Seven years ago ...

... we brought our Pingu home.
To help us celebrate she gave us (well, to be honest me) a little cancer scare.
Last night I was squeezing her meaty little thighs and commenting on what wonderful drumsticks they would make and ... I felt a lump, quite firm and no corresponding one on the other side.
I mentioned this to Mr Brown who agreed a little visit to the vet was in order.
Just to be sure.
And dial up the panic, the worry, the "what ifs" the tears and the rest of it. I'm nothing if not a Drama Mouse.
Mr Brown, cool as a cucumber, was all, "it's just a fatty lump". I'm all "but what if it's NOT?".
It was.
Ping is fine.
Peace of mind reigns once more and, after an egg yolk, Ping forgave us the stress and indignity of a visit to Annandale Veterinary Hospital.So, HUZZAH x 7!
AND her teeth, got an "excellent" from the vet. All this raw meat diet thing is working :)

It's molting season ...

... otherwise known as Spring.
We know this not just from the fact the windows and doors are pretty much permanently open but because of the deposits of felted cat fur & mucus scattered about the place. Furballs.
For instance, just the other weekend I washed the Girls' pod cover. Furball hackings ALL over it last night. I've stepped on them in the kitchen, the lounge and the bedroom. This is not fun.
Time for action.
So, today, my mental health catch up with stuff day, I gathered up the ripper brush and the soft brush and got to work.
Lucky for me the Girls like brushing, they think it's a great lark and come running when you call "brushings". It does get them a little wild and feisty, and it's really, really hard to do Pingu when Tigger won't get out of the way.
But still, I think I got the job done. That's Tigger's contribution on the right, less than a teaspoonful.

The brushing got me all nostalgic for my girlhood. A certain weekend every spring, I can't remember how we selected which one, the pony girls would all gather at the lucerne flats with bags of brushes and out beloved ponies. We would rip and brush those beasts from shaggy-Winter coat to glossy, smooth Spring coat in an afternoon. The end of which we'd all, girls and ponies, be ankle deep in fluff.

Tigger is SUCH a little sister ...

... she copies everything Pingu does.
Ping has always done this little raised-paw thing. A bit like a pointer but more curled. It's adorable, we considered it "Ping's Thing", rather like Toogie's little back foot stampy-dance.
Tigger does it too.
And Ping has always, every Winter, warmed herself by sitting right up alongside a heater vent. Last Winter Tigger did not. This Winter?

The traditional easter long weekend weather, rain ...

... held today as well.
But there was a brief break in the downpour and we took full advantage of it.
Winter greens are planted and protected from marauding snails and slugs (one of which actually made its way inside yesterday UGG).
Mulch is down, keeping root and bulbs warm.
And we did a trim and tidy out the front, the top paddock. While I was snipping back rampant foliage and Mr Brown raking up the debris, he commented Mrs Neighbour would be pleased the place was looking a little tidier.
He's right, of course.
Lucky for her she's moving next month, because I purchased this book via the interwebs.
O yes, the plantings I will have, the flourishing, verdant, wild and rampant foliage that will riot front and back. I can't wait.
We had the doors and windows open all day. And while it's not actually that cold outside, inside, it's chilled down a bit, as you can see.And, since yesterday was ANZAC Day, we can safely turn on the heater for the season. Ping is VERY pleased.

Today it's pissing down rain ...

... So here's one I prepared earlier.

A week or so ago ...

... the credit card got stopped by the bank because I bought something over the phone from a Stawell-based business, at about the same time Mr Brown was buying his heart's desire in Brisbane (of all places). The bank did not like the wide-spread spending and stopped the card.
It's all mended now and look, look what we got for the furry girls.It doesn't look like much and the girls weren't terribly impressed. Although they did like the boxes it came in.And approve or not, nothing was keeping Tigger away from interesting doings and goings on.The weather was, a tad inclement for building outside. But with the clever use of an umbrella, Mr Brown building and me holding things and handing things over, we got the job done. Something for unaccompanied, unsupervised outside time. Nobody, other than Mr Brown, has actually been in it yet, dainty paws don't like to get wet. But heads have been poked out the door, outside air has been sniffed. And I expect, as soon as the sun shines, these two will drag their furry arses out for a proper inspection.

As Mr Brown hung this picture ...

... above the fireplace in our bedroom, we both turned and looked at our Pingu, who was watching from the windowsill. "Let this serve as a cautionary example Ping", we both said, almost in one voice. Jinx.

This is what happens ...

... when you try to take a picture of Pingu licking Tigger with the flash off on a rainy afternoon.That is all.

A post or 2 or 3 ago ...

... Zoomie asked for a bit of an update on various odds & bobs.
The furry girls are just fine and dandy. Full of beans and growing their winter coats, so, plush and lovely. The taddies, there's not as many as we started with. I hope they aren't eating their siblings. No sign of any legs yet and still with tails attached. And, even if it wasn't requested, some Autumn in the Garden news.
The Camellias are coming out. As always the Fried Egg Camellia is blooming nicely. And the Hot Pink one is just about to explode into a riot of gaudy colour. And, it looks like a bumper crop for passion fruit is on its way. It was a pretty crap one last year, since we'd had to put in new vines. This season there's dozens of big pendulous green fruit, just sitting there, making sugar inside.Perhaps our Small is helping things along this time.

Our roses ...

... You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose.Even if it's going to cost you $1,400 to make sure they are properly fed, and the poo-tray cleared, while you are away on holiday.
*Le Sigh*

Collars ...

... remember the hunt for appropriate collars?
Well, we went with these ones in the end. Yes, they'll get ratty, but what the hell, at $5 a pop, we'll just get new ones.
And, to celebrate the new collars, we got nice new tags too, for just in case, names and 2 phone numbers on the back. Small dog ones were ordered because they had, what we believe, are the perfect pictures on the front.
For the tiny Siamese House Pirate.For our Plush Gourmet. Clicky to enbiggen.

Portraits ...

On the hunt for collars ...

... nice collars, for cats, our furry girlcats.
Most cat collars, when you google these things or even visit a pet accoutrement emporium , are horribly vulgar contrivances, all bling and sparkle. Which I don't understand as cats are generally discrete creatures of impeccable taste. And yet this is the sort of thing I am offered when I pootle through the interwebs looking for something with a little style, a little elegance to grace the delicate furry necks of the Brown-Mouse girls. It's a little like, I assume, being the mother of a little girl and trying to buy her something not pink or princessy. Nothing would compel me to put one of these around the throat of Miss Tigger. And I'm quite convinced Miss Pingu would die of shame if forced to wear this floral tribute. Ugg.Other offerings, like these for example, are too bright and, I suspect, not genuine leather, peeled from a cow. They just don't look well made. This is slightly tempting, particularly for Miss Tigger, who's neck is so thin that no matter how dainty the collar, it just looks huge on her. But, you know, it's nylon and nylon gets ratty, quickly. Well, it does on our cats anyway. Sharp toenails are, I think, the problem. I am quite taken with these, particularly when I spotted the "Tigger in Lime" but up close it's leather is thin and the stitching is not particularly well done. The little fish bell, though, squeee.I really want something not colourful, something a little reminiscent of bridles and harnesses. Smooth, deep brown, oiled leather. Plain with the simplest of attachments. Well made. I found them of course, they are made in Montreal, Quebec. They are perfect. They are just exactly what I am looking for. They are $292 each.
EDITED TO ADD - Bugger, I've just noticed that those beautiful collars don't have the anti-strangulation bit of elastic on them. The search continues.

This is ...

... what it's like in my 'library' when I retire there, with the air conditioner, to get out of the heat.
Well, a bit like what it's like. The Brown-Mouse Library is a bit tidier, I rarely wear shorts, we've only got two cats, and I don't have a beard. Also, I'm a girl.
Other than that, it's a spot on perfect illustration of a hot Mouse, trying to stay cool, thwarted by cats who love to snuggle, even though you are boiling to death.Actually it's the wonderful Edward Gorey and a few of his beloved mogs.

According to ...

... this, Ping is a 'spotted tabby' and she has correctly matched nose and toes.
Tigger, on the other hand, has a grey/brown nose and pink toes! O NOES!You will have to clicky to enbiggen.

When Mr Brown brought Tigger home yesterday evening ...

... he brought with him a little folder containing discharge instructions and post-operative instructions for cats. He neglected to bring said folder to my attention, my attention being otherwise engaged with fussing over Tigger and fretting over her HUGE abdominal scar and supervising Pingu's full-blown sniffing frenzy of the poor, still befuddled Tinkywoo.Ping then went on to surveil the neighbourhood as is her nightly task.

Tigger's discharge instructions instructed us to:-1. Keep her inside for 10 days - sure, no problem, she's an indoor cat after all and we have, as yet, failed to order the enclosure thingy to allow the indoor girls a little, unaccompanied, outdoor time.2. Feed her a bland diet this evening - shit, I read this about an hour after I fed the little minx an egg yolk (her favourite non-meaty treat).3. Restrict exercise for 10 days - hahahahaa, really? And just HOW are we expected to do that? (Actually, in her post-operative daze Tigger's been pretty subdued and snoozy anyway, but not, I suspect, for 10 days).The sheet also advised me Tigger had "nice & clean" ears, "no tartar buildup" on her teeth (huzzah), that her nails were "not too sharp, so not clipped" (yes, we clipped them ourselves just the other day) and that there was "no evidence" of fleas (I should think not, we got rid of the pet flea she brought home with her from the cattery day 1!).

Doesn't Ping have the most beautiful green eyes?

The post-operative instructions advised us to remember "it only takes a few seconds of unobserved chewing for a cat to undo it's stitches". Yes indeed, I found one on my chest this morning, after a spot of Tigger snuggling. A frantic check reveals no undoing, as it were, she just seems to have snipped off the stringy bit.She is being watched, like a hawk.