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I can has camera!

It is distinctly awesome - I've been lusting after a DSLR for some 6 years, and so it's great to finally get the chance to put all my research to good use. I'm pleased with the weight of it - given I tend towards weak wrists, I'd been a little concerned that it might take a while for me to build up the muscle strength to use it naturally - but extended periods of cat-stalking with the lighter 50mm prime lens weren't any problem at all. I need to go for a photo-walk this weekend with the 18-200mm lens. Now I come to think of it, I mostly use the tripod to eliminate camera shake, so I don't often handhold for extended periods of time - although maybe that'll change now I have faster lenses/better image stabilisation.

In any case: Hubby! Cats! Me! More bump than ever before! Clickety-click! )

Oh, and by the way, having a remote control absolutely rules. I am so, so sick of using the self timer and running back and forth from the tripod just to take one more photo. Being master of my own timing and only having to run back when I actually want to look at or change something on the camera is hugely better. I also worked out how to use the delay on the remote control after the first set of pictures, so hopefully this is the first and last time you'll have such an easy job of playing spot-the-remote. :)
thewhitelily: (Default)
There's a weird spot on my cat's back, and since I'm totally overparanoid since the Invasion of the Evil Parasite of Evil, I took him to the veterinarian today.

She frowned at it, and said it didn't really look like ringworm - it was a bit too scabby for that, so she'd shave the area around it to get a better look. Okay, fair enough.

So she pulls out these clippers, and soon there's white fur merrily flying everywhere, and I'm thinking about how long I'll last smearing sunscreen on his back every morning before I start forgetting and he comes home with a bright pink back (or if it's even worth the trouble even trying, since he'd be able to reach it to lick it off within a few minutes).

Then she starts running the clippers into the edge of the scabby bit, trying to lift the scab to get a look underneath it. Wrenchwrenchwrench on the hair stuck in the scab, ramramram under the edge with the blade of the clippers, and Neung's flinching with every move she makes, but not trying to turn around and bite her or scratch her or anything other than to get away, because... well, he's a nice boy, and he doesn't attack humans no matter what. I'm holding onto his face, feeling him trembling in my hands and I'm arguing with myself over whether to protest the rough treatment, but presumably it's necessary to diagnose, or it won't heal properly unless the scab comes off, or something.

Then I start noticing the blood that's staining all the fur around the area, seeping out from under the edges of this scab that she's been trying to lift, and she's still trying to peel it off!

"He's so placid," she says, as she's wrenchwrenching and ramraming away. "It's amazing to find a cat this calm."

AAARGH! It's no bloody wonder she has trouble finding placid cats, if that's the way she treats the poor things!

Of course, in the end, it doesn't really seem that it all had any purpose because the conclusion was well - perhaps he scraped under a fence? Or it might be a burn, from sneaking under a hot car, or something? In any case, it's treated the same way you'd treat any skin lesion - a course of antibiotics and antiseptic cream to make sure it doesn't get infected.

Except now there's this big bald patch and an livid red open wound around the remains of the scab, where the whole thing had previously been neatly closed, and a kitty who's rather more suspicious about the whole idea of being put in his cat carrier to go visit the vet. I have to admit his owner is, too.

Gaargh. *shakes fist*
thewhitelily: (Default)
I had a really bizarre dream the other night.

I was making bread, in a bread machine, and the smell was just wonderful, this familiar warm smell that was totally permeating the room. When the timer dinged, I pulled it out and cut it up, and took a bite into my lovely, warm, fresh bread...

... and woke up with the cat's foot in my mouth.

I must have had a fair grip with my teeth, because in that split half-asleep second where I was working out what the heck was going on and where my beautiful fresh bread had gone, I could feel the bones of his toe creaking between my teeth, and the poor thing was pulling as hard as he could to escape, without very much success!

But it just goes to prove: unlike my sister's cat, which leaves massive welts and bruises when it attacks her without provocation in the middle of the night, our cats are so gentle. Neung hissed and struggled to get loose, but even when attacked without provocation in the middle of the night, he didn't even seem to consider taking a swipe at me. And as soon as I'd let go and apologised and stroked him a bit, he lay right back down next to me and went back to sleep again.

Although this time he didn't rest his paw on my face.

Smart boy.


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The White Lily

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