Tag Archives: daily life

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.”

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

bad2And 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.

 

Whovian Naps

Oliver has started laying on the recliner a lot. The Boy has started tucking him in under the TARDIS blanket. Naps are bigger on the inside.IMG_20140212_085958_770

 

But sometimes a kitten gets a little peckish and has to leave the TARDIS for a snack. If The Girl doesn’t notice and make a TARDIS cave by pulling the blanket tight over both arms of the chair, the kitten has to make do by sleeping on top of the blanket.

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It’s big enough on the outside.

Winner Winner

I made chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight. This involves Kitten Thunder and I torturing ourselves all day as the chicken cooks in the crock pot, filling the house with the scent of yum. Then, an hour before dinner, I pull the chicken off the bones and stir it back in with the noodles.

Oliver and Obi are always available to help.

Oliver sat at my feet as I worked on the chicken. He told me his woes. He told me about how long it had been since he’d eaten. I mean, yes, he had just finished eating kitty crunchies four feet from where I was standing, but that’s not really food. It is merely subsistence. So much woe for one grey kitten.

I finished the chicken and started working on the noodles.

Obi came into the kitchen and collapsed at my feet. So hungry.  He had NOT just finished eating kitty crunchies so he was really very famished. And too weak, he was, to walk to the breakfast nook for subsistence crunchies. So much woe for the brown kitten.

Once everything was back in the crock pot – because I was hungry and no way was I eating subsistence kitty crunchies – I started to pick a pile of chicken for the kittens off the bones that were on the cutting board. It was a healthy pile.

I split the pile in two and placed the piles onto Kitten Thunder’s plates. Oliver, of course, inhaled his and the speed of smell. He then went after his brother’s share.

I stepped in.

“You had yours,” I said with my hand on the grey kitten’s chest. “Your brother should get to eat his, don’t you think?”

No. No he did not think. But Oliver relented and stomped off to the living room to tell The Boy how I had ruined his life. After that, he plunked down in the dining room condo to glare at me while I did dishes.

After a while, I looked down and saw that Obi had some chicken left on his plate. Oliver was in the kitchen again and I told him he could have the extra. He perked up, life un-ruined. For now.

But then a brown kitten came tearing into the kitchen to reclaim his chicken. He hadn’t realized that my defense of his share wasn’t permanent! He wolfed down his portion and gave a pointed stare. First to Oliver. Then to me.

It’s a sad, sad world where you can’t leave freshly cooked chicken unattended on a plate on the floor and not worry about it disappearing.

Sheesh.

Box of the Month

Oliver and Obi were signed up for the box of the month club for Christmas. Another box came today. They would like it better if the boxes didn’t come filled with beer, but something is needed to hold the box down if UPS comes when The Girl isn’t home.

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Yesterday was a holiday. I didn’t realize this until dinner time on Sunday night, in spite of the fact that I mentioned it on numerous client Facebook pages. But it was a nice surprise.

On three day weekends, I kind of split the difference between working and not working because there’s really not a day that I don’t work a little bit. I did a little bit of client work. Then I started to clean my office.

I haven’t worked in my office for about two months. At least. Part of the problem is that it is colder in that room than any other in the house. Another part of the problem is that there were shelves that kept my chair from rolling around freely, making it hard to back up far enough to access the power strip for plugging things in – things like my laptop and a space heater. So, yesterday, I fixed it.

I moved the shelves from behind my chair to under the window. I thought they would be slightly too tall, but they fit perfectly. And they are just right for Obi to stalk vicious leaves that blow up onto the outside sill.

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Oliver walked into the office, sniffed the sewing machine, scratched his chin on a box, and left. Obi had to bring him back in to show him the new shelves.

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After I moved the condo out, I put this box on my desk. It is the perfect size for a kitten.

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Or two.

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Russian Foodlette

Oliver hates pate.

Obi hates pate.

Don’t get me wrong; they’ll eat it. But they won’t be happy about it. And, because I love to make my kittehs happy, I don’t buy it. It is also a benefit to me because the chunky stuff comes out of the can easier. This is important because I feed the cats before I’m fully awake.

So imagine my surprise on Saturday when I opened a can and the food didn’t slide easily onto the plates. Pate. The dread pate.

I struggled to get the food on the plate and headed back upstairs to bed.

Then I realized…

There would be more.

The last time I went shopping for cat food, I bought a lot. Like, at least five cans of each flavor. So…there could be four more cans of the dread pate. Or there could have been one stray can of pate mixed into the good stuff.

So each morning we’ll pick a can…

We’ll pull the tab…

And time will tell…

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A kittaiku from Obi:

The Girl serves breakfast
The food plops down, texture free
Eat it anyway

Hand Off

The Boy and I went to the book store this afternoon. On our way back, we picked up some food from the grocery store. And when we got home, of course, Obi needed a belly rub.

As I was finishing the unloading of groceries, The Boy came into the kitchen with a gotten kitten. Obi likes when he is gotten – it makes him tall and he tries to get The Boy to go see interesting things while he is tall.

This time, though, The Boy wanted to cook dinner. He asked the brown kitten if he would get down. As I put some items on the stairs to the bedroom I said, “or you could wait for just a sec and we’ll do a hand off.”

Obi said he was not interested in a hand off. No no no no.

But he was, in fact, handed over to me and The Boy started cooking. Once Obi knew what a hand off was, he was actually okay with it. Only slightly less tall, he had a good vantage for dinner making.

After dinner, Obi jumped into The Boy’s lap. He sat there for an entire hour, looking very happy. Even Tail was happy…ish. Unfortunately for the comfortable brown kitten, The Boy doesn’t sit still for very long. Watching one program from start to finish without any side activity was as much as he could take.

He attempted a hand off.

Obi was not interested.

No no no no no.

Seriously

Why is this so funny?!

You have got to go check out my Pinterest board. I have the best kitteh pictures from the past couple weeks.

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Oliver is laying next to me and every once in a while he licks my side where my sweater has ridden up. I have to say that little kitteh tongue is the most best tickle in the world.

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It was cold and snowy today. I had to wear my winter coat for the second time this fall – which is wrong, as it is nearly December. I’m a little afraid of the upcoming winter when it finally gets here.

But cold days mean that I had help with my design work and Facebooking today. Oliver likes to lay next to me, with his elbow on my stomach. He insists on putting his front paws on my laptop. Often, one of those paws hits the trackpad and suddenly my screen zooms WAY in or WAAAAAY out. When that happens I slide my hands under his paw.

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He feels like he’s in control. I get some work done.

Does this qualify as micromanagement?

Naptime Savings Time

The Boy was gone all weekend. This meant more staying up late and sleeping in in the morning for Kitten Thunder and me. So when my mom wrote in with her Daylight Savings report: that Cousins Spade, Gracie and Jigger were up with her at 5 a.m., I had a much better report.

I got up, fed the kittehs in the dark, and we went back to bed.

Oliver loves this part of Sunday.

Obi, especially with The Boy gone, is tormented by Sunday. By the time I got up he was in frantic need of a belly rub. And a brushing. And some play time. Then he was ready for me to sit down with some coffee so he could nap on my lap.

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And a while later, Oliver came to find us. Then the napping got serious.

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And now the weekend is over, The Boy’s train show is done, and all will return to normal.

Which looks pretty much the same.

Cutting the Middle Man

Dinner is over, right? If you’re eating…stop.

Obi is trying a new strategy for growing minions. Since he hasn’t had any luck getting a life-giving bolt of lightning, he has decided to try growing them inside. Inside him. He gave up a gigantic ball of hair this afternoon – if I hadn’t seen it come out of him I would have thought it was Oliver’s.

It was exhausting. He plunked down next to it to recover. And he was none to happy when I swooped in with a paper towel and took his hard work away.

This evening he is back to a previous strategy: using the people as incubators. Both Oliver and Obi are dedicated to sending The Boy and I out into the world with mini-minions. Little brown and orange striped hairs made it all the way to the Vatican this spring. But with today’s setback, Obi decided to cut the middle man with his hairification of our clothing.

The Boy walked in on him “napping” on the ironing board.

We’ll see how this works out.

Weekend Snapshots

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Obi had his annual exam this week. Diagnosis: adorable. It must be terminal.

I had told him that Dr. Tiffany and Laura were coming to see him this time but we spent several minutes talking about Oliver. Obi lost interest and went to the belly rubbing rug. Tiff joined him there and let him play with her stethoscope while she checked his ears and eyes and teeth. He doesn’t even know he got two shots.

I was holding Oliver when they got to the house. We opened the door and watched them walk up. About the time they got to the porch, Oil recognized them. He launched himself off my chest. I have a paw sized bruise and four little punctures on my sternum.

Later, when I got him so Dr. Tiff could give him an allergy shot, he was fully aware that he received it. He fixed her with a look. She asked if they could be friends. He turned his head away. No.

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We are still living without counters. The Boy discovered that Kitten Thunder has been exploring the contents of the drawers, now uncovered. This includes the drawer where catnip was store. WAS stored. The baggy, now with a hole chewed in it, has been moved to a secure location.

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The Jeff Channel of OutTV has had more special programming as he paints the trim on his house. Next week the gutter people will return for a sequel. No spoilers!

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This photo was taken as Oliver was rolling around on the belly rubbing rug. No one was fooled. If you rub that white belly you get bit and kicked – that’s only fun for the grey kitten.

The attempt to trap the people came to an end, though, when Obi decided his brother needed a bath.

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