Yesterday was all about the hackin’.
After two unsuccessful Jailbreak attempts, I managed to hack
the planet my iPug and installed all the missing iPhone applications. It is now a thing of glorious, fingerprinty beauty – if I thought it was cool before, now it’s just beyond awesome. If only Vancouver’s wi-fi freedom was on par with that of Seattle’s .. still, it is very cool. I love it. Portable internet makes me stiff in the pants.
And! After reading through the advice given on how to smack my router into behaving, I gave up and handed the whole mess to Josh who was able to force a firmware upgrade onto it. MacBeth the MacBook and the iPug are now both attached to our home network with nary a manually entered IP address in sight. Thanks, everyone! Your wisdom has allowed me to get my nerd freak on to even higher levels than ever before!
My cats, though I love them madly, are being giant pains in my giant ass. Each cat is now on a separate type of food, just to make my life incredibly complicated. Sasha is still enjoying the vet-recommended Medicine Food for Very Old Cats, and it’s doing wonders – she’s gained weight and is throwing up so much less than before. Cheddar the Middle Cat is stubborn as all hell and will only eat one brand of crappy horrible food that I have to stock just for her. We’ve tried everything we can think of to get her to eat anything else, but she actively starves herself if we don’t cough up what she wants. She is, however, starting to eat Sasha’s VOC food – this is both good and fine, since a) it’s not the other stuff she likes which is very much like the gas station fried chicken of cat foods and b) she is also getting on in years (we think she’s around 10) so it is not a bad thing to have her eating the VOC food.
Naturally, there is a “BUT ..” to all of this. Cheddar was historically the smallest of our three cats. As Sasha has been losing weight, Cheddar has been gaining it rapidly. She seems to really enjoy the VOC food, but it’s intended to put some meat on Sasha’s bones and is therefore putting MORE meat on Cheddar’s pointy, dumb frame. She’s getting to be a fatty! I’m so happy that she’s finally eating something else that I don’t really care; there’s just more of her to love now. When she starts getting Hobble-sized, then I’ll worry and also get a hernia from picking her up.
Then there’s Hobble. Huge, cuddly, squeaky Hobble. We weighed him last week; he’s 19 pounds of testicle-crushing feline love. He’s been happy eating his own brand of food, but today I caught him sneaking bites of Sasha’s wet + “kitty malt” food. He needs to be on a weight management diet, but I am dreading the though of trying to get him to eat some low-fat cat food when the other two get to eat delicious mashed prunes and puréed peas or whatever else it is they feed old animals. This is complicated. I liked it much better when they all ate whatever the hell I put down; I don’t know who taught them that some things are much tastier than others and almost as easily accessible .
Still, I love my cats. I’ll forgive them their pain in the ass tendencies if they’d do me the honour of living forever, and I don’t even mind the huge scratch Cheddar put on my chest this morning with her cruel and pointy back claws. That’s what the expired ointments are for!