Here comes the Bun...

There are tasks the come along with critters other than poopsmithing. Today was a day we needed to tackle some of those tasks.

First, we put Mr. Pitr the Tortoise in for a nice, long soak as we changed the substrate in his tortitat. It is getting to be the time of year that he hibernates, so we wanted to get this done now so he can dig in and snooze.

Next... the chore we dread... trimming the bunzles nails. He hates being touched, held or (especially) trimmed. HATES. With a burning passion. So, we popped him into a towel (to resemble a bunny burrito) and trimmed his nails. We hit on the fact that he seems to struggle a little less if you cover his eyes. So, yay for that. But, nonetheless, this is what we had to deal with:

And he was plenty indignant once we were done (hunkering down in the corner of his cage and glowering at the wall).

But before we captured him and trimmed his claws, we let him out to run around a little. We hadn't done this since acquiring Weedy, our second cat and while she was curious about Greg, she wasn't really interested in getting to know Greg. Greg, however, was very interested in perhaps purveying some Bunny Luvvin' to Weedy.

Distractions

I have this horrible affliction whereby I cannot concentrate if things around me are in chaos. This means that before I can do anything productive here at home, there must be cleaning. Because what happens is that I'll start to work on something and then notice that the carpet really, really needs vacuuming and I just KNOW there are crumbs on the counter over there that are going to start attracting ants and then the ants come marching over to my desk and bite me and that hurts like a mutherfucker so I tend to like to keep things anti-ant around the house. We do not get the itty bitty sugar ants, either. We get the big black commando "we will take your shit down and strip you to the bones if you don't watch it" ants.

Also, when you house two critters who need hay for their intestinal well-being, there tends to be a need to be doing some hay policing so that the felines in the house don't mistake it for cat grass and get their nom on only to produce some of the most fantastic hair/food/hay balls that have been witnessed by man. This has become a problem to the point that the POSSLQ may walk around the house in skivvys but he's sure as HELL gonna have on footwear. because aforementioned conglomorate balls inadvertantly squished between one's toes on the way to the privvy in the morning leads to cussing of EPIC proportions.