Cats

At the moment, we have 3 pretty unhappy felines. The boys are just generally unhappy when people are in their house. Gismo will come out on occasion after he figures out the people aren't leaving, but Coco will remain hidden away until they all leave. We finally coaxed him out from under the bed with treats.

But the most docile cat we have is my daughter's Ragdoll. She is so laid back that when she let out what sounded like a cougar growl at my B-I-L's dog, we figured it was time to put her back in her room.

If anything, that's impressive, coming from a ragdoll kitty.
 
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Happy Birthday, Lizkat! A December baby, eh? My late father-in-law, whose birthday was December 22nd, used to joke about which gifts would be his birthday gifts and which his Christmas gifts.
 
Hah, I can identify with that! Pretty often people with birthdays during the winter holidays do find that what should be their special day gets wearily thrown in with Christmas (or one of the days of Hanukkah or Kwanzaa), thanks to the hectic pace of elders having to run around and be here or there and everywhere during the season.

I got used to that as a kid, when I'd get one really nice present from a great great aunt and a tag that indicated it was to serve for both occasions. Hmm... When you're a kid, it can be about quantity, not quality, right... so my nose was always a bit out of joint in midsummer, when out of the blue there would start arriving this cascade of presents for one of my brothers, and then the entire day of his birthdate was also personalized: the cake was his, the decorations, the phone calls and cards.

We laugh about it now but back then I'm pretty sure I was nearly green with envy some years. I remember drawing the line one year and insisting on a birthday cake made just for me when one of my aunts suggested to my mother that a fruitcake someone had gifted the aunt would be "fine for the birthday girl, no?" Well... NO. o_O
 
Happy Birthday @lizkat!

My "internet birthday" is at the end of the season on January 6th, a date I used to suggest to my parents (to no avail) as a good alternative to having a birthday celebration on the actual date, which is so much closer to Christmas proper. Once I had my own place when I was in my 20s, I did begin to celebrate it on the 6th, because by then the exhaustion of the holidays had worn off and I could enjoy the idea of a special day for me.

But nowadays our Chistmas adventures are less taxing as my generation ages out, so I've reverted to earlier celebration, and remembrances from kin and friends still start showing up in the pre-Christmas parcel rush as 2-piece packets of cards or little gifts. A few pals even call to make sure I'm not cheating and opening them both on Xmas. They don't get it that I've always wanted a day when only I was getting to open cards and prezzies.
 
I never tell anyone my birthday because I do not want a fuss. I just celebrate the day the hms Beagle set out from Plymouth on its voyage to the Galapagos with that guy Chuck on it.
 
Our Gwen is a great mix of being completely mental and loving at the same time. Reading threads on British short hairs, it seems to be pot luck as to whether you get a cat that is a lap cat or one that isn’t keen on human contact. Ours loves a cwtch and our affection which is what we wanted.

After a morning of climbing into our dishwasher, attacking my daughters feet, she’s now worn herself out lol.

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Ugh, so cute it makes me sick ...
The weird positions they get comfortable in are baffling to me. If I tried to curl up in a similar type of way, with my toes in my ears, every ligament in my body would be screaming.

I used to listen to CBS Radio Mystery Theater in the '70s, which came on about the time I was going to bed. I recall one story in which the main character had some kind of heart condition that dictated he should avoid stress. The doctor wanted him to learn to relax, so he prescribed a cat, telling the guy to follow it around and emulate it, though I imagine that did not involve getting pretzeled. There was a twist to the story, of course, but I cannot remember what it was.
 
The weird positions they get comfortable in are baffling to me. If I tried to curl up in a similar type of way, with my toes in my ears, every ligament in my body would be screaming.

I used to listen to CBS Radio Mystery Theater in the '70s, which came on about the time I was going to bed. I recall one story in which the main character had some kind of heart condition that dictated he should avoid stress. The doctor wanted him to learn to relax, so he prescribed a cat, telling the guy to follow it around and emulate it, though I imagine that did not involve getting pretzeled. There was a twist to the story, of course, but I cannot remember what it was.

Yeah cats don't have regular collarbones like humans do... their clavicles are attached to shoulders only by muscles so are more or less free-floating. As a result, they can get into spaces only the width of their head, and also assume positions we'd only be in via accident or an intentionally injurious effort by someone else.
 
Belated birthday greetings @lizkat; I have been so busy watching The Crown (all of Season Three and just over half of Season Four) over the past week that I seem to have lost track of time.

Sample dialogue with Decent Brother (who has allowed, nay encouraged, me to piggyback on his Netflix account; indeed, my German sister-in-law yesterday told me that her brother had "fixed up" their mother - a housebound widow, as my SIL's father died two years ago - with Netflix, to which she is now happily glued, a fact which has reduced - considerably - domestic tensions in a flat in a small town in south west Germany, not too far from Heidelberg).

Anyway, I had thanked Decent Brother, and, - since I am currently devouring episodes - recommended a few that I thought were especially good.

One such was "Aberfan".

DB: The Welsh one?

Me: Yes. It's excellent.

DB: (With that lofty tone - both unusual and unexpected from this quarter - when a brother knows he has an older sister on the intellectual ropes): I thought you said that the Queen had never made any mistakes.

Me: (Rapidly consulting memory banks; hm, yes. Actually, I do recall this; I did say - ages ago - that the Queen was quite remarkable in that, over the 60 plus years of her reign, she has been extraordinarily sure footed, shown very good judgment and has not really made any mistakes): Ah, well, what I actually said -

DB: (interrupts - he is a lawyer): You said she never made any mistakes -

Me: (Attempted hasty - and, yes, cough, I will admit it: A hasty, retrospective - amendment): I said she never made any major mistakes -

DB: Aberfan was a mistake -

Me: Well, yes, she admitted that. Subsequently.

DB: - and so was the reaction to Diana's death. Not just a mistake, but this is the same mistake repeated again and again.

Ouch.

But true.

So, the lesson learned is not that just the Queen makes mistakes (but not many, not when compared with other world leaders) - well, yes, I concede she makes mistakes - but that Brothers remember what you said, store it, stash it away, squirrel it away somewhere in the recesses of their minds, and then proceed to quote it back at you years later.

Other lesson was that Decent Brother had clearly already watched the Aberfan episode himself.
 
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Yeah cats don't have regular collarbones like humans do... their clavicles are attached to shoulders only by muscles so are more or less free-floating. As a result, they can get into spaces only the width of their head, and also assume positions we'd only be in via accident or an intentionally injurious effort by someone else.

They're just amazing animals. The other day I was holding up her string, where I thought it was out of range, she must've gotten 3-4 feet of air from a dead stop crouch, hahaha, it was like she was shot out of a cannon ...
 
They're just amazing animals. The other day I was holding up her string, where I thought it was out of range, she must've gotten 3-4 feet of air from a dead stop crouch, hahaha, it was like she was shot out of a cannon ...

Yeah once they figure out they can leap from kitchen counter to the exposed top of a refrigerator, that becomes a nap zone for some cats whose nominal "owners" may eventually despair of trying to keep cereal boxes up there.
 
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