We’re all Scath all the time here.  Scath rhymes with "goth" by the way, and it’s the Irish for Shadow.  Scathach was a warrior woman who trained CuChulainn, but, well, Scathach is a girl’s name. 

Here he is in his little tree, which is in my studio, right behind my sewing machine.  We hang out in here a lot.  Damn, he’s pretty, even with catnip all over his coat.  He’s just so pretty.  And, you can’t tell from this picture . . . he’s really high.  Eat the nip, kitty, eat the nip. 

Good kitty.  Doesn’t that feel nice?  He loves the new catnip, Dee.  Thank you. 

Scath eats the catnip, and then he’s sweet and playful for a couple of minutes, like this:


I actually had to lift him down from his perch, because he was trying to roll like this on the top of it, and I knew he would fall off if I didn’t intercede.   Take my word for it–he’s purring like a jet engine. For now.  (That’s one of his big shaved spots–I think that’s where they drained the fluid.  He does not want it to be touched–trust me on that). 

And then he turns into a mighty hunter!  MIGHTY!  HUNTER!

First he goes after the leather goods. 

And then he turns on his family.  Eeeeeeeeeeviilllllllllll. (You can see the depression where the other shaved spot is there, on his side above his shoulder–you’re allowed to touch that.  Unless he’s been eating the nip–then there’s a 50/50 chance you will pay with blood). 

The trickiest thing is that Scath is a very vocal cat, and he’ll sing and purr and beg you to pet him, and it’s so hard to resist.  And sometimes when he’s on the nip and he does his little routine, he really just wants you to pet him.  And sometimes when he’s on the nip and he does his little routine, he immediately changes his mind about loving the love and decides to try out eating people.  And dogs.  Thankfully, he’s one of those cats who can only do fake vicious.  He play bites and play scratches, but rarely breaks skin–it’s like he has a little chip in his head that prevents him from fully acting out his evil thoughts.  Nine times out of ten, you can see the little war raging in his head–hurt the Lanea–no, wait, love the Lanea!  Nonono eat the Lanea!  Lanea’s are delicious!  But Lanea has all the food and the catnip!

The steroids are working very well.  He does not seem to have any ‘roid rages–just nip rages.  He has stopped having those terrifying coughing fits, and he still seems to be breathing well.  And, best news of all, Kayo is not circling the cat and smelling his chest and then running from the cat to us and back to the cat.  So, apparently, Nurse Kayo things his patient is doing well.  Fingers crossed that we get to keep this beast through the holidays. 

I’ve only been knitting presents, so no pictures of them for now.  And I’ve been knitting very little.  Because I am treasuring my roll as cat furniture, cat prey, and cat servant.  When I’m not appeasing his black Majesty, I’m hanging out with Kayo so he doesn’t feel too left out. 

In the meantime, some baking has occurred.  First: Monday’s experiment.


Those are like peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, but they’re made with Nutella instead of peanut butter, and with chunks of good chocolate cut from a bar I had on hand.  I think they would be better with fresher Nutella (my jar had been open for a while), a touch more salt, a bit less sugar, and some extra cinnamon.  I forgot to photograph them when I made them, so I was only able to photograph the few I saved from my co-workers. 

Tuesday’s sure thing:


I will not be able to rescue any of these.  They are, of course, the ultimate cookie of childhood.  Peanut butter Blossoms.  I think the first time I had one of these I cried because I couldn’t have two.  Ms. Kurtz–if you’re out there–you should demand that the parents of your students bring enough cookies for each kid to have two.  Sheesh.

While mixing the dough, Scott asked what I was making.  And then he asked again, because he had never heard of such a cookie.  I almost cried again.  What the heck was wrong with his elementary school?  The horrors. 

And then . . . I almost cried again . . . he got one fresh out of the oven and said . . .
"It would be better without the chocolate." 
WITHOUT THE CHOCOLATE?
Really, I think he’s just not a fan of Hershey’s, which I absolutely understand.  It’s not great, Hershey’s.  It’s just what we’re used to.  So I made him some cookies without the chocolate. 

Next week: Peanut Butter Blossoms made with . . . well . . . some really good chocolate in place of the Hershey’s kiss.  Less pretty, perhaps, but more delicious. 

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