Kittens in the Kitchen

The Boy and I have a pretty good arrangement for presents: I tell him exactly what I want and where to get it, and he goes and buys it. Since we both work downtown and I shop downtown, that’s where his purchases usually happen. On Friday, we met for beer and dinner – but he needed to put “something” in my trunk in the parking garage.

After dinner, we went home and Kitten Thunder opened my birthday present for me.

A bag AND a box? Boy, you shouldn’t have.

The Girl’s birthday is happy for everyone.

 

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Broken Promises

Last night, I was finishing up a little bit of work on my computer while we watched TV. The Boy decided, after a long nap in the recliner, to go to sleep. My intention was to follow soon after but then I got distracted. Facebook made me stay up until almost 2 a.m.

As I was headed to bed, Oliver started up the breakfast dance. It was, after all, morning. Obi was willing to eat, too, if I was offering.

“Do you promise,” I asked, “to let us sleep in the morning if I feed you now?”

Yes. Yes, of course they promised.

But hours…maybe DAYS went by and the sun started coming close to thinking about coming up. Oliver needed breakfast. He told me about it. He told The Boy about it. He returned to my side of the bed and told me about it. Breakfast. Breakfast. Breakfastbreakfastbreakfast. Breakfast.

“You promised you would let us sleep if I fed you, Oli.”

Breakfast. Breakfast breakfast.

Eventually, The Boy got up. I heard him tell Kitten Thunder that he knew they’d eaten. I did tell him that they could eat again before I nodded off.

Oliver came back a bit later and crawled into my arms. He had things to say, but eventually he went back to sleep.

Later, when I finally dragged myself from bed, I found out that The Boy did NOT feed Kitten Thunder when he got up. He said Oliver didn’t need to be rewarded for being a brat. And Obi had…other priorities. The lesson to be learned here is not to annoy the hand that feeds you until the truth comes out about your secret breakfast.

That, and don’t depend on your little brother who would rather have a belly rub than back you up.

Box Fort-ification

The boxes have been carefully stacked and draped in the entryway. It is the ultimate fort. Double deckered, multidirectional, six boxed amazingness.

It doesn’t get any better than this. Until Saturday.

Box-a-Palooza!

The Boy is very picky about his work shoes – they have to look nice with slacks but stand up to walking through construction sites. He found a pair that he liked last week, but not in the color he needed, so he had to have them shipped to him.

They came in a box. That was in a box.

And the kittens rejoiced.

Then, today, I came home and finally noticed Obi sitting on a NEW box.

I made him get off the box so I could cut it open. I took two steps away to put the scissors on the coffee table. When I turned back around, Oliver was already looking at me – disappointed – because there was stuff in the box.

So I emptied it for him.

Oliver told Obi, “it fits just right.”

Poor Obi, he got my attention…his brother got the box.

But! Inside the box, was a box.

I emptied it quickly and urged Obi to claim it.

Poor Obi…his brother wanted that box, too.

Wait…maybe NOT “poor Obi.”

Seems like he got what he wanted all along.

So what was in the box inside the box? It is the new blending system that my parents gave me for my upcoming birthday (Saturday). Oliver closely inspected all the contents. Then he must have seen the directions.

He washed thoroughly before using.

And Obi got the second box as well.

Home Improvement with The Boy, Part 2

In addition to putting in a door to the spare room, The Boy decided to take the wall behind our washing machine and dryer down as well. Obi and I went down for inspection. Neither of them approved of what they saw.

For one thing, they found some serious wasted space behind the wall. Once things are put in more efficiently, the new “hallway” will be about six inches wider.

After a cursory look behind the wall, Obi decided he would need some tools. He didn’t find what he needed in The Boy’s supply.

Obi did not approve.

He decided to show off his acrobat skills, but high-wire walking along plumbing, mystery cross-supports on oddly spliced verticals, and electrical piping.

The electrical is bad. Really bad. Bad enough that The Boy would rather pay a professional than hassle with the mess himself. That’s saying something.

We pretended like we didn’t know Obi was looking for a way into the walls or ceiling.

But we did know. So Obi and I went upstairs and the door in the kitchen shut behind us until The Boy was done working.

Obi did not approve.

He also didn’t approve of the wet paper towel I ran over him and around his feet to get the spider webs and dust off.

It isn’t Tuesday

I totally forgot to write a post yesterday.

Possibly because something OTHER than my meowy Christmas ornament sold in our Zazzle store. Somebody bought my Doppler Cat t-shirt.

This made me happy. Then it made me jealous, because I really want this shirt for myself.

Then it occurred to me that the t-shirt is on my I’m Full of Want board. So maybe I’m getting this shirt for my birthday.

This idea made me happy.

Speaking of Pinterest…the kittehs board has some new posts of adorableness. Check it out.

Fortress of Bagitude

Our “hallway” on the main floor, is one of Kitten Thunder’s favorite places to take naps because it is where the flat box is. When we came back from Jigger-sitting a couple weeks ago, we dumped our luggage there. My suitcase went downstairs, eventually. The Boy took his suitcase, aka the best box, upstairs. But the day pack and camera bag remained.

 

The fortress of bagitude is super comfy.

Cat in a Box

This is not just a pile of boxes.

It is a secret fortress.

If you lean in close, you’ll see something.

If you come very close, and peek in the hole…

WHAMMO! You’ll get punched in the eye!

Stay away from the fortress.

***

Dr. Tiffany is coming to see Obi tomorrow for his annual check up. As usual, I expect him to play with her and snuggle and not ever realize that she has given him shots or anything unpleasant.

Monday, when I emailed her for the appointment, I mentioned that Oliver’s allergies are acting up and that he is almost out of drugs. She says he’s right on schedule… because I said the same thing last year on April 5.

So at least he’s consistent.

I’m sure there will be a story to tell after the appointment.

Home Improvement with The Boy

Our basement is strangely configured. The spare room, where I get ready in the morning and where the grandpeople stay, is as far away from the stairs as you can get in walking distance – but actually only a couple feet away. So, this weekend, The Boy started the process of putting a door in our laundry room.

He started by taking down a wall. Behind it? He found another wall.

And behind that? He found another wall.

In all of these home improvement situations, there is – of course – help from Kitten Thunder. The Boy finds this funny. And annoying. But luckily for him, this particular project included power tools from very close to the beginning. And, when the power tools are involved, Kitten Thunder chooses to protect me instead of helping The Boy.

Protect me. Yeah.

And, when the power tools stopped, three of us went down to help with inspection.

Obi was shocked to see the shoddy work done on this wall. The vertical studs were well beyond the 16 inches they should be placed.

When there was just a window, he did not approve of the complete lack of sill.

Upon further inspection, he decided it was doable but not particularly comfortable.

The spare room is dusty. I’m really glad The Boy took me down to look at the second wall so I knew to quickly move all my clean laundry that was on the spare room bed.

While Oliver is not usually the most adventurous of our kittens, he was willing to try out the window.

He helped The Boy measure the space for a door. I took this picture and headed upstairs. I called Oliver. I told him to come with me. He didn’t, until The Boy started using a saw. Then he casually walked across the laundry room. Once he got to the floor and into the hallway, he allowed his panic to take over and raced, frantically, up the stairs.

The Boy, on my request, cut a second window at the floor level before calling it quits for the day. I didn’t want kittens attempting to thunder through a poorly supported window in the drywall, five feet off the ground.

Thunder on, kittehs. Thunder on.

 

Night Visitor

This is going to be short because I’m typing with one hand. My right hand has the very important task of scritching Oliver’s butt. He’s also laying on my arm. Priorities.  

I often talk about Oli waking me in the night, generally for breakfast. But last night, it was the brown kitten that needed something. It wasn’t food.

I’d been sleeping pretty deeply when I was woken by someone patting my forehead. I reached up to pet Oliver, but he wasn’t laying in front of me. No one was in front of me. When he patted my forehead again, I realized that Obi was sitting up on the headboard. “Hey buddy,” I whispered. He hopped down and headbutted me. He let me pet him for a couple minutes.

When he was done getting pets from me, he climbed over my should and did something to solicit pets from The Boy. The Boy, it seems, can pet a cat in his sleep because he didn’t really remember it this morning. Petting is an instinct.

When he was done getting pets from his people, Obi climbed back on to my shoulder and walked down my side and over my legs to where Oliver was sleeping. “Mrph,” Oliver said. I felt the plunk of a brown kitten on my feet. Then I heard licking. 

A moment later, the brown kitten was up and gone. He’d filled up on love and went back to sleep on the best box. What? You thought he’d sleep on the bed? Don’t be silly.