A Dark and Terrible Magic

Hello, peoples of the internet! Obi here.

Sorry we haven’t filled you in on our latest happenings lately, but The Girl has been having trouble logging us in to our account. There’s been much late night cussing at the computer. But today she succeeded.

I’m a little afraid for the people of WordPress, because The Girl has a dark and terrible magic. We discovered it this summer.

A couple years ago, you might remember, Oliver had some tremors. Doctor Tiffany did a lot of mean things to him – he thinks people like to punish him for being sick but The Girl says they’re trying to make him feel better. It doesn’t make sense to me, but anywho. They came back with results that Oliver’s liver was failing. The Girl was very sad.

Oliver suddenly started getting away with things we didn’t used to, because he was dying. At the same time, Squeak – he’s getting bigger every day! – came along and the people started eating at the table in the dining room. They never cared that we were on that table before, but now suddenly it’s a big deal.

And then a wonderful thing happened: Oliver didn’t die. Well, not yet. He’s got a whole bunch of things that are wearing on him, but he’s an old guy. So now The Boy and The Girl are trying to get him to use his manners again.

His GOOD manners.

The thing is…all his manners are about food. And Oliver loves food as much today as he ever has.

So, this summer, the people were all eating at the table. Then Squeak was finished eating and he and The Boy went downstairs to dunk the kid in water. People love water. It’s weird. Anywho, The Girl stayed at the table to finish her dinner. Then she remembered something The Boy would need and she went downstairs.

She left the plates on the table.

Now, Oliver has told me that good manners don’t get a kitten anything. But he’s not a monster. So he got up on the table only long enough to lick all the juice off The Girl’s plate and then he grabbed the bone and took it down onto the floor to eat. “Oliver!” I said, “you’re allergic to cow!”

Oli scoffed at me and purred happily as he pulled meat from the bone. Then he strolled casually upstairs for a post dinner bath. I followed him to make sure he was okay. The Girl is very careful about our food to make sure Oliver doesn’t get cow. She checks the fine print on our food to make sure there isn’t even meat biproduct meal in there.

But Oliver was fine.

“See,” he said as he licked a paw. “She just doesn’t want to share.” It didn’t seem right – The Girl is pretty giving, actually. But the proof was right in front of me.

A while later, The Girl returned to the main floor. I heard her clear the plates from the table. I heard her mumble. Then she yelled the curse: “Oliver! WHERE ARE YOU EXPLODING?”

And it happened.

Oliver’s eyes got wide. His body started to convulse. In a flash, everything Oli had eaten for a day was laid out on the rug in front of me. He tried to get away, but the curse caught him again six feet from me. And two feet from that. Finally he plunked down at the foot of the bed, spent and empty.

The Girl arrived with a roll of paper towels. She set tents down on each of the explosion sites and then went over to my brother. “Idiot,” she said gently and stroked his grey head.

With the curse lifted, Oliver was able to get a drink of water.

It was a full day before we let our bad manners show again. And we haven’t pushed the limits THAT far again. When The Girl tells me to get down…I get down. No one’s using that dark and terrible magic on ME.

We’ll check in more often – there’s lots to tell. For now, Obi Me-out!

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