Pets

OK, let's face it...for those of us who have pets, we treat 'em like children, whether or not we have any. And for those people who don't have kids, just pets...well, you know who you are, and you know you're a bit kooky (just kidding)! Actually, by the end of this you'll probably be calling me the Crazy Cat Lady, and you'd most likely be right.

OK, let's start out with my two commie kitties...Ho Chi Minh on the top and Mao Tse Tung to the left. These two beauties (and yes, they're girls, go figure) were just the best...all the great traits of a Siamese and none of the bad ones ('cept for Mao's smoking...never could get her to stop that nasty habit).

Harley is my next in line, named affectionately after the motorcycle that sounds just like her. Really. She has the most beautiful chinchilla-like coat that blends in very well with Christmas poinsettias...silk for you folk who were worrying about her munching on those leaves.

Harley had a litter of kittens...not by my choice, mind you, I was watching her like a hawk, but she got outside one day and well, you know the rest. She had five kittens and we kept one of them, starting the era of the black and white cat. To the left you have Baby Cassius, named that for his fighting ability with his siblings. He had a special affection for his cartoon look-alike, Sylvester.

Even as an older guy he liked to hang out with Sylvester.

Like mother, like son, and no, I did not pose them.

He's either terribly bored or is giving me a piece of his mind.

Probably the latter for making him wear this ridiculous hat.

The next cat to wander into our lives, literally, was Bob. He just showed up on our porch one winter and we ended up adopting him. Bob used to be quite the savvy kitty...after all, he WAS an outdoor cat and all, but I think he may've gotten in a tangle with a car that left him a bit tetched. I mean, he's the sweetest cat and all, but he walks around like Tommy Chong all day...amazed at the littlest things and with a hankerin' for Doritos.

Here are Butch (in the bag) and Babs (doing her favorite shoulder perch on George). They're brother and sister, and, keeping in the new tradition, the next installment of black & white cats.

Oh my lord, it's a dog! Will miracles never cease! Hold on, it's not even mine. This is Buddy, my mother's rat terrier. He's quite the character, but don't show him a ball or he'll keep you busy all day long. You see, he has a BIT of an obsession with chasing a ball, squeaky toy, you name it.

Here he is again, panting from chasing said ball.

OK, it's official, I AM a crazy cat lady. Here are the latest additions to the fold, taking the current number of felines to seven, five of them black & white. We wanted to get us some LITTLE kitties, so we went to the local animal shelter and picked us up Sasha (left) and Baxter.

While we were there, Alex became enamored with this little piece of fluff, so, lo and behold, a dog came into our house. This is Bailey, a South African Dijawan, a very rare breed indeed. Really.

The many poses of Baxter in the morning.

He's very fond of baskets of any shape and size...give him a concave surface, he'll sleep in it.

Butch, on the other hand, is mesmerized by the washing machine. He'll sit there, staring, then get up and start pawing at the glass, trying to get to the whirling clothes trapped inside.

Butch and Baxter, waiting for a hand-out in the kitchen.

OK, last new animal, I promise. We couldn't be outdone by my mother's rat terrier, so when George saw one in the "Absolutely Free" column of the local paper, we had to get him. Max was a 7-month-old tyke at the time and it was a riddle to us as to why the family wanted to get rid of him.

Hmm, maybe it was the abnormally large yellow protuberence between his legs....

Here's Bailey this past spring, a bit older and sporting the longest tongue I've ever seen. She's also shy one leg, unfortunately due to being hit by a car a few months prior, but that doesn't keep her from running like the wind.

Max and ol' Bob. Max seems to know that Bob doesn't give a hoot if he chases him, so he doesn't, but he does like to gnaw on his ears a little.

Lastly, a little Christmas spirit. There isn't a Christmas tree made that doesn't have more lure than a bale of catnip, and Baxter is certainly not immune to its siren song.

This is Charlie...the Cat of a Thousand Names. He belonged to my mother...we got him as a sort of a therapy animal for her during her last months. He was really good for her, but the problem was, she could never remember his name, so she kept changing it! The last name he had stuck, so now he's Charlie. I'd kept him inside, but he tasted freedom once, and he was hooked. Here he is, up in the crotch of my maple tree.

Birds, birds, everywhere there're birds...if only I could reach them!!!

More Baxter. Yes...I must dedicate an entire page to this little hooligan. He, along with Bob, are my very photogenic felines, so I just have to keep snapping away. Take a look...

Charlie loves to hang out on my desk, and puts himself in some of the most amusing poses.

Same thing...just the difference that a flash makes to a picture!