Pet Post

It's been a while since I went on a bit about the pets; probably a sign that we've grown accustomed to one another and the frustration, confusion, and happy wonder of new pets is giving way.  I am still fascinated by Gossamer and Penelope both, but far less confounded than was the case in our first few months together (particularly, it must be said, with Pen).

Gossy Mossy Poss-Foss is still quite the loverboy, still a soft and innately human-friendly kit, and I think he may have reached something like his full size now.  It's possible he's a good sized cat, but he is FAR smaller than my previous boys, and I like his (relative?) littleness.  I still call him Scoopy; he's certainly small enough to pick up any time, and Pen has LONG since left that possibility behind.  She was barely pick-up-able when I adopted her, and that was at least ten pounds ago; 45 pounds at her last weighing, and a stunningly muscular girl, she's too much dog for scooping (at least for me).

She shows other physical signs of maturation, too.  Her once bubblegum-pink tum has turned almost black.  This may be a canine indicator of sexual viability, I don't know, but it looks "older" to me in some ineffable way.  With her gains in strength, the tuck at her belly is less pronounced, but I will never have an overweight dog.  My dad said to me before he died, I should not let Siddy get fat, not feed her too much.  She stayed healthy for almost fourteen years, so I think I lived up to his exhortation.  Pen, I hope, stands to get as good a run.

RIP Bebe'

Sidney had a great ruff of a neck, thick with soft, loose skin and the deepest fur anywhere on her body.  Her chest was deep, too, and one of my favorite places to pet her.  This was where she was white, the four-quarter whorl where all her coat came together from four directions.  She was warm on her chest, very thick.

As thick as Pen-Pen is getting with her growth, she'll never have Siddy's barrel chest - nor that deep, powerful bark.  Her voice is more piercing, though I will say she's not prone to shouting with it a great deal more than Sid.  In this part of her body, she's positively skinny - and even her fur stays short at her neck, so she's not the great, soft thing to wrap your arms around Siddy was.  She's a funny combination of rather loose skin (I love taking the wrinkles on the top of her head in my hand) but relatively trim construction, in that her skin, though loose, doesn't feel "thick" in that way Siddy had.  Among other things, she's earned the description Pen-cil neck, because she looks so skinny to eyes accustomed to the Sweet La's big chest and neck.

I've talked before of her great intelligence, and she's borne out expectations since our early and difficult days together.  She will now "sit" and "down" for a hand gesture alone (at least if she is not too wildly distracted; yet she has improved, in that she'll do it now with *some* other things going on).  She can "down" without sitting now, too, and we practice both in lots of circumstances - in the house, in the yard, with others around, on our walks.  Her ability to respond consistently is kind of exciting for me; I'm not the world's great dog trainer, but she is one of the world's great pups, and I know how lucky I am in that.

"I will EAT YOU, Sunshine!"
The BEST photo of Penelope yet

It is still hard on my back keeping her to heel.  Being a puppy, and incredibly enthusiastic - and extremely strong (she is already more powerful proportionately than Siddy, whose top weight was 60 pounds) - there are times she is a pretty intense strain on my back.  With age, I think she'll calm down (just as Siddy did), though I don't think it's possible to ever communicate to her the physical effects on me of her behavior.  After the worst of the back injuries of last year, I think Sid developed some instinct of gentleness - but only to an extent (and I have to say I hope I don't endure an injury like that again, so obvious even a hare-brained puppy can sense it!).  She was also ageing so much last year, she got awfully gentle just with her own body, sometimes so much so it tore my heart to shreds to watch her move.

Penny's first pretend birthday (we don't know for sure, and she may actually be one or a few weeks older than I know) was April Fool's Day.  Happy birthday, baby girl.  May Day will be Goss's day.  Pen was allowed on the couch, and got treats.  Goss, I don't know.  Certainly treats, at least!

Gossamer, for his quiet and entirely adorable part, once he got big enough and coordinated enough to be most typically cat-like, of course takes up a lot less philosophical ink.  Let it be said, he takes up no less of my goopy old heart, nor of my mental real estate.  His ability, though, to just hew to the most ideal possible of feline behavior is incredible.  He's friendly with people (though large numbers of them do keep him *slightly* standoffish - nowhere near the level most people ascribe to cats, though), he's a hell of a cuddle-bug, and he's still every iota as cute and hilarious as he's ever been.  He, Penny, and I have an awfully nice groove going, and I love the bits out of both of them, incessantly.  I find myself on Twitter, having to restrain from constantly posting about the cuteness I must endure, and it's pathetically difficult sometimes.

Pen and I have our "things" - she gets to go outside, training, she and I go for walks, she gets her share of one on one attention - and Goss and I have little silly games we play without her (making the bed every day - he gets to be on furniture and sleep on the bed with me if he wants to) - but Penelope is definitely the jealous one.  Her confidence level in our home is high enough it doesn't seem to actually get to her, but - yeah - she's the LOVE ME baby of the two.

Napping at my feet right now, cool on the hardwood floor on a strangely sultry day for it being so windy (the storm *still* hasn't come, though for three hours it's looked like it wanted/needed to), I watch her feet twitch in a dream.  Her breath is satin-smooth and silent.  Goss was on the Queen's Chair a little while ago, but I would bet is laid out on the dining room table now.

Yes, the cat gets on the counters and on the dining room table.  So-eth it go-eth, mom and anybody else who might look that askance.  This is our house, and I clean it.  If it's cool enough for him, and high enough he can see out the window, he is allowed on the dining table.  :)  It's not like I could stop him anyway.  Some cats you can train.  I've been busy with the dog (and I know better than to leave the butter out for him to play with) ...

Handsome Little Man

Yeah, he's blurry, but I like this pic anyway.