Hiding Spot

It’s National Cat Day and, as you can see, we’re celebrating.

I want to start by apologizing in advance for spelling errors. Or outright wrong words. It turns out I’m allergic to the west coast. That irritated my sinuses, which irritated my throat. I’ve been hacking and wheezing for days. But today I needed to go to meetings so I took a benadryl. Which makes focus difficult. And I put in my contacts which I haven’t worn since Sunday… And hey, I realized a while ago, they are covered in west coast.

And now, to the blog.

Obi has two yarn balls. His favorite game, lately, is to hide them under the couch for us to find. He hides them almost immediately after we get then out, because he likes the game.

It’s a pretty easy search: loveseat? Couch?

He walks around us, hugging or heads as we peer under the furniture with the flashlight. Purr, purr – you’re getting warmer.

We’ve gotten too good though, and Obi decided we needed a challenge. On Tuesday, the blue yarn ball was not under the couch. It was not under the loveseat. It was not on the cave. It was not on the couch or loveseat.

Having used up all my oxygen, I tossed him his yellow yarn ball and curled up on the couch to cough and breathe.

Later, The Boy came in for the morning belly rub. And to find the yarn balls. The yellow yarn ball was under the loveseat. The blue yarn ball was not. Nor was it under the couch. It was not in the cave. It was not on the couch or loveseat.

Obi danced around The Boy, purring. He was happy to provide a challenge. Keep looking, he encouraged.

The Boy looked and looked.

His search was exhausting for me to watch and I sank down on my pillow.

And there it was. The blue yarn ball.

In my shoe under the coffee table. Hooray! Obi danced as The Boy retrieved his toy. Good Boy. Good Girl.

And to honor our achievement, Obi played with the yarn ball for ten minutes. Then stuffed it under the couch.

Who wants to look for his yarn balls?

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Grounded for Life

The Boy and I went to the Pacific Northwest for vacation with his mom. We saw this:

And this:

And this:

And this:

Then we adopted these:

And when we came home, Kitten Thunder said I should do this:

And this:

For forever.

Hold My Head

Sometimes a kitten head must be compressed for optimum napping. Especially if it’s full of pudding.

Waiting

Oliver inhales his breakfast every morning. And then he waits.

And waits.

And then he calls to me. “Girl! Obi needs out!”

But I don’t believe him until I see black feet at the door or hear Obi tell me himself that he’s ready to come out.

Not that Oliver would lie just to get more breakfast…

Pile

Hey Girl, what’s up with this? Yarn Ball came apart this morning. It’s evening now and you haven’t repaired my toy.

Unacceptable.

Quota

Oliver hasn’t had a tremor in almost two weeks. We’re hoping to say good bye to them permanently, much like the mystery fevers from a few years back. But while we were trying to figure out the cause of the tremors we discovered an issue with his liver levels.

So today, after several weeks without steroids for his allergies, we went in to give more of his blood to check levels.

And to get his annual vaccinations.

And an allergy shot, if levels allowed.

Levels did not allow. The bad news is that Oliver has to give more blood in a couple months. The good news, for him, is that he’s switching to benadryl for his allergies. That means The Boy can’t call him spoiled when he demands treats each night while I’m taking my pills. Because he’ll need a pill too.

So there.

Shortly after bringing Oliver home I got a phone call about a cat lover’s basket I won at a silent auction on Friday. I ran right over, thinking it would be full of cat toys. Bribes.

I was wrong. It was a basket for me. Cat books, cat pajamas, etc.

Luckily, Kitten Thunder can find a silver lining for any cloud.

And I am forgiven.

Reddy Dot

Obi played with the red dot tonight. He played with it down.

He played with it up.

And down again.

Then he stopped playing and I put down the red dot maker. He wasn’t happy with me.

So he murdered Yarn Ball. That’ll show me.

What Do We Even Call This?

So the roofers weren’t the best choice for OutTV programming. Obi suggests I ask him before committing to thousands of dollars of show. Obviously, my taste is questionable.

This, however, was interesting. And free.

This is four guys picking up a car. They drove it most of the way onto the trailer, then hooked up a winch to pull it the rest of the way up.

Fine. Great.

If only the Jeep that would power the winch wasn’t also hooked up to a trailer. With a couch. That twisted and turned in all the wrong directions as they attempted to get the Jeep close enough.

Obi and I watched for 15 minutes. We don’t know how to classify the program. It was definitely a comedy. With some drama as it became clear that the guy not driving anything decided he was a better driver than all his friends. There was some adult language. The absurdity of the couch definitely throws it into a post modern surrealist niche.

And there was definitely some education in the program: like, leave your couch at home when fishing for cars.

Nothing to Say, Nothing to See

I was supposed to have a great post about the VERY expensive OutTV programming we purchased this week, “Getting a New Roof.”

I was fully expecting that we’d hide out in the basement for two days. We even bought a loveseat for the occasion.

Nope.

When the men started banging around, Oliver raised his head from the morning snuggle. Was The Girl concerned?

Nope.

He put his head back down. He did watch “Shingles Dropping Past the Window” for a few minutes. From the comfort of my lap.

Obi watched the programming on several channels. He did run upstairs to ask The Boy if we should be concerned – because The Girl might not understand the enormity of some Man Stuff. But The Boy agreed it was okay.

So did he watch all day?

Nope.

Yarn Ball under the couch is a much better show.

Bad, Bad Girl

This is Pauly. Maybe. Maybe it’s Poly. I was at the Cheyenne Animal Shelter to talk about Facebook advertising. This bundle of purr was delivered to my arms.

What you see there is seven toes.

Pauly hung out with me for an hour. He just purred and purred. The couple times I set him down to play, he immediately found a dark, tight place to chill.

Obviously, I already have a world class snuggler in my household. If he’d been a good playmate for Obi, the perpetually bored kitten, he might have had a home with us.

But the good news is that he’s available for YOU to adopt.

The problem with serving on the shelter board is that sometimes I come home with other cats on me.

Obi immediately set about punishing me. And erasing the evidence. And keeping me in the couch until I remembered where I belong. To whom I belong.

He was glad when Oliver came down from afternoon nap. The grey kitten is showing us how it’s done.

But I’d better realize I’m in trouble.