Wacky Weed Wednesday

Stygia: Yes, it's Wacky Weed Wednesday! Perhaps it's obvious, but it's the NIP we're doing in the middle of the week! Mr. R thinks I look like E.T. in my 1st picture today. Does it matter? Abby is asleep, so the NIP and I are left alone to enjoy warming up in the sun:

This is goooooooood stuff . . .

Did I mention that this is some really gooooooood NIP?

Here is a close-up of my smile. In case you didn't notice, this NIP is really, really terrific!

NINJA Styggie!
I just can't believe that the whole time, Abby didn't even wake up to see what I was doing. It's a good thing because I get too anxious to really enjoy it when she is too close to me. Now it's time for me to *yawn* relax, too . . .

Space Invaders

You will not believe this, but an alien has arrived into my home:

This is the only sighting Ms. C has managed to capture on film so far. I am going to let her talk about the experience in her own words, because frankly, I don't know what to think.

***

Ms C: She came to us last evening, a friendly yet terrified-at-her-new-surroundings two-year-old kitty. She and Abby have not yet really introduced themselves to each other besides some hissing from a distance; so far what we have is an "upstairs cat" and a "downstairs cat."
She does not seem to be familiar with her given name, so Mr. R has named her Stygia (I call her Styggie). She was well cared-for in her previous home, although I think she is traumatized at the moment by missing her people who felt they could not keep her after the birth of their first child.

I'll share more pictures later, but I don't want to take too many right now because Styggie is obviously not settled in or comfortable yet.

.... After the Big Day

I'm miserable.

Not only was I in a strange place overnight, away from my favorite folks, but the alien people who had captured me, well, they . . . I can't believe this . . . they shaved my belly.

And there are itchy little threads there, too. I was going to do something about them myself, so I made sure I did not show any interest in them in front of the aliens--what, Ms. C? They are called nurses, not aliens? OK . . . so I pretended I did not care about them and the nurses sent me home, where I immediately set to work on these strings stuck in my belly. Ms. C and Mr. R didn't seem to like it that I was pulling at them, so I tried to find a quiet corner in which I could be left alone to do my work.

Alas, as you can see, this only earned me another trip back to the alien place:


At least I can still eat and drink.

I am thankful that Ms. C and Mr. R rescued me from the terrible alien place so quickly. They are scratching my ears and chin for me, and I really feel safe under their desks. When I lay near Ms. C's foot, I like to be touching her feet with my own feet. It gives me a good and comforting feeling.

I hope all of you other folks are having a much better weekend than I am. I'm just glad that Ms. C is going to be home all week long to wait on me hand and paw.