Last to Post - Round 12: Snow Joke

Took some photos of the cats recently. One of these days I'll feel like posting them, but apparently that day's not today.

 

Consider it paid!

In general order from oldest to youngest. First up is Clover, at almost 14 years. She's a grumpy old lady with a lot on her mind, but she relies on us for her doses of attention.

Also, you might see a discolored mark just above her lip. When she was very young, she was roughhousing with her mother and somehow managed to damage one of her fangs. We eventually had the fang removed, but looking at her from a different angle makes her seem like she has a perpetual sneer.



Next up is Magglio, adopted back in 2011. My parents named him after Magglio Ordonez, who was still playing for the Detroit Tigers at the time. He's an ever-curious beast who only thinks he's top cat in the house, and refuses to drink from anything other than our Eco-water faucet.



Third is Annabella, who I think is a little older than Magglio---I don't remember for sure. I consider her semi-feral; she doesn't mind being petted, but it has to be on her terms or else the claws come out. Out of the three of us, she likes Dad the most.



Fourth is Philomena, who is just a little bit younger than my fondness for pastel equines. She's basically a giant potato with legs who goes absolutely bonkers over me for reasons I'm not clear on. She was actually a svelte kitten, but she quite literally ballooned overnight when we took her to get spayed.




And finally, Missy Coco Chanel, adopted in 2017. She had this massive bleeding sore on her leg when she started visiting our outside cat feeder, and her first direct experience with us had her deciding that my Dad's lap was a good place to sleep. He knew right away that there was no way we could go without adopting her.

Seriously, I can't stress this enough: she has absolute faith in humanity and loves all three of us very thoroughly.

 

Which is fine by me, since we were still a day and a half away from the deadline anyhow.

 

My family's had... very little success with dogs. From 1984 on we had five different ones:

#1: Candy died of illness after 4 years. I was only 4 when she died, so I have very few actual memories of her.

#2: Buddy was a lovable coward and born wanderer who got spooked by our smoke alarm, climbed over our gate and took off; I saw it happen, and I still have trouble believing it. Mom thinks she saw him in someone's truck a year or two later, so if that was really him, at least he got a good owner out of the experience.

#3: Sophie lived for about 6-7 years after we adopted her, though she was already an old dog to start with. Here's a picture of her.



#4: Abigail had to be euthanized after less than 2 years on account of constant leg injuries and our family's fast-dwindling finances. Dad's said that if he hadn't lost his job for six months, he would've tried to save her.

#5: Georgianna died while still a puppy; she was taken in to get spayed and didn't survive the experience, because she had a terrible reaction to what the vet normally uses to keep them under during the operation. This loss in particular was very hard on Dad, since he tended to dote on her; he still remembers taking her for a walk the morning before the vet appointment. Since then, we've never had another dog.

 

Glad to hear you're feeling better.

Though whenever I hear the term Vertigo, I think of the Descent games from the 90's. Vertigo One was the player character's call-sign.



Also, some useless trivia: aside from being my favorite fictional fightercraft, the Pyro-GX is also Callista's second-favorite means of transportation.