The couch, we lives there

In preparation for the floor guys, I folded all the blankets we have in the living room. The quilt folded and draped on the back of the couch gave Obi a new opportunity. 

Quilt pod monster.

Today, Obi laid across the tops of both of my arms while I worked on the laptop on the couch. He stretched. He purred. He napped. 

For hours.

He’s getting good at this snuggling thing.

But Oliver is still the master.

 

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An Ocean of Cute

There are so many things that make Kitten Thunder cute. Little things. Things that can’t be stretched into a blog. Like right now when Obi is under the recliner and Oliver is on the rug – they are reaching out to each other, touching paws.

Then Oli leaves and there are just four black paws sticking out from the front of the chair.

And when Oliver takes a bath he is very thorough. He chews on his toe tips to get them really clean. It makes his nose wrinkle up. I love that.

Obi is coming down with a cold. He doesn’t just sneeze. He sneezes eight times in a continuous chain. And when he is done his fur has been shaken to full fluffy. I love that.

When Oliver wants to be picked up he stands up on his back feet and scratches on my pants pockets. Then I lift him, by the armpits, over my head and kiss his belly before holding him. He loves that. Then, if The Boy comes near, Oli will lean back so he is being held by both of us. We love that.

Obi loves his belly rubs from The Boy. But they aren’t just belly rubs. Obi will walk around the room, chin marking the things he values. The Boy. The coffee table. The other corner of the coffee table. The Boy. The recliner. The doorway. The Boy. And me.

When I rub Obi’s belly, it very quickly becomes a flurry of kicking and biting. But biting mingled with kisses so I know that he loves me.

Obi now reads over my shoulder while we work. He’s beginning to like sharing his chair.

Both cats Super Nap. That is what we call it when they stretch their front arms out as far as they can while they sleep.

Who doesn’t love a Super Nap?

For the love of a bear

I’ve struggled with whether to tell you this because it is a little more grown up that my usual posts. But, well, it is funny.

As you know, Oliver has a stuffed animal named Mr. Bear. He loves that bear.

No, really. He loves the bear.

Loves. Him. In an adult, kind of uncomfortable to be in the room with them kind of way. Which is fine except he has a tendency to call us, bring Mr. Bear to wherever we are, and give that bear some sensual massage.

It is a weird thing. Oliver was fixed very young, so this love is all in his mind. I guess that is what I get for introducing him to a handsome sweater-wearing bear at a young age.

That's Mr. Bear's foot, bigger that Oliver when they were first introduced. Oli is laying with Mr. Cow. We've been very creative with the names. His other stuffed animal is Puppy.

And who am I to judge what goes on between two consenting fuzzies?

***

It’s Thunder Thursday! Today we bring you Candy and Bubbles, the kittens of my latest bloggy friend, Lima.

After the video cuteness, there is more to the story.

Happy Valentine’s to Oliver

The Boy and I don’t really celebrate today’s holiday, fondly called Single’s Awareness Day in our house. But Kitten Thunder got extra love.

It started at lunch time. I woke up this morning with dark circles under my eyes, so dark it looks like someone punched me. By lunch I was melting. It was definitely time for a nap. Oliver was happy to help.

Back at work this afternoon, Obi snuggled in my lap. He was laying on his back with his feet in the air so I could rub his belly. At one point I realized he was late for the afternoon nap. When I looked down, though, he was snoozing with his chin on his chest.

The Boy came home from work to find Oli and I under a blanket on the couch. More snuggle for the grey kitten.

Three naps later, I am still tired. Stupid cold. But Oliver thinks this will end up being the perfect wrap up to the holiday. Nothing says love like fuzzy pajamas and calling it an early night. That, and a furry purr face.

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?

Cling On, Cats. Not to be confused with Klingon Cats.

I’m pretty sure this is one of only a few funny parts of HOP:
     Easter Bunny: The EGG of DESTINY can only be wielded by a bunny.
     Evil Chick: Look, I’m wielding it. I’m wielding it AGAIN!

The Boy wielded the magic toy making stick this evening and produced two flat leopard skin mousies, the teddy bear mouse, a milk ring, and $3 toy designed to act like a milk rink, a squeaky ball…and enough cat hair to knit ourselves a kitten. Obi was very excited. Then he was overstimulated. He ended up piling them all together so he could just lay on them.

Then The Boy threw them all over the living room. Obi went back to playing with the tiny fuzzy that has been out all week. It’s about the size of a dime but don’t underestimate it. That fuzzy is wily. It requires vertical pounces of at least a foot and a half (while fluttering your feet like a ballerina, for some reason).

"Any minute, a tuna will come by and I will pounce. What does a tuna look like, anyway?"

The world of Facebook confirms that cats from everywhere have been especially clingy this week. Kitten Thunder was no exception. When I sat, someone sat with me. On me. By my head on the back of the couch. With their wet nose in my ear. Or up against my nose for some EYE CONTACT.

When I went down to my work bench there was Thunder. But small scale Thunder that never went where they couldn’t see me. For a while, they were gone. Then I glanced into the spare room and saw the reflection of eyes watching from the bed. At one point Oliver came walking purposefully to where I sat in the banana chair, climbed into my lap and about broke my nose with the hug-headbutt he delivered. The Boy came down shortly after to make sure I’d been found – Oli had been upstairs wailing because I was lost.

For the past few nights, shortly after lights out, Oliver has started the “where did everyone go? Why am I alone?” cry on the main floor. I usually break down and call him. And remind him we’re where we are EVERY night. The ecstatic purr I get when he finds me just adds to how ridiculous this is.

Last night there was no yowling. Because Obi and Oli followed me upstairs to read.

And now? I left two cats on the love seat in the living room when I came in to blog. Obi is in the condo. He’s looking the other way, but I can feel him watching me with his flipped around ears. And Oli has moved four feet so he can see me by putting his head on the armrest of the couch.

I guess I should be grateful for the attention. I’ll miss it some day when Kitten Thunder doesn’t need their mama.

**A side note: Did you know the world’s largest bar made of solid jade is in Medicine Bow, Wyoming? SO smelling a road trip this weekend!

**A second side note: Since I said the word “Klingon” in my title I really wanted to say “Obi hates zebra cows” in that language. Why? Well, because it would be funny. And because Obi kept throwing a little plastic cow – don’t ask ME why he has stripes – off The Boy’s workbench this weekend. No translator will tell me how to say “Obi hates zebra cows.” So instead, I give you what he said to me when I paused in my metal working to tell him to get off The Boy’s bench: “mupwI’ yI’uchtaH!”

Spell check? Thinks I misspelled that.