Color is deepening purple on the tips of this tiny Acacia baileyana ‘Purpurea’ still in a 12-inch pot, where it will remain for the foreseeable future.
All space for trees currently taken.
Not a very professional weather crew, it’s true. All we really know is fine weather makes us frisky and happy.
But never less wary of the next pounce.
You rename your cats too? Wait. I stand corrected. They rename themselves. My youngest daughter recently rescued a kitten, promptly named it Disco but the frisky feline prefers to be called “Baby.” Go figure.
How nice that you and your clan have such warm weather to bask in. I’m jealous.
I don’t think I’ll ever refer to Asters as Sympho…whatever.
Ted and Doobie have remained the same, but Rembrandt became Big Fat Kitty and Tullamore became Stinky. Cats know when their names are inappropriate.
Grace, I didn’t know the rain was pummeling your garden. I’m so sorry stuff is getting knocked down. With the warmth here yesterday was a hint of the dry Santa Ana winds coming — a condition I loathe, but today fog is back so maybe we ducked the Santa Ana’s.
Kathy, you make me guffaw out loud. Poor Stinky…I wonder how many pets have changed their name to Stinky?
Pearl is definitely Fat Kitty for now, but Elvis will always be Kitty Boy or Mr. Boy.
That gorgeous little rudbeckia. If I ever seeded things, that would be one to have.
I love your sense of humor. What a fun post.