Posts Tagged ‘cat’

LOOK INTO MY EYES

Tuesday, November 18th, 2008

Helen snapped (what's the moving-picture equivalent of snapping?) this video of Hunter on a camcorder I'm reviewing, and I've found myself entranced by Hunter's CRAZY BIG EYES. For the full effect, watch it in splendiferous 1080i* High Def here on Vimeo.

Sorry about the weirdy crap cut at the end, by the way. It appears to be a side effect of the rather cheap video editing software included with the camera (and I've lost my copy of Premiere, sob).

* I know, I know. It can't do 720p for some reason.

MTV Cribs

Sunday, September 14th, 2008

MTV Cribs
Ralph, to camera: "So, this is the dining room. We don't actually eat here, much - I can't cook - but my interior designer picked out this furniture for me. It's Italian. You know, when I was growing up on the mean streets of Bexley, I had to share a box with all my brothers so, you know, I feel blessed to have this one to myself…"

LOLRalph

Sunday, September 7th, 2008

For the record, I spent pretty much all of Saturday doing that washing. Thanks, Ralph.

(Cat photo warning)

Monday, June 9th, 2008

I can haz care label?

One of my better excuses for not doing the washing.

Hunter

Tuesday, April 15th, 2008

The cat that got the cream. All over his face.

David Attenborough moment

Saturday, March 1st, 2008

Ready to pounce

Here you can see the spoiled domestic fluffball, stalking his prey across his natural habitat: a cheap Ikea rug.

Actually, a funny thing has happened to Hunter lately (not the thing where he injured my face - that wasn't particularly funny*) - he's learnt to play. Ralph has always played in the flat - in particular, he loves to chase toy mice around, dribbling them like a footballer then pouncing and returning triumphant, mouse in jaw. Hunter, however, always treated toys as enemies that must be dispatched Rambo-style, with the maximum amount of violence possible (picture here), until one of two things happen:

  1. He gets so excited that he vomits (yuck), or
  2. The toy dies a horrible death, or
  3. We remove the toy in an effort to prevent options 1 and 2.

Lately, though, he's progressed past this, and he now knows that letting go of the toy snake will allow us to move it again, thus making for a more entertaining chase. I'm not sure whether this is standard cat education (albeit rather late) or the effect of domestication, but it is a relief.

* I'm assured by Helen that it was. She was good enough to stifle her laughter until I'd found medication, though.

What, this scar? Well, it's a long story.

Sunday, February 24th, 2008

So I managed to injure myself today. Oddly I'd just been reading about Dave's accidental self-harming in Siberia when Hunter decided to start prowling around my feet in a needy kind of way. This is par for the course on a weekend and so, despite still being half asleep, I decided to attempt one of the more advanced cat-mollifying procedures in my repertoire - the inverse fluff flip.

The inverse fluff flip involves grabbing Hunter by his belly and rapidly scooping him up. While in mid-air you have to quickly invert him and then lay him down, on his back, in your lap. This normally goes down pretty well, and after a few seconds of belly fluff tickling he'll fall into a dozy, purring snooze. Not today, though.

Today, as I was attempting the vital "flip" section of the manouver, something went wrong. For whatever reason, Hunter became unsure and decided to reach out with a clawed paw and grab hold of something for stability. Unfortunately for me, that something was my chin. The shock of realising that I had a good half-centimetre of cat claw embedded in my face then put me off my stride somewhat, and that in turn must have convinced Hunter that now was a good time to struggle free from my grip.

So I'm half standing, half sitting, looking down at the rather large grey cat that is now hanging from my face by a single claw. And, in that brief moment, he looks back up at me, with an expression making clear that he holds me entirely responsible for this predicament. Maybe half a second of cat hanging later and I manage to drop to the floor where, with three legs on terra firma, he decides it's safe to let go.

End result: one rather miffed cat who kept his distance for me for all of about ten seconds, wherupon he returned to his earlier demands for attention, and one hole in my face. This is both remarkably small, and producing a remarkable amount of blood. Ouch. Obviously, if it scars I'll have to come up with a far more heroic story. "I was attacked by a big cat" is almost true.