she's just saying...

Chicken sweaters

I forgot: the other very popular search that brings up my site is about knitting sweaters for chickens. This is what they're searching for:

From the BBC: 

In from the cold: chilly chickens given a winter warmer

How would you feel? One minute you're in a warm battery shed [laying shed] squashed up alongside someone who's pecking out your feathers - the next you're out in an open field with nothing to protect you from the elements. Thank the Lord for chicken jumpers...

Queenie and her three friends are feeling the cold a little more than most this winter.

Recovered from a battery farm in November last year, they were largely without feathers and - away from the artificial heat of the chicken sheds - have been feeling the winter weather.

But owner Brigitte Hawley from Benenden has come up with a clever way of allowing her hens to enjoy the outside world, while being as snug as their more feathered friends. (BBC video clip)

A knitted chicken jumper - or 'Chux Tux' as Brigitte calls it - is the latest must-have item for feather-challenged chickens exploring the brave new world outside of the battery.

Poultry pullies

The 'Tux' can come in different designs depending on which parts of the bird are in need of insulation. Brigitte can also create poultry pullies in a variety of colours.

These hens have all been re-housed by the Battery Hen Welfare Trust, a charity that works with farmers to give a new lease of life to 'spent' battery hens when their egg productivity starts to take a slide.

The good news is that once out in the open - and with the help of a Chux Tux - the hens soon start to re-grow their feathers. Great news for Queenie and for the next reformed battery hen to inherit her winter coat.

How's that for a sneaky way to repeat a post?  Um, Kathi, time to learn to knit . . .

Pumpkin/Muffin

© 2004 Melissa Hochschild

Feels so good...

...feeling good again. Two months seems to be the ticket. What once was a painful ache is now a pang of regret. Whadda ya know?  It really does take time. "Every day, in every way..."

These days, work, Henry, kittens, dead fish (yes, he seems to have succumbed), baseball, knitting, work events, flag football practice, homework and oh yes, work seem to be filling my plate. I'm very happy with the new job - it's just right. I'm energized by it and challenged, and feel I can contribute substantially while learning new things, all critical criteria for the easily-bored. It's good to learn once again that I actually do like working, after the slow painful wind-down of Edge and an aimless summer.

This is turning into a catch-up blog, what with all the self-referential links. So, to round things out, Oreo is going under the knife on Tuesday, then is moving in with some friends of ours, so we get to see him grow. Some regrets, but right now he's in the pouncing and biting phase, so it's a little easier. It's actually kind of scary to have a very fierce kitten, claws out, determined to jump on your face and bite you. Over and over. Everyone's a little nervous around him right now.

Stop me

before this blog is taken over by kitten cuteness!

Just two more, then I really will change the subject.

Oreo is fascinated with the dog, who's surprisingly tolerant of him. Now and then I hear dog jaws snapping at the empty air, but he's dealing pretty well.

This one's worthy of a lolcat:

Action shots

Smackdown action:

Kitty Smackdown

My big-beautiful-Bob and the killer princess Muffin are not pleased with the presence of the little squirt Oreo in the house.

Bob stomps around growling deep in his throat and avoids the house except to eat and get a lil lovin' from the mistress (me). Muffin prefers the cold silent mean-girl stare. All the while, little happy-go-lucky Oreo continues to play, jump, and pounce, pretty much ignoring the cranky old folk.

Except when we have:

Every so often, the Bob'a'Muff team delivers a spanking to the little guy, who, like a good little kitten, rolls over and assumes the submissive "I'm just a tiny little baby" position. They raise their paws and give him a quick smack-smack-smack, then run away.

It seems to be a standard ritual and they all play their part. He doesn't seem very afraid, and someday I'm sure he'll smack them back. (That is, if we keep him, of course, which we're clearly not thinking of doing.)

Quickie

Major report due to the client tomorrow - guess who's been procrastinating? Well, at least I got the waterworks completed. There's something to be said for professional-grade procrastination - a lot gets accomplished. Just not the right lot.

Add to the catastrophe list from Sunday: a leak in the pond. Must save tadpoles!

Baby kitties, baby frogs, (big) baby dog, baby mosquitoes; we're all just a big bunch of babies around here.

The conservation of bustedness

My big bro Steve has always espoused the theory of the "conservation of bustedness." In essence, it means that if you successfully fix something, something else must break. I always thought it was one of his semi-serious paranoid delusions, but allow me to pour myself a BIG glass of wine and tell you about my day.

I won't talk about Mary-who-stays-with-me-weekends's 55-pound puppy who frolicked in my carefully landscaped pond, tried to pick up the kitten with her "soft" mouth, ripped up Flash's special frisbee and chased both my cats, all before noon. No, this is about the smoke alarms.

I have seven interconnected smoke alarms in my four-bedroom home. That means when one goes off, the others all chime in helpfully. Today one of them went off (false alarm) but of course we couldn't tell which. So Mary and I ran around with our fingers in our ears changing the old batteries, and thought that was the end of it. Of course, fixing them meant something else had to go bust (according to the theory), so when cleaning up the mud the ladder left behind, I realized my fancy-schmancy vacuum cleaner could barely suck through a straw. Then a smoke alarm went off again (with all new batteries!) so we went running around trying to pinpoint the offender again.

Meanwhile, Flash (just a tad neurotic) panicked over the alarms, bolted out of the house and down the street, the labrador puppy gleefully following. We had to drive around the neighborhood for some time til we located them, brought them home and tried to figure out the smoke alarms again. Of course we couldn't pull the car all the way into the garage because Henry's bike was in the way (did I mention I ran over his bike Friday and had to get it fixed for $99?). Henry came back from looking for Flash and pushed the garage door closer which began to bang rhythmically on the roof of my car, having run off its rails and gone berserk, finally crumpling in defeat.

So now I need new smoke alarms, a new garage door and a vacuum repaired. How was your Sunday?

Today's OCKP*

*obligatory cute kitten photo

baby cat

It's not easy to take one-handed shots of squirmy kittens in low light.

Baby kitty! How can you resist one?

Must...feed...kittens...

It's a catastrophe around here (get it? nudge nudge).

Judy, the tireless foster family coordinator for the C.O. Humane Society, picked up the 3-day olds since she located a new momcat who hopefully is so confused by the whole birth thing that maybe she lost count and won't notice two more.

Meanwhile, the shelter received 6 more kittens who were found in the back of a truck by the driver who was delivering bags of grain from Petaluma. Without their mom, who probably hopped off to go potty before the trip and was left behind (or bolted). They were emaciated and dehydrated, not having eaten for 3 days.

Judy and I split them up as we seem to be the only ones crazy enough to take on bottle babies. These guys are pretty freaked out and cry constantly and loudly, even while being fed. Eventually they conk out for awhile, then start up again. We're doing crisis counseling on their abandonment issues.

Super cute, though kind of panicky around the eyes. Photos to come.

This fish is not dead*

He just likes to sleep upside down on the surface of his tank.

Actually, it's the dreaded swim bladder disease. It happens because they've been bred to be "fancy": i.e. egg-shaped, which screws with their air bladders.

It's hard to get a good shot of him when he's upright as he has to swim constantly or he'll flip over and float to the top.

Is he suffering? Happy? Should we put him out of his misery? Maybe he's okay with his rotated view of the world. Several other fish we've had have lived for as long as a year like this. It's very distressing to look at, but when he's right-side up, he seems happy, cruising around looking for food as usual.

Don't buy fancy goldfish - it only leads to heartache.

*With a tip 'o' the blogging hat to Cathi D. (Yes, I have a thing for her. And her chickens).

ittie bittie kitties

Since y'all are going to say it anyway, let's get it over with, shall we?  All together now: "That Melissa - she crazy!" Okay, now you don't have to say it again in the comments, do you?

I turned in the baked kittens for some fresh ones right out of the oven. When I took the former ferals back to the shelter they (the shelter) begged me to take two more, 24 hours old. They were being separated from their mom who was truly a wild cat, so they could be socialized, vaccinated, wormed, spayed and everything else they do to make them acceptable, adoptable pets. How hard could it be? They don't even move yet! Right. Just like human babies, they have to be fed every 4 hours AROUND THE CLOCK.

Not being completely out of my mind (no, really), I agreed to take them on for 4 days until another foster home opens up. Otherwise, it's an 8-week commitment as a mom cat. They are awful cute, though...

More to come.

the Queen of Parsley

Today's harvest: arugula, parsley and sweetpea blossoms. Sunflowers, shallots and peas are progressing nicely as well.

It has been so beautiful here all week - not too hot, perfect temp. Friends have been dropping by for wine and meals, and the knitting group met here on the deck for some fresh air knitting. My X is out of town so I get some peace. And I'm not working, but getting paid. What could be better? If the kittens would stop crying so piteously, that's what.

Henry shot of Sylvester

Henry shot of Sylvester, originally uploaded by Meltrier.

sleeping kitten

grey sleeping, originally uploaded by Meltrier.

Stinkin' cute!

Taming the wild kitten

Poor shot, but they were hiding under the toilet.

One of the insane interesting things I've done in the past few years is to foster kittens for the Humane Society of Central Oregon.

These are kittens who are too young to be adopted and need ongoing care. Sometimes they come with their mom, sometimes not. Depending, they may need to be bottle-fed, weaned or just socialized.

I'm known as the go-to gal for socializing the feral kittens. They come to me all hissy and terrified and they leave happy, cuddly, well-adjusted kittens ready to find their "forever family" (as we say in the adoption biz). Or at least they're supposed to. Every so often there is a kitten who prefers to stay wild, thank you very much. Those cats get sent to "the barn," a supposedly-real place where they can catch mice and play with cows all day.

So I now have four little hissies that I'm working on. It's best to separate them so they have to rely on you for companionship, but it's a painful process. Hearing pitiful kitten cries from four different spots in your house is a little nerve-wracking. And then you have to go around to each one and cuddle/feed/play with it. Good thing I'm unemployed!

My household and the whole neighborhood gets involved so the kitties can get used to dogs, cats and kids. It's fun, really. You get the cutest part of them and then when they turn into destructive maniacs you trade them in for fresh ones.

That reminds me of a story about Henry, my (adopted) son.  I was explaining a few years back that it was time to take the kittens back to the shelter to be adopted by their new families. He was silent for a moment, then asked in a worried tone: "Am I going to have to get a new family too?"  AWwwww.

Too much time on my hands . . .

You can teach an old dog new tricks, as long as you have liver snaps.

Day 13

I just realized that in the many years I've lived in Bend, I've never left for longer than a week. I've traveled: East Coast, California, Texas, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Spain - but each jaunt has been for 8 days or less.

I remember when I got my first real corporate-type job in NYC after grad school, when it sunk in that I'd only get one week off for the first several years. I was stunned: one week?! Cram the entire year's vacation into one week? This was after a life of summer vacations and under-employment. I felt like I'd been given a jail sentence.

Since then, I've learned to fit the vacation experience into one-week trips, extended weekend getaways, work trips that included relaxation time (Costa Rica beach, anyone?), and of course the random layoffs that occur with ad agencies. (Hard to relax when you're looking for work and close to broke,though.)

So the point of this ramble? I've never been away from my pets for this long. I really miss them.

war wound (dog bites dog)

Flash showing off the bandages.

My poor old dog was bitten pretty viciously last night. A large yellow dog clamped her jaws on his neck in a total death grip. Two men weren't able to pull her off. Finally my friend pounded on her muzzle (so hard he actually bruised his hand) and she eventually opened up, trotted off and sat there wagging her tail.

Flash was howling oww oww oww!in a panic, and I distinguished myself by standing there screaming the whole time. We were all hopped up on adrenaline at the moment, but by the time we got home, Flash  crashed into doggy shock. I started searching for all the puncture wounds, shaving his ruff and cleaning him up, and he just lay there in a trance. That was more freaky than anything, really.

He was a very sad puppy this morning. Took him to the vet and got him all bandaged and medicated. After the pain pill kicked in, he was trying to get people to throw the frisbee and generally acting pretty silly. Of course, tonight not so much.

(One funny note: when the vet gave us the pain meds, he said: "This is very safe stuff. No potential for abuse." What, are there junkie dogs out there scoring pills by the fire hydrant? Glad to know Flash isn't headed down that slippery slope - a strung-out dog pawning his squeaky toys for drug money.)

I thought my dog was grumpy with other dogs, but this dog was completely psychotic.  Her owner said, "she's passive-aggressive." I think she's a true danger to the neighborhood. (And yes, they're picking up the vet bill.)

I'm very grateful to Spence, who immediately took charge: beating apart the locked jaws, talking to the neighbors, finding a vet, driving us there. He's my hero, and Flash's alpha dog.

loose ends

Time to tie up a few:

1.Yes, Henry does not like the retainers. He says he'd rather have the braces again, and even offered to pay for them himself. We're trying them (actually, he's trying them) a few hours at a time. And they have been lost twice in the two days we've had them. Unfortunately, they're clear and small and easily overlooked.

2. I think I've solved the catnip situation. If you can't cage the cats, cage the catnip.  They hang around it alot but haven't tried to break in yet. I think the smell alone drives them crazy - they don't have to ingest it. Does anybody know?

The owner of Chow (the out-of-coffee cafe, in case you didn't guess) sent me a lovely email apologizing for our experience. He said they weren't out of coffee - it was a server misunderstanding. That's good to know - I'm definitely trying it again.

3. Our knitting group may have found a home - Makahna's Cafe on Galveston. Great spot! Meets all our criteria (natural light, not too noisy, comfortable space, parking, beer and wine). The owner, Steve, kept it open just for us, which was wonderful. He's working on staying open evenings more. Check it out!

4. I did buy an electric mower and love it.

5. The laser treatments I had to control my glaucoma were very successful. My interocular (great word) pressures are way down, and should stay that way for a few years, hopefully.

Cat lovers (not CAT lovers, but cat LOVERS)

Muffin and Bob show their true feelings when they're alone. Otherwise, they ignore each other or fight.

green (crack) house

How does anyone grow catnip? I can't find a place to hide one poor little plant from my feline junkies. Bob figured out how to crawl under the greenhouse to get at the pot (so to speak). Are catnip fields full of stoned kitties?

Wacky day

all over the place. Work, friends, money, jobs, dogs all a little off kilter today. Not in a bad way, just different. Which I enjoy, change-junkie that I am.

A friend is here for the weekend with her new adorable sweet black lab puppy, who Flash immediately bit, getting in that pre-emptive strike.

Work is kind of unraveling - people are leaving either short term or for good, everyone's working with different and new folks from Big Globe (there are a million of them!), the payout is happening, and we were notified that we'd be notified about our jobs next week. Plus ca change... (that's french without the accents, fyi).

Here's a cool photo of a few of the entrelac bags in progress:

Mine is the one in the upper right. PJ (who just learned to knit) has pulled well into the lead, so we get to learn from her trials. MUST FINISH before heading back east for two weeks in late June. Shouldn't be a problem, though I tend to slow down near the finish line with these things.