Poor little Georgie. He’s feeling better, that’s a good thing. But he’s been walking under some sort of dark cloud the past few days. He’s finally not slinking through the house so much. He started doing that when Handsome came here to live, remember, it was a war zone until the testosterone left Handsome’s body.
Fur instance, yesterday, he was sleeping on one of the openings between the entryway and the living room and he moved in his sleep and fell off. I was kind of worried, checked him out and he seemed to be okay.
Then yesterday evening, I swear, something has it in for him.
We’ve got this plum tree in the backyard. We’ve got two fruit trees. Lime, which come in handy at margarita time. And the plum tree, which has the most beautiful, fat juicy plums you ever did see. It has hundreds and hundreds each year. And we’ve eaten about, um, let me think….zero. The tree is a waste. And below the tree is a wasteland of split open plums.
Well, the oddest thing this year is the bees. I’ve never seen this in the twenty years we’ve lived here. Bees on the fruit. Maybe it’s because of the heat, maybe it was because the weather had been so cloudy and the flowers weren’t opening up during the day, or maybe it’s because there was no catnip grown this year, but the ripe plums are covered in honey bees. Since I walk barefoot when I’m home, this concerns me.
I figure I’ll wait until the sun goes down and go out and toss the plums from the path I take to the pool. Figure the bees will be home for the night.
All the cats except Benny, Oliver and Georgie were in. Georgie was sleeping up on the patio. My tossing plums caught his attention and he came trotting over to see what the deal was. And he chased a plum or two. He was standing under the tree by the cathouse (first picture). I heard a noise, then felt something splash me. Georgie jumped, ran from under the tree. I looked at him and couldn’t figure out what his problem was. I called him over, he came to me and I checked him out. His back, where I usually apply Advantage, was wet.
A plum fell from the tree and splatted on his back. Poor little guy.
When he came in for the night, he lay next to me on the sofa and let me pet him. He was pretty happy, he was purring and kneading the pillow. I haven’t seen him like that in a while, so I guess the plum drop wasn’t so traumatic for him.