The baby was napping and I was eating ice cream so yes, I just watched this happen:
Squeak summarily rejected his father’s lunchtime offerings of pork and broccoli. After all, his parents were having leftover Chinese food. After lunch I scooped the food from his tray into a bowl to save – he loves pork and broccoli so I thought he might eat it for dinner.
Then I got distracted putting Squeak in his swing for a nap.
As I sat on the couch eating ice cream I noticed Obi on the table. He was picking some pork out of the bowl. Once he had a piece he jumped down to the floor.
Because he has manners and cats aren’t allowed to eat on the table.
A minute later, Obi was back at the bowl. This time, though, he took a piece of broccoli. And jumped down.
He returned for pork. Then another piece of broccoli. Broccoli. Pork. Pork. Pork. Broccoli. Pork.
Finally I sat up in a way that I could see better. Just in time to see Obi tucking a piece of broccoli under the high chair. Right next to all the others.
Obviously he needed to get it out of the way so he could get to the pork, but leaving it on the table would be rude.
Better to frame the baby – his manners are abysmal anyway.
Squeak is very good at sharing his food.
Though sometimes the kittehs don’t like his delivery system.
Oliver prefers his treats on the floor.
Especially after The Girl yelled at him the other day. She’d been fairly okay with Squeak feeding the grey kitten turkey from his high chair when it was one piece at a time, dropped to the floor. She drew the line when Oliver stood up against the chair and started gnawing on the baby’s fingers. But they were SO tasty
The Girl also objected to Obi getting up on the dining room table and eating turkey out of Squeak’s outstretched hand. To be fair, Squeak DID call him (Obi has learned to come to OhEE! as I have learned to respond to AhAA! We’re working on it).
What The Girl would NOT object to, is Kitten Thunder eating salmon off the floor. I realize they aren’t dogs. I’m not asking them to eat everything on the floor. But it’s salmon. Fish.
It’s this really too much to ask?
The Boy had to move Squeaks mattress down in the crib. At first, Obi did not approve. Then he noticed two things: he can CAT scan from outside the crib, and the dust ruffle goes all the way to the floor now. This means several surprise attacks from the crib monster every day.
So now Oliver does not approve.
Neither cat approves of the baby gate that keeps everyone out of the basement. It’s a door they can see through, but it’s still a door.
They hate doors.
Squeak shared his roast beef with Obi the other night.
What you probably can’t tell from the picture is that he kept sharing as Obi was eating. Tiny bites of roast beef fell from the sky and nestled down into Obi’s fur.
I tried to pick it out but Obi walked away, irritated that I just couldn’t leave him alone while he was eating.
Hopefully he enjoyed the bonus snack. Maybe his brother lucked out and decided to bathe the brown kitten, earning a nice treat.
Or maybe there’s a less pleasant surprise… For me…
Obi is always a little relieved when the morning comes and the long stretch of nighttime boredom ends. If Squeak wakes up before dawn, all the better.
After trying to share my suitcase on our Christmas road trip, I’ve come to realize Squeak needed his own Best Box. He and Obi roll it back and forth. It’s the Best Box Game.
It’s an exhausting game. Eventually obi will take to higher ground to rest… But he’s always watching.
After all the praise he received for helping with the fitful diaper change the other night, Obi was a little miffed by my response to his playing of the piano last night.
At 2:30 a.m.
Just as Squeak had dozed off.
After being shushed and nudged gently with a toe, the brown kitten stomped off. Tail flicked at me, also insulted. I mean, he WAS playing a lullaby, after all.
Squeak started sleeping through the night when he was just a couple months old. Lately, and much to Oliver’s joy, he’s been waking up a couple times a night with a sudden case of starvation.
If it’s after 2 a.m., Kitten Thunder gets breakfast.
Usually, though, one of the nighttime feedings happens before I go to bed. Like tonight.
I walked into Squeak’s room and immediately smelled dirty diaper. Sigh… He was not going to be happy about the delay in his meal.
And so he cried.
It wasn’t long until Obi came in to do a CAT scan. He sniffed the baby’s head. He sat down next to the changing pad on the floor and watched me struggle with kicking feet. He repeated his scan.
Then he walked over to Levi’s piano and pawed a key. The baby went silent.
Obi pawed another note. The baby stilled and turned to look.
Three more notes played in the dark room. I finished putting on the diaper. “Thanks, Obi. What a good helper you are!”
And the brown kitten strolled out of the room. Squeak: tested, diagnosed, and cured by Doctor Obi.
Peoples of the internet, Obi here. Oliver suggested that I should give you an update on Squeak’s training.
I suspect Oli is just trying to distract me so he can take a nap. But whatever.
Squeak is getting to be more useful.
Oliver has been teaching him to pet. He’s actually pretty good, says The Girl. She says he’s a natural. He has the scritchy motion down and rarely grabs. Once he grabbed Oliver’s ear, after several minutes of scritchying his head. He was NOT happy but he waited patiently while The Girl pulled the baby’s fingers open. But that did end the lesson for the day.
Oliver says I need to be patient with training if I’m going to be Chief Executive Kitten when he’s gone. I say he can stay for forever because that kid isn’t touching me until he’s fully trained.
I mean yes, this is super cute. But it’s also an invasion of personal space.
I’ll keep supervising his play skills.
From a safe distance.
He coming along. He holds things in his hands and rolls all over the place. Any day now he’ll figure out that crawling thing and I’m going to see if he can Thunder. Maybe he’ll actually do what he’s supposed to, unlike Oli, and travel past my clever ambushes.
Yesterday, though, I realized I’d underestimated the value of my people kitten. I mean, I like him and all. But I’ve been skeptical of all these promises of fun and usefulness.
Then it happened. The Girl used the magic toy making stick to find my yarn balls and one of Squeak’s stuffed animals. He was unimpressed by the reappearance of his missing toy.
Like Excalibur, the stick called to him. Is he the chosen one? Is he the hope for us all and bringer of new pieces?
I’m suddenly hopeful for the future.