Yesterday [?] I introduced Smoky to the fish toy. At first he wasn't too sure about this odd thing. What was it? Why was it on a string?
The fish seemed like a toy, but it resisted. Smokepuff could smell that Mommy had gnawed on it, and his aunt Vee too. Hmm!
Then Sweetpea played with the toy right there: Mommy liked it, oh, it must be fun then. 8) He was enthralled.
Smoky played like any cat does with a pole toy, and he clearly enjoyed himself.
Friday, June 9, 2017
Thursday, June 8, 2017
In May 2007, I rescued a Maine coon cat named Gamble. He lived with me in Michigan, and in Ohio, and of course in Vegas. That's where I got him.
He was about seven years old when we met. We lived together nearly 3.5 years.
In Sept. 2010, I moved again; it was somewhere that Gamble couldn't live with me. He went to a good friend, who loved him, and who took good care of him. I could tell that he was happy.
I still miss him -- Gamble will always be my cat. He passed away a few years ago, sadly.
In July 2010, I had taken Gamble to be de-flea'd, after finding his thick Maine coon fur had hidden his bleeding from me. I'd never had a cat with fleas before; I was horrified, and I wanted my baby helped right away.
The vet gave him a newer 30-day treatment.
I remember her saying with caution how they'd "had less luck with" the more usual brand. [Probably fleas are immune to't now.] Revolution was its name.