Tag Archives: brothers

Plaaaay

I’m a good cat owner. I don’t think anyone would debate that. One of the things I’ve done really well is provide napping spots in every room of the house. It puts a lot of pressure on the cats to use them all so I feel appreciated.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone napping in the house on the condo. So long, in fact, that I wouldn’t have seen Oliver if Obi hadn’t been so desperate to play.

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After about half an hour of thumping on every side of the condo, Obi gave up and went to watch OutTV.

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Poor brown kitten.

***
Yesterday was Oliver’s 12th birthday!
Yesterday was Obi’s 6th birthday!

Happy birthday, Kitten Thunder!

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That’s a Wrap

Why we still have a “roll” of wrapping paper on the floor in the basement hallway, which we walk on every time we go into the workshop:

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If you scroll through this really quickly, it’s almost animated!

Nothing to See Here

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I left the house today. Kitten Thunder didn’t approve.

***
The other evening, Obi and I were looking for millers through the front screen door. A beige cat appeared on our front sidewalk.

I looked down at Obi. He was interested in the other cat but not really concerned.

The cat moved down our walk toward the sidewalk. Then we heard the approach of a brother.

Uh oh.

Before I could react, Obi spun away from the door and walked nonchalantly toward his brother. He tackled Oliver and licked his face.

Nothing interesting outside. Nothing at all.

And the beige kitten disappeared down the sidewalk, out of sight by the time Oliver shook off his brother and got to the door.

Obi and I made eye contact. Close call.

Four Alarm Furor

Oliver is like a fun house mirror; he reflects what he sees only bigger or distorted. If I love him, he loves me more. If I cry, he MOURNS. If I yell at him for being bad, he hates me for ruining his life. If I take a nap, he becomes comatose. And if you yell at his Girl, he will END you.

Thus, day three of Operation: Calm the %$&# Down.

Soon after I wrote my early morning post on Sunday, Oliver and Obi fought again. They got a time out. They fought again. They got a time out. They fought again. They got a time out.

It was confusing because they cried at the door for each other the moment they were separated. When they were reunited, they’d bathe each other. They even thundered once. Then, in an instant, the anger and hatred returned.

Watching closely, I figured out the pattern. Obi flinched and hissed if Oliver approached him head on. One hiss is all it takes for Oliver to go full on fighty.

And so began a 48 hour brother detox program. Why? The particular movement that makes Obi hiss is a stress trigger. I read that most stress triggers can be forgotten, or recovered from, in 48 hours. Easy enough.

But the one big problem with Operation: Calm the $%&# Down is… We had to close a door.

Kitten Thunder can not handle a closed door.

I’ve got a pheromone ball plugged in and gave them calming treats, but the trauma of a closed door is real. By Monday at noon is gotten prescription happy pills (we’re not to Prozac, yet). They still sit at the door and yowl for an hour at a time, but they are stopping for a nap. The first day, they probably only got four hours of sleep in ten minute stretches. Not healthy for cats. By the time Oliver and I went to bed, in the basement, on Sunday night, he barely staggered into my arms before passing out. He still got up several times in the night to lament the closed door and lost brother.

They cry about the door. They cry for each other.

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So today, the 48 very long hours was up and I was hopeful.

They met. They licked. They ate treats together. They wrestled. They ate more treats when The Girl thought they might be getting a little too rough. But there was no fighting. Once in a while Obi would cower, but he kept his hiss to himself.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Then Oliver walked up to Obi in just a way. The brown kitten hit the floor and hissed. Oliver turned his ears back. I shook the treat bag in his face and happily chirped “who wants more snackums?”

Nope. I caught up to the brawl in The Boy’s office, where he was eating lunch. He grabbed a grey kitten and went to the living room. I held a nasty tempered brown kitten in my lap (his reflection is more measured, but he’ll give what he gets as well). The Boy let Oliver go and the grey kitten came right back in for another round.

Operation: Calm the $%&# Down continues with another day of separation. Maybe some short visits. I saw progress today.

In the meantime, our spare room bed is REALLY comfortable.

ALARM Clock

It’s very early in the morning on Sunday. We were planning on getting up early anyway, but didn’t quite have the luxury of sleeping until my alarm goes off… In half an hour.

Why? Because someone had a nightmare.

At least I assume that’s what happened. All The Boy and I witnessed was a huge series of crashes and cat screams from under the bed. I did at least think to put on my glasses before reaching under the bed to break it up. I ended up, luckily, with Oliver.

Things calmed down fairly quickly, but, not knowing what caused the fight, I didn’t want to take peace for granted. Oliver and I went into The Boy’s office and shut the door. From SHU (I watched Orange is the New Black last night) I asked the warden to make breakfast. He slid it under the door.

As soon as he was done eating, Obi went to the door and reached under for his brother. Obviously, there was nothing personal between the two of them. This brings me to the nightmare theory.

When all the excitement was over, The Boy went back to bed. And so did Obi. And so did Oli.

Me? I’m watching TV and writing my blog post. Because screaming cats? Way more affective than coffee.

The Switch

Hello. Have we told you about the box?

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I poked this head sized hidey hole in it so I can see my brother coming…

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And hide.

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TADAAAAAA! I leap from the box!

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Did someone see a brother come through here?

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Hello. Have we told you about the box?

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Best box ever.

Rule Change

So I’m typing away at tonight’s blog, at I look up at the TV. It has a tail. A big, fluffy, Main Coon type tail. “Obi,” I say, “get out from behind the TV.”

The tail disappears. No cat here.

But then the TV grows ears. And a paw inches up toward the antennae hanging on the wall.

“OBI. GET DOWN.”

The ears and paw disappear. No cat here.

Oliver arrives from the other room and cries. Obviously, if someone is in trouble, it is him. He’s not aware of doing anything wrong, but he is always the one who gets yelled at.

The paw goes up toward the antennae again. I stand up. It’s a clear indicator that I mean business. Oliver cowers under the coffee table and whines.

“Oh. BEE.” The tail reappears. Followed by two feet up on the books next to the TV. Followed by the rest of a brown kitten. I have to clap my hands and take a step forward to get him to jump down from the mantle.

For the record, Obi is allowed on the mantle but he’s never gotten behind the TV before. He’s up there now, looking out the window. And glancing over to make sure that he’s not in trouble. Obviously he has crossed a line somewhere and needs to figure out where it was.

Oliver is snuggled hard into my side.

He’s not in trouble either, right Girl?