Balls!

I have this strange habit of doing things that will keep me from getting a good night’s sleep. These things seem innocent enough when I’m doing them. Later, when awoken in the middle of the night, it seems obvious that I’m…well… an idiot.

For instance, I didn’t think twice about emptying the change in my pockets onto the toothbrush stand so I could wash my jeans. At 3 a.m., though, as Obi knocked the coins one by one to the floor, my mistake was clear.

And then there was the bouncy ball. The ball that had been sitting on the floor in my office for days, untouched. The ball that I picked up and carried up into the bedroom and bounced across the room for Obi.

The ball that rolled across the floor all night.

For three nights.

Because I’m an idiot. And because, in the light of day, I’d forget to take the ball downstairs.

Idiot.

But my idiocy did lead to cuteness.

Thursday morning, as I was brushing my teeth, I glanced over to see Oliver looking at the bouncy ball. It was rolling toward him. Slowly. I looked around for the brown kitten who surely was responsible for the roll.

No kitten.

Then I saw it. A big black kitten paw was peeking out from under the bed. There was also a stripey tail poking out from the around the corner of the bed.

With one toe, I scooted the ball back toward the paw. A few seconds later, the ball rolled back to me. Scoot. Roll. Scoot. Roll. When my toothbrush turned off I returned to the bathroom. I looked back to see Oliver stretch out on the floor and gently tap the ball back to the bed.

Scoot. Roll.

***

On Friday, I had a meeting over lunch and suggested we order bocce balls and salad from a local restaurant, Pizzeria Venti. Bocce balls are large meatballs, wrapped in dough and covered in marinara sauce. Kind of like inside-out spaghetti. There were leftovers. Facing a weekend without The Boy, gone to California for a train thing, I claimed the leftovers.

For lunch today, I ate the last three bocce balls. Oliver sat behind me on the armrest of the couch. He wasn’t coveting, but he did rest his chin on my shoulder and gaze lovingly at my plate. And when I set the plate on my knee with one uneaten meatball, he attempted to help me out. When I moved the plate to the back of the couch, he attempted to follow.

I wolfed down the bocce ball – all except a little bit of dough – and set the plate on the floor. Oliver inspected the plate. He tasted the dough. Then he walked off in disgust.

He prefers a little more ball and a little less bocce.

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Sleepy face

The Boy is an early riser. When  we get up in the morning? Sleepy face, I has it.

Oliver works so hard in the morning, trying to convince us to feed him and his brother before they starve to death. So after breakfast he snuggles into my lap for a well earned rest. When I tell him I have to get up for work? Sleepy face, he has it.

"The awakeness, it pains me."

Obi has to be cute and fluffy all day long. He has to greet his people at the door, lead them to the belly rubbing rug, and then get said belly rubbed. This is exhausting. So when we finally settle in one location he gets to take a nap. If we move to another room and ask if he wants to go? Sleepy face, he has it.

"Be gone, vile human, until it is time for breakfast."

The Boy, being an early riser, is also an early sleeper. He almost always falls asleep on the evil couch before bedtime. When I nudge him and suggest he go upstairs to bed to get a decent night of sleep? Sleepy face, boy does he ever have it.

Zensai lives in a tank. He’s cold blooded, ten years old and he brumates for four months out of the year. Sleepy face? No, that’s his usual crabby face.

"If I can't eat it or drink it, it should get the heck out of my face."

***

It’s Thunder Thursday! Today I bring you Mutt and Jeff from Life is a Bowl of Kibble. This blog almost made me want a dog. Because sometimes, every once in a rare while, dogs are as entertaining as cats.

Two Kittens in the Night

Some days are rough on a Chief Executive Kitten. On those days it is all he can do to lay on the rug in the dining room and gaze at The Girl with his chin propped up on the cross-brace of a chair. Today was one of those days. I’d show you a picture but, when I went to my office to get the camera, he ran in and settled on the bed.

“Oh good, we’re blogging. I can get some sleep.”

"You will put down the camera. Yoooou wiiiiill puuuuuut doooooown the caaameeeeraaaa."

I didn’t sleep right away last night. In fact, I lay awake for many hours with things running through my mind. The bright side of this is that a question has been answered.

Obi, I have mentioned, is not much of a snuggler. At least not in the conventional ways. He’s all for having you pet his aura. He’ll snuggle my feet on the couch. At least once a day he feels the need…the need to knead. And he’ll knead the back of the couch or a pillow or whatever is squishy nearby.

For a long while he slept on the loveseat in the bedroom. Then, for about a month, he attempted bed sleeping. As suddenly as it began…it stopped. I worried about whether he was getting enough snuggle in his life. Last night, I found the answer.

At about 2 a.m., Oliver got up for an early morning snack. Obi arrived. He kneaded the foot of the bed. Then the middle of the bed. Then he popped up to lick my nose. Then he went to the far side of the bed when Oliver came back. When he sneezed, Oliver noticed Obi’s presence and…well…thunder. At some point – I fell asleep around then – Oliver returned to his place in my arms, head on my pillow.

So Obi is getting his snuggle needs met. And his knead needs as well.

It is Thunder Thursday! I bring you Elwood in a box. Further proof that cats need you to buy stuff for you to ensure their continued happiness. Thanks to Phillip of the Facebook for his picture.

"You ordered happiness from Amazon? It is just my size."