THE BEASTY

Hello, peoples of the world, Obi here.

AND JACK. I’M HERE TO TELL YOU ABOUT THE BEASTY!

Yes, we’re going to tell you about the excitement we had the other night.

IT WAS A BEASTY!

Yes. Anywho.  It was getting close to sunset. The Girl was putting Buddy to bed (Okay was already in her room and asleep). The Boy was waiting in the next room in case she needed backup.

BUT WE NEEDED BACKUP BECAUSE I SAW THE BEASTY!

Yes. Having been relieved of our supervisory duties in the children’s rooms, I assigned Jack to patrol at the open windows and doors. I was going to take the next shift, after a little nap.

AND I SAW THE BEASTY!

Yes. I had just closed my eyes for a couple minutes and I heard Jack call out.

I SAW THE BEASTY!

Yes. I joined Jack at the patio door and called The Boy for reinforcements. Of course Jack and I could have handled it ourselves – except we’re not allowed outside.

AND IT WAS A HORRIBLE BEASTY!

Yes. The Boy came to see what we were yelling about.  He looked outside but he didn’t see.

IT WAS THE BEASTY!

Yes. He assured us there was nothing wrong.

BUT IT WAS THE BEASTY!

Yes. He said he would check it out. The Boy bravely went outside. To show he wasn’t afraid of any man or beast, he wielded the water hose and casually got things wet in several parts of the yard. Jack and I remained at the door, prepared to protect him if needed.

HE CONQUERED THE BEASTY!

Yes. There was no sign of danger by the time he came back indoors. Hey, Jack, what exactly did the beasty look like?

IT WAS COVERED IN FUR WITH A HUGE FLUFFY TAIL. THEY HANG UPSIDE DOWN TO STEAL FOOD IN THE CAFE. THE BEASTLIEST OF BEASTLY BEASTIES! AND IT WAS ALMOST NIGHT!

Ye- wait. It was a squirrel?

A BEASTY!

Hmm. Well, that’s embarrassing. Maybe I should have gotten more detail before we sounded the alarm.

THE BOY BEAT THE BEASTY! HE DIDN’T COME BACK UNTIL THE NEXT MORNING!

Yeah…let’s not tell The Boy about this. Promise not to tell, peoples of the internet?

Until next time,
Obi AND JACK, me-out!

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Hero in the Night

Hello peoples of the internet. This is Obi. I want to tell you how awesome my brother is. He’s a hero!

As you know, our Boy and Girl brought home a people-kitten a few weeks ago. Oliver and I have adjusted to the added responsibility but managing three humans is a lot of work.

Usually Squeak is with either The Boy or The Girl, but sometimes they leave him to sleep in his cage in our room. Then they lock him in by shutting the door. In the daytime, Oliver and I take turns supervising from the box in the hallway. We also supervise from this position when The Girl feeds Squeak at night.

Side note: Oliver and I have had a lot of talks about this and could someone tell him he is NOT a people? He thinks he is because The Girl fed him from a bottle, just like they feed Squeak. But I say maybe Squeak is half cat, because he eats from his mom as well – just like I did with my mom when I was a kitten. Oli doesn’t remember having a mom, other than The Girl, so maybe he’s right. 

But I don’t think so.

Anywho.

When the people are in bed, I supervise on the main floor while Oliver snuggles with The Girl to get her settled in bed. Sometimes I take the whole first shift so he can get some sleep – he’s getting kind of old and he’s been sleeping more since all those doctor appointments last fall.

Sometimes he takes his shift supervising and naps on the steps so he can hear The Girl and Squeak at the same time. That, folks, is a master supervisor.

Last night, we both happened to be supervising. And Squeak started to talk about his middle of the night snack. Then he started to cry.

This is usually when The Girl arrives. She has a tiny box she carries around that lets Squeak talk to her when they aren’t in the same room. Her ears aren’t as good as ours (seriously, people are practically deaf. How do you get by?)

Squeak cried some more

No Girl.

Squeak’s cry went from a call to a panicked howl. 

No Girl.

I asked Oliver what we could do. The door was closed so we couldn’t help our baby. The Girl’s talky box obviously wasn’t working. The fans upstairs were covering up Squeak’s cry (again, people are deaf).

He nodded to me and said “a lifetime if training is about to pay off.” Then he led me upstairs.

He jumped into bed and head-butted The Girl. Then he did it again, hard. She scritched his head and pulled him close for a snuggle without opening her eyes. He didn’t give in for a second. He pushed out of her arms and went in again. First with another head-butt. Then he put his nose on her lips and shoved his face into her mouth like a wedge. 

This move is usually reserved as the final move after hours of trying to wake The Girl for breakfast because it always works but she’s not very happy when she wakes up. Like, really not happy. But this was for our baby and there was no time to lose.

The Girl spluttered awake and glared at Oliver. But we could tell she could almost hear Squeak over the fans. Like lightning her hand flew to the talky box, which was dark and quiet.

“Oh no!” she yelled and leapt, almost cat-like I want to say, out of bed. She barely touched the floor on her way to Squeak.

It took a couple minutes for us all to calm down. I got in my up high supervising spot and Oliver stood by the chair and performed a Cat Scan on the baby while he ate. Other than raised heart rates, he said, both of the peoples were fine.

After a while, Squeak went back to sleep. But I wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Oli. Neither was The Girl.

She thanked Oliver for his heroic deed with breakfast, then treats, then a snuggle and hundreds of kisses. Which is fine if you like that sort of thing. And he does.

I was happy with breakfast. 

I asked Oliver how he knew to go directly for the face wedge. He looked at me incredulously. “We do the wake up drill every single morning.

“You thought that was about breakfast?”

Well yes, yes did.

Maybe Oliver isn’t such a pudding head after all.

Obi out.

Getting Your Kicks…

When the baby is kicking but it’s time for a snuggle and a nap…

Five Seconds

That’s how long Obi was interested in this new toy.

Which, really, means I got my money’s worth since I bought it on clearance. I didn’t really think he’d like it much, but it has elements he does like. After thinking about it for five minutes I realized I was putting a lot of thought into a $1 purchase.

He might like it tomorrow.

Friskies has come out with another instructional video for cats. Kitten Thunder knows all these things already, but I forward it to you in case YOUR cats need more training. It’s always a good idea to review the fundamentals.

The Boy was gone this weekend so Oliver and Obi gave me undivided supervision. Okay, actually they took an extra long nap both afternoons. And gave me special glares for being in the workshop instead of on the couch where I belong.

But, because they are trained in human resuscitation (as discussed in the video) they managed to bring me back to life each morning. Really really early each morning.

So I’m grateful. Really really grateful.

Creative Differences

A letter from Oliver:

As you know, My Girl has been making a quilt square for The Boy’s train club. This, plus the book, plus that work stuff she does has reduced my snuggle time to unacceptable levels. So when she mentioned to Obi and me that we could finish her sewing while she was gone last night, we considered it.

But then we realized that one of us would have to drive the loud bobby part and one of us would have to push down the pedal. As Obi was suggestion that my higher level of subdermal fluffiness made me a better candidate for pushing the pedal – I’m not sure exactly what that means but it felt like an insult – I remembered that our help wasn’t really appreciated a couple weekends ago when My Girl was making a receiving blanket.

I’ve been meaning to comment on this Andrew guy and “allergies”… Why are we sending presents to someone who values breathing over his responsibility to host a cat in his home? Seriously.

Anyway, we decided not to sew My Girl’s square for her.

Today, though, I saw an opportunity to really help. My Girl was laying out little squares of fabric to make a big square. This is where I should point out that the little squares were a big square to begin with but My Girl cut up the big square… Humans are weird.

As you can see, this is kind of a boring interpretation of a train. I offered an alternative with a little more flare.

For an artist, My Girl was not very open to this new idea. I was offered a supervisory position away from the dining room table.

And, as you can see, My Girl went back to her boring old plan.

Sometimes people don’t recognize genius when it’s right on front of their face. It would probably help if they had whiskers.

Interested

The Boy has a dresser that had moved around with him since he was a child. It was, possibly, his dad’s before that. As a child he chose to have it painted bright red.

I didn’t want it to be red anymore.

I’ve been painting the dresser a little at a time for a couple weeks. Out in the garage. As you know, Kitten Thunder did not approve.

I’m not quite done painting but the snow storm inspired me to close up painting operations in the garage so my car could sleep inside. With a 7 a.m. meeting, I was not interested in risking an inch of ice on the windshield.

So the bench that I bought lady week came in. Oliver stood in the way and I had to yell at him to move.

He was interested.

Then I brought in the dresser and tried to put the drawers in. Oliver wanted to supervise from inside.

He was interested.

Then I wanted to take a picture with him with the finished dresser and bench. I set him on the bench. Nope. The dresser? Nope.

He wasn’t interested.

***
I did manage to get photos of Oliver on the bench by Obi’s favorite OutTV Channel.

Obi sharing the channel with his brother? Not interested.

***
In case you’re interested, the handles of the dresser are faucet handles. There are two more for the top drawer. And I think we’ll get the more so we can put one in the middle – they look a little awkward to me with only two. We just need to find a store with a different design.

Neglective

A note from Obi:

Our purrsons did the following things this weekend:

– refinished a dresser
– dry walled the laundry room
– trimmed the plum tree
– started framing a door
– manned the registration desk at a conference
– went to train club
– layout for the weekly edition of Tidbits

You’ll notice, if you are a good purrson, that there are two things missing from this list:

– adequately snuggle with Oliver
– adequately entertain Obi

Seriously, this is a problem. I mean, yes, The Girl did snuggle with Oliver last night during the movie and for a couple hours after The Boy got up this morning. And an hour after she got up. And yes, The Boy did rub my belly ten times or so during the weekend and play with me on the rubbing rug. And sure, The Girl found Funky Chicken for me. And I laid on her lap a couple times.

But it was all just an afterthought between all that stuff they did. The called it “productive.”

I call it neglective.

I’m out,
Obi Wan Kittenobi

***

Here’s a picture of Obi giving us a hard, disapproving stare from the laundry room window as we worked in the garage.

By late afternoon, Kitten Thunder was supervising from the cat shelf.

Oh Brudder

I’ve mentioned that we have a new morning routine. That includes Oliver leaving our post-breakfast snuggle to take a bath in the recliner. Then The Boy comes by and covers him with the blanket. At first he was tucking the grey kitten in. Lately, though, he’s been carefully draping the blanket over both arms of the recliner, making a nice big cave.

 

Oliver can stay in this cave for hours. Unless his brother wants to thunder.

This morning, Obi came tearing across the living room and jumped onto the “flat surface” of the blanket. He didn’t know Oli was under there, he swears. The blanket started to move and Oliver’s head popped up between the blanket and the back of the recliner. He climbed out of his cave.

Obi jumped down and ran a couple feet. He looked back.

Oliver resettled himself on top of the blanket and went back to sleep. Somehow, the blanket remained held up, slightly, by the arms so the grey kitten enjoyed a hammock. For a while. Then the brown kitten returned. Obi climbed into the cave and poked his brother from below.

Then he jumped down and ran a couple feet. He looked back.

Oliver was not chasing him.

Obi came and sat with me, sighing. After he’d maxed out mom time – about five minutes later – he went back to the recliner and tried again. Climb. Poke. Jump. Run. Look. It didn’t work so he went to get a snack. And tried again. Climb. Poke. Jump. Run. Look.

Nope.

The brown kitten tried all day to get his brother to thunder. As far as I know, it never happened. Eventually all the effort wore him out. He stretched out on the loveseat for a nap and I draped the big quilt over the whole seat, kitten and all, to make a nice big cave.

And Oliver has hopped up on top for a nap.

 

Bad Kitties

While I was gone, Kitten Thunder hatched a plan. They always want under the sink in our upstairs bathroom but we’ve put baby locks on the doors to keep them out since the time we went on vacation and they spent some quality time in our walls. Accessed, initially, from the hole in the wall under the sink. Then they knocked a utility panel down and that made it easier.

There was also that time that Obi locked Oliver inside the cupboard.

So…baby locks. The kittehs “help” me clean the bathrooms, thinking I don’t know they are waiting for me to open that door to get the sponge. But I do know and I’m prepared to block them.

The Boy did not know.

One of the kittens exploded in the master bedroom on Sunday. I got a text from The Boy: “the boys are being naughty.”

That would be Oliver’s butt as he disappears into the wall.

And Obi, not interested in coming out when his brother had been grabbed and locked out of the bathroom.

He’s also not interested in having his picture taken.

 

Nobody Cares If You’re Naked

This weekend, I went to my hometown to attend a winter festival and take pictures of the ice sculpture contest. In addition to that contest, there was also an ice cube hunt – like an Easter egg hunt but with prizes frozen into blocks of ice and thrown out into the field of snow. It was a really cute event. It would have been even cuter if there had been SNOW in the field but the winter festival was subject to an unseasonable 50 degree day. Oh well. It was cute on grass, too.

The festival also had the best thing ever: a s’mores making station. While some may question the wisdom of small children walking across the parking lot with molten marshmallow on a stick so adults at the station could assemble the s’mores…well, you should question it. But no one lost an eye this year. And if they had? Immediate, sticky, cauterization. It’s a tasty win win, folks.

But photographing the s’mores station left me feeling smokey and smelling like I’d been camping for a week. When I got back to my parents’ house I went upstairs almost immediately, intent on taking a shower. Cousin Spade wanted to help.

I didn’t let him help.

The black kitten met me a the bathroom door afterward and followed me to my room. I shut the door so I could get dressed. Then I realized I was exhausted and plunked down on the bed. Spade stomped around for a second and let me scritch his back. Then he was done.

He wanted out.

He wanted out NOW.

I pulled myself up and started putting on clothes. OUT. NOW. OUTOUTOUT, Spade cried. “Hold on a sec,” I said, “I’m putting on clothes.”

LET ME OUT! NOBODY CARES THAT YOU’RE NAKED! Spade said, pawing the door.

Clothed, I opened the door. “Nobody cares that YOU’re naked,” I said. And I replunked onto the bed.

Free, Spade came back and sat down next to me for more pets.

***

Side note: As I left to drive back across Wyoming this afternoon, the wind picked up and rain started to fall. By the halfway point, there was a lot of snow. I drove the last two hours with ten feet of visibility and brought a blizzard into Cheyenne with me. Irony, I haz it.