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Mar. 19th, 2005
two black cats at my kitchen door
Mar. 19th, 2005 07:26 pmI kept hearing a strange noise, a high-pitched call, rising and falling in tone. It sounded like a child having a hissy fit. I asked Dave if he heard it. He didn't. I listened harder. Was it a cat yowling? But I almost swore there were words, indistinct words like a very young child. The noise came again and there were two voices now, and Dave heard it. "It's a cat," he said.
"I think it's a child," I said, craning to listen.
Dave, having the advantage of greater mobility, walked around the house to hear where the sound was loudest. He opened the kitchen door. "Hey!" he said.
Two very large black cats, neither of which we'd ever seen before, were having a standoff on our kitchen stoop. They ran off together and I haven't heard the sound since.
It struck me as eerie.
Meanwhile, Dave has set up the Fooshie Palace, which involves all three betta fish in an elaborately-screened 20-gallon tank. Al has figured out how to get from one part to another. The others took a little longer, and at one point made the transition simulltaneously, which completely boggled the mind of the female (Shirley). Shirley immediately discovered Al and began flirting; Al's response was to flare, and then hastily stop and puff up his fins in a courtship display instead. (He's a reasonably bright fellow once he figures out which switch to flip. Not that he has many.)
Gibson is, at the moment, just randomly flaring at the world.
Al is now flirting with the filter.
Shirley pooped and is attempting to chase the poop down to eat it again.
Betta fish are not the brightest of animals. But they are better than nothing.
In other news, I have eaten some Triscuits and am pleased to report that they have stayed roughly where I put them, and show good signs of being accepted into the digestive process. I'm happy for them. Next, I might attempt a baked potato, as I crave starchies.
Oh, an update: Apparently Gibson's flaring at his reflection, as he's never been kept in a straight-sided tank before and thus has never seen it. Ohhhh. Clever... fish?
"I think it's a child," I said, craning to listen.
Dave, having the advantage of greater mobility, walked around the house to hear where the sound was loudest. He opened the kitchen door. "Hey!" he said.
Two very large black cats, neither of which we'd ever seen before, were having a standoff on our kitchen stoop. They ran off together and I haven't heard the sound since.
It struck me as eerie.
Meanwhile, Dave has set up the Fooshie Palace, which involves all three betta fish in an elaborately-screened 20-gallon tank. Al has figured out how to get from one part to another. The others took a little longer, and at one point made the transition simulltaneously, which completely boggled the mind of the female (Shirley). Shirley immediately discovered Al and began flirting; Al's response was to flare, and then hastily stop and puff up his fins in a courtship display instead. (He's a reasonably bright fellow once he figures out which switch to flip. Not that he has many.)
Gibson is, at the moment, just randomly flaring at the world.
Al is now flirting with the filter.
Shirley pooped and is attempting to chase the poop down to eat it again.
Betta fish are not the brightest of animals. But they are better than nothing.
In other news, I have eaten some Triscuits and am pleased to report that they have stayed roughly where I put them, and show good signs of being accepted into the digestive process. I'm happy for them. Next, I might attempt a baked potato, as I crave starchies.
Oh, an update: Apparently Gibson's flaring at his reflection, as he's never been kept in a straight-sided tank before and thus has never seen it. Ohhhh. Clever... fish?