The World O' Crap Archive

Welcome to the Collected World O' Crap, a comprehensive library of posts from the original Salon Blog, and our successor site, world-o-crap.com (2006 to 2010).

Current posts can be found here.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Friday Pet Blogging

Once again, I have to apologize for the quality of the photos  — the problem seems to be a combo of a crappy digital camera, blogging software that will only let me publish thumbprint-sized photos (which I try to expand, giving the animal the look of having been subjecedt to enough radioactivity to cause odd mutations), uncooperative subjcts, and poor photography skills.  Plus, since my old, cheap digital camera has an incredibly slow shutter speed, I can only capture the images (and souls) of the slower, weaker members of the herd. 
But that said, here are our plainitive, sad-eyed pets for today who are begging you to go through our portal if you are going to purchase anything at Amazon this month. First, here’s pound kitten Bob (who is turning out to be the biggest photo-op whore since Britney Spears).  He says, “I don’t care what you say – I LIKE Mallard Fillmore.  He tastes chicken.  Chicken mixed with lighter fluid.  But don’t get me started on that ‘Day by Day” guy! — he tastes like badly-rendered porn!”
 bob  

Next, here’s Yodie, AKA Devil Dog; Hound of Hell.
Well, to tell the truth, he’s mellowed in recent months, but only after having corrupted sweet little Flossie, who we now call “Thiefy” (it rhymes with “Fifi”).
Anyway, Yodie says that Devil Dog; Hound of Hell is a great holiday movie, if the holiday in question is Halloween.  He does concede that it doesn’t teach as many life-affirming messages as ”It’s a Wonderful Life,” but that it makes up for that by not featuring that annoying Zuzu kid.

yodie


And lastly, here Jet Jaguar.  This isn’t that great a shot of him, but if you remember that it was taken from two miles away, it will help you to get an idea of his size. (He’s HUGE, people!)  If they ever make a made-for-TV movie called “Honey, the Cat Ate Our Children,” Jet would be a natural for the starring role.  But he is a nice cat, and is currently lying on the floor next to Miss Lady (who looks a lot like the Devil Dog from the movie, but is a lot less trouble).  So, please think of World O’Crap before you make your next Amazon purchase, and maybe we’ll make enough to feed him tomorrow.  Thank you.

jet

Jet says, “Buy something from Amazon using the World O’Crap link or I’ll sit on you — and THEN you’ll be sorry!”
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9 Responses to “Friday Pet Blogging”


Oh, man. Jet is beautiful. I’m biased, my Cypress used to look exactly like that. They could have sumo wrestled. (She’s currently the flyweight version.)
SZ, I’ve been lurking here forever and am truly impressed by your commitment to the care of the fourlegged unfortunate among us. I think you should set up a “Feed the Beast” fund. I’d contribute. Of course, being a technophobe (yeah, I work in the industry) I’d prefer to snailmail a contribution, but hey.
Jet looks like my Mephisto from long ago. OK, sleek Mephisto crossed with Bandicoot, aka “The Area Rug.”
May I buy something at the WO’C store AND have Jet sit on me? Or perhaps lease “sitting rights”?
I typically dress in Sicilian Widow black, so cat hairs wouldn’t be a problem. And heaven knows, I’ve had heavier and less cuddly beings in my lap.
Perhaps you two should open a petting zoo for those of us who can’t have pets?
Seeing as I already have a slight overweight diabetic black cat who claims sitting rights, I had no choice but to hie myself to Amazon and order up 2 copies of “Better Living Through Bad Movies.” You didn’t think I was going to give it away as a gift after I read it, did you? I only do that with books I don’t want to keep…
That’s what you get for not having a “preview” button. That should be “SLIGHTLY” overweight, not “slight.” Preview is my friend….
M’darlin’ S.Z., princess of the pound pets, queen of the disenfranchised critters, m’love, I promise, as soon as we hear something definite as to what’s going to be done for Lee (yep, referred out by the neurosurgeon to yet ANOTHER group of doctors), and I can safely move on to my next project, once Lee is healing and happy and healthy again — YOU’RE IT.
I’m serious, too. I may not be able to afford anything at Mall d’Parole/World O’Crap Shoppette at the moment, but I really am going to figure out a way to get people to send you PetSmart or PetCo or whatever pet store you prefer GIFT CARDS, so that we can assure the donors that it’s all going to support your undying efforts to rescue every needy critter in the tri-state area.
You might need to set up a P.O. box or something, but aside from that, it oughta be pretty easy.
And if it means anything, I hope that you know that you’ve inspired me to feed the homeless critters around my apartment complex and the town’s recycling dumpsters. The kittens here at Hotel du Fucktards have me completely trained/enslaved by now — every evening, when I return from my daily sessions of Boy/Biddy-worship over at the Beastmaster’s house, those little furry heads pop up over the parking-lot retaining wall, staring at me with that “Well, it’s about TIME!” look.
The brazen little calico almost let me touch her tonight, and she and the ginger kitten even start eating while I’m still there now, so maybe one of these days, they’ll allow me the privilege of petting them. I don’t know if this is good/healthy for feral cats (and no, I can’t bring them into the building, if I could, my two fat spoiled cats would’ve been in here first!), but I can’t help wanting them to trust me. They already know that I am the font from which catfood springs, but they’re still feral/smart enough to avoid human hands. Maybe I shouldn’t try to “domesticate” them, ’cause it might get them hurt by some asshole down the line.
We shall see.
Your spirit of giving and love is an inspiraton to us all, S.Z., I hope that you know that.
Well, Annti, the downside of making feral cats trust you, and by this, trusting humans in general is that they may allow pound people to approach them and end up euthanized. Or, adopted, who knows. but, if ya don’t feed ‘em, they might wind up starving, or too weak to fight off a larger predator (a dawg or coyote… or a really big, mean cat). Um… (not that I’m suggesting catibalism… just in a fight).
Well, since I’ve virtually made it through teh Holiday Season (take that, Christmas Guys!) without spending the $7, 000 that the average shopper is supposed to spend–I’m like “WTF‽ ” and having picked up a couple o’ copies of “Better Living Through Bad Movies” + sundry additional items on the same order, including the Batman serial DVD so I could follow along at home (it was stunning –well, it stunned me, anyway). I’ll probably spring for a mug some time next year (I do need my bottle of semi-moderately priced champagne for New Year’s Eve. this year, I actually fell like there may be something to celebrate). And, we’ll see what else we can get around to [winks at Annti {in a chaste way, natch}]. Shit–New Year’s Eve is a Sunday night! How f’ed up is that‽
My first toast of said bubbly shall be to the Shrub era, going down in flames like the bloated, flatulent zeppelin it so resembles. Huzzah!
Well, the calico is still to skittish to actually PET, but the little tabby-and-white boy who is the usual “lookout” for when I arrive back here at L’Hotel Du Fucktards (he races towards the place where I feed them, alerts all of the others) — he’s so cute, but still very young. White main coat, but with big splotchs of tabby-striped (brown/grey/black) color, kinda like a paint horse with extra detailing. — ANYWAY — he let me PET HIM tonight!
I just stood there and talked to the first four or five who showed up to chow down (we’re looking at fifty cents’ worth of canned food a day — the BM may bitch at me for “wasting money” but to me, it’s worth it) tonight, and the little paint-horse kitten was so intent on gulping down as much food as possible, he didn’t even FLINCH when I put my hand on him. He stayed there the whole time, while I stroked down his little back, feeling the bones protruding from his little ribs.
He didn’t purr or anything, but he let me pet him, which, to me, is a huge gift of trust. I don’t want them to become so tame that they let just ANYBODY capture them (we don’t have an SPCA or any kind of ANIMAL shelter here, just a dog pound, so that’s how I got into feeding the strays in the first place), but it’s nice that they trust me now.
They’ve associated me with “that’s the woman who brings the food” for about six weeks now, and they don’t run away QUITE so fast when I approach anymore. The girls are more skittish than the boys, but believe you me, when they’re fighting for space to eat, those girls will whup ANYBODY’s butt! Tonight I even had to referee between the ginger girl and the calico girl — such big growls for such little kittens!
I wish to hell and back that I could capture them all and have them spayed/neutered, and be able to feed them the rest of their lives, but on $600 a month, I can’t swing it. Maybe one day, the vet school at LSU will hold some big spay/neuter fest, and I can get somebody to help me play kitty-cat rodeo to round the little rascals up.
One day.
*sigh*
 

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