For the kitties

This is the second year I’ve grown catnip for the kitties.  I started it from seed and grew it in the raised bed area of the main veggie garden.  I haven’t had a problem with cats, perhaps because the garden is fenced in, but I’m happy that is the case. 

I harvested it earlier this year when the buds were well developed.  I cut several big bunches of it and hung it in the barn to dry.  Today I finally got around to processing it.

I simply rub the dry stalks between my hands over a large plastic tub.  Some of the stems break off, so I pick some out but don’t get too worked up over it.  Once the majority of leaves have come off the stalks, I give the stalks to Ocho, and crush the leaves up a bit more, then bag it.  This year I netted 4.5 ounces — that should be enough to keep the kitties happy for a while.

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I was going to look through recipes in my canning book for some ideas.

Perhaps not.

A gimlet glare

Mercedes, all curled up on her blankie on the radiator.

Cats really know how to enjoy life.

Uh oh.

Someone’s not happy.

What she did/said next is not for prime time viewing.  Oops.

Wagon-full of catnip

The little blue wagon is full to the brim with catnip.  Ideally, I would have waited a bit longer until it was budding, but it was crowding the brassicas too much.  I foresee happy, drugged-out kitties in my future.  Any suggestions on the value of catnip?  Or maybe I should wait ’till I process it, and find a value then.  Either way, the cats are happy.  And really, isn’t that what it’s all about?  ;-)

She can’t possibly be comfortable

Mercedes, wedged into the small window box used to store washcloths in the bathroom, tonight at about 6:30.

Earlier today sleeping in the sun in the kitchen window.

This morning, balanced precariously on the radiator in the kitchen.

Of course, she’s not the only freak in this circus

A sad weekend

Saturday, we said goodbye to Fisher, our Golden Retriever and companion for the last 7 years. Fisher had developed canine diabetes and several other ailments caused by the diabetes, so we elected to euthanize him before he began suffering

Fisher joined the family in October 2001, through a colleague who was a volunteer working with a Golden Retriever rescue organization. He hadn’t been too abused at his former home, although he didn’t like women and he was very fearful of hand-held objects such as brooms or vacuum wands.

We had high hopes that he would be a groundhog deterrent, but alas, as I wrote here, Fishy was not much for chasing groundhogs. He was, however, an excellent lion-retriever, as you can see here and here, and had advanced training in skunking, as I wrote about here.

Fisher’s real claim to fame lies in his tolerance of the local titmice collecting fur from him for their nests. Fisher was even discussed on the radio on an Irish nature program, prompting many visits to Henbogle blog from Ireland.

I didn’t realize how empty the house would feel without him. Farewell, Fishy, I hope you find lots of pea shoots and other doggie delights to nibble on in your next trip on the wheel.

Titmouse season

It’s April, and that means our pals the tufted titmice will be building their nests soon. We are delaying having Fishy’s fur coat clipped until next month in case the titmouse returns for more hair.

In the meantime, here’s a link to a video clip of Soren the dog and another intrepid titmouse.

Is that a chicken?

I swear the gentleman on the left in this photo, from the What the World Eats photo series, is holding a chicken.

The good life

A comfy seat, family, and a nearby woodstove, what more could a cat ask for? (Well, at a minimum, tuna, and catnip, plus a servant to administer it, and maybe some new cat toys, and a heated plush catbed for when the woodstove isn’t running, oh, and fresh litter every day.)

From left, Luna, Luigi, and Yoda, who grace the home of our friends Bill and Karen with their presence.

Backyard hens are hip

According to the NY Times, backyard chickens are now all the rage.

I’m not surprised, I can’t imagine life without the girls, even though it can lead to hawk-related heartbreak.

But I’m not ready to let them in the house, no matter how much they want to be invited in!