What’s Ridiculous

Oliver was stomping on me after work last night. Since he was never going to make a decision on where to lay, I made it for him. You might think he would object to being knocked over and pulled to my side.

You’d be wrong. He stretched out like this for ten minutes while I rubbed his belly and scritched his armpits. But then I got the camera out.

And he stretched.

And ended with his legs together. Like a gentleman.

Obi thought this was ridiculous. You know what else is ridiculous? The complete lack of millers in this house. We worked at it for an hour and only attracted one to the porch – which I did manage to get inside – and he only lasted for ten minutes.

Ridiculous.

 

 

Advertisement

Miller time!

The miller moth has returned to Wyoming! As of this week even Cousin Spade, in the western corner, finally has some to chase. He’s been stalking the door for weeks.

Obi is having a great time hunting this week. He has an interesting new strategy where he catches a moth and runs it to the cave in the living room. I don’t know if this is so we can watch, which would be quite considerate of him, or because he likes to keep everything in his cave.

Once the miller is in the cave, Obi and Oli sit outside and wait. They pounce on it whenever the miller attempts to leave the cave. The result is, unfortunately for me, that there’s a pile of moth carcasses under the sheet when I move it to do sit ups or fix up the cave.

Obi has been removing books from The Boy’s bookcase as he tries to climb it in an attempt to get to high flying moths. Trying to help, I picked him up and lifted him over my head. He was inches from a miller. Of course, he didn’t see it.

Oliver saw me holding Obi and immediately started pulling on my belt loops, insisting on his turn. Poor grey kitten. I could hold Obi straight up over my head for hours. But Oli’s extra four pounds and super long body make it hard to even get him to the ceiling.

Oliver may also remember how Poco and I hunted millers. I could just toss her toward a bug and she would grab it, flying through the air, and have it eaten before she landed on the floor.

My sweet grey boy has no skills. He has no athleticism.

He has no millers.

There was a brown kitten…

There was a brown kitten who found him a fly.
I dunno why he could find that fly,
It’s not July.

There was a brown kitten at the top of the bed,
He wiggled and jiggled and pounced up beside us.
He’d run to the bed to catch the fly.
I dunno why he could find that fly,
It’s not July.

There was a brown kitten who batted lamp shades;
What a delight, to fight with the light!
He batted the shade after jumping on the bed;
He wiggled and jiggled and pounced up beside us.
He’d run to the bed to catch the fly.
I dunno why he could find that fly,
It’s not July.

There was a brown kitten who slapped The Boy;
He slapped, I guess, at the fly but he missed!
He slapped The Boy after batting the shade;
He batted the shade after jumping on the bed;
He wiggled and jiggled and pounced up beside us.
He’d run to the bed to catch the fly.
I dunno why he could find that fly,
It’s not July.

There was a brown kitten…
He caught a fly…
No kisses for him…
‘Til some time goes by.

***

It’s Thunder THUNder ThunDER Thursday! Today? Some LOL cats that made me giggle. Yes, I KNOW one of them isn’t a cat.

Cats are gross.

I warned you.

I got home tonight and took a deep breath. Ooh, did I miss a litter box cleaning? Why yes, yes I did forget to clean the litter box on Tuesday while I was sick and having to sit at my desk fighting Adobe over software. Stinky. And someone left me a gift outside the box to indicate their displeasure about my tardiness.

So I cleaned it.

Oliver came up to great me with goopy allergy eyes. He feels better but his eyes still get runny.

So I cleaned them.

I plunked down on the couch just in time to look into the dining room and see Obi vomiting. And walking. And vomiting. And walking. And vomiting. Then, to mix things up, he walked backward while vomiting.

So I cleaned it up.

Oliver, my poor put-down upon grey kitten, also has chin acne. He thinks it feels wonderful to have me scratch it with my fingernails. But then I have kitten zits under my fingernails.

So I cleaned them.

Finally, I sat down on the couch again. A grey kitten snuggled into my lap and looked up at me with the ultimate purr face. A brown kitten started kneading the couch behind my head. Then he bent low enough to give me a kitty-kiss on the temple before settling in for a nap. One brown paw rested gently on my shoulder.

Cats are awesome. And so worth it.

***

It’s Thunder Thursday! Today we bring you a kitten from across the pond. Kitalpha belongs to Holly of The Aluminium Foiled My Plans. Don’t worry about the mouse in the video. He wins.

Things that go bump (thump thump) in the night

Well, if you’re following social media in and around Cheyenne you know that the miller season is in full swing. Suddenly. Last night. We went from one or two millers and evening to clouds of them.

My favorite part of miller season is that it turns cute little sparrows into fierce predators. The sparrows fly around intersections – where the millers are attracted to the lights – like fighter planes. As you’re waiting at the light you can watch a sparrow pin a miller to the ground and yank at legs and wings like hungry kids at a barbecue.

We’d lost Obi for a while last night and I went searching for him to assure myself I hadn’t let him out by accident. He was upstairs. Watching. I saw the miller on the ceiling and came back downstairs. A little while later, Obi was down in the living room with us. He’d caught the miller and brought it to Oliver for a game.

Later, when we’d all gone to bed, Obi wasn’t settling down. He thumped and bumped around in the darkness for hours. He shuffled the miniblinds. He ran from one side of the house to the other. He launched himself off the headboard.

Then he was up on that half wall by the staircase. Then there was a loud thump. Then…nothing. The Boy and I, discussing it this evening, had both listened for the cries of a broken kitten.

Let that be a lesson to you, Kitten Thunder: if you’re going to get injured, be sure to remain conscious so you can let us know you need help.

Otherwise, we’re going back to sleep.

And now for Thunder Thursday! I bring you Annabelle, my friend Libby’s sweet tortie.

A close up of Annabelle's sweet tortie face.

* * *

Pots, like boxes, are purrrrfect for cats.

* * *

Well, not ALL pots.

The Mouse on My Desk, the Mouse in My House

The Boy has gone to Indianapolis. I have so much attention from Kitten Thunder it’s almost annoying. Right now, Obi is rolling on his back on the desk. Under the monitor shelf. There goes a pencil. And a pen. And a CD. Plus, there’s a big furry tail on my keyboard.

As I was typing the last paragraph, Obi sat up and started swatting at my mouse. He is horribly affronted by my “no!” as I placed the mouse in my lap.

In other news, Mr. Bear made it out to the living room last night but tonight when I got home he was back in the hall. I can only assume he saw whatever show he needed to see on TV and is working his way back to the office.

This week in the blogoverse, Aluminum Foiled My Plans had a post about her cat and a mouse. And so, the story of Poco, Oli and the mouse:

As I’ve said before, Oliver had to be bottle fed when he first came to live with Poco and I. Since moving to Cheyenne Poco had become an indoor cat but I let her go “out” in the garage. One morning I let her “out” and sat down on the couch with Oliver and his bottle.

A few minutes into his feeding, Poco walked into the living room and came straight to us. She gave us a look like, “well, if he’s staying we mights as well see what the kid’s got.” Then she dropped a mouse at my feet.

**We break in to this story to talk briefly about the mice of Wyoming. Evidently, elsewhere, mice are huge. Here they are about the same size as a toy mousie and very cute. Not that that makes it okay for your cat to bring one into the living room. Back to the story.**

I had a kitten and a bottle and I was struggling to get them set down so I could deal with the mouse situation. Poco knew the look on my face and grabbed the mouse before I could take away her prize. I snatched her up and carried her out onto my front sidewalk.

There, we did the shake. Not much to explain really, I leaned over so Po was almost on the ground while growling, “drop it. DROP it. Drop IT.” She growled back and held on. But eventually the mouse fell to the ground. I am a very persistent shaker – Stoney and I used to argue for hours about whether he was going to eat a bird or whether I was going to take the carcass to my art professor for extra credit. I reeeeally like getting A’s.

The mouse, a little soggy from his ride in a kitten mouth, opened an eye. He twitched his whiskers. One arm moved. His tail flicked. After several minutes it seemed to dawn on him that – against all odds – he was alive. Alive! And then he was off, down the driveway and across the street.

This is when I realized I was standing in the middle of my front yard in a strappy little satin nighty.

Stupid cat.

Return of the Moth, Man.

And it begins…

Last night, I received a text from The Boy about Kitten Thunder. They were watching a miller by the front door. I, as it happened, was having an argument with a miller in the garage of my old house. Seems he wanted to be wherever I was sweeping.

Miller season has arrived.

Pretty. Tiny. Tasty.

Millers, in case you are unfamiliar, are small brown moths that migrate from somewhere east of here to somewhere west of here in early summer. Then they come back in late summer. At least those who weren’t eaten by cats come back. Miller season for cats is like some-big-dumb-tasty-trophy-animal-that-invites-you-to-shoot-it season for hunters. It is something they look forward to all year.

In fact, Cousin Spade is already looking for millers every time my dad opens the door. They are four hours further west. And these millers are early.

Millers are actually very pretty when you take a close look at them. But they can wear on your patience. For one thing, they are attracted to light. Great because it is easy to attract them for the cats. Not so great because when you go to bed they are attracted to the light on the clock. Imagine the flutter of dusty wings in your face. Imagine the sound of them flittering by in the dark. Imagine a 14 pound cat leaping from the headboard to catch the one that has landed on your chest.

Ssssh, The Boy doesn’t know this is coming.

Last night as I was taking out my contacts, Kittens were Thundering under the bed. They were together. So I thought each was the cause of the other’s Thunder. Then, as I was brushing my teeth I noticed Obi tucking the loose ends of my pillow under.

I brushed.

I watched.

My brow furrowed. The Boy asked why.

I spit. Then, “I think Obi is shoving a bug under my pillow.”

And indeed he was. It’s going to be a long summer.