Sunday, March 09, 2008

Purr...purr...pur...Yeeeeowrrr!

Having Rannie wandering around in this strange mood is like having a grenade rolling around on the floor of the house with the pin pulled. You never know when she's going to stop chirping, chortling, and purring and turn into a spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws.

Last night she took to hopping onto the bed and issuing wild-eyed death threats to Mittens, who was attempting to sleep next to mommy's head, as is her wont. Rannie wound up banished to the outer darkness. Or at least the living room, on the other side of a closed door.

There's only room for one self-absorbed bundle of neuroses in this house, cat. Keep it up and it's medical experiments for you.

21 comments:

og said...

"a spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws."

Wow, memories of my ex.

Squeaky Wheel said...

That's Sophie. The sounds that come out of her are reminiscent of Beelzebub himself.

Breda said...

aw....she's a very pretty tortoiseshell, though.

pdb said...

You never know when she's going to stop chirping, chortling, and purring and turn into a spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws.

So in other words, she's a cat.

Turk Turon said...

Rannie looks just like my Hobbes, sans white bib and socks. Also a female.

Will said...

Perhaps a wee bit of Prozac for the fur covered tumbleweed? (Or reasonable approximation.)

Don T. said...

I may be off on this, but is there anyone around with a dog you can borrow? Having a temporary common enemy for distraction purposes may unite the fur sacks!

phlegmfatale said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
phlegmfatale said...

Maybe the fearsome dog-beast in LawDog's latest post can come over and unify your herd for a few days?

Bryan said...

She looks like a darker version of the cat sitting on my desk. She'll calm down eventually. Major changes like this unsettle them to no end.

BryanP

Mark said...

Dear me - she's the dead spit of poor, dear departed Blert. Only Blert never had a tail, o'course, bein' a Manx.

Absolutely psychotic her own self, I recall. Had a habit of arriving in the lap by sinking one pawful of biological pitons into each of my testes and pulling.

I miss her lots. Even thinking of that.

alath said...

Don't know if this is an urban legend or not... but isn't there something about three-colored cats and psychological instability? It has proven true of all the cats I've known: monocolor or two colors - sane. Three colors - nuts.

Squeaky Wheel said...

alath - It's also true that the male versions of torties and calicos don't exist - they're either stillborn or miscarried. So all torties and calicos are female. And crazy.

Bryan said...

It was my understanding that there is the occasional live male, but they are invariably sterile.

BryanP

Mark said...

We got a pure ginger Manx (well, technically Rumpy Riser, he's got a stumplet) male, and a jet-black (pure, didn't have a white hair on her 'til she turned 5 at least) female out of Blert.

I was tempted to write a paper on particle physics and puddytats. Then I sobered up.

egklzzs. As o'the Goons used to say.

Anonymous said...

Hey, that's some pretty spiffy wood floors you got there...

db

Roberta X said...

Topnailed hardwood floors, a delight...of sorts. The bedrooms were hard pine, but the front room proved to have a rotten floor under old carpet; my pal the Data Viking and I tore it out and replaced it with oak-verneer plywood!

Roberta X said...

Or "veneer." Or was it "Vernier?" No, can't be, the graduations aren't mechancally interpolatable.

D.W. Drang said...

a spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws.
And that's before you try to trim her toenails!
Yes, the ratio runs something like 99% female calicoes/tortoise shells, and the few males are generally sterile. Our Calico, Bright Huntress--whom we had to have put to sleep Jan 2, due to cancer--was a wonderful, intelligent, clever, affectionate--although not demonstratively so--beautiful lady. Unless you were trying to give her a flea bath or a pedicure...

Roberta X said...

Ranom Numbers is more of a two-color cat. I suspect her worst problem is not wanting to be the last-chair cat. She is the least-senior of the bunch but is in second place size-wise. It galls her to have to defer to a creaky old tomcat and his tiny, elderly daughter.

GreatBlueWhale said...

"spitting, psychotic whirl of yowling claws." reminds me of a line from "Family Dog" from Speilberg's Amazing Stories.

"...he doesn't look like a quivering, snarling, white-hot ball of canine terror to me."