So, tonight we went for a walk and it was just the usual trotting around, sniffing and such when we got to the back parking lot of my apartment complex. The whole thing is built into a hill, with the third building highest up. The high back wall is at a 45-degree angle, sloping down into the parking lot. So, Wednesday at first just props his paws up and sniffs the wall. Then he walked away, paused, then turned around, stared at the slope and made a run for it. He managed to get half-way up before he stopped, flattened himself to the wall in an attempt to stay up and, with an utterly alarmed look on his face, slid down, about three feet, butt first to the ground.
After he hit bottom, he did a sort of awkward flip and landed on his feet and then gave his shoulder a dismissive lick, as if to say, "I meant to do that. It was for your simple-minded amusement, hairless monkey." Then, with a flick of his tail, he trotted off. We got about five feet away before he stopped, turned around and then made ANOTHER run for the wall. Same thing happened, only this time, he looked more resigned than alarmed as he hit the ground. What a dork.
After a third, abortive attempt to climb the wall, he finally gave upand we went on our merry way, until he found a patch of dirt and proceeded to roll in it for about five minutes in almost orgasmic glee. When I finally pulled him away, my formerly orange and white tabby was now dark brown and tan. It took me ten minutes with about five or six wet paper towels to get him to something resembling his former self. He is now damp, mussed and somewhat pissy. I had to lock him in the bathroom because he was running around with the harness half-hanging off of him, leaping randomly, biting my feet and hissing. Makes you wonder what was in that dirt, eh?
In other Wednesday news, he was neutered on Thursday. It didn't put him off his game at all. He went down around 8 A.M., when I picked him up at 3 P.M., he had been awake, alert and bouncing around the vet's office for hours, according to the receptionist. I got him home and he proceeded to run around like a psycho, sniffing and knocking things over, like he always does.
I don't think he's even noticed that his balls are missing yet, although the other night he was giving himself his usual thorough going-over and he did pause in mid-lick and look up at me with a sort of "Quoi?" expression, as if to say, "Huh. Wasn't there something there before?" But the moment was a brief one and soon he went back to his task.
He's a wierd cat.
The American Plague: The untold story of yellow fever, the epidemic that shaped our history, by Molly Caldwell Crosby
Yes, I'm back to reading about things that will cause someone a horrible death. What can I say? It's the holidays!
The Killers, 'Sawdust'. They played 'Shadowplay' as the encore at their concert and KILLED it (pun intended, heh). Awesome, awesome. Makes me giddy.
The Soup, Bones, season 2