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Saturday Morning Post

Noodlehead came up alone last night, so I didn’t get to tell Sister that my friend jettcat has christened her Emmaline. I just really like the way “Noodlehead and Emmaline” sounds, because I am easily amused like that. I am slightly worried for Emmaline, who is so very thin, but usually once they figure out that coming up when I’m home guarantees a can of wet food, they start doing it more often. Maybe I’ll see her this weekend to cement the “Let me take your picture and I’ll give you gooshyfood” bargain.

Speaking of coming up alone, and also pictures, I finally got a (very bad) picture of Romeo last night. He’s a big grey and white tom who I have previously only seen in the company of young lady kitties. He has squired a couple up to the feeding station on my porch, including Stinky, who I then snagged and sent off to Illinois where she is safe from his blandishments. At any rate, voila Romeo, who is looking a little tense because I was right at the edge of his flight distance:
A large grey and white tomcat (you can tell by the enormous jowls) lies on the ground but is tensed to flee as he stares at the camera.  We'll just pretend this picture is not blurry.

I found free plans yesterday for wooden cat shelters over at Alley Cat Allies, which is an incredibly useful site although they are more geared toward the city audience than rural feral cat feeders like me. Their shelters are made from one sheet of plywood, some paint, and some roofing shingles, and are larger than the Feral Villa, plus cheaper since I just have to buy the supplies and build them, not buy plans or villas and then also pay for shipping, which didn’t worry me that much since I have a contact with the shipping containers from, and they have great prices. This means I can set a much lower fundraising goal, so yay!

In Dog News, after 5 years of trying, Beowulf has finally learned an indoor voice. I know this because he told me about a very nice-looking akita puppy and her person who were walking by, without doing his normal roar of rage and thunderous barking routine. Well, actually he did them, expelling all the air as he would for his normal protecting-the-territory noises, but without engaging his vocal cords. At first I thought he was trying to cough up a lung. When I realized what he was doing, I got him cheese and told him Good Dog.

This morning I’m probably going down to Spotsy for the big commercial re-enactment as the 54th Volunteer Massachusetts Infantry will be there and I’ve been stalking them for two years now. Previously they’ve waited until I was traveling for work or out of the country to attend events, so I’m pleased that this time I’m around.

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