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.

***

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.

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.

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

Or two.

Advertisement

Ceiling Cat

Clump. Clump clump. Scrape. Shuffle shuffle.

I was sitting on the exercise bike in the basement, putting some lotion on my hands and letting my hair dry a little bit after my shower when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of a kitten getting in trouble.

Then I remembered.

Before my shower I’d been in the hallway closet to find a shirt to wear. In went a grey kitten. In went a brown kitten. I shoved a whole bunch of clothes up against the sweater shelves, hoping this would be enough to keep Obi from climbing the “ladder” up into the ceiling.

Nope.

Except when I went to get Obi, he wasn’t in the section at the top of the ladder. He was standing on my clothes on the other side – evidently he’d crossed the closet and found a wide open space that ran the entire width of the basement. He’d also found a lot of dust bunnies.

I dragged him down, complete with his halo of dust and fuzz, and kissed his ears before setting him free.

Aw, Girl, not in front of the minions.

***

Obi went with me to have our portraits done for the animal shelter’s board photo this evening. It was outside and we were surrounded by dogs so there was no way I was going to attempt such a thing with Oliver.

Oliver says he is very handsome – I happen to agree – and that any photo would be better with him in it. To fluff his ego, here is his most striking close up. Or at least what he looks like when he’s laying on my chest while I’m blogging on my phone.

Welcome Home

So we got home from our camping trip on Monday. Our original plan was to come home on Sunday night, but we were really tired the week before when we got home at midnight…we thought a good night’s sleep and a drive home Monday was a better plan. We slept. We had breakfast. We rubbed Cousin Jigger’s belly.

And then, four hours later, we were home.

Oliver was starving to death. It had been A YEAR since Lori, bestest kitteh sitter in the world, had fed them. Or 18 hours. One of those. Regardless, food was his top priority.

After their meal, Kitten Thunder set to punishing us for being gone. Oliver settled on the dining room table where he could fix me with a hard glare. Obi, though, does not have such restraint. He needed his belly rubbed. And he really needed a good brushing. He danced around The Boy, trying to get his face brushed while The Boy tried to brush the back and belly.

Then Obi decided to do a little camping of his own in a pillow tent.

About an hour later, I was still being punished. Obi came to forgive me. Oliver saw this and ran across the house to shove the brown kitten out of the way – if I was to be forgiven, the grey kitten needed a snuggle.

Today I worked mostly from home. Mostly with a cat draped over my forearms. As I type this, there is a grey kitten on my arms and I can’t see the keyboard. Obi has taken his turns as well.

And if I have to get up to use the facilities (and oh, how I appreciate facilities after three days of unimproved wilderness)? Obi has that covered as well.

Chairy-y Pick

When we moved in to this house, The Boy’s table ended up in the dining room but it only had two chairs. The table in our breakfast nook, which is pine colored, has four chairs. Those chairs keep ending up in the dining room, screaming LOOK AT US NOT MATCHING IN THE ELEGANT DINING ROOM. And the yell that because they are also country.

So we’ve been thinking about chairs.

For almost three years.

This afternoon I was downtown for a meeting and had to walk by Carnival Antiques. She had chairs. On the sidewalk. That were the perfect price if not the perfect color. I have plenty of stain left from the shelves if I decide that they aren’t close enough to the right color.

I brought the chairs home and got the first one exactly four feet inside the door. Before this happened:

Eventually I made Oliver get off the chair so I could move it. Now it is afternoon nap time. Kitten Thunder usually goes upstairs to sleep on the cat shelf.

Not today.

The Girl done good.

How to Build a Fort

Step 1: Survey the build site.

Step 2: Clear the build site - but the kitten can stay.

Step 3: Strategically angle support structure for maximum usable space.

Step 4: Set up walls. The kitten will take it from here.

Step 5a: Check to see if the fort is big enough for two.

Step 5b: Decide it is not and chase off brother who is only mildly interested anyway.

Step 6: Knock walls down close to support structure to keep The Girl from joining you in the fort.

Step 7: Check the roof. The Girl, after all, is in communications not contracting.

Side note: Your fort should always have two entrances to allow for escape during a Thunder or if The Girl decides she wants to take your picture.

And finally: Relax and enjoy!

Today’s Thunder Thursday guest is our second dog – my friend Michelle’s pooch, Hazel. People at Michelle’s job think she does a lot of hard work, but we all know who is behind her success.

"Who moved the stapler?!? "

We provide our own siren.

Just like parents, it is hard for a cat’s people to hear him/her in pain or discomfort. Poco had asthma for over 20 years, but every attack made me stop and listen. I hoped it would be short. I hoped it would pass without too much pain. I hoped it would be only one attack.

Oliver has inverted sneeze, which sounds even worse than asthma when an attack comes. And since he can go months between them you can tell that Oliver is unsure what is happening. They are horrible. But they pass quickly.

Usually, they pass quickly.

"This is the face of discomfort."

On Sunday, Oliver had an inverted sneeze. It didn’t last long. A while later he was in the condo and I went to take his picture. I noticed he was a little wheezy. Then, later that night, he started to cough.

The coughing came in spurts – one cough every 40 seconds or so for several minutes. Then he’s put his head back down and nap. By bedtime he was still coughing but between he was having trouble swallowing. Neither of us slept well.

I did the math and realized it’s been several months since we’ve been to the vet.

So we were due.

Oliver wanted to eat on Monday morning. This is a good sign. When he doesn’t want to eat we throw him in the carrier and call the vet on the way there. The grey kitten loves his food. Unfortunately, his throat hurt so bad that when I went back to the kitchen to check on him he was just licking the gravy off the food.

I dialed the phone. The vet had an appointment at 2:30 p.m., which I took and I thought in relief about how much cheaper that was going to be that squeezing him in on a “same day” visit.

I hung up.

I saw Oli gag.

I called back and told them we were on our way in. Oliver wasn’t so sick that he couldn’t scream his fool head off the entire way there.

They have another new doctor – he’s tall and seems to “get” cats. Oliver would have liked him had the new doctor not been trying to pry open his mouth to examine his throat. Next time, maybe.

And the verdict? Allergies.

Good grief, kid.

He’s on his way back to fine. Prednisone, our drug of choice, for the allergies. An antibiotic just in case because he had a mild fever.

"Beware the dragon, for you are tasty and about to disturb the kitten's nap."

Why this picture? Because no blog is complete without Obi, right?