Ferris goes to the farm

But he doesn't buy it. Thankfully! I don't know what we'd do without our Turd.

Vin & I decided to head out to the family farm to see how the future Smith House Summer Burger was doing, kind of size her weight and whatnot. She's doing just fine, by the way. Full of it, shall we say? She stamped at me like she was going to charge and then bolted.

We got the grand notion to take Ferris with us for the 60 mile round trip ride.  Ferris was at first delighted to see me produce his leash and began crying up a storm. I put it on him, and then confused the heck out of him by taking him to the front door, rather than the back.

When I opened the door he knew there's only one reason we exit the house that way - the vet. So, he started really crying up a storm. Then he got all whirly-gig on my arms and then yowled as we got into the pick up truck. He promptly found a safe haven under my seat.

A few pitiful cries all the way there, but he was ready to get out of the truck once we pulled up. At least, I thought. He just about bolted - for the first small place he could tuck himself into as cats are want to do. But, I had the leash on him so he couldn't get too far. We walked over to the cows where he was so not interested, then we walked to the front of the propery where he has a wide expanse of lawn to chew on. But, he wasn't so interested in that either and kept trying to play "pancake kitty" and blend into the ground. This, the big bad kitty who tries to square off against Pit Bulls was scared of wide open spaces!

At once point I crouched down and he lept into my arms, shaking. That's when I knew he'd had too much fun. And back in the truck he went. On the ride home I sat in the back with him where we convinced him to sit in my lap. He was fine with the jacket thrown over him with his face pressed into my hands.

And when we got home? He wanted to go outside.

Politicat.

Ferris is impressed during Obama's address.

Chores? For a servant!

Ferris loves laundry. Clean laundry. What cat doesn't like fresh-out-of-the-dryer towels? Ferris is no different here. Even if he has the ENTIRE bed to himself, he will find the one part of the bed that has a towel, a sock, a folded shirt, or clothes laid out while you shower and sit on it. To him, it is the ONLY spot on the bed to lay if you have placed claim to any square inch on the bed. We often launch into turf wars when I'm using the bed to fold clothes. He will try to demolish my stacks of shirts or pants in an attempt to show me who is king of the queen-sized mattress.

Towels? Child's play. If he isn't neatly loafed on top of a tower of terry-cloth towels, then he's dragged them into a nest of his liking.  Sometimes, he's stubborn enough to defiantely remain unmoved as I simply fold clothes over and directly on him.

And, just in spite of, we'll be toweling off and leave the bathroom covered in downy cat hair.

Wondering if you're reading the blog

Peek-a-boo

It's too beautiful a day to shut out the light. It feels like spring when it's only January... Ferris agrees.