Daryl and I have come to an agreement about plants. He’s not allowed to eat them. In return, I make sure to leave him enough room to share their spot in the sun.
Cat-plant coexistence

Daryl and I have come to an agreement about plants. He’s not allowed to eat them. In return, I make sure to leave him enough room to share their spot in the sun.
Daryl winding around Abbey this afternoon.
When Daryl joined us just over two years ago, he weighed 7.7 pounds, had just been diagnosed as FIV positive and had some of his collar and belly fur trimmed off because he was so matted from spending the first 10 months of his life outdoors. At his checkup last week, he was pronounced in perfect health and weighed 15.3 pounds.
If you are considering adopting an FIV-positive cat, feel free to contact me.
My daughter lives in Ypsilanti, about 1:45 away, and asked me to send her pictures of the animals. Here is what they were doing when she made the request Friday, starting above with Daryl …
… Maggie …
… and Abbey, clearly adopting the notion of “she who dies with the most toys wins.”
So cute I can hardly stand it. Maggie and Abbey, hugging close to Mom. [Dec. 28, 2016]
Daryl spent a few days snuggling close to this box. Contents: a fish finder. Related? Perhaps … [Dec. 26 2016]
She also has personality quirks that are new to us on this fourth dog we’ve had. None of our other dogs, for example, showed any inclination to lie on the arms or backs of furniture. And while they liked food and food containers and food wrappers, cardboard boxes were of no interest unless they, well, smelled like food.
Not this one. Sure, that box she has in the top photo might smell ever so slightly of the rice and spices that were wrapped in plastic within. But she is equally happy to bound off with a Kleenex box.
And it’s infectious, apparently. Maggie never showed any interest in boxes until Abbey had to have them. Curious, she started investigating, and now they fight over them.
Daryl? Well, as a friend of mine once noted, you could put a postage stamp in the middle of a sports stadium and a cat would find it and sit on it. Box = cardboard = paper = approved.
To the victor go the spoils. [Sept. 30, 2016]
Abbey and Daryl on Tuesday afternoon.
One word: #caturday. This is a roundup of leftover shots of Daryl, my 2-year-old, FIV-positive rescue.
You can’t tell here what he’s sitting in, so I’ll explain. He’s sitting in a windowbox that didn’t have any plants in it. How did he get there? He tore the bottom of the screen from the frame and slid underneath. No me gusta.
Bubble wrap.
Yes, there’s a cat in this photo, on one of his rare ventures outside. He’s in the shadows of the bushes, stalking the birdbath. The birds were not fooled.
We have a cat and dog who don’t fight like cats and dogs. The half Lab, half golden retriever (our “little” dog) was nearly 1 when we introduced her for the first time to a cat, a rescue who is exactly 2 weeks older than her. They scrap but they are sparring partners, each as likely to instigate.
This is the first of at least five days in a row of animal photos, so I hope you come back.
Outdoor photos today, although more than half of them were taken through windows.