Tag Archives: dogs


Confession: The Boy and I weren’t home yet when I posted on Sunday. So there are more kittehs of Italy at the end of this post.

Lori, Best Kitteh-Sitter Evah, took great care of Kitten Thunder while we were gone. It wasn’t exactly easy. Winter decided to get in one more big storm, dumping ten inches of super heavy snow on Cheyenne. It must have been super heavy – it ripped a giant branch off one of our trees that was trimmed recently. Poor Lori had to drag the branch/log out of the street. Above and beyond.

She reported that she and the fuzzies had a routine involving a five minute brushing of Obi, then breakfast in the morning.

THEN breakfast!?! I can’t imagine howo unacceptable this was for Oliver. Oli doesn’t even think The Boy should waste time putting on pants in the morning before breakfast. And woe is The Girl who can’t find her glasses (because a cat knocked them off the nightstand) in the morning. She shall be verbally abused for the delay.

In the evening, Lori would return to watch some television. I left her a bag of treats to bribe the kittehs for affection. She has so bribed.

And on the weekend, Lori stayed at our house. Did I mention what a good kitteh sitter she is?

She’s a good girl. We’d rub her belly or scritch her ears if she wanted. Instead, we bought her gifts. Hopefully she prefers jewelry to inappropriate touching.


Kittehs of Italy!


This pretty girl was in Urbino. She showed us her doorway and asked if one of us might be so kind as to turn the knob and let her in. We did not so she asked the next group. And the next. As we turned out of sight she was talking to a priest about the doorknob situation.


This cat had the opposite problem. She wanted out. Or for someone to send up some sardines.


There’s no cat in this picture, just what I assume was a cat door in a palace. It was about a foot tall. I’d have had The Boy stand there for scale but just after I took this I realized that photography was not allowed.


Car alarms in Perugia are very sophisticatted. And okay with having their picture taken as long as you keep your distance.


This handsome boy was off duty in the piazza outside a chapel. If only he had been so kind as to tell us that it was his day off. And the chapel’s day off. We waited quite a while for a church that doesn’t open on Monday to open open open.

Dogs of Europe! Hey, we love the pooches, too. Not all of them got into the blog because there were dogs walking their owners everywhere we looked.


The dog of Split.


The bored dog of Mostar.


This is not a dog. I thought I had one more dog picture but I don’t. So, since I had to pick a picture…I thought this view in Dubrovnik was particularly special.


A Christmas Miracle, A Christmas Disaster

Oliver and Obi are as cute as ever this week, but since it is Thunder Thursday and I have two fantastic guest stories, Kitten Thunder is taking a break today. First, guest kittehs!

These kittens belong to a teacher that works at my mom’s school. She says it is their first Christmas.

Possibly their last.

Get ready...

Get ready…

Get set...

Get set…



I'm an ornament!

I’m an ornament!

Almost done...

Almost done…

Now we're done.

Now we’re done.

Mom seems mad.

Mom seems mad.


And for the dog lovers out there: the tale of ZuZu. On Facebook this week, a friend of a friend of a friend posted about a dog who was missing up in the mountains. She’d been out with her puppy-sister and owners and suddenly disappeared. They searched and searched but were forced to leave the mountain without their fuzzy.


The post was shared by hundreds of strangers, including me. I kept checking, hoping. But three days in a Wyoming mountain in December? Her only hope was if someone had picked her up and taken her to a town.

Or so I thought. ZuZu was found yesterday in the same spot she’d disappeared – cold, hungry and tired. But okay.

Get your tissues and give this a read.

Why we wash tomatoes…

"Hey look, The Girl brought me little toy balls. I wonder why she put them on the table."

"Oh well, they'll work up here."

"I'll play cowboy. First, you cut a few from the herd..."

"Then you single one out."

"He might get tricky and try to escape in the valley."

"WHAT?!? I'm not doing anything."

Poor tomato, abandoned on the floor.

And this is why we wash tomatoes before we eat them.

It’s Thunder Thursday! Today I bring you Troy’s puppy, Denali. As you can see, Denali lives the ultimate Rocky Mountain dog’s life. And Troy has a warped sense of humor.

As a puppy, meeting her first horse.

Taking a dip in the trough.

"Hey dad, couldn't you find a smaller stick?"

This week: Queen of the snow hill

Engage the Autolickemator

"Give me tuna or you will be destroyed. Eliminated!"

Oliver has very soft fur. So soft that it doesn’t actually register a sensation on your fingertips. My mom calls it linty soft fur. Fur like that takes a lot of work and dedication.

It is lucky that Oli likes to bathe.

It is lucky that he finally learned how.

Bathing, it turns out, is a learned behavior in cats. When Oliver was a baby they told me to wipe him with a damp cloth to teach him to bathe. I did so. Often. My lessons, though, didn’t seem to teach him anything other than to run from me when I was holding a washcloth. He didn’t like it. I didn’t like it.

To add to the issue, a washcloth is not a suitable replacement for the super duper dry cleaning wonderfulness of a cat’s tongue.

Although Poco wanted nothing to do with this grey intruder, she did finally put us all out of our misery. She pinned Oliver down and washed him head to toe. Miracle! Not only did Oliver figure out how to bathe but he figured out that he LOVES to bathe. He will lick himself soggy several times a day.

And though we all love The Boy, he does have cooties. Being petted by The Boy usually results in the need for an extra bathe. On a low cootie count day he might get by with a spot wash of the general petted area.

The other day, Oliver was laying with me on the couch for some quality snuggle time. He was purring. I was scritching his head. He was happy-squinting at me. I was sweet talking to him. Then it happened…

Oliver’s tongue shot straight out of his mouth. His mouth opened a little wider and his tongue waggled off to the side. With an alarmed look on his face, Oli jumped down to the floor. His tongue waggled to the other side of his mouth.

What. The. Heck?

Then Oli place his waggling tongue to his side and the bath was begun. Not even a good quality snuggle can come between a kitten and his bathtime. The autolickemator is set to go off at a regularly scheduled time.

As I said, soft fur requires hard work, dedication…and a mouth with a mind of its own.


It’s Thunder Thursday! Today I bring you Toby, my friend Kevin’s cocker spaniel.

"A happy dog is...well...a dog."

Toby loves me. I love the Tobers. Yet, I have never been asked to dog sit. I chalk this up to three reasons:

a) Toby, and his feline brother Katman, are pretty self sufficient with their doggie door and bowls of kibble.

b) Kevin is from Cheyenne and has family in town.

c) If I had half an hour alone with Toby he’d have a blue mohawk. His hair cries out for a cyan mo.

"A little aquanet and I'll be ready to rock."

Hold the Pickle

We had tuna for lunch today. It was Obi’s idea. Oliver and I went along with it – it seemed like a fine idea. And so it was.
As anyone with cats can tell you, the feline ear is built specifically for hearing a can opener. If you have an electric can opener all you have to do is rev it to find every cat in your household. Even, oddly enough, if you feed them from pop top cans. Even if you don’t feed them from cans at all.
We do not have an electric opener. But Oliver can hear the manual one from anywhere in the house. It makes him really mad when he comes all the way to the kitchen and I’m opening Spaghetti-O’s. He doesn’t like Spaghetti-O’s. He’ll hang around, though, thinking that maybe I’ll realize that he may be hungry as well. It has never worked out for him.
But today! Today it WAS tuna! I divided the tuna juice onto the two breakfast plates. Oliver licked his around the kitchen. Obi has figured out that if he puts his foot on his plate it doesn’t move. Then they licked the can (yay for the safety blade that makes this okay). Then they asked to lick the bowl I mixed my tuna salad in – earning me dirty looks and no licks because I ruined perfectly good tuna with mayo and pickles.

And that is what they remember: I ruined the tuna. I am the abuser of tuna.

Bad Girl.

Today’s Thunder Thursday is about Bisco, my friend Leigha’s pug.

"That's right, they're called DOGGLES."


"If these pictures show up on the internet, I'm piddling in your shoes."