Tag Archives: kittehs

Somebody’s Coming

A letter from Oliver:

Hello, peoples of the bloggy world. I am writing this, or having My Girl transcribe it, because it is very important that we stay on the couch.

Earlier today, The Boy was doing things in his office. Since My Girl was sleeping in the couch, Obi and I were free to help him.

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This condo for kittehs used to have books all over it and it wasn’t very useful. We like it better this way.

Obi also checked out some drawers and a cabinet The Boy was emptying. The Boy telling my brother he wasn’t actually being super helpful (which is a ridiculous assertion) woke up My Girl.

And that’s when the troubling part of the day started.

My Girl, after I showed her the newly emptied kitteh condo, went into her office and started moving things around. Garbage bags were filled. Recycling bins were taken out, filled, and taken out again.

It was a flurry of activity that means one thing: somebody is coming.

But who!?! The Boy’s office doesn’t need to be cleaned for company. Certainly not the kitteh condo.

Obi looked at me, nervous. I looked back at him.

And I panicked.

I went to My Girl and demanded answers. I got none. I went to The Boy and demanded answers. He told me to get out from underfoot.

I was so upset by what was going on, I somehow ended up in the basement and couldn’t find my people. I had to yell for help.

My Girl called and called and eventually I found her waiting for me at the top of the stairs. She suggested that we go sit for a minute on the couch and calm down.

So here we are, on the couch. If I try, maybe I can keep her here for forever.

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Mooch and Manners

Simon’s Cat has a new video out and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

I was kitteh sitting Sir Gabe and Princess Jenni this week. When I go over in the morning I like to treat myself to a McDonald’s breakfast. Gabe thinks I should treat him as well.

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He doesn’t believe me that the sausage I try to give him is what smells so good. Maybe he wants my McGriddle bun, but I don’t share that. A Girl has to have limits.

Sometimes people are like that. Kitten Thunder generally have good manners. Yes, they covet our meals from the floor or arm rest. But they don’t reach out and put a paw in our food.

Even when we do something really mean like NOT eat all our dinner and leave it sitting there, taunting them.

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Step Away

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This is as close as I’m allowed to get to Obi right now. Any attempt to be closer results in a warning glare. Then he prepares to run.

As you may know, I’m on the Cheyenne Animal Shelter board. We, on occasion, have our picture taken with our pets. Since Obi is my little mellow boy – and a graduate of the shelter – he gets the job.

This is what happened last time.

This time, we were a little smarter with our set up and each board member was scheduled for ten minutes rather than all of us showing up at once. We managed to get scheduled between little dogs.

Other than that “by the gazebo” means something different to every board member, it worked out well. Did you know there are a dozen gazebos in Lions Park?

Val didn’t run screaming when Obi and I got to the photography station. She remembered us, but didn’t seem terribly, permanently scarred by the experience. So we sat on the chair and got the instructions. My job was to sit still and look at the camera with a smile on my face. Val and Niki would get the cat to look at the camera.

Cats, or at least Obi, can not be enticed to look at a camera with squeaky toys, whistling, or kissy noises. But we did manage to get a picture where his face is turned toward the camera. He looked crabby. But he was crabby. We called it good.

Then, as I was standing there talking to them, Obi turned his face to look at Val. And she was ready. The camera snapped. And, miracle upon miracle, my eyes were open.

Obi and I came home.

Obi was mad but willing to be given treats if I set them on the floor and backed away. Oliver wanted to sniff him but Obi didn’t want HIM near him either. Oliver decided to be mad at me as a show of solidarity. I mentioned that if they were dogs they’d be excited to go to the part.

Glare. Do I just NEVER want to be forgiven?

Boxes

The world of a cat is full of boxes.

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There are the boxes you sit on when you’re watching your Girl clean and organize her workshop. She fills that box with little boxes. She does not appreciate when you chase runaway beads and herd them under The Boy’s bench. The Boy has not cleaned and organized HIS bench. Ever.

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There are the boxes that contain your catnip ball because The Girl got tired of getting it when it rolled under the couch. This box also keeps you from rolling away when the nip takes hold and smooths all your edges.

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And there’s the box you look out when your people decide to drink a beer on the porch. So rude. You tell them to come back in the house.

That’s the biggest box of all.

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!

Fun Sucker

Yesterday afternoon I needed something in the closet downstairs. Kitten Thunder was there to help. They were a little surprised when I was okay with this.
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And a little more surprised when I let Obi do this.
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And a little more surprised that I let him do this.
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Since I didn’t object to his being in the ceiling or walking the tight rope, Obi settled in for a nap a couple shelves above his brother.
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I went upstairs.

Kitten Thunder joined me a few minutes later.

The Girl’s approval sucks all the fun it off death defying feats.

J’accuse!

Alas, Kitten Thunder’s lives are ruined.

The fortress has been culled. Only two boxes, two pieces of packing paper and a packing tie remain.

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Oliver and Obi think I’m a jerk.

To add to the madness, I took the mat from under their litter box and hosed it off. It’s drying in the driveway. And their litter box is in the middle of the floor. TWO FEET from where it belongs. Where’s a kitten supposed to go?

Obi and Oliver think I’m a jerk.

Also, I mopped where their litter box belongs and cleaned the walls. They’ve been carefully building the aromas in that corner. All that work, gone. Do I know how hard it is to get poop two feet above the litter box? Seriously.

Oliver and Obi think I’m a jerk.

Oliver has drifted off to sleep in a sunbeam they forgot was behind the fortress. Hmm, not so bad.

Obi just came bad from the powder room and didn’t have to pick litter out from between his toes. Hmm, not so bad.

Well, maybe I’m okay. But Obi is going to rest behind me on the couch and let Tail slap me around a little.

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Tail is kind of a jerk.