September 18th, 2016

sideways cat

Wake up call!

All morning, from the time the cats get me up, usually between three and three thirty a.m. Titan waits for it to be light enough to go out. This is a weekend treat for him and the two older cats. The kittens, being unvaccinated can't go out yet.

This morning I let them three out and was working on breakfast in the kitchen when I saw a cat madly climbing the screen. I thought it was one of the kittens, but then realized the glass door was closed.

Immediately I raced out to the living room and all three cats are on the board and poofed up to three times their size. I opened the door and Jenny raced in, followed by Titan, but Pyewacket was in attack mode. That's when I saw a German Shepherd, tail wagging just standing there. When I said Pye's name, she raced in. Silly kitties. It is probably the first time they've ever seen a dog that big before. Thankfully, he wasn't aggressive to cats. this is another reason why I want to keep them in, but within five minutes, TBG had opened the door back up for titan. This is one of the few things we do not see eye-to-eye about. Never mind that Jenny were hurt badly twice this past year. It's just safer for them. Sigh...
My default

A new Foothills Story

Title: Under Attack - again
Genre: Slash
Word count: 726

Summary: Illya frets about turning sixty and Napoleon is there to reassure him that nothing has changed. Spurred on by David McCallum turning 83 tomorrow.

My thanks to Sparky for her super quick beta. The other mistakes are all mine!



Illya Kuryakin stood on the porch and looked out over the rolling fields behind the little house. While Jackson endured a building boom, the lots behind them remained open. Illya suspected that Napoleon had something to do with that. Instead of a multitude of expensive homes, the field stretched out to rolling hills, all baked a golden brown by the summer sun. Here and there an oak tree stood, dark against the sea of yellow.

“The man really does have more money than sense,” he said as Fremir rubbed against his shin. Two arms slid around his waist and Illya leaned back into the comfortable embrace of his lover and partner.

“Who might we be talking about?” Napoleon nuzzled Illya’s ear.

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