…so here’s another pic of the queen on her throne right before the move.

Speaking of The Lady Crabcake – I have a goth Barbie whose wardrobe is in the midst of a badly needed update, little black flares and platform sneakers and stuff, I just meant to get her some clothes until I ran across this ebay seller who specializes in Halloweeny doll furnishings and HAD to get her a companion – look, it’s Barbie Pollywog!

So the move went well, as moves go – no major disasters, just merely hot, annoying, and exhausting. We’re still in the process of settling everything down, but the new place is cute, and my new walk to the subway means passing by Barcade. With its siren call of Joust caterwauling for the quarters in my pocket. “Come in, come in! Don’t walk by, today could be the day you spell out ‘MEW’ as the all-time top score! Twenty-five cents and you could be immortal!”
Really, what good is life without a few silly dreams?
:)

Anyway…
This week’s pics are actually from last week, before the grand uprooting.

Pollywog absolutely loved hanging out on the perch by the window, and had a thing for veiling herself in the curtains while watching the birds. Unfortunately my room doesn’t have a setup like that anymore, but she seems content to park herself on my bed for the moment.

Bella was born cursed with adorable velvet feet. They’re the cutest little things poking out of her chenille coat of silky fur, so even as they’re kicking the blood out of your hands, you’re still all awwwwwwww.

Feeding time. How cute, how sweet, kitties eating their kibble kitty cereal. LOUDLY. Take away the visual and they sound like a pair of barbarians crunching on rocks. Which makes getting gnawed on by Bella all the more disturbing, that her teeth make that much noise when not sunk into mortal flesh. (Pollywog is a sweetheart and doesn’t have the same demonic tendencies.)

The innocent angel dozes off on the settee…

…while the demon gives herself a bath.

This is one of our first photographs of Pollywog – her foster parents were kind enough to give us copies when we brought her home from the SPCA – and here’s our feline froglet back when her captivating gaze was just wide-eyed and innocent, before night after night of kneading laps turned our sweet little Disney kitty into a pro at hustling for undivided attention.

As promised from from last week, a shot of Bella from her scraggly days. And this isn’t even her at her scraggliest – the eye infection has healed, and she’s pretty cleaned up – but still, not the kind of kitten you’d encounter in a Disney movie. More like something that crawled up out of the drain. Or Oscar the Grouch’s trash can.
Note the uncertainty in the eyes. “Oh, innocent little kitteh me! I’m so uncertain!” The Stray and I have taken to calling this the “help, I exist!” look that every kitten wears in the first few months of life, where they don’t know what to do with themselves, but hey! Look! A tail! GET!!!

Fast forward three years, where the wide eyes have melted into a 24/7 disquieting gaze. Which is at its maximum power when lurking on top of the toilet seat and waiting for the obliviously showering human to throw back the curtain.

The girls didn’t do anything photogenic this week, so it’s back to the vault for more When Bella Was Still a Kitten pics. (This might be an ongoing theme over the next few weeks, as we’re apartment hunting and there’s a good chance we’re leaving Williamsburg for DUMBO. So if posting seems a bit late and erratic lately, it’s because we’re off doing our best to make sure our next home doesn’t wind up in a dingy, depressing hellhole. Which is all the L line neighborhoods seem to be offering these days. Le sigh.)

So, this was taken when Bella had not quite yet emerged from her scraggly little orphan phase but still looks a hell of a lot better than when we first got her (I’ll probably post that next week, so you can all see how far she’s come) and there’s Pollywog’s maternal instincts on display. I feel bad for Polly, who was supposed to be the baby sister (RIP Sophie), and who not only wound up getting her head tackled by a hyperactive infant feline on a regular basis, but mouthfuls of thick, shaggy Bella wool, too. Although the way she goes trotting after the little one, ready to dole out some horseplay of her own, I don’t think she minds too much.