Yes, really: Fletch is really just nine months old.
Yes, really: Fletch is really just nine months old.
Another adorable adoptable FIV+ kitty for you. This one, due to the fine people at Maddie’s Fund, is actually free to a good home. (They cover the adoption fees.)
And Sprout is awesome. The lighting in his little kitty condo (which, by the way, is a lovely luxurious space) is pretty dim, especially in the evenings, and Sprout was much more interested in playing and being petted and eating and playing and being petted than he was in standing still long enough for a long exposure. He kept walking out of my field of view, and I’d take the camera away from my eye and he’d have his chin resting on my knee. He did love playing with the feathers-on-a-stick, but of course while he was doing that he was just a little kitty-blur.
That tail. Sprout has a tail that’s as poofly as three normal cat tails tied together. It’s pooflier than any long-haired cat’s tail that I’ve ever seen!
I ran into these two earlier this year out in front of my favorite cheese shop, Cheese Plus (on Polk Street). There is often a dog or two out in front, waiting patiently for their cheese samples.
Travis’s mom thinks he’s a ‘mystery hound’. I think he’s adorable. (Could be a red-tick coonhound? Maybe Autumn will venture an opinion. If he is a red-tick coonhound, he’s our first one!)
Edit: Dammit. I ran into Travis’s mom this evening, and told her I’d posted him, and then I get home and am ready for bed and check and WordPress didn’t post. AGAIN. I hate that!
I think I may have been making use of my ‘hidden squeaky toy’ in this picture. I keep one in my backpack, and reach around behind me and squeeze it when necessary. It’s a surprisingly useful tactic.
One of those breeds I can never spell. And calling them ‘cheapskate bay retrievers’ is pretty insulting, it turns out.
Meet Buster. Boxers normally look confused. Blue-eyed boxers look totally bewildered. I just wanted to kneel down give him a hug and tell him not to worry about it, because he was in good hands.
I ran into Buster in my neighborhood, but haven’t seen him before or since. It’s amazing to me that there are still more dogs living near me that I haven’t seen, after three years.
I ran out of cats, so I dropped by Pets Unlimited (on Fillmore in SF) and asked if I could take some cat pictures, and they were happy to oblige. They had a couple of FIV+ cats, which they often have difficulty adopting out, even though FIV+ cats can still live long and healthy lives. (But you shouldn’t take an FIV+ cat if you already have an FIV- cat, or plan to let your cat play outside.)
So today, meet Whiskers. Whiskers is a playful kitty, most of the time, although I interrupted him at his dinner and in his post-dinner torpor, so all he wanted to do while I was there was lie around and have his ears and cheeks rubbed.
Those eyes.
I knew lighting was going to be a problem, so I brought a couple of lights and played around with my flash. Neither of them was useful in the slightest.