The Doctor is out

I'll bet Maya Angelou is spinning in her grave right now over all the tributes referring to her as just plain Maya Angelou.  She insisted on being called DOCTOR Angelou, thankyouverymuch.

My brother has a doctorate.  In wildlife biology.  One that he actually went to school for, even.  Penn State and the University of Florida. It took him a lot of years.  First he got his associate degree, then his bachelor's, then his master's, then his doctorate.  But he never asked anybody to call him Doctor.  That I know of, anyway.  Maybe the white-tailed deer he spent his career researching called him Doctor.  Hard tellin' - they're not talking.

I think from now on, I want to be called Dr. Rockycat.  It has a nice ring to it.

Freaky Friday: Maneki-neko

This is my Chinese money cat.  He is supposed to bring dollas into the house.

Well, he looks pretty, anyway.

How much do I love this? Way more than I should.

From What Would Tyler Durdon Do:

"I hate when people protest McDonald’s as if Indiana Jones just emerged from its bowels with secret findings about how disgusting the food is or how everybody who works there is making minimum wage plus two cents an hour for greasy complexion compensation. Yeah, you got them, Indy. Or protesting bitches at their headquarters in Illinois demanding Mickey D’s pay their workers more, as if those who work at McDonald’s are somehow born into indentured servitude like the pyramid builders. McDonald’s hasn’t changed in fifty years. They’ve still got unskilled burger flippers and fry cooks doling out meals at inexplicably low prices to pre-diabetics passing through their high speed turnstiles. What’s changed is everything else around them. Like heads of households thinking they can provide for a family with a job meant for high school kids with too much acne to work as grocery store baggers. I’m sorry you have a brood to feed and the six-figure french fryer jobs at the McDonald’s competitors were all taken. You’re supposed to be broke-ass when you’re a teen or make lots of babies or drop out of high school or predominantly speak one of those weird languages that always sounds like you’re fighting. That way you get to learn for yourself that being broke sucks and you ought to do something about that. Like, learn a trade skill, or I guess make signs and yell really loudly until somebody pays you to go away. The last time people protested McDonald’s, we ended up with cryo chamber apple slices and a talking big-toothed Minions character ripoff pushing milk to go with your quarter-pounder. We don’t need that shit. Leave McDonald’s alone. It’s absolutely perfect at being what it is. It’s you who needs to change."


My opinion:  Should managers at McDonald's be making more than minimum wage?  Absolutely.  That's the whole damn point - you go in there entry level on the fryers, and work your way up.  But to insist that a sixteen-year-old working six hours a week for video game money  be paid twelve bucks an hour?  Or fifteen?  Or twenty?  Bullsh*t.    Look at it this way:  How much do you pay your kids' teenage babysitter?   Yeah, that's what I thought.

Look.  I've been there.  I worked fast food, for more years than I'd care to admit.  Was I paid a "living wage"?  Haaaaaahahahaha don't make me laugh.  And I shouldn't have been.  It was a part-time, unskilled job which I educated and worked my way out of.

Entry-level jobs are exactly that.  ENTRY-LEVEL.  And they should be compensated for as such.

Okay, okay.  Rant over.   Just don't f*cking insult me by insisting that some teenage fry cook should be making as much as a paralegal or a librarian.  That's bullsh*t.  And if you're thirty years old with three kids and two divorces and you're still a fry cook?   Shoulda stayed away from the drugs, my friend.

The weekend that was

Well.  THAT weekend went by in a hurry, didn't it?

Saturday was an adoption event:

I'm pleased and amazed to report that the kitty quilts I made sold out:

And even more pleased and amazed to report that seven!  kittens!  found new homes on Saturday.  Including THREE  who went to ONE family, which, all I can say is, I bet they had a busy weekend. 

And no, none of those seven were my fosters; mine are still too wee to go to events.

I actually replaced that ratty old beach towel with a nice clean bed sheet this weekend and now?  The cats refuse to lie there.

Ah, kitten faces:

Litter 1 is starting to sample food and to use the litterbox. (whew)  Litter 2 is starting to emerge from their nest.  I predict chaos in the coming weeks.  Luckily, a neighbor girl has been coming over and spending lots of time in the foster room, which is AWESOME.

Let's see.  I also mowed the lawn and cleared out the gardens and did nine million tons of laundry and washed the car and drank some beer.

AND took a minute to think of my dad, a WWII vet, and all of the other veterans out there who keep us safe.

Hope you had a good weekend too. 

Freaky Friday: Signage

When I saw this sign placed out with the trash on a street near my office, well, I had to grab it.

I don't know why I like it so much - I just do.  Something about the idea of a sacred site having regular business hours, maybe.  Or just the whole idea of "sacred sites".   I think I'll hang it in the foster room.

First!

... first poison ivy rash of the season, that is.

*sigh*

In search of ladyslippers

Sunday, I had a ton of stuff to do, including having lots of company coming over because people are using me to get to the adorable kittens, but I took a quick break to scoot up to State Park to see if the ladyslippers there were blooming yet.  Everything's a little late this year due to the harsh winter.

No ladyslipper blooms yet, but they are budding:

So are the wild azaleas:

And some of the azaleas are even blooming:

Blueberry bush:

Purple ... um ... something:

Something makes trails through the boggy areas:

Mother goose:

 Parts of the pond are covered with lily pads:

Walls built by the CCC back in the 30s:

I could have stayed out all day, but duty called. 

So ...

So, I woke up this morning and one of my big toes was killing me.  Kiiiiiiiiilling me.  And I was all, Gout!  Dammit, I have gout!  How did this happen?  I don't even EAT seafood!

And then I remembered the can of cat food I dropped on my bare foot yesterday, and yeah. It's probably that, right?  Probably that, and not gout. Right.

And in cat news, turns out you become very popular with the ten-and-under set in your neighborhood when word gets out that you have an entire ROOM full of teeny-tiny kittens.

And it's LOTS of fun to answer all kinds of kid kitten questions, including thorny ones like, "Where do they poop?", and "How does their mommy make the milk?", and "How did the mommy cat get pregnant?"  Yeah.  Fun!

AND I heard a verrrrrrry juicy tidbit of rescue gossip over the weekend that I would loooove to share with certain people, but I can't, because that would be conduct unbecoming.  *sigh*

And I am a big nature lover and all that, no really, but I would like to SHOOT that gotdam woodpecker who is out pecking away at the metal street sign in front of my house every morning at the crack of dawn.  BANG!  BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG! BANG!  Restful.  I keep thinking he'll get a concussion and give it up, but no luck yet.

Finally, somebody wants to say hey:

Word.

Two things

Okay, first of all,  there were three - THREE! - hummingbirds at my feeder when I got home from work tonight.  There's never more than one, because the little sh*ts like to attack each other, but maybe due to the heavy rains today, the lions were lying down with the lambs, and three hummingbirds managed to co-exist at my feeder.

Then, Tinks came in, with a hitch in his giddyup.  When I took a look to see what was wrong, it was apparent that there was something stuck in his fur.  Something ... stick-like.  And prickly.  It looked like sections of a rose-bush branch.  A BIG rose-bush branch.

THANK YOU, people in the neighborhood who dump their lawn clippings in the park next to my house.  THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Here is Tinks, in calmer times:

Pretty, yes?  And VERY long-haired.  And strong.  And not fond AT ALL of being handled against his will.

And he had two big chunks of thorny rose-bush-branch-clipping tangled in that  belly fur.



Oh lord.  Have you ever wished yourself away?  Wished you could be anywhere else other than where you were?

Yeah.

I manned up.

I grabbed the scissors, and a big towel, and my leather gloves, and a bowl of smelly ol' cat food, and me and Tinks went into the bedroom.

There was growling.  There was biting.  There was struggling and flailing and sweating and cursing and in the end

We both walked out, victorious.  Me because I had removed those nasty-a** rose bush clippings from Tinks' fur, and Tinks because he was no longer vexed by nasty, thorny branches stuck in his belly fur.

Welcome to Friday, chez Rockycat.

Freaky Friday: Doorframes

I love these little hanging things.  This one has horses:

(As always, you can click on the pics to enlarge.  Try to ignore the cobwebs and dust.)

And this one has peacocks:

I'm pretty sure I got them at the Tibet store in Ithaca.  Pretty cool, no?

Off-putting

Okay, so, Facebook.  I resisted it for quite a while, but then some of the rescues for which I volunteer started using it to notify people of upcoming events, etc., so I reluctantly signed up.

And some of my Facebook "friends" post a little, and some post a lot, and some post every five minutes ("I'm drinking my coffee now!"  "I'm having some cereal!"), and those people I block.

And my veterinarian is on Facebook, and we are "friends" because we have "friends" in common, and she posts pics of hanging out with her real-life friends, and posts about going out to dinner, and all that Facebook stuff.

And she also posts about her job.  Stuff like "OMG it's been non-stop today can't wait for five o'clock" and "These people here are driving me CRAZY" and "Only three more hours and I get to go home" and

it's kind of off-putting.  And she NEVER posts stuff like, "My job is great!" or "I love my furry clients!"  It's always something negative when she posts about work.

I mean, so far, she hasn't posted anything like that on a day when I've been in her office, but now I can't help but wondering, am *I* one of those people who drive her crazy?   Is it *my* cats who have been in there on one of those over-booked days?  Is she really paying attention to my pets if she's preoccupied with how many hours are left in the workday? 

Is that odd, that I wonder those things?  Is it odd, that she would post those things, knowing that some of her clients read her posts?  Am I hopelessly outdated?

Enquiring minds want to know.

What a difference a few days make:

Puff's babies, one day old:

Bearycat's babies, ten days old:

My, they do grow.

And here's the mamas:

That's Puff in front, and Bearycat in back.  NO, I DID NOT NAME THESE CATS.

I dunno.  I think cat moms have it easier.  I mean, yeah, they do have their entire family at once, but they raise the kittens for a couple of months, and then, bye-bye!  Send me a postcard once in a while!

That's the way to do it.

Oakley-doakley Corners.

Sunday it was off to Oakley Corners.  I was looking for Ladyslippers, but if they were in bloom, I couldn't find them.  I'll try again in a couple of weeks.

Disclaimer:  Snake pic ahead.

These little plants were everywhere:

Making a carpet on the forest floor:

When this land was being farmed, farmers would make rock hills in the corners of fields:

Kids can't resist rocks:

Big pond:

Little pond:

The beavers have been hard at work:

Water snake!

As I was hiking back to my car, I noticed something on the trail:

Hmmm ... could it be ...

Ten bucks!  To whoever lost the ten bucks at Oakley-doakley Corners:  Thank you!  Your money will be put to good use, feeding needy foster kittens.  LOTS of needy foster kittens.  Ha.

Saturday's flowers

Yeah, posting around here gets a little heavy on the wildflower angle this time of year.  Bear with me.

Oh, but first!  The first hummingbird of the season was at the feeder Saturday!  It's hummer time! Ha.



Saturday, I went back down to the creek by my old apartment, in search of Dutchman's Britches and blooming trillium.  I didn't find any Dutchman's Britches, but I DID find the trillium:

 I love mayapple plants.  They look weird:

The bluebells are blooming:

Trout lily:

I don't know what this white flower is.  Anybody?:

And finally - the find of the day - drum roll please:

Jack-in-the-pulpit!  I LOVE Jack-in-the-pulpits!  Too. Cool.

I'll have to go back again to see if I can find those darn Dutchman's Britches. 

Well, look who's here

I thought maybe Puff was going to go for Mother's Day babies, but at about four yesterday afternoon, she decided to get the show on the road.

And so as not to be upstaged by her sister Bearycat, Puff also delivered a litter of six.  SIX.  I have TWELVE kittens in my foster room right now, guys.

Mother and babies are doing fine.  Happy Mother's Day, everybody.

Freaky Friday: Fun with Wreaths

Some of my neighbors have artificial forsythia wreaths on their front doors.  And they look really pretty, but they're also expensive, so I decided to see if I could dollar-store a forsythia wreath.

I ended up going to A.C. Moore for the wreath itself, because the dollar store ones were sadly lacking.  Using a coupon (oh God, I've turned into my mother), I was able to pick up a straw wreath for a couple of bucks.

Then it was back to the dollar store for some fake flowers.  I got lured away from the forsythia branches by some more ... exotic stems.  I was trying to keep the cost under ten bucks, so I decided to go the minimalist route, i.e., "I'm too cheap to do this up right."

The result?

Well, from a distance it doesn't look too bad ... but it needed something more.  Something ... me.

Yep, I think the rooster in the middle makes the perfect statement.  The "I am crazy" statement.



Oh, and in Puff Pop Patrol:  Yep, she's still pregnant.  I think she's stalling.  She walking over to Bearycat's kittens last night and hissed at them.  I thought, oh, honey, you have NO IDEA what's coming, do you?

Here they are!

These little dudes/dudettes were born on April 29.  Here they are at one week:

Already with the claws.  Sheesh. 

Their mama is Bearycat, seen in yesterday's post, and here is Bearycat's sister, Puff:

Puff is about to pop.  She looks like a boa who just swallowed a dog.  She is actually a petite cat (she and Beary are only seven months old), but right now, well ...

Soon, Puff.  Your babies will be here soon.

On the Street Where You (Do Not) Live

Our rescue got an email the other day from a woman in a neighboring town. She had been feeding a couple of friendly stray cats over the winter, but now, well, one just had six kittens, and the other one was due any day, and the landlord said they had to go, and could we help?

The demand for kittens has been very high this year, so we said yes, we could help.  We would take the mamas and the babies, adopt the babies out when they were old enough (and when arrangements had been made for their spay/neuters), spay the mamas, and adopt them out. What was her address?

66 Park St., she emailed.  Take Main St. to Grant Street to Park.  It was a big white house with a vacant lot next door; she lived on the second floor.

Got it.  Sunday, another volunteer and I headed over.  Main St. to Grant St. to Park St..  We passed 12 Park St., 20 Park, 26 Park ... and the street ended.  We didn't have a phone number for this lady - she said her cell service was unreliable, i.e., she wasn't reliable about paying the bill.

Hmmm.  Was it maybe 26 instead of 66 - a typo?

Knocking on doors at 26, we discovered that no, that was not the house.

Had we been pranked?

A volunteer emailed her again.  Your address is 66 Park St., right?

Oh no, no, she responded.  My address is 66 Beethoven.  Main St. to Grant St. past Park St.  to Beethoven, you silly cat ladies. 

Yeah.  Us cat ladies, we're the silly ones.

But I guess we ARE, seeing as how I currently have in my foster room ... wait for it ... One mama cat, her six babies, and her sister, who is knocked up and due to deliver any day.

Silly me.  Or is that CRAZY me?!

A sneak peek:

Yeah.  It's gonna be a bumpy next couple of months.

Jones Park

Sunday, in between mowing (curses!) and getting the foster room ready for some possible incomings, I managed to get in a quick walk.

The trillium is getting ready to bloom:

I wonder what this tree was trying to grow around:

This chimney is all that remains of an old farmhouse:

The kids have been busy with fort maintenance:

I liked the way the water looked going over this fallen tree:

Bits of green are everywhere now; I'm hoping warm weather will soon follow.  One can hope, right?