lizkat
Watching March roll out real winter
Bandit likes blankets, pull toys, upside down cardboard boxes, tents... even flat cardboard.
Cats
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Bandit likes blankets, pull toys, upside down cardboard boxes, tents... even flat cardboard.
OMG I didn't know there was an Apple Arcade version on that game! I kind of got annoyed by all the microtransactions. I might keep Apple Arcade for this game alone!
lizkat
Watching March roll out real winter
OMG I didn't know there was an Apple Arcade version on that game! I kind of got annoyed by all the microtransactions. I might keep Apple Arcade for this game alone!
Yah I ran into the Arcade version of KittyCollector+ after finally switching to Apple One plan since I already had Music and TV plans separately. Had never even looked at the arcade games, picked that one up and havn't gone back for more yet --- since getting hooked on that one is bad enough!
Mama (Runty) and Bobtail Kitty. I’m going to have to rig up something a little better for cooler weather.
Thomas Veil
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Last week as I was sitting down to lunch, my mom texts me to say that she can't find her cat and she thinks he's dead. It's true, he's pretty old, so that's not an unreasonable surmise.
So I skip lunch and drive over to her place with a flashlight. I play detective and ask her when was the last time she saw him. She says yesterday morning. So he's been missing for maybe a day and a half.
I start looking around. Behind furniture. Under furniture. The living room. The kitchen. The bathroom. Her bedroom. Some of these places she's already looked, but I want to be sure.
When I can't find him there, I start in the basement. Again, behind and under stuff with the flashlight. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
I ask her about the spare bedrooms. She tells me she never goes in there, so he can't be in there. You know where this is going, don't you? So I take another look around with no results.
At this point I decide to follow the advice of Hercule Poirot and sit and let the little grey cells do the work. Where could he be, where I haven't already looked? I come up with nothing. It's not that big a house. I've looked all the places I could think of. So then I follow another bit of advice (Sherlock Holmes?): when you have eliminated all other possibilities, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, is the answer.
So I ask her about the spare bedrooms again. She insists she never opens those doors. I tell her barring that, the only thing she can do is wait until his body starts to, er, smell, and trace that. I'm about to leave when I tell her I'm gonna look in the spare bedrooms anyway, just to be positive.
Sure enough, I open the door and immediately the cat runs out and bawls me out with a loud, crabby meow. Then my mom tells me she was only in there to get an envelope from the dresser.
*Sigh.*
So I skip lunch and drive over to her place with a flashlight. I play detective and ask her when was the last time she saw him. She says yesterday morning. So he's been missing for maybe a day and a half.
I start looking around. Behind furniture. Under furniture. The living room. The kitchen. The bathroom. Her bedroom. Some of these places she's already looked, but I want to be sure.
When I can't find him there, I start in the basement. Again, behind and under stuff with the flashlight. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
I ask her about the spare bedrooms. She tells me she never goes in there, so he can't be in there. You know where this is going, don't you? So I take another look around with no results.
At this point I decide to follow the advice of Hercule Poirot and sit and let the little grey cells do the work. Where could he be, where I haven't already looked? I come up with nothing. It's not that big a house. I've looked all the places I could think of. So then I follow another bit of advice (Sherlock Holmes?): when you have eliminated all other possibilities, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, is the answer.
So I ask her about the spare bedrooms again. She insists she never opens those doors. I tell her barring that, the only thing she can do is wait until his body starts to, er, smell, and trace that. I'm about to leave when I tell her I'm gonna look in the spare bedrooms anyway, just to be positive.
Sure enough, I open the door and immediately the cat runs out and bawls me out with a loud, crabby meow. Then my mom tells me she was only in there to get an envelope from the dresser.
*Sigh.*
lizkat
Watching March roll out real winter
Don't know where my bro got this. Looks like an extrajudicial settlement was up next.
Scepticalscribe
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Not Sherlock Holmes, but, I think that could be Occam's Razor (after Roger of Occam).Last week as I was sitting down to lunch, my mom texts me to say that she can't find her cat and she thinks he's dead. It's true, he's pretty old, so that's not an unreasonable surmise.
So I skip lunch and drive over to her place with a flashlight. I play detective and ask her when was the last time she saw him. She says yesterday morning. So he's been missing for maybe a day and a half.
I start looking around. Behind furniture. Under furniture. The living room. The kitchen. The bathroom. Her bedroom. Some of these places she's already looked, but I want to be sure.
When I can't find him there, I start in the basement. Again, behind and under stuff with the flashlight. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
I ask her about the spare bedrooms. She tells me she never goes in there, so he can't be in there. You know where this is going, don't you? So I take another look around with no results.
At this point I decide to follow the advice of Hercule Poirot and sit and let the little grey cells do the work. Where could he be, where I haven't already looked? I come up with nothing. It's not that big a house. I've looked all the places I could think of. So then I follow another bit of advice (Sherlock Holmes?): when you have eliminated all other possibilities, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, is the answer.
So I ask her about the spare bedrooms again. She insists she never opens those doors. I tell her barring that, the only thing she can do is wait until his body starts to, er, smell, and trace that. I'm about to leave when I tell her I'm gonna look in the spare bedrooms anyway, just to be positive.
Sure enough, I open the door and immediately the cat runs out and bawls me out with a loud, crabby meow. Then my mom tells me she was only in there to get an envelope from the dresser.
*Sigh.*
So I've been saying "hello!" to this kitty and now she walks around purring what sounds like, HELLOOO?
Then over the weekend, she was sitting at the rear screen door, making squirrel sounds - back at the squirrels. It's __trippy__
Then over the weekend, she was sitting at the rear screen door, making squirrel sounds - back at the squirrels. It's __trippy__
lizkat
Watching March roll out real winter
So I've been saying "hello!" to this kitty and now she walks around purring what sounds like, HELLOOO?
Then over the weekend, she was sitting at the rear screen door, making squirrel sounds - back at the squirrels. It's __trippy__
Hah that cat has you in her pocket for life. Didn't take long, did it?
Make sure she doesn't get outside during Halloween. Kids can be stupidly cruel to kitties in this season.
Hahaha, the screaming sort of drives me nuts, so I do have to occasionally chase her upstairs.
Yeah, we have a rule to always have two doors closed for coming/going, unless she's specifically locked up (in Daughter's room).
Our laundry room has two doors, and that leads into the garage, so we go in, confirm no kitty, open the second door. It's like leaving a space station ...
Herdfan
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Our Gizmo rarely shuts up. The irony is my wife wanted to keep him because as a kitten, he had almost no meow. The vet guessed he had gotten his vocal chords damaged in the womb. She was afraid someone would let him outside and if he got into trouble, he wouldn't be able to call for help.
Well, that didn't last long as he found his voice at about a year and hasn't been quiet since.
lizkat
Watching March roll out real winter
I used to have to worry about an indoor cat getting out; it was after I first moved up here full time and still had a cat that was accustomed to life in my city apartment. He was old though, and quickly became content to snooze in the sunny places he picked out as his own inside the house.
No problem with the last two cats I had acquired here in the boondocks, since both were winter rescues... and one of them would actually flee to the living room whenever I opened the back door and there was so much as a cool breeze coming in, even during summer.
No problem with the last two cats I had acquired here in the boondocks, since both were winter rescues... and one of them would actually flee to the living room whenever I opened the back door and there was so much as a cool breeze coming in, even during summer.
Thomas Veil
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Occam's razor is similar, though it deals with explanations of various complexity, insisting that the simplest one is usually correct.
I had a moment to check it out, and it is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, although I didn't exactly quote it correctly, hence the confusion.
FFS ...
That's what Brian Laundrie's cat uses when it goes camping.
....What? Too soon?
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Scepticalscribe
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Occam's razor is similar, though it deals with explanations of various complexity, insisting that the simplest one is usually correct.
I had a moment to check it out, and it is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, although I didn't exactly quote it correctly, hence the confusion.
Given the respective dates, I'd wager that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle elaborated on principles first enunciated by Roger of Occam (not that this may have been attributed, needless to say) in that elegantly nonchalant manner perfected by educated aristocrats.
Our laundry room has two doors, and that leads into the garage, so we go in, confirm no kitty, open the second door. It's like leaving a space station ...
Two of my three won’t go near the doors when they’re open. The third will race past your feet at every opportunity. Fortunately, once he gets out he usually just lies down on the cement and waits for you to bring him back in. He’s currently on house arrest though, because the last time he went out he decided he needed to follow the ferals under the house. He wouldn’t come out when I called him. Of course, when his daddy got down on all fours and hollered at him to come out, he came right away. Typical.
Typical cat.
