Look, kid. I’m happy to share My Girl with you.


But truthfully, I prefer when the lap is mine.

All mine.

Lesson Two: Play

The Boy promised me you would be entertaining. It’s time to see what you’ve got.

What are you doing on this mat, Squeak?

Batting at the swingy toys, eh?

After much consideration, I’ve decided you’re doing it wrong.

Let the master show you how it’s done.


Every time company comes, Obi helps make the bed.

This summer, Kitten Thunder has been visited by all their grandpeople. Okay, maybe it was Squeak that inspired the visits. But, being good cat people, they all spent time with the kittehs as well.

The grandpeople on The Girl’s side of the family have been to the house a lot in Kitten Thunder’s lifetimes. Grandpaw knows exactly how to squeeze Oliver’s head to compress the pudding. Grandmaow used to feed them in the morning when she visited – but since Squeak’s arrival The Girl gets up to feed them even earlier than Grandmaow is up. She’s also a good scritcher.

Grandpaw on The Boy’s side has been here less so his petting style is unfamiliar. He thumped Oliver on the side, which was alarming. Then really nice. 

Nana stayed for two weeks, which won her high honors. She was allowed to sit under Oliver while he took a bath once. And Obi let her play with his toys.

She tried to play with Oliver, who was unimpressed. The Girl told her the woeful tale of the milk ring. If you don’t know about how Albertsons and the makers of milk broke his heart, read about it here.

Unable to replenish his supply of milk rings, Oliver was excited to find one this summer after Cindy cleaned the house. He carried it with him from room to room. It made him so happy.

Nana wanted him to be more happy.

Today we received this in the mail.

The Girl says cats in Japan say NyaNya instead of meow. Maybe they’re really calling for one of their favorite peoples. It’s pretty great to have a Nana.

Lesson One

Oliver decided it is time for Squeak to learn how to be a good people. It’s important to start training early. I myself had casual training as a child with Tika and Stasha. It began in earnest with Poco.

I’m proud to be able to say I’m tortie trained and kitten approved.

Lesson one is a biggie: how to give good pets. How to scritch. How to rub a kitteh the right way.

Oliver arrived at my side and considered his subject. He watched Squeak’s tiny fist, held out from his body.

And the grey kitten stretched out his face. He ran his chin over the baby fist.

I tried to help. I repositioned Squeak and tried to put his hand on Oliver’s head.

Unfortunately, the lesson didn’t go very far. Kittens aren’t as cool as ceiling fans.

Lesson cancelled. For now.

Hero in the Night

Hello peoples of the internet. This is Obi. I want to tell you how awesome my brother is. He’s a hero!

As you know, our Boy and Girl brought home a people-kitten a few weeks ago. Oliver and I have adjusted to the added responsibility but managing three humans is a lot of work.

Usually Squeak is with either The Boy or The Girl, but sometimes they leave him to sleep in his cage in our room. Then they lock him in by shutting the door. In the daytime, Oliver and I take turns supervising from the box in the hallway. We also supervise from this position when The Girl feeds Squeak at night.

Side note: Oliver and I have had a lot of talks about this and could someone tell him he is NOT a people? He thinks he is because The Girl fed him from a bottle, just like they feed Squeak. But I say maybe Squeak is half cat, because he eats from his mom as well – just like I did with my mom when I was a kitten. Oli doesn’t remember having a mom, other than The Girl, so maybe he’s right. 

But I don’t think so.


When the people are in bed, I supervise on the main floor while Oliver snuggles with The Girl to get her settled in bed. Sometimes I take the whole first shift so he can get some sleep – he’s getting kind of old and he’s been sleeping more since all those doctor appointments last fall.

Sometimes he takes his shift supervising and naps on the steps so he can hear The Girl and Squeak at the same time. That, folks, is a master supervisor.

Last night, we both happened to be supervising. And Squeak started to talk about his middle of the night snack. Then he started to cry.

This is usually when The Girl arrives. She has a tiny box she carries around that lets Squeak talk to her when they aren’t in the same room. Her ears aren’t as good as ours (seriously, people are practically deaf. How do you get by?)

Squeak cried some more

No Girl.

Squeak’s cry went from a call to a panicked howl. 

No Girl.

I asked Oliver what we could do. The door was closed so we couldn’t help our baby. The Girl’s talky box obviously wasn’t working. The fans upstairs were covering up Squeak’s cry (again, people are deaf).

He nodded to me and said “a lifetime if training is about to pay off.” Then he led me upstairs.

He jumped into bed and head-butted The Girl. Then he did it again, hard. She scritched his head and pulled him close for a snuggle without opening her eyes. He didn’t give in for a second. He pushed out of her arms and went in again. First with another head-butt. Then he put his nose on her lips and shoved his face into her mouth like a wedge. 

This move is usually reserved as the final move after hours of trying to wake The Girl for breakfast because it always works but she’s not very happy when she wakes up. Like, really not happy. But this was for our baby and there was no time to lose.

The Girl spluttered awake and glared at Oliver. But we could tell she could almost hear Squeak over the fans. Like lightning her hand flew to the talky box, which was dark and quiet.

“Oh no!” she yelled and leapt, almost cat-like I want to say, out of bed. She barely touched the floor on her way to Squeak.

It took a couple minutes for us all to calm down. I got in my up high supervising spot and Oliver stood by the chair and performed a Cat Scan on the baby while he ate. Other than raised heart rates, he said, both of the peoples were fine.

After a while, Squeak went back to sleep. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Oli. Neither was The Girl.

She thanked Oliver for his heroic deed with breakfast, then treats, then a snuggle and hundreds of kisses. Which is fine if you like that sort of thing. And he does.

I was happy with breakfast. 

I asked Oliver how he knew to go directly for the face wedge. He looked at me incredulously. “We do the wake up drill every single morning.

“You thought that was about breakfast?”

Well yes, yes did.

Maybe Oliver isn’t such a pudding head after all.

Obi out.


Two years ago, I sorted through my clothing and filled two huge Rubbermaid containers with clothes to donate. Then they sat in the basement. And sat. And sat.

Three months ago, I had The Boy carry them upstairs so I could call someone to come pick them up. I figured they wouldn’t question the pick up since I was 43 months pregnant.

And they sat in our entryway.

The issue was that to get a Tuesday pick up you needed call when the place was open. On Thursday. Or Friday. Or Saturday. When did I remember? On Tuesday.

So, in July, The Boy’s mom came to visit. She’s not much of a sit around and watch TV type person so she decided to get rid of the clothes. 

And she had help.

Of course.

Obi thought the clothes made a great sleeping spot.

Oliver agreed.


Look, kid, we’re going to have to come to an understanding. We notice that there are certain times when you start crying.

Like when The Girl tries to eat. They’ve explained to you that she has to eat in order for you to eat, but that doesn’t seem to be getting through.

Another time is when I get cozy on MY Girl and want to take a nap. Well I’m not going to try to reason with you.

I’m just not budging.

If I have to share, you have to share.