All About Obi Day

The brown kitten had declared today is All About Obi Day. His Boy will spend the whole day paying attention to only him. The Girl will keep her distance until he wants snuggles and ear kisses. Oliver will Thunder.

And none of us will leave the house.

So far, he has been mightily disappointed. We went to the gym. But we came back.

And I’m going to the store in a bit. But I’ll come back. I think The Boy is also going to the store for building supplies. But he’ll come back.

And the belly will be rubbed.

Yarn Ball will be tossed.

Salmon will be cooked.

Honestly, today is pretty much like any other Sunday. Which doesn’t mean it’s NOT All About Obi Day.


We had pizza this week. Oliver was willing to help.


The Great Wall

Girl, you threw my toys over the wall.


I know you’re just trying to catch me being cute and I’m not falling for it.


Fine. I’m going in.


But I’m coming right back out. Through the escape hatch.


Faker or Quaker

On Friday, Oliver climbed into my lap for the midmorning snuggle. But something was different. My grey kitten had an all over, big time tremor.

And The Girl had an all over, big time panic.

I called the vet. Oliver ejected all his breakfast. I called the vet again.

As Dr. Tiffany and Laura walked up to my door, I asked if Katie had told them I was freaking the hell out. Tiffany said she didn’t need to be told.

By the time they got here, the tremor was gone. Tiff did a full work up, really ticking Oliver off and making Obi nervous. We decided it might have been a bad can of food (Obi, who smells his food, had passed on breakfast) or something ingested from our home improvementing.

Oli bounced right back and really enjoyed the tuna for a snack and tuna for breakfast prescription.

So, Monday, as I was getting ready to leave town for a conference, I wasn’t concerned about his health. Since I was leaving The Boy home, I also wasn’t too worried about stress.

I put my suitcase in the car. Oli noticed it on the way out. He noticed my computer in its bag. Then I realized I forgot to do something and pulled my laptop out and sat down on the couch.

The grey kitten climbed into my lap. The grey kitten had a tremor. The Girl had some more panic.

I dumped all the stuff for the conference on the other team members and called the vet.


This time we went in. The tremor was gone. Of course.

Oliver got more poking and prodding. He showed Tiffany how healthy his hiss is. And then we went home with instructions to take video next time the tremor happens.

Honestly, I probably could have gone to the conference. And worried. So instead I made arrangements and stayed home. To worry.

I’m not the only one who wonders about the suspicious timing of the returned tremor. Would it be worth a vet visit to keep The Girl from leaving?



So what’s wrong with Oliver? We don’t know. If it isn’t food based, it is probably something is his brain. Maybe something degenerative – The Boy says, “so his puddin’ head is getting… more puddin’y?”

The tremor is NOT a seizure. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all. It probably isn’t an emergency situation.

Heck, he may never have another tremor. At least until I pack the suitcase again…


The mess was everywhere. As I entered the living room, I could see the first indications that someone had suffered an ignoble end. Two steps in, it was clear.

Yarn Ball was dead.

His innards were strewn across the room. His tail was caught in the Velcro of my laptop charger. Poor Yarn Ball.

As we know from The Princess Bride, though, there is a difference between dead dead and just mostly dead. Would true love bring him back?


I went about fixing him. I rerolled him faster, stronger.


Obi seemed happy. Then, about an hour later, The Boy walked into the room. “Oh noes,” he said. “The yarn ball isn’t a ball anymore.”

It was true.

I looked at Obi. Suspicious. Suddenly, what is assumed was kitten-slaughter seemed more like murder.

The Boy started trying to fix Yarn Ball. After realizing he’d never rolled a ball of yarn in his life and that it’s not as easy as he thought, he handed Yarn Blob to me.

With a kiss to the ears, I set the brown suspect free and tossed Yarn Ball to the floor.


We’ll see how this story unravels in coming days.

Cat in the Box

Hey, Obi. Whatchu doin’ with that box?



Why don’t you get inside?



No room. Brother in the box.


After punishing me for our absence last weekend, Oliver was shocked when we up and left again this weekend.

This time we were in Steamboat. Feeding birds.


And walking to waterfalls.


And drinking beer.


The kittens, obviously, did not approve. Especially since there had to go two days with only snackums to get by.

But we have come home. And they survived. Obi is demanding belly rubs from The Boy every twenty minutes to work off the rubbing deficit.

And Oliver and I did this.


And this.


And this.


He got up and went to the recliner to finish his bath but when I picked up my phone he came back to do this.


I’m going nowhere and doing nothing.


Seriously, Girl, stop taking pictures of us on the quilt couch. We’re going to stop being cute.

Look at us sucking all it cute in.

Nothing to see here.