More babbling

I just had to vent a little about the state of my yard. I went out this morning about 7 a.m. when the Lily alarm went off. I pulled weeds along the curb and swept up the dirt and debris from doing so. We have fire ants, several small mounds, and I had the thrill of being bitten twice while pulling weeds. I took a break, then tackled one of the mulched areas that wasn't so overgrown that when I worked on it you could actually tell something had been done.

It is so warm and muggy already today. I've gone on and showered since I may have gotten into some poison ivy even though I was being careful. The stuff grows everywhere, damn sneaky weed! I think I'll get up tomorrow and instead of surfing on the computer, I'll pull up another bag of yard waste.

I also realized I haven't written about Scooter lately. I read on one of the cat caretaker's boards on Ravelry about how someone's older kitties seemed to withdraw as they aged. That's exactly what happened with Brownie and Pixel, and Scooter is doing that too. I wonder how much of it has to do with the fact that he has arthritis and isn't as agile as he used to be. He spends most of his time when he's not yowling for liver sleeping in the kitchen, although I have seen him basking outside in the sun. That worries me since he can't hear anymore, and when he's out I keep an eye on him. Thank goodness he doesn't stray much further than the catnip rock (I have a small, flat, tile tabletop on the ground with catnip growing all around it. It's in a sunny spot, good for basking and doing some nip.)

We've been having a difficult time getting his herbal arthritis remedy into him, but Keith discovered if you mash it up in liver with a little olive oil, then wrap it in a pill pocket, he gobbles it down. As today is liver day, it will also be mix up some more special arthritis treats. All in all, Scooter is doing very well for his age. He may not be able to hear (except maybe the canopener - or is that cat esp?), but he seems to have all his wits about him. Brownie had gone deaf and kitty senile, while Pixel seemed to have all her faculties until the day she died. I try not to think about the fact that neither Brownie or Pixel lived much past their 18th birthdays, and Scooter's was over a month ago now, yet I can't help thinking about it a little. I think I'll shift gears and think about just how bad the yard looks. At least I can do something about that.