The official restart of the "Last Great Race On Earth" 2009 will take place at 2 pm today at Willow. I won't be there, but I send my best wishes to the mushers and dogs taking part. They have a long trek ahead of them. You will be able to track your favorite mushers on the Iditarod website after that time.
I think that the fight between me and the cats is at a standstill. I am determined that they will stick to their new diet (1 dixie cup each of dry food each a day), and they are determined to make my life miserable until I give in and feed the little porkers. Each morning, around 5 am, they start their little game. They take turns trying to coax me out of bed and down to the feeding bowels. One at a time, they walk up my back with their pokey cat feet. Then Tink stands on my head to look out my bedroom window. (Seriously, there are a dozen windows in this house, does this one really have the best view?) Then they sit beside me and tell me it's time to get up. Sometimes Tink does her shark routine, where she climbs up under the covers from the foot of the bed, and sneaks up on me. If I ignore them (which I try my best to do), they start to argue amongst themselves. Ashley has a nervous habit. When she gets irritated, she starts twitching her tail. She can't help it. Tink, in turn, can't resist anything that moves. Do you see where this is going? Tink resist for about 30 seconds, and then she pounces on Ashley's tail. Now I have two cats fighting on the bed. Ugh! They win. But only to a point. I dump their little dixie cup of food in each bowel, and they can't decide whether to dig in or look at me in disgust. The diet continues.
Update April 2016
1 year ago