Monthly Archives: March 2013

Laser Focus

The Boy and I went to dinner last night at a new local restaurant. I had this:

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It is a pulled pork sandwich with macaroni and cheese, on sour dough bread, dipped in fry bread and, well, fried. And that next to it? Mashed potatoes drowning in four cups of butter.

After dinner I needed to walk for a while.

We decided to go to the pet store across the street to get a rug for the litter box. Just as I was thinking we should check out the toy aisle, The Boy said we would not get any mice for Obi. At first I thought he was psychic. Then I thought he knows me well. Then I realized he was talking about live mice, at which we had been looking a few minutes before.

So I veered into the toy aisle.

Obi has plenty of toys and the only one he plays with at the moment is flat mousie. That, and light reflected off our phones and onto the wall. I suggested we get a laser.

The Boy said he doesn’t need a laser, he has a phone and the sun.

I pointed out that the sun goes away. The Boy shrugged and walked off.

I pointed out, to myself, that the laser toys were on clearance for $4. Sold! Who can argue with such salesmanship?

The laser is much better than a reflection from a phone.

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It goes up.

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It goes down.

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It goes all around.

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Much to my disappointment, Obi will not attack The Boy when the red dot tries to make that happen. But he is laser focused for ten minutes at a time and I can wear him out while sitting on the couch.

Four dollars well spent.

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The Runaround

I apologize if you felt a horrible loss over not having a Kitten Thunder blog to read on Tuesday, but I was on an important mission. I had to download and watch a movie on my computer to see what impact it would have on the battery. The Boy and I are going to Europe this spring and we wanted to know how many movies we could take with us in case we only want to watch the in-flight movie six times. I chose Anna Karenina – it was very artsy, but pretty good.

And then it was time for bed.

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On Wednesday evenings, The Boy and I drink beer. This has been so since our bar, The Capitol Grille, opened about 11 years ago. When we started, sometimes we had enough people there to fill the bar. Over the years, our friends have grown up (old), had kids, and found other things to distract them from our Wednesday night tradition. Until it was just The Boy and I. And so we decided we might as well date and eventually get married.

Now when we go home at night, The Boy plays flat mousie with Obi. In case you are new to the blog, this is where The Boy throws Obi’s flat mousie into the hallway. The brown kitten races to get his toy and brings it back to the belly rubbing rug. Rinse and repeat until the kitten loses interest.

Last night, though, there was an issue. His name is Oliver.

For some reason Oliver decided to forgo his usual snuggle with The Girl and wanted to play flat mousie with The Boy and Obi. The problem being that Oliver doesn’t know how to play the game. He kept running with Obi to get the mousie, but then he would sit down, confused, and get in the way. The brown kitten had to go around, or over, the grey.

Then, Obi had enough.

The Boy threw the toy into the hallway. Obi got to it and tossed it into the air. He bumped it away and chased after it…out of sight. Oliver went to find him. He never did.

Obi came through the kitchen, and returned to the living room from the other direction. Having lost his brother – who was probably reminded as he entered the kitchen that he was peckish – the brown kitten and The Boy played on.

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A kitten has to do what a kitten has to do.

Train Strain

There are some days, I think, that The Boy regrets choosing a cat person for his lifetime partner. Not that he doesn’t has a beautiful, fulfilling relationship with our little fuzzies, but days like today might make him think of Kitten Thunder as MY cats for a couple minutes.

There was stuff on the chair that Oliver uses to get up on the layout so he was walking around trying to find a way up. He was speed walking from my workshop to the closet, seeking that halfway point.

Obi, who can easily make the jump, was also feeling a bit lazy and decided to use a halfway point. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong point. He jumped, set his feet on an engine that was sitting on a short bit of track on a low shelf, and lost control as the engine rolled. He managed to get his front paws up to the layout and frantically tried to pull himself up.

After witnessing the struggle, and the damage a flailing brown kitten can do, The Boy helped him the rest of the way up. Then he retrieved all the stuff that had been knocked to the floor.

Meanwhile, the grey kitten remembered the hole in the layout and the trunks that he can get onto in order to access the hole. The Boy suggested he jump up toward the section with no track. Oliver chose to jump up onto the tracks.

His dainty feet, luckily, allowed Oliver to land without hitting any of the tracks or the boxcars on them. He did a quick survey of the tracks before coming to sit next to me…and the grain silo. The silo is the perfect height for chin scratching.

“Oli, stop.” Scratch. Nose swat. “No.” Scratch. Nose swat. Scratch. “Stop.” Scratch. Nose swat. Finally he went to the corner of the layout to mark it as his own. He’ll finish claiming the silo later when no one is looking. I hope it gets finished – and will be more sturdy – before it breaks. 

Obi also did a cursory survey of the tracks before seeking out things to knock off the layout. He paused to kill some cows at the farm before doing after tools.

As the first tools dropped, I decided to put The Boy out of his misery. “Come on boys, lets go watch a movie.” Oliver ran to the hole and hopped down on the trunks. Obi made the leap all the way to the floor.

And they thundered up the stairs to the living room.

We left The Boy, relieved, in the basement.

This week in pictures

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The Jeff Channel on OutTV had a very special episode.

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Oliver super napped.

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Obi played with flat mousie.

How to Annoy a Kitten: The Bath Method

Step 1.

Casually observe a kitteh taking a bath. This strategy requires that you really know your cat so you know how the cat will bathe. Grey kittens, for instance, may bathe for up to an hour. Brown kittens take shorter baths, around ten minutes for a thorough cleaning.

Step 2.

Without blatantly watching the bath, watch for it to near the end. Casually stand up and approach the kitteh. Preferably from behind.

Step 3.

Run your hands through the kittehs fur the wrong way. If you can, stick your fingers between his toes. Kiss him on the head.

Step 4.

As you back slowly away, whisper “you missed a spot.”

Step 5.

Leave the room. Sure, you’ll miss the reaction, but it is the only safe course of action.

Saint Patty Snapshots

No one in the house is wearing green today. No one is getting pinched because if The Boy pinches me I will pinch him back. And Kitten Thunder has no apposable thumbs.

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Oliver and I stayed in bed today, reading, until 1:30 this afternoon. Then I got up and made lunch. Then I started reading again on the couch. Obi supervised from the quilt pod for an hour. Then he decided intensive supervision was needed so he moved up to lay on my chest. He stayed like that for an hour before his brother showed up.

I told Obi to be brave. I told Oliver not to run Obi off. In his defense, Oliver plunked down behind Obi and seemed perfectly content to share. He even gave Obi a bath. But Obi felt pressured and went to watch some OutTV. He’d oversnuggled anyway.

The book, by the way was excellent. It is a little weird. A little supernatural. But it left my heart pounding and my nerves on edge. If you like unusual books, check out The Mercy Of Thin Air by Ronlyn Domingue.

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We had super veggie spaghetti tonight. Oliver did not approve. But he licked both plates spotlessly clean – just to survive, though, not because it tasted good.

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The basement flat mousie is upstairs.

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Yesterday, a squirrel was hanging upside down, eating out of our squirrel-proof bird feeder. Obi looked at me helplessly. He did not approve. I didn’t care until the end of the day when I looked out and saw an empty birdfeeder. A week’s worth of food, gone in a day. I do not approve.

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Look closely at the picture above. That’s two, two cats in one.

Missing Mousie

Obi’s flat mousie is missing. We have searched everywhere: under the couch, under the loveseat, under the recliner, in the coat closet, in the dining room, in the boxes. Everywhere.

We’ve retraced our steps and the last time anyone can remember mousie was Sunday morning. He was on the floor by the recliner.

We suspect foul play.

We suspect Barbie.

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I found this on Pinterest this week. I haven’t actually verified any of these facts to see if they are accurate but:

1. Nobody would lie on the internet.
2. I want it to be true.

Purr Therapy is real, yo.

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I pinned a whole lot of new adorable this week. Check it out.

My Funnies page has some new giggles as well.

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Update: Mousie has been found! Our apologies for the things we called Barbie behind her back.