I had the audacity to work at my desk during afternoon bath time. The kneeling chair doesn’t lend itself well to such activity, so I propped my feet up to provide a bathing platform for Oliver.
Hi Grandma! Enjoy your new knee – you’ll be roller skating in no time. (Don’t really go roller skating, okay?)
Why are you in the Out, Girl? I do not approve.
Yes, this is much better.
Good Girl. Stay.
The Boy worked hard this weekend, putting in two more windows for added efficiency upstairs. These ones are lovely and open at the top – a great feature when you’re trying to get hot air out of your attic addition in the summer.
Obi was excited to do some man’s work. But The Boy is starting to think Obi’s definition of man’s work is different than ours.
If The Boy is in the basement, Obi suggests they go up to the belly rubbing rug. If The Boy is upstairs cleaning paint brushes, Obi points out that he happens to be standing on the upstairs belly rubbing rug. And he should use it.
Basically, Obi wants The Boy to stop doing whatever he is doing and rub the brown kitten’s belly.
Things are different with me, of course. I should stay on the couch at all times. That’s Girl’s work.
Simon’s Cat has a new video out and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.
I was kitteh sitting Sir Gabe and Princess Jenni this week. When I go over in the morning I like to treat myself to a McDonald’s breakfast. Gabe thinks I should treat him as well.
He doesn’t believe me that the sausage I try to give him is what smells so good. Maybe he wants my McGriddle bun, but I don’t share that. A Girl has to have limits.
Sometimes people are like that. Kitten Thunder generally have good manners. Yes, they covet our meals from the floor or arm rest. But they don’t reach out and put a paw in our food.
Even when we do something really mean like NOT eat all our dinner and leave it sitting there, taunting them.
I went to the gym this morning so I’d like to take a shower. But as I headed down the stairwell I saw this.
Oliver is lying in the sunbeam on the landing by the back door. Oli is having an only okay morning after being sick last night. He didn’t get to lick up spicy chicken juice after dinner because her been throwing up and, contrary to opinion, he does not get everything he wants.
He slept in my arms all night, returned to bed after breakfast, and snuggled with me on the couch until I left the house. Even for my grey kitten, this is a lot of Girl time. He does not feel good.
He is getting better. There was a raging Thunder going on before the sunbeam caught him, involving two cats, Terri flights of stairs and many laps around the main floor.
In fact, Obi didn’t know they were done until he found Oli in the beam. Seeing the resting brother, Obi turned the sunbathing into a real bath and cleaned out Oli’s ears. Then, as he was walking away, he stepped on the grey kitten’s tail.
Oliver yelled. Obi ran.
But then he came back to apologize.
With a toy.
And a nap.
And a HEY, are you taking my picture?
First, Oliver has come into the living room twice today to crawl into my lap and drip water off his lips into my face. We’re sticking to the water theory. Even though the first time was shortly after The Boy scolded him for being in the trash.
Water. It was water.
From his bowl.
Many years before we adopted The Boy, before there was an Obi, I purchased dried corn cobs for the squirrels. The bag had moved with me to the new house, missing only one cob, and has been in the basement for five years.
While cleaning the basement I decided to do something crazy and actually give them to the squirrels. Three cobs went out to the window sills.
And there they sat.
I remembered why I still had an entire bag of cobs. But! On the third day, a squirrel finally came to check it out. And she was pleased.
This is as close as I’m allowed to get to Obi right now. Any attempt to be closer results in a warning glare. Then he prepares to run.
As you may know, I’m on the Cheyenne Animal Shelter board. We, on occasion, have our picture taken with our pets. Since Obi is my little mellow boy – and a graduate of the shelter – he gets the job.
This is what happened last time.
This time, we were a little smarter with our set up and each board member was scheduled for ten minutes rather than all of us showing up at once. We managed to get scheduled between little dogs.
Other than that “by the gazebo” means something different to every board member, it worked out well. Did you know there are a dozen gazebos in Lions Park?
Val didn’t run screaming when Obi and I got to the photography station. She remembered us, but didn’t seem terribly, permanently scarred by the experience. So we sat on the chair and got the instructions. My job was to sit still and look at the camera with a smile on my face. Val and Niki would get the cat to look at the camera.
Cats, or at least Obi, can not be enticed to look at a camera with squeaky toys, whistling, or kissy noises. But we did manage to get a picture where his face is turned toward the camera. He looked crabby. But he was crabby. We called it good.
Then, as I was standing there talking to them, Obi turned his face to look at Val. And she was ready. The camera snapped. And, miracle upon miracle, my eyes were open.
Obi and I came home.
Obi was mad but willing to be given treats if I set them on the floor and backed away. Oliver wanted to sniff him but Obi didn’t want HIM near him either. Oliver decided to be mad at me as a show of solidarity. I mentioned that if they were dogs they’d be excited to go to the part.
Glare. Do I just NEVER want to be forgiven?