Tag Archives: Grey Tabby

GT News

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Last week, I promised an update on GT. When I sat down to write the update, I was startled to realize how long it’s been. My apologies, both for the oversight and for the resultant length of this post.

So, for those of you who are too impatient to read the whole thing, the most important bit of information is that GT has a forever home.

For the rest of you, allow me to take events in sequence.

As of the last update, August 12, GT had sufficiently recovered from surgery to have the Cone o’ Shame removed, was starting to eat dry food, and was occupying his evenings by charming us with his purr.

He was also–and I didn’t mention this at the time–generating impressively bad breath. You’ve heard of breath that could stun an ox? This was breath that would not only kill the ox, but reduce it to a bubbling puddle of slime.

We were afraid he’d use his breath to melt a hole in the cage, so we took him back to the vet for a dental checkup. And the results were not good. To be blunt, he didn’t have a sound tooth in his head. And, to be brief, he now has no teeth in his head.

That surgery meant another two weeks in the garage with gooshy fud and antibiotics twice a day, a regimen he bore with grace and patience. And, a few days into the recovery period, his Permanent People stepped in.

Uh… That would be us, actually.

Not to put too fine a point on it, the fuzzy fiend seduced us with that purr, then sealed the deal by rolling over on his back to demand tummy rubs. It took a few days for us to admit it, but, yeah, the Power of t3h Kyute compelled us.

So yeah, we’re now a seven-cat household. Sort of. I’ll get back to that.

When we finally said the words, we agreed that “GT” wasn’t going to cut it as a family member’s name. Don’t forget, it stands for “Grey Tabby”. Maggie suggested “Rufus” because his face has a somewhat lynx-like look about it. The problem with that, though, is that Lynx Rufus is the bobcat; the true lynx is Lynx Lynx. Not an insurmountable difficulty, though. His markings–those stripes–are somewhat bobcat-like. But the name was still missing something; it needed an element to hearken back to his previous life. That was easy. Out on his own, GT was a conqueror, and it was only once he started slowing down that he got into trouble. And so, now that he’s retired, bid farewell to “GT”, and greet “L Rufus Alexander*.”

* No period after the “L”. Unlike Presidents Grant and Truman, Rufus refuses to subject himself to the dictates of grammarians. He feels no need for a full stop. Nay, rather, the very concept is antithetical to his being. He may pause briefly, but no more than that. But even he admits that “L, Rufus Alexander” looks peculiar.

As I was saying, we’re not exactly a seven-cat household. The inter-feline political machinations are entirely too complicated with only six cats. Introducing Rufus into the mixture would almost certainly result in an explosion.

The solution?

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Yeah, a truck bed full of lumber and wire. “Some assembly required” isn’t only for toys. After a few hours (and thanks, Ray, for the assistance), it looked rather more useful:

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Note the three built-in shelves on the right side. They should get plenty of sun; perfect for lounging. Note also the airlock construction. It’s a bit of a hassle, but will make unscheduled departures significantly more difficult.

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Mind you, lounging shelves are nice, but Rufus’ retirement palace needed more furnishing. A trip to the hardware store, and we’ve added a sun shade on the left, and a pair of benches with hinged tops. The one at the left has a hole in the side to allow Rufus access to his litter box; the one on the right holds a garbage bag and the bag of clean litter.

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The most important item–well, OK, most important after the food bowl–is the shelter. As you can see, it’s similar in design to the Cape Odd shelter near the Backyard Bowl. However, this version is more sensibly designed. The roof is a single piece, which should cut down on leaks, and was much easier to insulate. (We haven’t told Rufus, but we intentionally skipped the construction step to attach the roof to the rest of the structure–just in case we need to “persuade” him to come out at some point.)

The entire palace needs a little more work. Most notably, we need to add some rain-proofing. Rufus should be snug enough in the shelter, but preventing rain from filling the food bowl seems highly desirable, as does creating a dry area for bipeds when they come by for companionship and litter box cleanings. But that can be done at any point before the rainy season begins.

So we moved Rufus into the palace Sunday afternoon. He immediately vanished into the shelter.09-5He wasn’t about to come out for anything–we even had to put the food bowl inside–but he was happy to be patted and scratched through the doorway.

But he snuck out at some point during the night to use the box, and when we brought his breakfast Monday morning, he strolled over.09-6Yes, that is ‘Nuki inside the house, trying to sneak a peek past Rufus’ privacy shield. His presence didn’t bother Rufus a bit.

Neither did the arrival of an old friend.09-7Yes, Tuxie came by for a visit. I believe the conversation went something like this:
“Dude, where have you been? There’s this black cat that’s moving in on your turf!”
“Not my problem, Buddy. I’m retired from the territory game. You don’t like him? Chase him off yourself.”

Despite the tone of the conversation, Tuxie hung around for quite a while, and they seemed to be on good terms by the time he left. He’s been back a couple of times since, which is nice, since we can’t spend all of our time keeping Rufus company.

Rufus does still stay in the shelter most of the time, but it’s more a matter of that being the most comfortable lounging spot than a defensive measure.09-8Straw smells nice, there’s room to stretch out, and the breeze is minimized. All-in-all, a nice place to chill.

09-9And if there’s something going on–say, an annoying bird to be stared down–the foam matting is nicely butt-friendly.

All the News…

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Why yes, it is another GT update.

As I said in a comment last week, we had to put the Cone o’ Shame back on him, because he scratched his cheek too much and gouged some furrows.

But he seems to have healed nicely, and he is once again collar-free. We’re hoping he’ll keep his claws out of his face and finish healing. It’s a good sign that the fur is starting to grow back in on his cheek, even if there’s still some scabbing on his ear.
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He’s eating well–we’re starting to transition him off of the gooshy food and back to the same krunchiez we’ve been giving him and the other outdoor cats–and he’s decided that he likes the bed Maggie assembled for him.
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And yes, he’s also decided that getting his chin and ears scratched is totally delightful and justification for the existence of bipeds.

For all the time we’ve been feeding him outside, we thought he was mute. Turns out he just didn’t have anything to say. Once we introduced the ear scratching, he decided to grace us with his purr. And what a beautiful chirring purr it is.

Unexpected Consequences

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Having GT staying in the garage has led to some unexpected events. But before I go into that, a quick GT update seems in order.

He’s doing well. His cheek had healed enough for us to take collar off Wednesday evening, much to everybody’s relief. The evidence suggests GT spent the entire night making up for lost grooming time: Thursday morning, his fur was much sleeker–and there was a hairball of Trumpian proportions* on the floor of the cage.

* “It’s huge! Huuuuuggge!”

Even without the collar, GT’s behavior is excellent. When we set the bowl down and open the cage door, he strolls out, sits down, and starts eating.
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When he’s done, he calmly stands up and walks back into the cage, making no attempt to go explore the garage.

Admittedly, his table manners leave something to be desired.
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He shows a regrettable tendency to try to climb into the bowl, and there’s a certain amount of gooshy spray.

But since he’s getting regular meals with table service for, as best we can tell, the first time in his life, we’d be willing to pardon even more egregious violations of etiquette.

We remain convinced that he’s civilizable. (hint, hint)

Moving on.

The biggest side effect of having GT living in the garage is that we can’t put the car in there. But that’s turned out to be interesting. Among other things, it’s given us an opportunity to meet some new neighbors.
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This leafhopper was sitting on the side of the car when we went outside Monday morning. Since I was about to drive Maggie to BART, we suggested that she might be happier with a different perch, but she was adamant in her refusal to relocate.

Since the drive to BART is in the same direction as the morning commute, our trip down the freeway never exceeded thirty mph. Ms. Leafhopper took it in stride. Maggie checked when she got out of the car, and our passenger was still perched on the side of rear panel, and still showed no inclination to leave.

So I shrugged and drove home. That’s against the commute, so I was able to drive at full freeway speeds. After I parked, I checked on Ms. Leafhopper.
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She had moved, yes, but only a few inches, into a spot where she could get a better grip. And, while I’m no expert on Cicadellidae facial expressions, I’m fairly sure she’s showing the equivalent of a manic grin: “Man, what a rush!”

Tuesday morning, there were three leafhoppers on the car. Clearly, we’ve got the hottest thrill ride in the neighborhood.

Four for the Price of One

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I’ve had an unusually busy couple of weeks, even without GT’s contributions* to the excitement.

* GT is, by the way, doing well. He had the drain removed from his cheek Sunday. He continues to remove the Cone o’ Shame, but is making no effort to evade the other medical necessities (mostly warm compresses twice a day).

Maybe it won’t seem all that busy to many of you, but keep in mind that I typically go to maybe two movies–and less than one concert–a year. Add a couple of ballgames, and that’s pretty much it for my outside entertainment. Somehow, however, I found myself going to two concerts and two movies in two weeks.

All that makes for a priceless opportunity–four ready-made blog posts!–that I’m going to shamelessly squander. One post, four mini-reviews. Ready? Let’s go.

Saturday, 7/9: The BFG

Let’s be honest. The BFG is not one of Roald Dahl’s best books. It’s certainly not in the same league as the Charlie books or James and the Giant Peach*. Not even Fantastic Mr. Fox (no, there really isn’t a “The” at the beginning of the title). The end isn’t really an end, it just sort of fades out. The climactic confrontation nearly slips by unnoticed. And later events happen without much reference to earlier happenings.

* My personal favorite.

So the movie didn’t have a high bar to clear. But Spielberg–or rather, he and screenwriter Melissa Mathison–didn’t settle for a simple transposition of book to film. A single example of the improvements they made: In the book, there’s a minor argument between Sophie and the BFG which neither wins, and the subject is immediately dropped. In the movie, the BFG wins the argument by doing an endrun around Sophie’s better judgement. As a result, we get bagpipes and jet-propelled corgis.

Mathison and Spielberg added a few other callbacks to events earlier in the film, and as a result, the ending became more satisfying, dramatically and emotionally.

It was never going to be a major smash, but it deserves better than the reception than it’s currently getting at the box office.

Thursday, 7/14: BABYMETAL

You know I’m not going to diss BABYMETAL.

But I do have a couple of complaints, so let me get those out of my system first. Standing in line outside the venue was cold. Twainian levels of cold. Nobody’s fault, but the group’s management missed an opportunity: if they had moved the merchandise sales outside before the doors opened, they would unquestionably have sold a huge number of hoodies.

Once they opened the doors, it still took a long time to get inside–they were funneling the entire audience through a pair of metal detectors. From what we overheard, it was the first time they had used them, and their inexperience showed. Given the ongoing controversy over whether BABYMETAL is really metal, I wondered if they were going to turn away anyone who didn’t set off the detectors: “Sorry, kid, you’re not metal enough to attend this show.” I didn’t see that happen, but I also didn’t see it not happen.

The Regency Ballroom was kind enough to open the balcony so those who wished to avoid the mosh pit that consumed the entire main floor could do so. The balcony even had seats! Not that the seats mattered, because as soon as the first notes sounded, everyone stood up. Including the six-footer in front of me. I’ve got some lovely photos of the back of his head and arms.
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No, that shot really isn’t as perverted as his arm makes it look, but the rest of the shots he was in are so much more completely blocked that they don’t amount to much more than unintelligible blurs.

My apologies, by the way, to whoever was behind me. I hope you were taller than I am.

Still, I did get some good shots, especially when the lighting wasn’t so red it threw off the camera’s focus.
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OK, “good” by my standards. Stop laughing, Beth.

And no number of bodies could block the music.

I was able to let go of my brain and get into the experience–my first metal concert!–and wound up exhausted and sore-throated in a good way. All in all, I had a fantastic time, and yes, next time I find myself in proximity to a BABYMETAL show, I’ll attend. I’ll just make sure I have a better line of sight to the stage.

Tuesday, 7/19: Ghostbusters

Unlike many of the people my age who have, shall we say, firm opinions about the wisdom of a Ghostbusters remake, I came into the theater with an open mind. I saw the original when it came out, but I doubt that I’ve seen it more than twice since. Certainly not at all in the last decade. So I remember a couple of key scenes clearly, and I remember the movie as a whole as being funny. But I don’t consider it a cherished part of my youth, and I’m definitely not in a position to do a point-by-point comparison between the films.

Taken on its own, then, I found the new movie more than worth the time and ticket price. I don’t expect it to match the original’s multiple Oscar, Hugo, and Grammy award nominations, but it’s far from embarrassing itself, its actors, or its creators.

Seeing it so soon after BABYMETAL, I probably found the scenes at the metal show funnier than I might have otherwise, but they worked well enough even without that help.

Kudos to the crew for moving the big dance scene to the end credits instead of interrupting the flow of the story; the little snippet they used during the film was much funnier for being so abbreviated.

And the dialog flowed well. Writing humor is hard, and making it look easy is even harder*. That there were so few places where the humor missed is a major tribute to the creative team.

* Yes, I know I’m far from the first person to point that out. But it bears repeating.

Count me as one white male of a certain age who doesn’t think Ghostbusters‘ 2016 incarnation destroyed his youth, but does think it enhanced his certain-age-itude.

However, having said that, I will admit that if I had to guess which of the past couple of weeks’ entertainments is the one I’ll be least likely to remember fondly a few decades from now, it would be Ghostbusters.

Friday, 7/22: They Might Be Giants

No, you’ve never heard me blathering about my enduring love of They Might Be Giants. There’s a reason for that: I don’t have a deep passion for them. But Maggie is something of a fan, and I appreciate their sense of humor, so we grabbed the chance to catch their show in Berkeley.

A slight diversion: the show was originally supposed to be in March, but there were technical problems with the venue. The show was at the newly remodeled UC Theatre, and was supposed to be the theater’s grand reopening after a fifteen-year hiatus. Didn’t quite work out. But now that they’re fully operational, I love what they’ve done with the place. The UC used to be a movie theater–Maggie and I used to go there in its repertory days–and the remodeling handles the steeply angled floor brilliantly: it’s been divided into three flat sections, each with a low wall at the front. The first section is actually lower than the stage, which puts the performers’ feet at the audience’s chin level. Odd, but very workable for dancing. The middle section is about ten feet higher, giving it a perfect view of the stage, and the back section is another couple feet up.

But I digress. So what else is new?

The audience for TMBG was somewhat more sedate than BABYMETAL’s crowd, and we were lucky enough to be near the front of the line. That meant we were able to snag a couple of the small complement of chairs at the front of the middle section. It wasn’t until we were seated that I realized I had forgotten my camera. Fortunately, my phone did an acceptable job.
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An optical zoom would have been nice, but this is fine as a memory cue.

And, beyond the music, the show was memorable for one thing I’ve never seen before:
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I thought at first the sign-language interpreters were with the group, but apparently not–John and John had to ask the interpreters’ names before thanking them. Regardless, a nice touch, though I’d love to get an appraisal of how well they did: it can’t be easy keeping up with TMBG’s rapid-fire lyrics.

Good view, good music. And if I wasn’t as tired and hoarse as the week before, I did come out of the theater with hands sore from clapping. An evening well spent.

So that’s been my mid-to-late July. I could probably get used to those levels of excitement but I’m hoping for a slightly quieter August–at the very least, one without medical emergencies.

Feline Doings

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GT is doing about as well as can be hoped. I haven’t take a lot of pictures of him, because I don’t want to subject him to the stress of bright, flashing lights.

But I thought he could handle one photo.
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Yeah, the poor guy has to wear the Cone o’ Shame for a while. He’s got a drain installed (carefully not included in the picture–you’re welcome) and it wouldn’t be good to have him scratching at it.

(No, we weren’t happy about how little space he had in the cage. A new, larger one arrived today and he’s got quite a bit more elbow room now.)

Not only does the cone prevent him from grooming himself–thus the unusually-mussed fur–but it also keeps him from getting his mouth close to a bowl of food on the floor. Wall-mounted bowls should arrive today, but for the past couple of days we’ve been helping him eat. Wednesday we spoon fed him. None of us enjoyed that. Since Thursday, we’ve been holding the bowl inside his cone.

And if you don’t believe that holding a bowl for a cat while he eats isn’t an exercise in patience, I suggest you go to your local zoo and watch them feed the big cats. A tiger will happily spend hours licking a slab of beef.

Fortunately for everyone, GT is determined to move the food from bowl to stomach as quickly as possible, but even so, licking is a slow transfer mechanism. Those wall-mount bowls can’t arrive fast enough!

If all goes well, he’ll have the drain removed on Sunday and, we’re hoping, he’ll be allowed to remove the cone at the same time.

He continues to be remarkably cooperative. He sits quietly, uncaged, for his twice-daily warm compress, and he didn’t squirm or wiggle when I picked him up to move him to the new cage. He’s not happy. As best we can tell, he’s alternating between grumpy and bored, but he’s bright enough to not make this experience any harder on himself than it has to be.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Yuki got wind* of the fact that the Giants have lost five straight games and six of their last ten. It seems he thought a show of support was in order.

* I assume he read it in the sports section of the newspaper. He certainly spends enough time sitting on the paper while I’m trying to read it, and we all know cats read with their butts.
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Note that the flattened ear has nothing to do with his disgust at the Giants’ performance. It’s a combination of the feline equivalent of “helmet hair” and dismay at the number of typos and grammatical goofs in the magazine he’s reading.

At any rate, Yuki prevailed on ‘Nuki to join him in supporting the Giants.
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I think the theory is that if the players see the look on ‘Nuki’s face, they’ll be too terrorized to lose again.

Their effort is admirable. Too bad the boys are wearing San Jose Giants caps.

GT Update

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Good news and bad news.

The good news is that GT is out of surgery and doing well.

Unsurprisingly, he’s dehydrated, so he’ll stay at the vet’s for at least a few more hours, possibly overnight, so they can get fluids into him.

The bad news is that the blood tests showed he’s FIV-positive.

As the ASPCA says, this is common in free-roaming, outdoor, intact male cats: transmission from cat to cat most often occurs through deep bite wounds–and guess which cats are most likely to get into territorial fights.

FIV frequently remains inactive for years, but the infected cats who live in a stress-free, indoor environment do the best.

Put another way, GT would greatly benefit from a retirement home, either as a single cat, or with other FIV-positive cats. And definitely indoor-only. Unfortunately, there’s just no way we can take him on. Our house can’t be subdivided to keep him away from the FIV-negative cats and, let’s be realistic: with six we’re already perilously close to the “Crazy Cat Lady” line (and note that I don’t say which side of the line we’re close to…)

GT is a sweetie. Very mellow, and now that he’s been neutered, he’ll probably be even mellower. He’s obviously at least half-civilized and would, we’re fairly sure, respond well to being the focus of a caring biped’s attention.

So, anyone want to rescue a cat? Drop me an e-mail–the address is over in the right sidebar (bottom of the page if you’re on mobile)–or leave a comment and we’ll talk.

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Update 7/20

GT has taken up residence in the garage guest quarters. He’s not at all happy about the collar, AKA “cone of shame,” but he’s eaten some food, and seems to be settling in. We’ve got a larger recovery cage on the way. Hopefully the extra space will let us rearrange the amenities (bowls and box) to make things a bit easier on him.

We Have a Visitor

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We’re going to have a house guest! Well, not quite. Actually, a garage guest.

It’s like this: Sunday evening, we noticed that GT had a large raw spot and some very dramatic swelling on his right cheek. He was clearly having some trouble chewing the krunchiez. So Maggie took a small can of gooshy food out and stood guard while he ate it, so that MM and Tuxie wouldn’t chase him away from it.

He downed the entire contents of the can and then nibbled at the krunchiez, and was generally rather mellow, so we figured we’d keep an eye on him.

Yesterday, I thought the swelling was a little smaller, but it was hard to be sure. I gave him another can of the gooshy and hung out while he ate.

GT dropped by this morning, as members of the Backyard Bunch often do, and we tossed him some treats. The swelling made it impossible for him to open his right eye all the way, and he was obviously having trouble eating. Maggie went out and patted him for a bit, then decided we should take him to the vet.

I brought out one of the cat carriers and we loaded GT into it. He’s a very mellow fellow: he didn’t want to go into the carrier, but didn’t make a battle out of it. We put the carrier on end, Maggie lowered GT into it headfirst, we disengaged his paws from the edge of the opening, and latched it shut. At that point, he seemed to shrug and settled down. Clearly not the first time he’s been in a carrier. We’ve speculated that all three of the Backyard Bunch are strays or abandoned cats, rather than true ferals, given their friendliness. GT’s reaction to the carrier certainly lends additional support to that line of speculation. We’ll be very interested to learn whether he has a microchip.

At any rate, he handled the short car ride to the vet’s office with aplomb, and once the tech joined us, we managed to get him on the scale. As soon as she recorded his weight, GT declared the inspection over, hopped off the table, and hid under one of the chairs.
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* Eight and a half pounds–less than I expected. I suppose I was fooled by his stocky frame.

The tech decided not to push the matter and didn’t even try to take his temperature. A wise decision.

And, somewhere along the line, his abcess started leaking. Poor guy.

So, as I write this, he’s being prepped for surgery. While they’re draining the abscess, they’ll also snip his pom-poms*. They’ll also give him a general checkup and test for FeLV and other nasties.

* We had been planning to take both GT and Tuxie to Fix Our Ferals, as we did with MM, but FoF has been having funding problems, and are (temporarily, we hope) closed. They currently have a fundraiser going as part of the Michelson Challenge. Please consider that a strong hint… Once everything settles down and they reopen, Tuxie will be paying them a visit and spending some time in the garage guest quarters.

In the meantime, we’ve evicted the car from the garage and are setting up the same palatial quarters MM used for recovery from her surgery.
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More details on this breaking news story as the situation develops.

Holiday Photos

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Thanksgiving is, or should be, among other things, a time to share with those less fortunate. This year, we elected to give something a little special to the Backyard Bunch. Several things, actually.

First, while preparing our turkey, we donated the bird’s liver to the gang. Surprisingly, the cats don’t seem to care much for liver. The raccoons and possums, however, appear quite fond of it. Enjoy!

We also saw that MM was after a bird of her own, though she is sensible enough not to try for a turkey. She had a couple of unsuccessful stalks, but did manage to bring down one unwary avian.
27-2 Apparently it was more feather than meat, as she gave up on the idea of eating it after partially plucking it.

So instead of the usual bowls of cheap kitty krunchies*, they got cans of gooshy fud. Turkey, of course.

* Costco’s house brand, actually. Unlike many of the low-priced foods, it actually has meat as the major ingredient. Obligate carnivores, remember. Their fuzzy little tummies don’t do well on a diet of rice or corn.

As usual, they queued up in an orderly fashion to enter the yard when we approached.
27-1 For local values of “orderly”.

MM was a bit skittish. She, even more than most cats, takes comfort in a set routine, and not only did we both go out with the food instead of just one of us, but we also went out somewhat earlier than usual.

But once the food was in the bowls and we left the yard, everyone settled in for their Thanksgiving turkey.
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I’m particularly taken by the sight of MM and GT sitting butt-to-butt, tails almost entwined as they nommed away, so here’s a closer look.
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And, in the interest of equal broadcast time, a closer look at Tuxie with his face buried in his bowl.
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I hope your Thanksgiving was as peaceful and pleasant as ours.

Meet the Neighbors 14

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I’m sure it’s no surprise that the feline politics continue apace in our backyard.

More often than not, all three of the regulars show up early and wait for us to bring the Kitty Krunchies out.
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ff2ff3Tuxie and Grey Tabby have become quite friendly with us. They’re quite willing to delay the food for a few minutes while we scratch behind their ears. GT has even been known to roll over and ask us to rub his tummy.

Meezer Mommy, however, is exceedingly unhappy whenever there’s a delay in the krunchie delivery. Any halt, even a brief pause to avoid tripping over one of the boys, provokes her to a storm of verbal abuse. Yes, she’s become quite the little chatterbox, demanding that we fill the bowls and get the hell out of her yard. She’s even hissed at me a couple of times when I haven’t moved fast enough.

Needless to say, her attitude–and her apparent belief that all three bowls are for her–doesn’t sit well with the boys. There isn’t much they can do, though. She hisses, growls, and swats at them. Not ladylike pats, either. Full force, claws extended swats. GT is terrorized to the point that he sometimes won’t come into the yard until she leaves.

Interestingly, despite his earlier timidity, Tuxie stands up to MM much better than his colleague. He gets his share of swats, but his normal response is to stroll across the yard to a different bowl.

We hope Meezer Mommy will eventually figure out that there’s always more food than she can eat herself and lighten up a bit. I know, I know. But if we don’t have our dreams, what do we have?

Meet the Neighbors 13

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We continue to have problems with Meezer Girl slapping Faux Tux away from the food bowl so she can gobble down all of the krunchies.

Fortunately, Tuxie and GT have decided that Maggie and I are sufficiently safe bipeds that they no longer flee our presence, and are quite willing to eat with us standing nearby. Filling the water bowl can be a bit of an adventure: one of the bowls sits near the hose, and we often have to uncoil the hose from under GT’s paws.
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In fact, they’re so happy to have a regular source of food that they rub against our legs when we come down to fill the bowls.

Meezer Girl, however, still wants nothing to do with us. So we’ve started waiting near the bowls while GT and Tuxie eat. Meezer Girl keeps her distance.
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Of course, that just means she needs to resort to distance weapons to encourage us to go away and let her take the bowl away from Tuxie.
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I’m happy to report that when she’s hungry, her eye lasers don’t have enough power to do more than singe our pant cuffs.