Tag Archives: kitten

OutTV: Frontier Nights

Kitten Thunder is enjoying special OutTV programming this week: Cheyenne Frontier Days. It’s ten days of rodeo, concerts, parades and other events. At the old house we were only part of the Air Force Thunderbirds, flattening my cats to the ground every time a plane zoomed overhead.

The new house, though, is only blocks from the park. So OutTV has featured cars in search of free parking, the drunken Kid Rock concert goer who couldn’t find his car afterward at though his friend on the phone should be more help, and lots of sirens going by for various reasons.

It is only day three so I offer you the most interesting fact of OutTV so far: Charlie Daniels Band? WAY louder than Jason Aldean AND Kid Rock. Go figure. Seriously, I can understand the words. So… FREE CONCERT!

Oh, how he suffers.

The Boy is gone on a trip right now. It has been 36 hours since Obi has had a proper belly rubbing. And, oh, how he suffers.

And thus, how we all suffer.

This morning Oliver and I were laying on the couch like we always do in the morning. About the time The Boy should have been making my coffee, Obi walked to the middle of the room and plopped down.

“ME!” He yelled.

You see, usually my coffee delivery is postponed because Obi convinces The Boy it is time for the belly rub. Obi runs out to the rug and gets into position, belly exposed, and The Boy comes in and works his magic. They pet and roll and brush and purr. Then I get my coffee.

This morning there was no Boy. There was also no coffee but you don’t see me throwing myself to the ground in a tizzy, now do you? Of course…how would you know if I had? But I DIDN’T.

I’ve done my best to fill in. The problem is that I am The Girl. And The Girl is good for playing and comforting. Those are my jobs. So when I rub the belly it turns into The Claw with biting and scratching and kicking (and kisses to assure me that we’re still playing).

We did manage to get one brush full of hair removed from his coat. We feel pretty good about that.

Tomorrow, though, The Boy will be coming home to three happy mammals. Obi will get his belly rubber back. I will no longer be in charge of the belly rubbing. And Oliver’s snuggles will not be interrupted again.

Zensai, as always, really couldn’t be convinced to care less.

***

It’s Thunder Thursday! On Tuesday, Cousin Puck’s girl sent me a picture of her poor, miserable fuzzy. Puck is a prime example of Feline Heat Index: Too Hot.

"Set the A/C on frosty, please."

The Feline Heat Index

“Hey.” I sit up in bed. Two kittens, serenading me from the shelf where our toothbrushes are plugged in, stop singing and look over at me. The jump down and run to the bed. Four front paws – two snowy white and two stripey brown – come up on the edge of the bed and two adorable kitten faces pop up behind them.

“Shut.” I say, pointing to Oliver.

“Up.” I say, pointing to Obi.

They look disappointed. I noticed that as I plopped back down to the pillow. But last night was the first night in a week that it had cooled down enough to sleep comfortably. See, in Cheyenne there’s only five days out of the year where you really need air conditioning. And this? This is day eight.

The humans are not pleased. And this morning, Kitten Thunder decided that they wanted to be fed early. Like before it was light out early. And they launched a dedicated, widely varied effort of Girl annoyance.

The kittens are suffering too. They do, after all, have heavy fur coats and it doesn’t much matter if they’re naked underneath.

How do I know they’re uncomfortable? I’m trained to read the Feline Heat Index:

Generally seen in Wyoming winter - October through April - the Cold FHI keeps the core compact for heat conservation.

As temperatures rise, the core of the cat expands both for optimum heat exchange - solar in, hair out.

When the FHI reaches hot, cats will stretch to full length to make it easier for heat to escape. This does not negate their need for a sunbeam.

At too hot FHI levels, your cat's spine will start to pop in the effort to stretch beyond capacity. Be nice and put some ice in the water dish. Ice cream would be lovely, thank you. And - hey! - has that ceiling fan always been there?

As I sat in the living room, dripping, The Boy came in a turned on the ceiling fan. Hey…we have a ceiling fan! Honestly, I’d forgotten. So had Oliver. Over and over and over. And over.

And over.

The first night we had it on he walked into the room and hit the deck. “What is that thing!?!” He jumped up on the couch with me and flinched as he looked up. “What is that thing!?!” He dozed off. Then woke with a start. “What is that thing!?!” He took a bath and stopped in a panic, mid-lick. “What is that thing!?!” He Thundered and was toppled by Obi when he stopped short at the rug. “What is that thing!?!”

Whatever that thing is, it feels great to lay under. Nice breeze. Favorite show on OutRadio. And The Girl is just about to – “What is that thing!?!”

How to Build a Fort, Part 2

There are numerous ways to build a fort and endless design possibilities.

This alternative fort features many benefits such as maximum floor monster space for protecting the fort.

Positioning near the couch and loveseat allow for easy protection against brothers with laser eyes.

Three sides with exits, plus the floor monster chute, make a quick getaway easy when The Girl gets out the camera.

Battle! Obi vs. the Wolf Spider

Laying on the floor. Stretch.

The Girl walks in. “Obi, you want to help me get my pajamas on?”

Sure. Stretch. Follow The Girl down the stairs.

The Girl stops and puts finger near wall. “Look, Obi Wan, a big ol’ wolf spider.”

Look at finger. Look at finger. Look at finger as The Girl taps the wall. Hey! There’s a spider on the wall!

Jump at the spider, fall to the floor. Jump at the spider, fall to the floor. Jump at the spider, fall to the floor. Jump at the spider and grab him on the way down to the floor.

He runs away! He turns and comes back! Aaaaaaaah! Jump out of the way.

Smack the spider. Look at paw. See spider on the floor. Smack the spider.

Where’s the spider? Jump back.

Where’s the Spider! Jump to side.

WHERE’S THE SPIDER!?! Jump three times in a circle.

The spider is on the floor, rolled into a ball. Smack the spider.

Declare victory and strut down the hall. Come on, Girl, let’s get those pajamas.

*****

It’s Thunder Thursday! I have some really good options for guest fuzzy this week, but I just have to show you this video. This cat, Sadie, is a hero. She is calm in the face of imminent threat. And her boy is very lucky to have her. Watch her eyes when he coos – that is the look of suppressed panic.

Real Thunder. And Kitten Thunder.

I’ve been planning a blog post all day in my head. Then this happened.

It took me twice as long as usual to drive home. For one thing, I could barely see. For another, people were making questionable shelter choices. Like the idiot who decided to wait out the storm in an underpass – next to an already flooded drainage – because he didn’t want hail to hit his precious Hummer. And a whole bunch of people parking under our 100 year old cottonwood trees that drop branches on a sunny day. Um, no. I kept going.

The result of the storm was about 100 dimples (Divots? Dents? Horrific canyons?) in my hood and on the roof of my car. And three places where pieces of my car are actually missing. Sigh. But it makes a good story.

After arriving home and sitting in the driveway waiting for the hail to at least get smaller than ping pong balls, I finally made it into the house. Kitten Thunder met me at the door. Oliver was fuh-reaking out. He wanted to be held. Obi wanted to show me what was happening on OutTV.

The storm passed and The Boy got home so we ventured out to see the damage. There’s a lot, but other than our cars there’s nothing valuable that is lost. I was a week away from peas and tomatoes…not so much any more. Oliver was NOT happy that we were in the Out. To calm him, I went inside and turned on the TV.

That’s when the TV flashed a tornado warning. I tried to get The Boy, but he was down the block. I sent him a text. Not too worried – the funnel clouds were to the east – I turned and looked at Kitten Thunder. “You want to go downstairs, boys?”

Yes. They did.

Faster, please.

Once I was settled in a chair and watching, coincidentally, a program on the Weather Channel about storm chasers in Wyoming, Oliver paced between me and the bottom of the stairs. The Boy arrived. Oli was content.

For the next 20 minutes, Kitten Thunder tried to convince us they needed to be airbrushed. Of course my camera was upstairs so I don’t have the very cute picture of them sitting together in the paint station. I’m pretty sure that’s why they did it.

The TV continued to beep in with warnings of flash flooding, tornadoes and severe thunderstorms. The watches and warnings are pretty common here on the high plains and most people I know were probably outside looking at the weather. But Oli doesn’t know that. So he did what the TV said and went to take shelter in his windowless box in an interior room. I also don’t have a picture of that.

Things are calm now. We have occasional big rain. Obi caught a miller moth. The Boy is reading in the living room. And Oliver is passed out from the effort of being a nervous grey kitten who is in charge of keeping the household safe.

Good job, grey kitten. Sleep well.

I ran off Rendezvous Mountain…

So this was totally supposed to be what my post was about today.

I was going to be way off topic, but on Wednesday I found out that I was going to get to go parasailing in the Tetons for work. And off topic is one thing. Getting to do something awesome and tell you guys about it – with video from our helmet cam, no less – is way off topic in a sooooooo awesome way.

But…

There were 30 mph winds at the peak and evidently the argument “wind schmind” is not good enough to talk the professionals into taking us anyway. Sheesh.

So instead I watched my friends try out the new mountain bike park (that’s why we were there, after all), took a billion pictures (why I was there, in particular), watched kids learn about mountain climbing, ate a ton of great food, took a tram to Rendezvous Mountain’s top (yep, windy), ate some more great food, hiked to Phelps Lake, and passed out every night from splendid exhaustion.

We also went to cool places and hiked a little more on the way to and from Teton Village, but I’m too tired to tell you about it. So I leave you with this: trust your vacation to Jackson Hole Mountain Resort. Even a couch potato like me can have a fantastic weekend in their hands.

And, to get back on topic, I bring you two sleepy kitties. These are from the archives…I’m ready to plop onto the evil couch and let it easy my tired body.

"I just need to catch about 40 winks to get ready for bed..."

"I need to catch up on my cute-y sleep."

Purr Therapy

I have a good life. I do. I’ve got the love of a good man, a roof over my head, a back-up roof (now under contract, woo hoo!), and a job that – if nothing else – pays for me to have both those roofs.

But sometimes the little things in life pile up. Sometimes a girl just has to cry to let the weight go.

Like today at lunch time.

"Is it over?"

Poor Obi was just getting his belly rubbed when all of a sudden the tears started coming. Of course he was concerned, but purr therapy is in the job description of the Chief Executive Kitten. Obi purred at me. He hug-butted me. He went to the end of the couch and looked desperately for Oliver. Then he came back to me.

Eventually, Oliver showed up to take over. Oliver is probably the best purr therapist I have ever had. He is very calm and just lays beside me and purrs. Once in a while he’ll pat my face or kiss my chin. And the hugs come steadily. It really works quite well.

And, of course, since he is a professional there is always follow up care. Every time I’ve been sitting down this evening he has been in my lap. An extra purr to support the initial therapy.

The things that were wrong this morning are still wrong this evening. But I feel better now.

Oliver is taking a long nap before bedtime – purr therapy is hard work.

It’s Thunder Thursday! This week’s guest fuzzy is Dot. Dot is the head salespuppy at Deselms Fine Art here in Cheyenne. She belongs to my friend Harvey. The art – including mine if I can get my backside into the workshop – and Dot make a visit to the gallery worthwhile whenever you are in Cheyenne.

"Just how 'still' do I have to be for this painting?"

Hello, my name is The Girl…

…and I am a nip enabler. Both of my furry sons are nipheads.

That’s right. They are on The Nip.

And I get it for them.

Why? Because it is HIGH-larious.

In this video, an movie of epic length at four minutes 44 seconds, you’ll see it all. It is a classic tale of two brothers, torn apart by drugs and then brought back together when they lose it all. You decide if The Boy is a hero or a villain in his role.

You also get to hear my giggle my weird giggle because Kitten Thunder is fun to watch on The Nip. Obi gets silly. Er. And Oli become seriously lovey. Which is why a grey tail keeps passing by the camera. Oh, and all bad camera work can be attributed to a grey kitten hugging the videographer.

Enjoy this piece we call…NipHeads.

Forts and trees and a Mean Kitty

So, how did everyone enjoy their forts this weekend? Holly, of The Aluminum Foiled My Plans fame, pointed out a video from The Mean Kitty to me this week. I’ve been a big fan of The Mean Kitty for a long time but had stopped following Mr. Safety‘s work after he got married and stopped doing it for a while. Turns out, though, he’s been doing a lot of work I’ve missed. Including, wouldn’t you know it…a fort. This week.

To this I say…maybe our breakfast nook needs boxes again. Oh, and petcentric.com? Sponsor us! We have hundred of fans! And that’s no typo.

The Boy and I figured out what Oliver is allergic to this week. I was thinking it was weird that he’s turning eight years old this month and this is the first time he has had any issues at all. We were bending our brains trying to figure out what is different in this house. And then it hit us. Cottonwoods.

If you are unfamiliar with the Cottonwood Tree, they are a big deciduous tree that sends out seeds this time of year. In the form of a cotton that floats down from the tree and drifts and gathers. It’s like snow in the summer.

When Cheyenne was founded the whole town had 12 trees. The ladies who came with their rancher husbands were not pleased. So they did something about it. They went around the region and found trees that grew well in the area – including Cottonwoods from Nebraska – and they planted them here. Then they took care of them. The women would send their husbands back to work after lunch with the pail of washwater they’d used that morning and the men would water the trees along the way. Then the kids would bring back the empty pail on the way home from school. Now, Cheyenne is a Tree City USA.

Now, Cheyenne gets drifts of “cotton” in July.

But not in my old neighborhood – I had spruce trees. Even though this house and my house are the same age, this house was built in a historic district where the tradition of Cottonwoods has been going since the 1800’s. My house was built in a new neighborhood in 1940, and by then there were so many more options for trees that no one wanted the same ol’ Cottonwoods.

So the mystery is solved.

Oliver is doing better. His eyes are watery and he has sneezing fits and he looks as miserable as all my human friends who have allergies. But he doesn’t sound like he’s on the brink of death. I’ll take that.