Box-a-Palooza!

The Boy is very picky about his work shoes – they have to look nice with slacks but stand up to walking through construction sites. He found a pair that he liked last week, but not in the color he needed, so he had to have them shipped to him.

They came in a box. That was in a box.

And the kittens rejoiced.

Then, today, I came home and finally noticed Obi sitting on a NEW box.

I made him get off the box so I could cut it open. I took two steps away to put the scissors on the coffee table. When I turned back around, Oliver was already looking at me – disappointed – because there was stuff in the box.

So I emptied it for him.

Oliver told Obi, “it fits just right.”

Poor Obi, he got my attention…his brother got the box.

But! Inside the box, was a box.

I emptied it quickly and urged Obi to claim it.

Poor Obi…his brother wanted that box, too.

Wait…maybe NOT “poor Obi.”

Seems like he got what he wanted all along.

So what was in the box inside the box? It is the new blending system that my parents gave me for my upcoming birthday (Saturday). Oliver closely inspected all the contents. Then he must have seen the directions.

He washed thoroughly before using.

And Obi got the second box as well.

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Oh Brudder

I’ve mentioned that we have a new morning routine. That includes Oliver leaving our post-breakfast snuggle to take a bath in the recliner. Then The Boy comes by and covers him with the blanket. At first he was tucking the grey kitten in. Lately, though, he’s been carefully draping the blanket over both arms of the recliner, making a nice big cave.

 

Oliver can stay in this cave for hours. Unless his brother wants to thunder.

This morning, Obi came tearing across the living room and jumped onto the “flat surface” of the blanket. He didn’t know Oli was under there, he swears. The blanket started to move and Oliver’s head popped up between the blanket and the back of the recliner. He climbed out of his cave.

Obi jumped down and ran a couple feet. He looked back.

Oliver resettled himself on top of the blanket and went back to sleep. Somehow, the blanket remained held up, slightly, by the arms so the grey kitten enjoyed a hammock. For a while. Then the brown kitten returned. Obi climbed into the cave and poked his brother from below.

Then he jumped down and ran a couple feet. He looked back.

Oliver was not chasing him.

Obi came and sat with me, sighing. After he’d maxed out mom time – about five minutes later – he went back to the recliner and tried again. Climb. Poke. Jump. Run. Look. It didn’t work so he went to get a snack. And tried again. Climb. Poke. Jump. Run. Look.

Nope.

The brown kitten tried all day to get his brother to thunder. As far as I know, it never happened. Eventually all the effort wore him out. He stretched out on the loveseat for a nap and I draped the big quilt over the whole seat, kitten and all, to make a nice big cave.

And Oliver has hopped up on top for a nap.

 

Winner Winner

I made chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight. This involves Kitten Thunder and I torturing ourselves all day as the chicken cooks in the crock pot, filling the house with the scent of yum. Then, an hour before dinner, I pull the chicken off the bones and stir it back in with the noodles.

Oliver and Obi are always available to help.

Oliver sat at my feet as I worked on the chicken. He told me his woes. He told me about how long it had been since he’d eaten. I mean, yes, he had just finished eating kitty crunchies four feet from where I was standing, but that’s not really food. It is merely subsistence. So much woe for one grey kitten.

I finished the chicken and started working on the noodles.

Obi came into the kitchen and collapsed at my feet. So hungry.  He had NOT just finished eating kitty crunchies so he was really very famished. And too weak, he was, to walk to the breakfast nook for subsistence crunchies. So much woe for the brown kitten.

Once everything was back in the crock pot – because I was hungry and no way was I eating subsistence kitty crunchies – I started to pick a pile of chicken for the kittens off the bones that were on the cutting board. It was a healthy pile.

I split the pile in two and placed the piles onto Kitten Thunder’s plates. Oliver, of course, inhaled his and the speed of smell. He then went after his brother’s share.

I stepped in.

“You had yours,” I said with my hand on the grey kitten’s chest. “Your brother should get to eat his, don’t you think?”

No. No he did not think. But Oliver relented and stomped off to the living room to tell The Boy how I had ruined his life. After that, he plunked down in the dining room condo to glare at me while I did dishes.

After a while, I looked down and saw that Obi had some chicken left on his plate. Oliver was in the kitchen again and I told him he could have the extra. He perked up, life un-ruined. For now.

But then a brown kitten came tearing into the kitchen to reclaim his chicken. He hadn’t realized that my defense of his share wasn’t permanent! He wolfed down his portion and gave a pointed stare. First to Oliver. Then to me.

It’s a sad, sad world where you can’t leave freshly cooked chicken unattended on a plate on the floor and not worry about it disappearing.

Sheesh.

Tower of Terrors

In the winter, I spend a lot of time sitting on the couch. I work much of my week under a blanket and a cat or two – Facebooking for a living is hard work (okay, it is actually hard work, it’s just really comfortable work, too). Then, after work, I have to sit on the couch and actually snuggle with Oliver. You didn’t think that all that time that aI wasn;t givining him my FULL attention counted, did you?

**Aside: how do you like that last sentence with Obi helping me type? So glad he psychically felt me trying to get some writing done without a cat and came to rectify the situation**

So anywho, since I spend most of my day in the living room it would be obvious that Kitten Thunder also spends most of their day in the living room. Somehow, though, I did not link that to the practically unused kitty tower in the dining room.

Until yesterday. Yesterday, kitty condos and towers were on an AMAZING sale via WOOT. My friend Juliette, who has a sweet kitty named Rosie, messaged me to get my opinion on kitty towers.  I mentioned to her that ours would get more use in the living room.

And the light went on. Why wasn’t it in the living room.

Five minutes later, it was.

Six minutes later, Kitten Thunder was losing their minds.

**Aside: Kitten Thunder is very difficult to work into grammatically correct sentences.**

 

**Aside: I took a whole bunch of pictures before I realized it was my lens, not my eyes, that was blurry. Plus, playing cats.**

Oliver and Obi have been wrestling on the top platforms all day. It is driving me crazy. At one point, Obi was stretched to full length, with only the fact that Oliver was standing on him keeping him from tumbling to the floor.

Then Oliver was on the corner platform and Obi was on the lower one. Obi kept reaching up and biting at Oli’s backside, pulling back with a mouthful of hair. Hair pulling is the big thing this week, I guess. Oli would respond by punching his brother in the face.

When the grey kitten was tired of fighting, he moved down the the platform on which the brown kitten was sitting. And he sat. These platforms are tiny. I’m constantly shocked to see a cat sleeping comfortably on them. So two cats? Nope. Obi lost his grip on the edge and was forced down to the house.

Not content with just forcing a truce, Oliver followed Obi into the house. And he laid down. The house is not big enough for two kittens. The brown kitten squeezed over his brother and out the door.

A ruffled kitten left the tower.

For a while. But the tower of two terrors can not stay calm for long.

 

Hawk Eyed

Oliver has a bag. This is his new favorite place to lay and a spot for which he has forsaken the post-breakfast snuggle. Once in a while Obi comes in to remind him that Tail knocked the bag off the coffee table, so Tail’s attached kitten should be allowed to lay on the bag. The grey kitten sees the reason in this…but he doesn’t get off the bag.

***

This week, we have two new programs on OutTV. First off, there is a little black kitteh wandering around. He looks pretty healthy so he obviously belongs to someone. But he is claiming a lot of territory in the neighborhood.

Yesterday, Black Kitteh had a squirrel up a light post. The squirrel was hanging out about ten feet off the ground, trash talking the kitten. Eventually the kitten gave up and walked away. Except he didn’t give up. He hid around the corner and waited for the squirrel to come down. Unfortunately for him, the squirrel (and I) was not fooled. The squirrel came down the pole and crossed the street to our house. Obi and I watched as Black Kitteh chased the squirrel from one channel of OutTV to the next and the next until they were on the Jeff Channel.

Obi doesn’t go outside but he did not want another kitten in his Out.

The more exciting programming is a sharp-shinned hawk that has moved into the neighborhood. She is very talkative and, though we hardly see her, we hear her cry all the time.

Yesterday, Obi was napping on the back of the couch while I worked. He was enjoying some Smell-O-Vision from the Jeff Channel and he was stretched out very flat. As flat, I thought, as he could get.

Until the hawk swooped down between our house and Jeff’s house and screamed just outside our window. She was so close I could hear her wings. The hair stood on the back of my neck.

And the cat? Got flatter.

The Tango is Better Than the ChaCha

I posted pictures once of the breakfast dance – the way Kitten Thunder eats each morning. Oliver will take a couple bites of his food, then go to Obi’s plate, then back to his…lather, rinse and repeat until the food is gone. Obi runs from plate to plate, trying to get some food for himself.

I’ve tried to fix this for the brown kitten by putting them in different rooms, but Obi doesn’t like to eat that far away from his brother. And, since there is generally food left after breakfast I figure he’s getting his fill.

Yesterday, the plates were in the kitchen so I kicked them into the breakfast nook. They ended up right next to each other. I didn’t think about that at all while I scooped food onto both plates, threw the can away and turned to put the spoon back on the cat food shelf.

But then I turned around.

Oliver was sitting in the middle of the two plates, taking one bite from the left plate and then a bit from the right plate. Left right left right left right. Obi was sitting on the other side of the plates, looking at me pitifully.

I patted the brown kitten on the head and picked up him and a plate. I moved them three steps away. And all was well with the world.

The breakfast dance is a tango, not a cha cha.

Rug…Rats

It has been several weeks since we got a new rug. Obi does not approve. At least, that’s what I’m supposed to think. The Boy, though, tells me otherwise.

When I’m not in the room, Obi will get his belly rubbed on the rug. If I am on the couch he will not. He’ll go to the rug and let The Boy pet him or brush him. And he’ll wander around looking lost.

This evening we proved that it is me that he’s trying to impress with his dissatisfaction. Best Kitteh Sitter in the World, Lori, came over for some quality porch time. While I was in the kitchen getting a beer, Lori greeted the kittehs. She rubbed Obi’s belly. On the rug as she has been trained to do.

I walked in.

The brown kitten jumped up.

Brush me, he said. But the damage was done. I had seen the belly. The rubbing. The joy.

***

Kitten Thunder is still enjoying their pile of tissue paper. Today it caused a battle. A battle of laser kitty proportion.

Who won? They both did. When they decided to climb into the gift bag instead.

Nothing to See Here

Oliver and Obi were thundering.

Then things became suspiciously quiet.

I went upstairs, mostly to brush my teeth and put in my contacts. Oliver met me at the top of the stairs with a “there’s nothing to see here” look on his face. He danced around my feet in a guilty fashion. I scooped him up.

“Where is your brother?”

Oliver gave me a big hug. We sat on the love seat in the reading nook so I could rub his belly and scritch his ears. Even though I was doing nothing but snuggling him, the grey kitten continued to act a little guilty.

Then I figured out why.

A bumping came from the cabinet under the cat shelf. I looked over in time to see a black paw sneaking out from the closed door. Now usually, Obi could open that door without an issue. This time, however, someone had pushed the cat shelf blanket down so it was holding the door shut.

Oliver jumped from my lap and, over casually, walked to the stairs. As he said…nothing to see here.

I freed his brother.

Thunder on.

***

It is Thunder Thursday! Only one LOL picture today for numerous reasons:

a) Oliver is laying in my lap complaining because I said we were going to bed.

b) Obi is pulling the blanket off the giant pile o’ Christmas that is in the office. The Boy’s birthday present is conspicuous on top of the pile.

c) Someone has filled I Can Has Cheezburger with a whole bunch of stuff that doesn’t belong there and it was hard to find anything that made me El Oh El. So…

Framed

Oliver went to the vet yesterday for his annual shots and exam. He cried all the way there and complained to the doctor about my driving when she came into the exam room. After checking him out closely she has verified that he is exactly 14 pounds, healthy, and incredibly handsome.

***

This morning, we started the day with a fight. It was one of those thunders that starts to look like it isn’t fun for both kittens. Oliver was crying. Obi was biting hard. The Girl intervened.

A little while later, Obi was being a burrito kitten – wrapped up in the sheet that makes his cave. Oliver came along and instigated a thunder. Seconds later he was crying like Obi was playing too rough. Unfortunately for the grey kitten, The Girl saw the whole thing and HE was the one who was scolded.

Always look around before you try to frame your brother.

***

While I was out of the house today, somebody urinated on a blanket that was on the floor. I didn’t think much about it. I figured Oliver was expressing his dissatisfaction with the state of the litter box. The blanket went in the wash (note to self: the washing machine stopped over an hour ago, go put the laundry in the dryer once the blog is done.)

A while later, though, I noticed Obi acting a little strangely. He was washing his, um, boy bits, and seemed to be taking some extra time. He’d stop – leg still in the air – and look around. Then wash. Then stop. Then wash. Then stop.

An alarm bell went off in my head. Does Obi have a urinary tract infection? With the blanket, plus the fact that I will be traveling this weekend so drugs would be left to The Boy, made illness seem likely.

And so the brown kitten was subjected to a GIRL scan. I pushed on his stomach and looked for pain reactions. I looked under his tail. I sniffed for excessive urine smell.

I earned myself a horrified look from both Obi and Oliver.

He’s fine. Oliver did a better job framing his brother this time.

***

It’s Thunder Thursday! Kelly’s crew provided me with a picture tonight. She was thinking they were being kind of quiet while she was cooking dinner. Then she turned to see this.

 

Kelly thinks they’re up to something. I think that’s unfair. And my opinion isn’t changed even slightly by that box of cat food by the cupboard.

Black and Blue Snapshots

“Supervising The Girl is a full time job. It is exhausting.”

The ironing board used to be in the basement, but it moved upstairs when we had company come in July. It stayed up there because The Boy irons every day and sometimes, if I don’t have meetings, I am just wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It made sense to leave it where he gets ready in the morning.

The other day, I had to iron. I was upstairs and properly supervised the entire time. When I was done, I told Obi it was time to get to work. He ran down to the main floor to claim his chair before I got there. I turned toward the stairs and rammed right into one of the big wooden support poles in the reading nook. I hit my left arm. Hard. I stumbled toward the stairs and then stopped to bend over, holding my numb/throbbing arm and cussing.

Obi came back upstairs. I can’t be left unsupervised for even a minute.

Yesterday, Oliver and I got into a fight at lunch time. He thought he should be allowed to sit on my keyboard and swipe at food as it went toward my mouth. I disagreed. We’d made up by dinner time but he made a show of not coveting the chicken noodle soup that we’d crock potted all day long.

He was by my TV tray, marking the legs of it with chin rubs. Obi was upset. It’s HIS TV tray. Whenever Oliver leaves a room, Obi walks around re-claiming things. The walls, the coffee table, The Boy…

Anyway, Oliver was sitting on the floor, looking at me, when Obi walked by and accidentally stepped on the grey kitten’s tail. Oliver cried. I was chiding him for being so dramatic because it probably didn’t hurt at all when Obi looked over his shoulder, stepped back, and stomped on Oliver’s tail.

I laughed.

I called Obi a brat.

I picked up my poor put down upon grey kitten and kissed him on the ears.

I gave them both chicken.

“How can I be coveting your chicken when I have no legs?”