Well, there go Mork's testicles. Sorry about that poor little chap.... wait, no. No I'm not. He has now been here since June 15th, and has become an almost-cat!

Hopefully Sinyatta won't love him any less for his loss.

Mork and Sinyatta

Sinyatta has been with us since April 17.

Mork and Sinyatta

"What's one more rat, really?"

Going in to check on my three ratty girls, last thing before bed on Thursday, September 22. They were on their second round of treats, everyone was happy. I turned to leave, when I spotted something out of place at the end of the aquarium. I looked closer, and the pink mass moved, and I screamed a split second before my brain sent "Baby rats" into my mental void. I rather freaked out, having totally no experience with baby rat care, since these were unplanned baby rats, at least from my point of view.

I called Family Friend and woke her up, and she reassured me that the mother rat would do all the work, and said she could take the babies back when I chose to give them up. Of course, we will need to make SURE all my three are girls.

Doing the numbers, they have a 28 day gestation, and I had had them for 22, so probably the exposure took place under previous owner's custody. Studying up on this, one key point is you must separate the sexes by age 5 weeks, since by 6 weeks they are all systems up and running. And you cannot wean them before 4 weeks.
Oh, it took a few days to figure out who was the mother. Yep, it was the gray and white "extra" rat. Hence the title of this post. Head desk.

Foffmom: Nanny Goat Update #1

We involuntarily received two miniature female goats, dropped off by my father. Over my objections, I will add. Foffdaughter, who still had goat cage in her backyard, stepped up to the plate and put the two new comers into it, and cared for them. It took them 8 days to break out. Of course, on a dark and stormy night. Of course, after hours they could not be found. Of course, Foffdaughter had a miserable night, worrying. But lucky goats! (Not sure if lucky us) The trainer at the horse barn up the hill called at 830AM, to say the goats were in his barn. Foffdaughter was able to catch them, as they were wild as deer. She spent the afternoon reinforcing the chain-link fence on the goat kennel. She and my husband were unable to find a definite escape route, so she just used the plastic lock-ties on everything for hours.

This time it took them 3 days to escape. Again, hours spent by Foffdaughter, walking with binoculars and a can of food. (They would come to the sound of food shaken in a can.) No luck. She was standing in our kitchen, alternately worried and devising mock threats of what she would do if she ever got her hands on them, when our dogs began barking again. Only, it seemed they were more barky than usual. I glanced out the window. Wonder when the neighbors got two more dogs?? Wait a minute..."There's your goats!" I blurted.

Husband and daughter secured the goats in a horse stall. Seems I was wrong about one thing though. "These are YOUR goats." said Foffdaughter over her shoulder as she left for home. I couldn't really blame her.

Foffmom: Edwin

Edwin stands out from the others due to more than his tail. He is the only animal I picked up from the roadside that I felt compelled to search for his owner. He was wearing a very old, yellowing flea collar that had stained his fur. I thought this indicated someone somewhere must be looking for him. I drove all up and down our road and stuck notes in mailboxes, sure someone would call for him. Nope.

Initially Edwin would perch on something above the crazy, watching avidly as the dogs, cats, and kids would interact. He had a quiet wistfulness, that reminded me of the stereotypical "sickly" child from the Victorian era, watching healthy children throwing snowballs outside, as he sat at his bedroom window. That is why I named him "Edwin", it sounded reserved and formal, as he behaved. Foffdaughter was the one who figured him out. "Mom, I don't think he feels well. That's why he is so quiet." When no one claimed him, we called WonderVet, who did his thing.

In two days he was a hellion. I should have named him "Zorro", because he never hesitated to leap into the fray to claw-tag anyone. He loved to lean over the table and snag the big dogs on their heads, and then retreat. Foffdaughter would tease him with her long PJ hem, and then sling him sliding across the wooden floor. He loved it, and would slip and slide to grab on again for another "ride". He would often play the game whether she was "in the game" or not. And I will never forget the day he came trotting across the yard carrying a live unharmed snake, twisting around his head, held high to get the snake off the ground.

His manic manxness turned me on to the stub tailed felines. I sent a wishlist to the Universe to send me a dark tortoiseshell with white, a manx female kitten. I wanted a manx because of Edwin's zany personality That's why I have Holly, which is another story.

As the years have progressed he is noted for being a very round fat cat in winter, and then slimming down over the summer. In my experience, cats are always looking for an upgrade. If they are homeless, (and haven't gone feral) they are looking for someone to feed them. If they are porch cats, they want to be house cats. If they are house cats, they want your bed. Edwin is the only cat who, having achieved house cat status, is working toward a voluntary downgrade.He is currently hanging with the ferals in the barn. He is the only cat I have ever had go from the house to the barn. I will be curious if he come inside the house more once it gets cold. This playing feral has got to have it's limits!

One of Them: Edwin

Edwin arrived October 13, 2005... That picture is from the first day.

According to general opinion and therapy, posting pictures of something does not jinx its well-being. I am unconvinced but mature two-leggers don't admit to thinking that sort of bullshit.

So anyway, that is a cat... called Edwin. Edwin the cat. Foffarm's first Manx cat who is almost at year 6 with us.

Oy ve

"Is that a disabled dog?"
"No, he is perfectly able-bodied."

Foffmom: Not quite

I had wanted to post about a significant step.

Family Friend, who in 11 years has graced us with 7 cats, 1 goat, 1 miniature horse, 1 rat, and I think a snake, (details unclear) had called me about two weeks ago. She had kindly trapped, vaccinated, and gotten spayed a feral cat. And it needed a barn cat position. I have 3 ( or 4) feral barn cats already, and felt the newcomer would be challenged by the established colony, which includes a dominant female. I declined, a huge thing for me. "What does she look like?" I asked, wavering. "Well, what color cat do I usually give you?" That meant black. No more black cats, we have 3 already, all from her, and I have trouble keeping track of them. So I stuck to my "No". I felt guilty, but did not change my position.

Today, in a move most would not understand, we visited Family Friend to adopt 2 rats. She assured me I was only viewing female rats. After much opening of drawers to view scurrying nervous rats, I selected 2, a white one with a camel colored head and one spot, and a dark gray and white one with a blaze symmetrically located between her cute eyes. Family Friend then says "I thought you'd go for the gray and white one." "What gray and white one?" I ask. So that's how I wound up with 3, since I could not decide between them. What's one more rat, really?

As we were leaving Family Friend started to tell me about this cat. Her owner had died, the calico cat is 12 or so, and is living in the bathroom of Family Friend's mom, whose cat has declared war on the newcomer. Sigh. OK, I will try her with mine. And then, the updated tale of the black cat, who has been tried in one home and been attacked by the family dog, and is now back in the rural spot where she was found originally.

Sigh OK, you can put her in my barn and we can see what happens. As Foffdaughter said "I had to get you out of there, you kept getting more animals by the minute." So I almost said "No". But not quite.