Joel built me a shelf across the windows in my sewing room so that the “Swiss Cheese Plant) (pictured at right) and the Madagascar Dragon Trees (at left) have a safe and secure home in my sewing room.
Now, they’re above the level where I might accidentally crash into them and bruise their leaves and they’re well out of the reach of Minnie, who LOVES to chow down on the Dragon Tree’s fronds and then barf them up in other areas of the house.
Fucking cat!
I really like the dragon trees. They’ve grown a lot since I took this picture, which to be fair was about two and a half years ago. Despite the cat’s depredations, they’ve grown up and filled out quite a bit, though a lot of the fronds have ragged ends thanks to Minnie.
It is her good fortune that she is so pretty, as she can also be a total pill.
Though to be fair, she’s been a LOT better lately. She’s not half as deliberately aggravating as she used to be. She’s actually quite affectionate and cuddly fairly often and quite a lot less destructive. In part because we’ve Minnie-Proofed the house more effectively, in part because there are some things she couldn’t possibly destroy any further, and in part (and this may be wishful thinking) because she’s just being less bastardy these days.
Ruint: my beautiful armchair and sofa. Fucking cat!
The cats are, as I may have mentioned, banned from my sewing room, partially because they eject loose fur all over hell and creation, and mostly because one or both of them pissed in the milk crate I’d been using to store my mending projects in. You just can’t trust the demented little fur-loaves.
Deceptively cute, devastatingly destructive.
Joel and I regularly and vehemently aver that after these two catbeasts finally die, we will never, ever, not-even-if-you-threatened-us-with-grievous-bodily-harm, ever have cats again. Never!
They’re cute, and sometimes they can be affectionate and/or kind of amusing, but the reward versus trouble ratio isn’t tallying up well from our perspective.
Given the vitality and overall strenuous evil of these two, they’ll probably live for 22 years apiece, meaning I’ve got at least 12-14 more years of cat hair all over the house and 6:00 a.m. yowling wakeup calls.
Wheee.
Heh, I hear you. I love my hairballs, but they’re WAY more destructive than my dog, and leave more fur about to boot (I also have a destroyed couch, courtesy of the felines). Plus there’s the whole stinky litterbox thing. I think when they’re gone I’ll become a dog person and be done with it.