The Lady Laughs

We have achieved household peace, more or less. Sammy will share the bed with Mao, allowing Mao to sprawl on me while Sam is sprawled on T. And Gracie leaned over and started cleaning Mao's face last night. So they're trying to kill us with cute, basically.

Also, Mao is becoming the ultimate lapcat. When we come home from work, Mao is immediately on us: on the lap, on the stomach, rubbing all over the ankles. I had a migraine last night, laid down with an icepack over my eyes, and Mao decided to STEP on my FACE in order to love T with all his might. He's not Mensa, our baby.

Or #1, more appropriately, because he had crystals in his pee. And so, another trip to the vet, another bill, and more pills for Teddy Mao. Teddy from our neighbor who first found him, after her father who just passed on Sunday, and Mao because that's his only word for now. Every time you go in the basement, you hear him: "mao. mao? mao? mao?" So he's a communist.

No pictures yet, but he looks like this: because of the long legs, see.

Wow, okay, so Bast has a sense of humor! A wee baby black cat, more legs than body, just showed up next door and promptly became our charge for the night. He looks starved, was trailing a rope that had been wrapped around his neck, and is declawed in the front. His back claws are worn to the nub from trying to crawl out of something, somewhere. T's theory is that he was bait for a dog fighting ring. He's currently in a dog crate in our basement with food, water and litter until we get him checked by our vet tomorrow.

Pics tomorrow, as well.

*facepalm* Oy, lady. Oy.