Saturday Night Social: What the Fuck Is This

Illustration for article titled Saturday Night Social: What the Fuck Is This
Photo: Hulton Archive (Getty Images)

So I was scrolling through Getty Images searching for a picture of a “beautiful field” to accompany my planned Saturday Night Social blog about going outside because it’s very nice outside when I came across this:

Illustration for article titled Saturday Night Social: What the Fuck Is This
Photo: Hulton Archive (Getty Images)

What the fuck am I looking at?

Getty says it’s a political cartoon from around 1750 titled “The English Lady in Paris, an Essay on Puffing by Louis LeGrande” and that it’s supposed to depict “a seated old lady having her wig powdered by a nasty looking Frenchman,” which sure? I guess? But why does the old lady look like the purple gum monster from Ghostwriter? And why is there a painting of a rat baja-blasting powder all over a bewiggèd cat behind her? I’m a woman of many questions, but I’d rather be a woman of answers.


P.S. — Go outside!

Freelance journalist (GQ, W, Esquire, elsewhere), here on weekends


Krispy Porkchops

Shelter Cat Update!

They came in a week apart, almost exactly one year ago. They could not be coaxed out of bed when volunteers were around. Any one (including yours truly) who ventured too close risked a vicious swatting. Eventually, one of them dared to explore the room - and interact with the hoomans. The other stayed in her bed until very recently, when games of string and Cat Whisperers became too great a temptation. And this week, after weeks of auditioning, they chose their hooman and Tiger and Griffin went to their forever home.

That leaves Matt Dillon by himself. not really sure how he’s taking it, because he’s too high on gaba to tell, the cutie.

Frank update. Monday, I wore fresh clothes and made him my first visit. And a first was achieved. He gave me a love nip. On my nose.

We were both quite pleased with ourselves. In fact, my supervisor told me he was an angel for the volunteers later that day (he has recently door dashed several times and been....rather uncooperative with efforts to relocate him to his room).

Tuesday, I deliberately wore clothes that had interacted with many cats. And while we initially enjoyed each other’s company,

I could tell he was feeling frosty toward me from his body language. Indeed, I held my hands and arms tight against my body and waited for him to nuzzle them for attention. Which he did not. Indeed, he gave me a light chomp on my forearm that said, “Hooman, you have been unfaithful.” See that pose? Chances are excellent I would have been mauled if I had reached out to pet him. But we parted on peaceful terms.

Yesterday, I once again wore clean clothes and made him my first stop. And all was forgiven.

Monday was actually a really good day, as I took a risk I rarely do with two different kitties and was greatly rewarded for doing so. Let’s start with Merida, who moved to her own room Sunday night. The Big Boss actually requested that volunteers spend extra time with her, and she was right across the hallway from Frank, so I checked her out. This is what I found.

While she was very shy, she did not seem aggressive, so I held my breath, gently grabbed her under her armpits, and lifted her onto the bench. She accepted pets and scritches, but tried to melt into the woodwork when she heard an strange noises.

We quickly both discovered that she luuuuuuved tummy rubs.

Tuesday, I tried the same thing, with equally encouraging results.

And then the medicator arrived.


I introduced you to Dennis last week, cowering under the bench. I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to take the same approach I did with Merida. This time, there was struggling and hissing, but we made it okay. I started lullaby therapy and spent a long time encouraging him. Indeed, instead of scurrying back under the bench after I left, he just moved over to the nearby cave bed.

On my next visit, I capitalized on his fondness for treats by not only getting him to eat them in my presence, but stretch his neck out further and further to get them.

And when I came back later in the visit, not only was he still on the bench, but let me pet him while he nommed more treats - he even ate one from my fingers!

No more hiding under the bench for you, fella, amirite?



Can you tell Sphinx enjoys having her tummy combed?

Chester, originally diagnosed as FeLV+, turned out not to be, and moved to the other side of the building, where I finally caught up with him. He is scraggly, badly in need of grooming, and just as sweet and squirmy as can be. My quest to get a non-blurry photo will continue.

FinalyfinallyFINALLY!! After sharing a room, first with her rambunctious kittens, then with bonded besties Mini-Me and Thea, Kristi Kreme has a room ALL TO HERSELF. And boy, does it show. She is *loving* it and all the extra attention that comes with it.

Two kitties adopted from us years ago were returned due to litterbox issues. This is Riff, who is quite social and an expert at nose rubs.

And this is Max, who is still processing the sudden change in his circumstances but will take all the TLC you can give him.

And last night, we gained a new FeLV+ kitten named Butter. I let her out after I was done my clean-and-feed to watch her interact with her roomies, Pink and Pepper. Pink swatted at her every time she got too close,

though I was able to keep Pink distracted.

Pepper, OTOH, followed her around for 10 minutes with his nose glued to her butthole - “typical cat behavior” lol.

We’re trying to determine if she has an extra toe on each of her front feet, but honestly, it’s hard to tell because she’s constantly making biscuits - EVEN WHEN SHE’S WALKING.


Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go fix Patti, who appears to be broken.