Too Rough: A Cautionary Tale

This morning, Obi and The Boy met on the belly rubbing rug for the morning belly rub. Almost immediately, the brown kitten started biting and scratching. “Ouch,” The Boy said. “Too rough!” 

Obi didn’t stop and The Boy got up and walked away.

A while later, Oliver and Obi were Thundering. They ran up. They ran down. They ran laps around the house. Just as they arrived in the living room, Obi leaped through the air and landed on Oliver. He sank his teeth into the grey kitten’s scruff and kicked with all his might. Oliver cried out because it was too hard.

Obi didn’t stop and Oliver got up and walked away. Thunder over.

Just a while after that I scooped Obi into my lap for a snuggle. He sank his teeth into my thumb and kicked and kicked and kicked. “Ouch, Obi,” I said. “Too rough!”

Obi didn’t stop and I set him down so he could walk away.

Later, Obi was walking across the living room when his brother leaped out from behind the couch. The kittens hit the floor with a thump. The grey kitten fell to the side and bunny kicked Obi with his sharp back claws. Obi cried out – it was too rough!

Oliver stopped. And walked away.

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Favorite people

Kitten Thunder loves both their people, but there are always going to be favorites. Oliver, obviously, prefers me because we’ve been together longer and I don’t have cooties. Obi has known The Boy as long as he has known me and they have a special understanding about belly rubs and when the brown kitten wants to be tall.

This doesn’t mean that Oliver won’t lay with The Boy to read. And sometimes Obi needs The Girl to kiss his ears or play a silly game with him.

But last night, at snuggle time, something interesting happened. I found myself alone on the love seat.

And alone in being awake.

Branching Out

Tuesday, Kitten Thunder let The Boy and I sleep until the alarm went off at 9 a.m. It was, after all, a holiday. But our regular schedule of early morning annoyance resumed yesterday.

And Obi’s new year resolution seems to be to be more involved.

This morning, Oliver was poking me in the nose in the first round of annoyance. It was so warm under the blankets and so cold in the room, though, so my attempt to distract the grey kitten with a snuggle worked like a charm. Cozy under the blankets, Oli was happy to doze off in my arms.

But no. Scoot scoot scoot went something on the toothbrush shelf. I’d moved everything off that was breakable, so I ignored it. Scoot scoot. And something fell to the floor.

“Obi.”

The brown kitten came over to the bed and jumped to the headboard. He used his brother’s head as a halfway point. Then he played with the strings on the miniblinds. I reached up and jabbed him in the ribs.

He ran off. Oliver ran off. The breakfast bell went off.

Good timing.

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It is Thunder Thursday! My brother’s family has a new member. Meet Cousin Puck’s new brother, tentatively named Bo.

 

Thumbs Win

On the final day of the year, Kitten Thunder conspired to get breakfast especially early. It started with Oliver crying from the reading nook. He then came into the bedroom and poked me in the nose. Poke poke poke. When I shoved him off the bed, he returned to crying in the reading nook.

Then he got up on the toothbrush table and started scooting something toward the edge. “Oliver,” little feet pitter pattered to the bed. “Stop.”

Oliver snuggled up to me and started licking my nose. Something started scooting on the toothbrush table. Obi was in on the act. I sat up in bed. “You both better go before someone gets killed.”

Two kittens ran downstairs.

Then they returned.

Meow. Mwrar. Scoot scoot. I looked at the clock and found it was 5 a.m. So I got up. And sat on the couch to watch a movie. Kitten Thunder came in and sat on the rug, considering me. She forgot to feed us. Should we remind her? She seems mad.

They decided to make themselves scarce.

At 6 a.m., when the alarm clock upstairs went off, the kittens got their breakfast. Thumbs for the win.

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Happy new year to everyone. We wish you happiness and success in all your endeavors this year.