Archive for June, 2013

Victoria’s Lizard……

June 3, 2013

Vic. Liz.#2 web

Oh, heavens to Murgatroyd, what next?

All I wanted this week was a little peace and quiet. After raising four
rambunctious kittens in my bathroom, complete with all-night fights
and much clanging of food bowls with tiny yowls of outrage, I was looking
forward to blessed silence, and that rarest of all commodities, a full
night’s sleep. Hope springs eternal.

It took a lot of patience to calm Heather down when we first adopted the pregnantstray cat, because as we all know, much as we all love our Heather, she is given to hysteria at the drop of a hat. Squawking.
Losing her feathers all over Skosh’s bedroom…the works…but eventually,
when she was assured that no one was going to harm her or even “look at her
funny”as she put it, she was mollified. Mina the cat and Heather even
became, if somewhat guardedly, friends. When the kittens arrived, she
was overjoyed and we all played with them often, especially Heather.

Which is kind of why the trouble started.

The babies were beginning to be allowed to explore various parts of the house and
we decided that it would be fairly simple to ease them into full freedom by letting them play parts of the day on Skosh’s bed and when evening came, they could go back to
their little “bedroom” as it were. Clang. Scratch. Yowl. However, on the day of the Great Betrayal, they were frolicking on the bed and Heather and Skosh were playing with them, very carefully in Skosh’s case since he gets a little overheated and smoky when he
forgets himself. That pesky dragonfyre, you know…anyway, once again, I digress.

On this particular day, one of the littles managed to get under Skosh’s bed and before he could stop her, Heather dove after the tiny mite and was halfway under the bed when she
Stopped stock still and the ensuing silence was deafening. Skosh made the grievous error of asking what the holdup was and Heather came shooting out from under the bed,
her beak clamped shut and both wings full. One holding the kitten, and the other holding a catalogue.

A Victoria’s Lizard catalog. Open to the thong page. Under Skosh’s bed. Silence.

Then; chaos. The tiny beak opened and the most amazing fount of profanity I have ever heard from even the most tattooed and spitting construction worker came spewing forth.
From dainty little Heather. Whoda thunk it? But I must say, I was impressed at the volume and creative co-mingling of terms. The gist of it was, of course, that Skosh not only didn’t love her, and had been lying to her ALL THIS TIMEBRRRRAWWWWKKKK but he was a Pig and a Beast and a Perve (well…point taken) but he didn’t deserve her and she never ever ever wanted to see him again and he could take his cards and his flowers that he bought her and the almost diamond beak stud he got for her and shove them up…Well.

Needless to say, when one of us in this house is involved, so are we all, and I put the kittens back in their room to keep them out of the line of fire and scurried like the brave soul I am for my own room. Line of fire can be the genuine article around here, alas.
I could hear Heather’s repeated drone attacks through my door and was considering a little lie-down under my own bed when I heard her begin to weep, copiously and noisily with much HEEEPing of the intake of bird-breath and moist beak-blowing and though I
was not sure of the outcome I was pretty certain that I would not have to alert the volunteer fire department this time. It’s these tiny victories that make life sunny.

Apparently, Heather had finally run out of her strings of profanity…it took awhile, I had no idea she knew so many horrible words but then I remembered her mother and the
long afternoon martini lunches that Heather had paid court to before she and Skosh became friends and I more or less inherited her. Ahh. I guess she finally found a use for all of the ‘Ladies’ colorful language. Well all right then.

When I finally emerged from the safety of my personal no-fly zone, it seemed that Skosh had managed to calm Heather and all was, if not well, at least there was a temporary truce while Skosh attempted to explain his “disgusting behavior, you f———–b—tftt—-glff—
Mgrrr—-‘ well, you get the idea. It seems that he was innocent of all charges (oh yeah)
and while yes, the catalog is his and he admits that freely, but wait. (here it comes…)
“Honey-Fluff, this isn’t what it looks like.” Oh Skosh. Really. But he is only 15 (after a fashion) so I guess he either hasn’t heard that old saw before, or hasn’t used it before.

They retired to Skosh’s room, Heather somewhat reluctantly, and my scaly simpleton of a son attempted to talk his way out of being caught red-clawed with the ‘evidence’. According to him, he asked a friend at school if he could have her copy of the catalog in question when she was through with it because (now read closely because this is the slick part) he thought he would order something from it for Heather and surprise her with a little sexy something, even though whatever it was could never be as sexy as she was. It would pale in comparison to Heather’s loveliness. But in his own humble way, he was trying to pay homage to his #1 hottie. (Pretty good, huh??)

When I left for my weekly forage trip to Trader Joe’s, Skosh and Heather, all cuddly and cooing once again, were happily leafing through the catalog in question, hunting for the perfect piece of lingerie for the chubby little feathered supermodel of Skosh’s dreams.

It may cost Skosh a piece of change, but all in all, it was a pretty good save, don’tcha think?
Posted by Susan

When they aren’t herding cats, and honestly, when aren’t they? Dennis and Susan make and sell art of various kinds. You can see examples of their work at http://www.etsy.com/shop/digiprintskishowen (Galerie Yggdrasil)
To paraphrase the wisdom of Ceiling Cat: Srsly,buy some art. Help with the kitteh chow fund.

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