Snap Shots of Thanks

Or no thanks, as the case may be.

The grandpeople did manage to make it to Cheyenne for Thanksgiving. Along with Jigger.

Although they have a love/hate thing with squirrels in common, Obi and Jigger never found a middle ground.


Luckily there’s plenty of space between them when Obi is on the mantle.

Oliver, as Chief Executive Kitten, is protector of the house. He immediately checked out the white intruder and slapped him on the head a couple times to remind him who is in charge.

Jigger didn’t really need this lesson. He’s never been in charge. Not with his own cat siblings. Not at any house he’s visited.

After that first meeting, when we’d felt good about Oliver asserting himself, we started defending Jigger. Because whapping a dog feels good and Oli wanted to do it some more. Once he figured out that he would get scolded for punching the dog for no reason, the grey kitten was eager for excuses. Did he just lunge at Obi? Should I punch him? He’s barking at the squirrel. Should I punch him? He’s snoring in The Grandmaow’s lap, can I punch him?

It was a handy threat, the couple of times Jigger chased Obi. His brother was more than willing to step in – as long as he wouldn’t get in trouble.

But you know who really needed to be punched in the nose? The Grandpaw. We set up our dinner on the dining room table – a surface used as a cat hangout and sundry repository for 363 days of the year – and the cats watched from chairs. My dad put his plate, with a heaping pile of stuffing, mashed potatoes, and turkey on the table. Half an inch from Oliver’s nose. “Here you go buddy!” my dad said.

Oliver’s eyes grew wide. It was the best moment of his life.

And then he was scooped up of the chair and set on the floor. The floor. Not even onto the condo. Rude. Affrontage. SO not right.

Grandpaw is just lucky he has other redeeming value, like a good Claw and scritchy fingers.

All good things must come to an end, including visits from the grandpeople. They headed home on Saturday morning after predicting a nap with two exhausted kittens was in my future. It took about ten minutes for that prediction to come true (Obi is under the quilt).


And it stayed true all afternoon.

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