Red Mosquito

bodysnatcher wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:Decided to go bowling at 9pm on a Sunday

With your mom?

With my best friend

Me

96583UP wrote:just ate way too much popcorn

slight tummy ache

tommy wrote:

96583UP wrote:just ate way too much popcorn

slight tummy ache

Where were you when this happened?

96583UP wrote:

tommy wrote:

96583UP wrote:just ate way too much popcorn

slight tummy ache

Where were you when this happened?

Montgomery Ward parking lot

tommy wrote:

96583UP wrote:

tommy wrote:

96583UP wrote:just ate way too much popcorn

slight tummy ache

Where were you when this happened?

Montgomery Ward parking lot

What were you shopping for?

Rangi Guy wrote:When we did get back - I went to give the cat a 'hello' head scratch and pulled away in a way that seemed odd to me, and then after a while I noticed that she seemed somewhat disoriented and was bumping into things etc. Saw her pupils were wildly dialated, so did the whole shine a light in them, and they didn't change. Spoke to my sister (a vet) about it, and given the cat's age she basically told me - this could be the end. So yesterday - took the cat to the vet, fully expecting that she wouldn't be coming home again, but she's back, blind and on meds that will hopefully sort out the vision thing.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:really sorry Rangi. Try putting her litter box on the stoop, that can draw them home. Though it sounds like her mind is made up...

How old is she? How was her appetite and urinary habits before she took off?

Rangi Guy wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:really sorry Rangi. Try putting her litter box on the stoop, that can draw them home. Though it sounds like her mind is made up...

How old is she? How was her appetite and urinary habits before she took off?

She had starting eating less. The vets said that in the week and a half between visits she had lost a bit of weight. The two or three nights prior to taking off she was pissing all over the floor of the room she slept in.....which is also where I work from when working from home. Kinda sucks not having my office buddy around
Oh, and my wife said she was possibly 16....? My wife had her before we met

spike wrote:was looking forward to not having to talk to anyone for the next couple hours while the kid's at school, but just noticed my internet bill has shot up, so going to need to have that phone call with xfinity.

Chris_H_2 wrote:

spike wrote:was looking forward to not having to talk to anyone for the next couple hours while the kid's at school, but just noticed my internet bill has shot up, so going to need to have that phone call with xfinity.

is it because your internet usage has shot up since your kid started going to school?

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.