In which Emeraldas takes a break from grooming herself…
…to groom her floofy paramour…
…much to his surprise (and trepidation).
Meanwhile, Watanuki can’t resist…
…the chance to photobomb.
In which Emeraldas takes a break from grooming herself…
…to groom her floofy paramour…
…much to his surprise (and trepidation).
Meanwhile, Watanuki can’t resist…
…the chance to photobomb.
Watanuki can be–often is–an asshole of epic proportions. He’s earned the nickname “Thugbutt” many times over. He’ll slap anyone he thinks isn’t paying him enough attention. Or paying him too much attention. Stealing “his” food*. Sitting in his spot.
* Never mind that the food is served in common bowls.
But then again, when the moon is in the seventh house andstars align, he’ll drift into Friendly Fellow territory.
Snuggles with the panther? Sure, why not? Pose for a picture? Might as well.
The mood swings do keep the bipeds guessing.
But BFFs? No. Sooner or later, the thug always reappears.
Ooki Brothers Security wishes to make it clear that they are serious
and sober
Fine, upstanding servants of the public good–or whoever’s paying them in gooshy fud–at all times.
Don’t believe a word of it. Off duty, they’re quite happy to indulge in a catnip binge, groom themselves or each other in public, or just generally act like the goofballs they really are.
But don’t take my word for it. Photographic evidence exists.
And will haunt them forever.
While Kokoro, Sachiko, and Emeraldas are occasionally found chilling on the bed, most often it’s the boys’ hangout.
(Left to right: Watanuki, Lefty, Yuki)
Every so often, though, there’s an interloper.
The nameless stuffed black cat usually serves as Maggie’s back rest, but sometimes sprawls at the foot of the bed.
The boys don’t seem to mind. Maybe because the stuffed cat fits with their color scheme?
We have multiple kitteh partehs each evening. Kokoro gets a private party, because her treats contain her meds. The Flying Monkeys have their party, the downstairs gang gets two–partly for historical reasons, partly to help ensure that Emeraldas gets her fair share–and, of course, Yuki gets a parteh before we close him into his room for the night.
Yuki’s parteh is actually the first of the evening, and it’s the only one that’s open invitation. Whoever shows up gets treats. And, naturally, his brother-in-all-but-genetics is always there. In fact, Watanuki often shows up before Yuki does.
But it’s still Yuki’s parteh, and Mr. Floof gets the first treat.
And, yes, we do use tongs to distribute the treats. Only at Yuki’s parteh. Because while the Ooki brothers are generally safe enough to hand-feed, something about being next to each other like this brings out their darker sides (no pun intended).
You do not want to get your fingers too close to the fearsome, chawmpin’ jaws of the Floofigator.
Nor do you want to risk digital integrity when Thugzilla shows up.
I mean, seriously. Right-click those photos and “open in new tab” to see them full size. Take a close look at the toothmarks in the tongs. Picture them on your hands.
We’re considering adding puncture-proof gloves to our Yuki Parteh outfits.
Do I really need to say anything beyond “They’re Watanuki’s”?
The comings and goings of the hoomins are generally of little concern to ‘Nuki. As long as dinner is served on time, he’s not much interested in who provides it. And away from the food bowl, he concerns himself exclusively with running the security force and sleeping.
Looks so peaceful, doesn’t he?
Not all is as it might seem, however.
That tail he’s cuddling? Not his.
Hard as it might be to believe, but Knuckles Malloy, local asshole-about-the-house and head of Ooki Brothers Security Services, sleeps better with a stuffed animal.
A very well-stuffed animal in this case.
A couple of weeks ago, I promised to share video of Mr. Knuckles at the Kitteh Partay.
Never let it be said that I reneged on a promise.
He’s not the most graceful dancer you’ve ever seen–but let’s be fair: he does have two left feet.
As for his repeated drops, this was an unusually clumsy day. Typically he’s more likely to swallow somebody’s finger along with the treat.
This time I’ve got a legit excuse for the Friday-Post-On-Saturday thing: It took way longer than I expected to get even somewhat usable photos.
See, Watanuki does the “Gimme a treat, hoomin” dance whenever we hold a Kitteh Partay. Which is several times every evening, as part of the food distribution ritual. And I knew you would all like to see that.
But video just wasn’t happening for some reason. Still not sure why; I need to do some experimenting. And, whatever good you can say about the Pixel 6 camera system, it’s not the speediest thing going when light levels are low enough to require flash.
So it took a couple of nights of attempts to bring you, well, this.
I’ll keep trying on the video. I’m quite sure y’all will love the little hop that goes along with that pose.
He seems graceful and elegant in that shot, doesn’t he? But that’s the first steps of the dance. The end looks rather less exalted.
Enjoy that face in your nightmares, folks.
Watanuki has been more snuggly than usual lately. Where his usual pattern tends to be to flop on the bed next to one of us (usually Maggie) and demand cuddles, of late he’s been draping himself across our hips or stomachs.
Which is kind of cute, really.
But then there’s that cuddle-demanding thing. He has a very…direct…way of requesting attention.
A quick swat with the paw–claws extended, of course–followed by a soulful gaze…
In fairness to Mr. Knuckles, I should note that some of those holes in my hand are the result of cold weather, frequent handwashing, and even more frequent immersions in various sanitizing fluids. But the longer, more painful ones? Those are all his doing.
The other downside of his cuddliness? Much as it pains me to reveal one of his secret vices, honesty compels me to state that ‘Nuki is a drooler.
Not a demure little drip of happiness.
Oh, no.
Rivers of drool. A downpouring from his lip that could put Victoria Falls to shame.
Fortunately, Maggie has found a solution.
Watanuckles is not amused, but he tolerates the bibs in the interest of attention.