Caspurr's Toothy Tribulations: Caturday Art and Sunday Selfies

Greetings, Effurryone!

Sir Caspurr the Courageous here, the Caspicatious, Furrst of My Name, the Snuggle Bug, Commander-in-Chief of the Impurrial Forces, and King of the Tigger-Tabbies!

Are you admiring my toe-beans? My adorable, raspy little pink tongue? Oh yes, it's all on display this week, as I lead my fellow J-Cats on the weekend blog hops - the Caturday Art blog hop, hosted by the Wise and Beautiful Athena and her HuMum, Marie, and the Sunday Selfies blog hop, hosted by the Wonderful, Predictably Unpredictable Kitties Blue and their HuMom, Janet.

Well, the truth of the matter is, I had a pretty horrible week, as I have had the Most Dreadful Toothache and the earliest appointment Mummy could get for Me was last Wednesday. And since the V-E-T had told Mummy I needed to be sedated and therefore, fast for 12 hours beforehand (which is why they couldn't have checked my toofies when I had my annual shots), She had Me shut up in the guest kitty room with no noms from the evening before. 
Now, as you know if you read Shimshi's post the week before last, the handle on the PTU broke. Mummy therefore ordered another one, which was delivered the evening before my appointment at the Stabby Place. But it had to be put together and there were no written instructions, only a set of rather small and not furry clear pictures. Mummy was in despair. But fortunately, one of the neighbours was able to help her put it together so She didn't have to shlep all (almost) 9 kilos of Me to the clinic in a PTU without a handle. 
BTW - We have had a Brilliant Idea for what to do with the old PTU. Mummy thinks she will re-arrange the flowerpots on the entrance porch, take off the door of the PTU and leave it (the PTU, not the door - MOL) on the porch as a shelter for the Outside Kitties when it's raining.

Back to My Dental Trauma. When We got to the clinic, We discovered that neither the V-E-T nor her assistant had yet arrived and the door was locked. There was a man waiting there with his woofie. Fortunately, at least the assistant arrived five minutes later and let us into the clinic.  A few more people arrived - all with woofies! The assistant called Dr. Einat, who was stuck in a dreadful traffic jam due to a chain accident involving several cars (not hers, fortunately) and estimated she wouldn't be there for at least half an hour! Or was it an hour? I don't know. I don't wear a wristwatch. I'm a CAT! So the assistant let Mummy and Me sit in the inner room, so that I would be away from all the woofies (they didn't really bother Me -  I am, after all, Sir Caspurr the Courageous).

Anyway, Dr. Einat eventually turned up and she stabbed Me with a needle to sedate Me. I was more or less completely zonked out, though even if I hadn't been, I was in too much pain from my toofies to resist. And She pulled out TWO of my toofies - but not my Fangs, at least. So now, I have lost THREE altogether - one behind Trixie, who has had four removed.

Here is another picture of Me, taken yesterday, just to show you I still have plenty of toofies left:

We have artified both these pictures, with filters from LunaPic. Furrst, here is the picture where you can see My Tongue and Toe-beans, using the Beauty art effect at 85%:

And here I am sporting My Fangs, filtered with the Quirky art effect:

Let Us know in the comments what you think of the pics.

In other news, Uncle D. is back in Israel. He arrived early this morning and will be here till after Pessach (Passover), which starts next Wednesday evening (April 5th). Isn't that wonderful? He is staying with Auntie N. till then, and will come to Us for the actual festival.

Now, it is time to put up the blog hop badges:


  

        

        

Time to go, so that Mummy can do her Pessach supermarket order and then rest before Caterwauling Practice. She needs a LOT of rest, because She hasn't recovered yet from having an hour stolen from her last Friday morning when We moved all the clocks forward. Don't blame Us. We were furry understanding and let her carry on sleeping, instead of demanding breakfast an hour earlier. Aren't We Good Kitties?

Till next week then.

Be well. Be safe. We love you all.