Angela Verdenius's Blog - Posts Tagged "polly"
Naughty Kitties!
So you're probably wondering just who do I base all these different cats on that pop up in my books?
Look no further than my own furry mob! To give you a sample, here is a piece about one of my cats having an on-going fight with my Mum (I copied this off my other blog), and another wanting to lord it over visiting cats.
So, for your enjoyment, I present:
"Fight 1 - Mum & Polly"
***************
So Mum and Polly are fighting. I tell you, it’s not pretty (but it IS funny). So you’re wondering what on earth my mother, who is placid and easy-going, is doing fighting with Polly, who pretty much minds her own business as long as no one GETS in her business.
Basically, Polly has decided that the current Best Spot Ever is right on top of Mum’s jewellery box on the dressing table. This results in knocking off the alarm clock and whatever else happens to be on the dressing table at the time as she heaves her fat bum onto the dressing table, plops it down on the jewellery box and dares anyone stupid enough to try, to get her off.
Along comes Mum and all Hell breaks loose.
Mum: “What the - why are you on there?”
Polly: “Because.”
Mum: “I’ve told you a million times you’re not to go on there!”
Polly: “What’s your point?”
Mum: “Get off!”
Polly: “Don’t you touch me!”
Mum: *grunts as she tries to lift Polly off*
Polly: Hiss*spit*yell*
Mum: ^%#! She’s knocked the alarm clock off now!”
Angela: “Maybe that’s because you knocked it off while trying to get her off?”
Mum: “Shut up!”
Note to everyone - this is what happens when you’re dumb enough to try and offer comments that are, apparently, extremely unhelpful in this situation.
It continues -
Polly: “Let me go! HELP!”
Angela: “Why don’t you just leave her-?”
Mum: “She’s not staying there!”
Polly: “Yes I freakin’ am!”
Mum: “No you’re not. Get off!”
Angela: “She’ll only get back up there.”
Mum: “No she won’t.”
Polly: “Yes I freakin’ will! It’s the Best Spot Ever!”
Mum: *finally manages to dislodge Polly and plops her onto the chair beside the dressing table* “Now you can sit there.”
Polly’s eyes are huge, black and not friendly. “You really think so, huh?”
Angela: “You really think she’ll stay there?”
Mum: “She will.” Points at Polly. “You don’t go up on my dressing table knocking stuff off. Now stay.”
Angela: “She’s not a dog. No way is she going to-”
Mum: “She will if she knows what’s good for her.”
No sooner does Mum walk away than I peek through the doorway and yep, Polly has her a**e on the jewellery box again.
***********************
Fight 2 - Evie and the Visitors
So we’ve had a busy time lately with visiting kitties coming to stay with us. There’s sweet little old Renee (who is 20yrs old), Skitty and Jeffrey (come as a pair) and Freya (a wide-eyed pure tortoiseshell). They’ve all been coming and going, sometimes overlapping.
Now we all know Evie has to be Boss Cocky. Struts her stuff and all that. She literally walks the walk and talks the talk. So any cats visiting get her full attention.
Now, if cats come for a long period (say several weeks), we usually start to integrate them into the household after about3 days, so they can run with ours, but if they’re only here for a few days or less than a week, I don’t worry about going through the whole introductions. Besides, Evie always makes that a little hairy (no pun intend).
So Renee, unfortunately, cannot mix with ours, because old or not, she’ll try to rip their faces off. Probably fall a***e over t*t while she does it because she’s so frail, but nevertheless I don’t want her having a heart attack while trying to knock another cat’s whiskers off on our watch.
Skitty and Jeffrey were only here for about five days, so no point tempting fate (especially Evie) by trying the introduction thing.
But Freya was here for several weeks, so it was a case of introduction time.
Now, when cats are shut in the front room with just the screen door between them and the others, Evie struts past them, plays in front of the door, presses her nose to it and stares in at them (especially when they’re using the litter tray, because unnerving them when they’re trying to do their business is such fun), and basically parades past showing them that SHE is Boss Cocky, SHE has the run of the place, it’s HER house and everything in it belongs to HER. She really enjoys this.
So let’s come back to Freya. Freya is a happy, bright-eyed tortoiseshell, only about a couple of years old from memory (and my memory is in serious question, but I’m pretty confident I’m right on this), and she is ultra affectionate.
So along comes the day when we let Freya out. The rest of the cats look at her and go “yeah, whatever” and go back to sleep. Polly just warns her not to get near the jewellery box or dressing table - “My place, you, my Best Spot Ever!” - and then comes Evie.
Evie, Evie, Evie. Her ears perk up, her whiskers bristled, her whole little body starts to quiver with excitement because there’s fresh meat to torment! She follows Freya as Freya prances around. Covertly, Evie slides from one piece of furniture to another, peers around the edges, pokes her head over the tops, sidles around the corners, the whole time keeping her prey in sight.
Freya, totally oblivious, dances around checking out everything, her eyes big and bright. (She really is a happy little cat).
Evie finally decides to reveal herself. TAH-DAH!!! “Cringe before me, you lowly peasant!”
Freya: “OMG! Someone to play with!” And proceeds to prance towards Evie.
This freaks out Evie. WTHell…? This thing isn’t afraid of her? Something wrong here, people. Evie snaps upright, her ears go back, her eyes go wide.
Freya happily trots forward. “Hi! How are you? Wow! Play with me! Wooooow!”
Evie, totally freaked out because this thing doesn’t recognize Her Majesty, backs up and disappears.
She spends the rest of the time that Freya is here either:
a) Hiding and peeking out at her
b) Sulking on Granny’s bed
c) Strutting in front of the screen door at night when Freya is put back in there to sleep.
Yep, night time is when Evie struts her stuff. “Going to bed with MY Granny,” she informs Freya, strutting past the door while Freya watches wide-eyed. “Going to MY bed with MY Granny,” Evie adds, strutting back the other way. “Only I sleep on MY Granny’s bed, ‘cause I’m Boss Cocky and everything!” this she delivers as she slides herself along the door. Then she proceeds to look up at Granny, all sweet and coy, casts Freya another triumphant glance as she watches, and trots after Granny, hopping into bed on HER little blankie in HER special spot on HER Granny’s bed, lays her little head in Granny’s hand and goes to sleep.
STILL BOSS COCKY!!!
*********************
If you'd like to see photos of Polly on the jewellery box and Evie totally bewildered that Freya has no clue she's Boss Cocky, visit my blog where the photos of these two are:
http://www.angelaverdenius.blogspot.c...
Enjoy!
Look no further than my own furry mob! To give you a sample, here is a piece about one of my cats having an on-going fight with my Mum (I copied this off my other blog), and another wanting to lord it over visiting cats.
So, for your enjoyment, I present:
"Fight 1 - Mum & Polly"
***************
So Mum and Polly are fighting. I tell you, it’s not pretty (but it IS funny). So you’re wondering what on earth my mother, who is placid and easy-going, is doing fighting with Polly, who pretty much minds her own business as long as no one GETS in her business.
Basically, Polly has decided that the current Best Spot Ever is right on top of Mum’s jewellery box on the dressing table. This results in knocking off the alarm clock and whatever else happens to be on the dressing table at the time as she heaves her fat bum onto the dressing table, plops it down on the jewellery box and dares anyone stupid enough to try, to get her off.
Along comes Mum and all Hell breaks loose.
Mum: “What the - why are you on there?”
Polly: “Because.”
Mum: “I’ve told you a million times you’re not to go on there!”
Polly: “What’s your point?”
Mum: “Get off!”
Polly: “Don’t you touch me!”
Mum: *grunts as she tries to lift Polly off*
Polly: Hiss*spit*yell*
Mum: ^%#! She’s knocked the alarm clock off now!”
Angela: “Maybe that’s because you knocked it off while trying to get her off?”
Mum: “Shut up!”
Note to everyone - this is what happens when you’re dumb enough to try and offer comments that are, apparently, extremely unhelpful in this situation.
It continues -
Polly: “Let me go! HELP!”
Angela: “Why don’t you just leave her-?”
Mum: “She’s not staying there!”
Polly: “Yes I freakin’ am!”
Mum: “No you’re not. Get off!”
Angela: “She’ll only get back up there.”
Mum: “No she won’t.”
Polly: “Yes I freakin’ will! It’s the Best Spot Ever!”
Mum: *finally manages to dislodge Polly and plops her onto the chair beside the dressing table* “Now you can sit there.”
Polly’s eyes are huge, black and not friendly. “You really think so, huh?”
Angela: “You really think she’ll stay there?”
Mum: “She will.” Points at Polly. “You don’t go up on my dressing table knocking stuff off. Now stay.”
Angela: “She’s not a dog. No way is she going to-”
Mum: “She will if she knows what’s good for her.”
No sooner does Mum walk away than I peek through the doorway and yep, Polly has her a**e on the jewellery box again.
***********************
Fight 2 - Evie and the Visitors
So we’ve had a busy time lately with visiting kitties coming to stay with us. There’s sweet little old Renee (who is 20yrs old), Skitty and Jeffrey (come as a pair) and Freya (a wide-eyed pure tortoiseshell). They’ve all been coming and going, sometimes overlapping.
Now we all know Evie has to be Boss Cocky. Struts her stuff and all that. She literally walks the walk and talks the talk. So any cats visiting get her full attention.
Now, if cats come for a long period (say several weeks), we usually start to integrate them into the household after about3 days, so they can run with ours, but if they’re only here for a few days or less than a week, I don’t worry about going through the whole introductions. Besides, Evie always makes that a little hairy (no pun intend).
So Renee, unfortunately, cannot mix with ours, because old or not, she’ll try to rip their faces off. Probably fall a***e over t*t while she does it because she’s so frail, but nevertheless I don’t want her having a heart attack while trying to knock another cat’s whiskers off on our watch.
Skitty and Jeffrey were only here for about five days, so no point tempting fate (especially Evie) by trying the introduction thing.
But Freya was here for several weeks, so it was a case of introduction time.
Now, when cats are shut in the front room with just the screen door between them and the others, Evie struts past them, plays in front of the door, presses her nose to it and stares in at them (especially when they’re using the litter tray, because unnerving them when they’re trying to do their business is such fun), and basically parades past showing them that SHE is Boss Cocky, SHE has the run of the place, it’s HER house and everything in it belongs to HER. She really enjoys this.
So let’s come back to Freya. Freya is a happy, bright-eyed tortoiseshell, only about a couple of years old from memory (and my memory is in serious question, but I’m pretty confident I’m right on this), and she is ultra affectionate.
So along comes the day when we let Freya out. The rest of the cats look at her and go “yeah, whatever” and go back to sleep. Polly just warns her not to get near the jewellery box or dressing table - “My place, you, my Best Spot Ever!” - and then comes Evie.
Evie, Evie, Evie. Her ears perk up, her whiskers bristled, her whole little body starts to quiver with excitement because there’s fresh meat to torment! She follows Freya as Freya prances around. Covertly, Evie slides from one piece of furniture to another, peers around the edges, pokes her head over the tops, sidles around the corners, the whole time keeping her prey in sight.
Freya, totally oblivious, dances around checking out everything, her eyes big and bright. (She really is a happy little cat).
Evie finally decides to reveal herself. TAH-DAH!!! “Cringe before me, you lowly peasant!”
Freya: “OMG! Someone to play with!” And proceeds to prance towards Evie.
This freaks out Evie. WTHell…? This thing isn’t afraid of her? Something wrong here, people. Evie snaps upright, her ears go back, her eyes go wide.
Freya happily trots forward. “Hi! How are you? Wow! Play with me! Wooooow!”
Evie, totally freaked out because this thing doesn’t recognize Her Majesty, backs up and disappears.
She spends the rest of the time that Freya is here either:
a) Hiding and peeking out at her
b) Sulking on Granny’s bed
c) Strutting in front of the screen door at night when Freya is put back in there to sleep.
Yep, night time is when Evie struts her stuff. “Going to bed with MY Granny,” she informs Freya, strutting past the door while Freya watches wide-eyed. “Going to MY bed with MY Granny,” Evie adds, strutting back the other way. “Only I sleep on MY Granny’s bed, ‘cause I’m Boss Cocky and everything!” this she delivers as she slides herself along the door. Then she proceeds to look up at Granny, all sweet and coy, casts Freya another triumphant glance as she watches, and trots after Granny, hopping into bed on HER little blankie in HER special spot on HER Granny’s bed, lays her little head in Granny’s hand and goes to sleep.
STILL BOSS COCKY!!!
*********************
If you'd like to see photos of Polly on the jewellery box and Evie totally bewildered that Freya has no clue she's Boss Cocky, visit my blog where the photos of these two are:
http://www.angelaverdenius.blogspot.c...
Enjoy!
Where am I with Ryan's Story...and Polly!
So I'm working on what I'm predicting to be the last two chapters. I know! I can't believe it msyelf! Honestly, with the issues I had with Ryan's story in the beginning, I truly thought this was going to be a brain-cruncher.
Well, it kind of has been in some ways, but the story has come to me much easier than I hoped. Mind you, this last two chapters has me dithering around LOL - not wanting to rush it or finish it too quickly. Sometimes beginning and ending a book are the hardest things to do. Starting interestingly and finishing satisfyingly.
So just wanted to update you all as to where I am at the moment.
Today is a day off my day job, it's 10:45 in the morning. I was up early, swept and mopped the floor, taken Polly (one of the cats) to the vet to get her teeth scaled and cleaned, done the shopping, put it all away, done the emails - now I'm settling in to write. Got Reba McEntire playing on the computer, along with some Elvis Presley, John Legend, Evanescence and some others. Diet Coke by my elbow, Evie (the naughty cat) causing havoc somewhere - I'll have to check what she's up to in a minute, that little turkey could be up to anything - and then I'm settling down to write for the rest of the day - apart from picking the cat up again when the vet rings to say she's ready!
Ah yes, Polly was a grumpy bum this morning. No breakfast (the horror of it!) and shut into Mum's room so she couldn't do a runner under my bed. Interestingly, have you ever noticed when a cat knows it's going to the vet that they seem to kind of melt onto the quilt? You literally have to tunnel your hand under them to lift them up and they kind of flop each side of your hand. It's like they're Velcroed to the bed. And dead weight? Polly was both. Amazing, simply amazing. But I managed to peel her off the bed with a bit of grunting (on my part) and foul looks (on her part) and got her into the basket. I got a phone call from the vet nurse a few minutes ago to say she'd fractured her canine and could they remove it? This is an indoor cat, how the heck did she manage to fracture her canine tooth? Anyway, the tooth's coming out (poor baby) and she'll come home on pain killers. Geez, when I'm not nursing people at work, I'm nursing furries at home!
Okay, enough waffling, I'm going to hit Ryan now. I mean hit the computer. I mean start writing. Geez...
Well, it kind of has been in some ways, but the story has come to me much easier than I hoped. Mind you, this last two chapters has me dithering around LOL - not wanting to rush it or finish it too quickly. Sometimes beginning and ending a book are the hardest things to do. Starting interestingly and finishing satisfyingly.
So just wanted to update you all as to where I am at the moment.
Today is a day off my day job, it's 10:45 in the morning. I was up early, swept and mopped the floor, taken Polly (one of the cats) to the vet to get her teeth scaled and cleaned, done the shopping, put it all away, done the emails - now I'm settling in to write. Got Reba McEntire playing on the computer, along with some Elvis Presley, John Legend, Evanescence and some others. Diet Coke by my elbow, Evie (the naughty cat) causing havoc somewhere - I'll have to check what she's up to in a minute, that little turkey could be up to anything - and then I'm settling down to write for the rest of the day - apart from picking the cat up again when the vet rings to say she's ready!
Ah yes, Polly was a grumpy bum this morning. No breakfast (the horror of it!) and shut into Mum's room so she couldn't do a runner under my bed. Interestingly, have you ever noticed when a cat knows it's going to the vet that they seem to kind of melt onto the quilt? You literally have to tunnel your hand under them to lift them up and they kind of flop each side of your hand. It's like they're Velcroed to the bed. And dead weight? Polly was both. Amazing, simply amazing. But I managed to peel her off the bed with a bit of grunting (on my part) and foul looks (on her part) and got her into the basket. I got a phone call from the vet nurse a few minutes ago to say she'd fractured her canine and could they remove it? This is an indoor cat, how the heck did she manage to fracture her canine tooth? Anyway, the tooth's coming out (poor baby) and she'll come home on pain killers. Geez, when I'm not nursing people at work, I'm nursing furries at home!
Okay, enough waffling, I'm going to hit Ryan now. I mean hit the computer. I mean start writing. Geez...
Cat vs Human
So one of my cats, Polly, and I are having a battle of the wills.
Polly has this idea in her furry little head that I should feed Her Majesty her breakfast on my bed. That's right, ON MY BED.
I show her the food bowl, she looks at it from where her furry bum is parked on my bed, to me.
I REFUSE to give in and instead put the bowl on the floor. This is as far as I'll go - putting the food bowl on the floor of my bedroom. The nasty smell of canned fish goes through my bedroom but I'm soft enough to allow this. But I'm NOT soft enough to allow that same fish to be fed to Polly on the bed because she gets the food here and there and next thing, my bed will stink like canned fish.
So her answer to that is to tuck herself under the cover and refuse to come out to eat breakfast.
Her next step is to come out halfway through the afternoon yelling that I didn't feed her, Mum didn't feed her and she is STARVING!
Then we have to feed her right now.
And the rest of the cats come mooching along, and we tell them it's too early for their dinner and Polly didn't get breaky and now our name is mud in their eyes because we fed Polly a big arvo snack and not them.
My life...it is a battlefield right now...
Polly has this idea in her furry little head that I should feed Her Majesty her breakfast on my bed. That's right, ON MY BED.
I show her the food bowl, she looks at it from where her furry bum is parked on my bed, to me.
I REFUSE to give in and instead put the bowl on the floor. This is as far as I'll go - putting the food bowl on the floor of my bedroom. The nasty smell of canned fish goes through my bedroom but I'm soft enough to allow this. But I'm NOT soft enough to allow that same fish to be fed to Polly on the bed because she gets the food here and there and next thing, my bed will stink like canned fish.
So her answer to that is to tuck herself under the cover and refuse to come out to eat breakfast.
Her next step is to come out halfway through the afternoon yelling that I didn't feed her, Mum didn't feed her and she is STARVING!
Then we have to feed her right now.
And the rest of the cats come mooching along, and we tell them it's too early for their dinner and Polly didn't get breaky and now our name is mud in their eyes because we fed Polly a big arvo snack and not them.
My life...it is a battlefield right now...
