Tag Archives: rivalry

Smell-o-vision Rivalry

Last week, Cheyenne had some cold weather. Cold, even, by our standards. We spent about three days with temperatures that never rose above zero. Cold, I say.

So on Friday, I was a little bit surprised to find I was breaking a sweat in the car as I drove across town. A quick glance at the temperature gauge revealed that it was FIFTY degrees. A-mazing!

I finished my errands and rushed home. As soon as the requisite belly rubbing was done, I opened a window.


Mmmm, smell-o-vision. A cat can forget how wonderful Out smells.

I went upstairs to find Oliver and open a window for him. Laying on the loveseat in the reading nook, he was not interested in moving to the cat shelf. I picked him up and moved him anyway.


Aaaaah, glorious smell-o-vision. Thank you, Girl, for forcing me to move.

Oliver didn’t have much time to enjoy his smell-o-vision before the brown kitten arrived upstairs. And smell-o-vision became…



Favorite people

Kitten Thunder loves both their people, but there are always going to be favorites. Oliver, obviously, prefers me because we’ve been together longer and I don’t have cooties. Obi has known The Boy as long as he has known me and they have a special understanding about belly rubs and when the brown kitten wants to be tall.

This doesn’t mean that Oliver won’t lay with The Boy to read. And sometimes Obi needs The Girl to kiss his ears or play a silly game with him.

But last night, at snuggle time, something interesting happened. I found myself alone on the love seat.

And alone in being awake.


Pointing fingers

I’d like to point out that I am at home with the kittens all day. I rub their bellies. I share my lunch. I hold them in my lap and let them watch the typey light box thing. Oh, and I – only I – scoop their litter boxes.

That said, The Boy was in the kitchen tonight making a grilled cheese sandwich. He’d gotten out the sliced Swiss cheese and put it on the bread. The crinkle of the Swiss cheese package brought a brown kitten running into the room. I, me, The Girl, got the shredded cheese out of the refrigerator.

I told Obi that I would give him some cheese. After all, I said, I was his favorite.

Obi yowled. Making eye contact with me, he raised a paw and pointed to The Boy. I kid you not.  That little brat actually contradicted me and said that The Boy was his favorite.

He got the cheese anyway.

The Boy, trying to mend bridges, told me I was most definitely Obi’s favorite girl in the whole house.

What. Ev.