Posts tagged crazy cat lady
Posts tagged crazy cat lady
By Stephanie Lambourne
Oh, the glamorous life of a knitting cat lady!
add another hundred pounds and some cake and you have my future.
A woman and her cat
Nine notes on this, yet no-one has bothered to point out yet that this is Mary Pickford? Go ahead & call me an elitist, I’m still going to go weep for humanity now. (It’s really Tumblr’s fault for setting such high standards.)
always need a cute kitten in the morning.
The third gif is much like how the infant Beez used to wake me up—I’d gradually become aware of her lil’ babykitty nose touching mine, so the first thing I’d see every morning were her giant amber eyes regarding me plaintively, since she invariably wanted to make sure I was up to speed with her agenda for the day (which usually involved pets, kibble or both). This also was a far sweeter way to be woken up than her present-day technique, which consists of leaping back & forth across my head &/or repeatedly flopping down onto my ponytail until I wake up enough to pet her.
An addendum to my post about Thibault (though this is Fergus—the Tboy was orange all over & not such a chunky mutt [well spotted, Rosy!], whereas Teh Ferginator has a white muzzle & is much more of a shy boy)…
As I was just telling my esteemed associate mr-craig, since Fergus is finally all clean & tidy—his fur is sooo much softer than it used to be, too!—I’m able to get close to him, as he doesn’t object to cuddles anymore; he’ll actually stay on my lap for a minute or so before he wants off. However, it was only recently that I was holding him & affectionately buried my nose in his fur…only to receive a significant shock.
He smells like Thibault. The Tboy had a very specific scent—it always reminded me of amber—& other ginger kitties I’ve known haven’t smelled anything like that…yet Fergus does. I know this could be possibly attributed to wishful thinking, but I was completely taken aback, as I never expected to breathe in those warm tones of amber ever again. Perhaps it’s some kind of chemical reaction from me petting him & getting my pheromones on him or something, but Boo—the other ginger kitty I had in between Thibault & Fergus—never smelled anything like this, nor have any of my other cats.
Since I’ve begun tuning into my synesthesia instead of ignoring it (thanks, Phlegelina!), it now seems logical that my olfactory memory has always been so intense—I’m assuming they’re in the same part of the brain. Somewhere in storage I have a tin with empty perfume bottles in it, & after just one whiff of Anais Anais or Liz Claiborne, I can tell you exactly when I wore it & what I was doing at that time in my life. (I also met someone recently who was wearing Christian Dior’s Poison, & wow, talk about getting thwacked upside the sinuses with late-80’s deja vu!) Thus with olfactory memory this acute, I don’t think I could have mistaken the smell for anything else, & given that it was a total surprise, I tend to reject the notion of subconscious wish fulfillment, too.
Still, as the dogged empiricist I am, I persist in wanting a scientific explanation as to why a cat born in 2006 or thereabouts smells like another cat who died in 2001. Is it a scent particular to ginger kitties? Or to ginger kitties that belong to me specifically? Feel free to make with the suppositions, mes amis.
artezza: Faiza Maghni
Hmmm…I sleep on my stomach (always have, even as a baby, according to Mom) & da Beez usually sleeps next to my head, while Sophie is a sort of variation on the last one—Misery Lite?—but one of my legs is always bent, so she sleeps in the crook of my knee. The little flop she makes when she curls up there is quite possibly my favorite sensation in the entire world.
This is MOT (which stands for “Mr. ‘Oreo’ Tennant”—I already explained that, didn’t I?). Looks like a sweetheart, doesn’t he?
Guess again. He went completely postal on me shortly after I got home this afternoon, with no warning whatsoever; usually I can read cat behavior quite well, but this time he gave absolutely no indication that an attack was imminent.
In any case, this injury is why I have yet to post about what this weekend was like (though in a nutshell: it was great), cos the little bugger would have to rip up my mousin’ hand, huh? Though I’m hoping if I just rest it a bit longer & hork down enough ibuprofen, I’ll be able to post properly sometime tomorrow.
I’ll definitely be posting here much sooner than I’ll be able to trust MOT again, that’s for sure. *sadface*
Josephine Baker takes her pet cheetah, Chiquita, for a walk (1931).
*sigh* I was going to go see this today—my first chance to see Conrad Veidt on the big screen!—but my kitty Fergus really needs to see the vet, & I can’t rationalize putting that off just because Mommy wants to git her Connie freak on.
Detail of an illustration by Rafael de Penagos for the perfumery Floralia, reproduced on the cover of La Esfera, 1926. Via 50 Watts.
Julie Newmar as Cat Woman
You know, this might not be a bad image for us Crazy Cat Ladies to adopt as our official representation in the media.
My brother just emailed this photo to me & said it’s what he’s going to get me for my next birthday. My first thought: “Cool! Does this mean I can get more cats?” *head desk*
I’m reblogging a photo of Agnes Moorehead that didn’t emanate from aggiephile?! Quel horreur! Regardless, this is precisely the sort of representative image that I’d like us crazy cat ladies to have, rather than, say, this…
Lait pur stérilisé (Pure, sterilized milk)
Steinlen, from Les affiches illustrées (1886-1895) [Illustrated posters (1886-1895)], by Ernest Maindron, Paris, 1896.
My mom bought me a framed copy of this print & it used to hang in my kitchen.