Day Two Hundred Eighty Three

We are Ab-ys if you Please

I've mentioned this several times, but it bears repeating. Abyssinian cats are a lot like monkeys. Aby baby cats are monkeys on speed. They can also be compared to Thing One and Thing Two from The Cat in the Hat and Si and Am from Lady and the Tramp. In other words - deadly duos.

Dash was our first Aby and he was a handful. That was until his little sister arrived. They are siblings from a different litter with the same parents. Boo! makes him seem more like a saint.

Let me explain. It took Dash awhile to get over the shock of having another Aby in the house; someone with whom he could play Aby games. He was cautious at first. If he tried to wrestle or get a little too exuberant with her, she would scream in protest and he would back off like he'd been hit with a stun gun.

Often he would look at me with his already wide eyes even wider. Like he needed answers or guidance. Now that they've been together for several months, Dash seems to have a handle on things. He no longer backs away like she's a Tiffany egg that just fell on the floor. Now, they seem in cahoots.

Sweet thought, huh? Not for the rest of the members of the household. Boo! and Dash now work in tandem. One or the other (usually Boo!) will come up with the plan and the other is more than happy to help execute it. They are the ones who know where the crickets live and they double team to make sure at least one of them is trying to knock the plastic container onto the floor. After all, it was so much fun chasing the bugs all over the house, why wouldn't they want to do it again.

They don't care. If it looks like fun, they do it. If it makes a noise, even better. If it makes a noise followed by a crash - well that spells S-U-C-C-E-S-S!

Boo! is the worst. Any other cat will run away if they cause something to fall to the floor and break. She stays put and stares at it. I think she is willing it to come back up so she can break it again. She managed to break the Sssscat. Yes. My only ally.

And she has her morning routine all set. It took one time for her to run into the bedroom to wake me in the morning for it to become a daily ritual. If I'm not in the bed, she is so disappointed. It must be a blast to wake a human by attacking their face. I wouldn't know. I've never done it.

The Bearded Dragon has become the thing now. Boo! and Dash really love all things Beardie - from the actual lizard to the chirping bugs it eats. To get as close as possible, Boo! gets up onto the mantel shelf under the television and hangs over the side. She falls - a lot. But that doesn't mean a thing to our monkey. She just climbs back up and does it again. Dash is usually close by watching her every move. I think he decides on a course of action based on whether or not she is successful. Like I said, he's a changed cat since she arrived.

What can I get into now?

What is she getting into now?

Day Two Hundred Eighty Two

Not a Zoo

I actually wrote today's entry last night:

I am exhausted. No, make that exhausted-er. That's when you're suffering from more than mere exhaustion. balls. I started the morning chasing down crickets which had escaped their "keeper" thanks to Boo!

Who makes a stupid container for hopping bugs with a lid that is clearly not cat-proof. Who!?

At some point, after trying unsuccessfully to find a handyman to repair the huge hole that will be in the wall next week after the fireplace installers do their damage work, I thought it would be a good idea to put Revolution on the cats. That is the stuff you squirt on their back to kill fleas.

The first cat is always the easiest because they have no idea what you are about to do. From then on they tell everybody else and it is a major undertaking to catch them. I managed to nab all but Fancy. Hey - he's streetwise and on to the wicked ways of humans.

Then, I decided I hadn't been punished enough and tried to catch everybody to trim nails. They did not trust me any longer after I put poison on their backs. Catching them for nails was nearly impossible. But when I set my mind on a task, I must complete it. (Yea, right.)

When the first cat slipped out of my arms, like a banana through a peel, I grabbed the first thing available - a fluffy bedjacket. My kids tease me about these things calling them mini, useless robes, but this one did exactly what I needed - it confined a cat. I wrapped that sucker up and he calmed down! I was able to cut all the nails on his front feet. Now, you may think that's an odd thing to say but, no joke, I can only cut one nail before Fancy bolts. By the time I have cut all ten, I have to start over.

I managed to pull this trick on all the cats but...Fancy. He is giving me sideways eyes and won't let me within two feet. Okay fine. Be the cat with ALL of the fleas and keep your Howard Hughes talons. I'm done-er.

Today is Saturday and will be a busy one. The only thing on my mind animal-wise today is the human penchant for penning and caging animals. I guess the Beardie got me thinking about that. It is crucial to replicate their natural environment if you want them to be healthy and happy. Lord knows I will try.

While I firmly believe in conservation and rescue - I detest zoos and don't even get me started on circuses. I think sanctuaries, in an animal's natural habitat, are far more important to their survival. It used to be the excuse for maintaining places like zoos and sea aquariums was to bring an awareness of animal conservation to children and adults who otherwise would not know, understand or care. Maybe in the 1950's that was appropriate, but now we have so many resources for children to learn about animals in their natural environment. There are books and videos that teach children about them without setting them up for display in a cage or a box.

These words coming from a woman with two dogs, six cats, a rabbit and a lizard may seem hypocritical. In some regards they are. However, the cats and dogs living here are domesticated. They are in their natural environment - a couch and a screened in outside area. They are safe and happy. Roxy the rabbit has a huge condo and Copper's place looks just like the desert. He/she seems very content.  We do not have an elephant chained by its leg in the back yard. You won't find a bird in a cage here either.

My beef is with the corporations and businesses that exploit animals for profit. If your children need to interact with animals, look for small, independently owned farms or petting zoos that rescue animals and take good care of them. Animal rehabilitation facilities and sanctuaries are important. Make sure they are working toward releasing the animals into their natural environment. You can teach children to respect lions and tigers and bears - without seeing them perform on a stage or in a cage.

These animals should be free - not in a zoo.

 

Day Two Hundred Eighty One

Oh Mein Gott in Himmel! Es Gibt Uberall Krickets!

The translation for the title is, "Oh My God in Heaven! There are crickets everywhere!" I seem to fall back into the German I heard family members yell whenever I am hysterical. Oddly enough, the other German word for cricket is grillen, which also means barbecue. Uh huh. But I am getting off topic.

Hello? 911? I have a cricket emergency here!

Yes, Copper has been here less than twenty four hours and we have already had a cricket unglück (calamity). I'll let you guess which kitty is the responsible party.



What?

My son brought Copper, the Bearded Dragon, here yesterday for several reasons which I detailed in my last entry. He walked in and set the aquarium on the counter and I proceeded to greet Copper in the sing-songy voice I reserve for all things cute and small - or cute and large - okay cute of any size. Anyway, I think Copper is a girl so will be referring to her as such hence forth. So, she perked up and turned her head from side to side like she recognized my voice. I then picked her up and she settled into my hand. I was thrilled.

After he got the aquarium all cleaned and set up - and I have to say - they've been taking very good care of Copper because she was very alert and has even grown a lot, he showed me the new system for feeding and watering the crickets. (Dang. I had forgotten about those things.) He was going to go get some more but I assured him I needed to make a pet supply run and would take care of it. I took the cricket keeper with me to the pet store and had them fill it with 50 large crickets. Remember that number.  

The only crickets left in here are dead ones.

All evening, thanks in no small part to the newly refilled Ssscat canister which was strategically placed on the shelf in front of the aquarium, the cats stayed away. Since there is only a low wattage warming light on through the night I wasn't too worried about anybody getting their whiskers singed if they ignored the air blast and tried to climb on top of the aquarium. Oh, and I put the crickets in a spare bathroom with the door closed.

All seemed well when I got up. The cats' whiskers were all okay and nobody was limping from a burned paw. Copper seemed fine. I set about doing my morning zoo chores. I was happily taking care of all things lizard and may have even been whistling a tune when I went out to the kitchen to refill her water bowl. I was gone no more than ten seconds.

Now, I am so used to odd sounds I guess I didn't notice the cricket keeper "falling" off the shelf onto the tile floor. Cats are surprisingly quiet when they want to be. Like when they've knocked over a cricket keeper containing approximately fifty crickets whose major goal in life is to not be "kept."

Needless to say, I quit whistling, which is hard to do anyway when your jaw has dropped to the floor, as I took in the scene. Everywhere I looked there were crickets hopping and cats chasing them. Plus, there were lots of crickets waiting in line for their turn to jump out of the box. It was bedlam.

Disney deceived us. Crickets create problems.
They are not adorable problem solvers.

I did not know what to do first. Now, I know crickets are on a reptile's diet, but what if they're toxic to cats?! I looked around and felt like Pandora desperately wanting to close the box while simultaneously chasing down the menace that escaped from it!

I was grabbing crickets with my bare hands; stuffing them under the fallen lid; searching for something to cover the top of the cage; deciding on a picture frame for that purpose; yelling at the cats that catching was good, eating was not; running for paper to slide under the lid (which was completely useless.) That was when I ran back to the pantry and ripped open a box of cat food desperately searching for the piece of cardboard they use between layers of cans. I was finally feeling like I could get a handle on this!

No joke. This is what it felt like. It's a
good thing I do not own a flame thrower.

As I ran back to the scene of the carnage, I saw Boo! had flipped the lid, enabling the crickets I had caught to escape. I was on my knees, pulling back cats with both hands and wishing my feet were hands. Whenever I snatched a cricket away from a cat, if it was even half alive, I fed it to Copper. Lizards won't eat dead crickets. Imagine that.

Crickets are like roaches with knees. Seriously, if you removed their legs, you would have a roach. They also have gooey innards. And they can cover a vast territory in seconds flat. There were/are crickets in the family room, front bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen and I'm praying not in our bedroom.

Little Miss Boo! was responsible for this fiasco and just so happened to be the most entertained by it! She had so much fun catching them and proudly bringing them to me it almost made the craziness worthwhile.

What am I saying? No it didn't! My body is not happy about crawling around on the floor, looking under furniture and diving for hopping bugs. The creep factor was off the charts. It wasn't even 9 a.m. and I felt like I had run a marathon. Believe it or not, and maybe for the best, Jack and Rooney were sound asleep on the couch; oblivious to the chaos all around them.

I will be so glad when this cricket thing is over. I've been told, when a Beardie is about a year old, they are considered an adult and do not need to eat live crickets anymore. What do I know? When I bought her she was six months old. That was a month ago. So by my calculations, I have five more months of cricket duty. Trust me. July 1 is my goal. I may even have a grillen...

Day Two Hundred Eighty

Copper Returns

I have to admit, in the few short weeks I was caring for Copper, the Beardie, I grew quite fond of the little creature. (We still aren't sure if it's a he or a she so I will be interchanging the pronouns.) I really like lizards and these guys have a definite personality. He was a Christmas present for my ten year old granddaughter, who is an animal lover, just like her Gigi (me - the grandmother.) My own grandmother and father were animal lovers and I guess this was passed down in our genes. Anyway, due to a variety of circumstances, Copper is coming back here - temporarily or forever - we have to wait and see.

It's not that she isn't wanted, and it certainly isn't because they haven't made a valiant effort to take care of her. On the contrary. My granddaughter loves it but divides her time between two homes and worries about it when she isn't at her father's place. Gigi is going to take care of Copper for awhile and see how things go. I am not unhappy.

The challenge I must overcome is keeping the curious cats away from the extremely hot lights a Beardie must have on 24/7. I suppose one ouchie on a paw will do it. Maybe; maybe not. With Boo! it might take a few. Also, I have already decided the crickets will reside in the garage. I simply can't have a whole container full of them in the house with the risk of one of the cats (Boo!)knocking it over creating a mass exodus of crickets into the house. That and they generate a peculiar odor. Crickets out of the house - check.

Now, I must decide where to put Copper's habitat. It is a rather large aquarium. When we were trying to keep Copper hidden, he resided in one of the spare bedrooms. I want Copper to be a permanent fixture in the living area so now I have to decide where would be the safest place for him and the cats. I have a few places in mind.

I am excited to welcome him/her back. I was surprised at how much I missed the little creature. They aren't exactly cuddly/cozy like a fur covered baby, but they surprise you by seeming to enjoy human contact. I don't know, I can bond with a bug, but there is something endearing about these fierce looking creatures. They really aren't fierce at all. Maybe that's it! I have always been drawn to people and creatures that look like they could kill you when in reality they are the ones with the biggest hearts. 

On a completely different note - I would like to meet the person who created those tunnels for cats, so I can smack him/he upside the head. This person must hate cat lovers because those things are designed to make a terrifying sound when in use; causing near heart failure.

The house will be very quiet when all of a sudden KWOOSH SQUING ACHCHACHE reverberates off the walls. It's like King Kong got hold of a million rolls of parchment paper and had at it. Logical solutions: Don't buy them; throw them away; toss out onto porch. Oh, there are several on the porch. But you know how it is. It's like when you step on a Legos in the middle of the night. You hate them but your kid loves them soooo much. Parental sacrifices...

Day Two Hundred Seventy Nine

The House of Snorers

For several reasons, not the least of which was my husband's epic snoring, I had to find another bed in which to sleep last night. The only available one, which did not require extensive de-cluttering, was the one in the front bedroom AKA Cat Room. This is the room where new arrivals get acclimated to their environment. Well, it's where they stay so the other cats don't kill them while I'm sleeping.

Baby Dash

 



Actually, even though we did this with Chance, Finn and Dash, we never even bothered isolating Boo! who came into the house with an attitude. We knew no one would mess with her. Ever. Anyway, there are toys, a cat tree, two litter boxes, food and water in this room. It is always ready in case the cats need to be shuffled to safety in the event of a kid invasion or other things potentially hazardous to their wellbeing.  The cats know this is their safe haven.

Which is why, anyone who dares try to sleep in there does so at their own risk. All visitors are considered interlopers. The reaction ranges from outright hostility to curiosity and sometimes glee. Last night, I was met with a version of the latter two.

Now, the different breeds react much differently in showing both curiosity and excitement. Several had already settled in for the night, so my presence elicited mixed reactions. I must add Fancy does not consider himself a cat so he couldn't care less what happens in there.

How Ragdolls Treat a Midnight Visitor:

Chance (curled up in the middle of the bed, half asleep): Oh, hi, Mommy. Are you going to sleep in here? I'll move over for you. I'm so glad you're here. G'night.

Eli (realizing something is up and has to decide how he's going to react): Hmm, Mom's here, huh? Okay, well I'm here now, too, so move your ass. Remember, I was here first - which means I get to call the shots. Get it?

Chance then moved to the foot of the bed and went back to sleep.

Eli commenced "kneading" me in all the most painful places. I do not get the point of that....

Finn sat on the dresser silently staring at me.

How Abys Treat a Midnight Visitor:

Boo! (who knows everything that's going on and probably knew I was coming into the room before I did): WOO HOO! Would you check this out!! Mum's here!! Par-tay! (Boing, boing, boing on my head) Oooo - I love you so much! (licks and kisses on my face) Purrrrrrr - This is fun! Let's cuddle! Oh wait!! Something's under the covers!  I'd better kill it!! (Dives under the covers and starts biting my feet.)

Me: Hey! That hurts! Stop! Just let me sleep!

Dash (remembering the times I slept in this room when he was a baby, and he tortured me; decided to reenact the torture. First, by attacking my head.) I had forgotten how much fun this was! Are you awake? Wake up! Play with us! We slept all day and now we want to play!

He then turned his attention to Boo! still attacking my feet, now from on top of the covers, and decided to join her. This went on for quite awhile. Pain was involved. At some point, Dash and Boo! got into a spat over territory. That was fun. They were tussling over top of my legs. Spitting and hissing was involved. I put up with as much as I could stand, then I yelled, "Hey! Knock it off! I want to get some sleep!"

Silence.

They both stopped and looked at me like I had slapped them. It was a look that said, "Gee. You don't have to yell. We were just playing. You're mean." And they took off just long enough for me to fall asleep. Of course, at some point they returned and laid across my legs, paralyzing me. But at least the biting stopped. I managed to get a few hours of sleep.

Dawn.
Lady, could you please stop with the camera!
We're trying to sleep here!

At some point in the onslaught, it occurred to me to just shut the door; as it would any sane person. But, remember, this is technically their space. I knew if I messed with that I would pay in other ways, such as nightlong howling and banging on the door. My patience provided me with the lesser of two evils.

Andy did not even question why I was in there. I'm sure he had no idea it was because of his snoring - which he would deny. That's okay - I taped it. All thirty minutes of earsplitting, mind numbing, in harmony with the dogs, noise that he doesn't make.

Day Two Hundred Seventy Eight

Gigi Has a Hedahce

I could feel the headache starting in the middle of the night and hoped it was just a bad dream. When I woke up and it was a reality, I hoped it would pass. It didn't. The good news is, I took some prescription strength Ibuprofen. The bad news is, I took some prescription strength Ibuprofen and can't remember how to spell words. Words are important to a story. And I have a tendency to pull out long forgotten ones - none of which I can recall at the moment as an example. This will be a very short entry.

While I was waiting for the meds to kick in, I was wrapped up nice and cozy in my comfy chair. Guess who decided to join me?

 





I have no idea how these pictures got in such odd places but my head hurts and I don't really care.

Boo! may be a headache sometimes, but she is also a very good companion when you have one. Also, she has appointed herself "Waker of the Mum" and pushes into the room each morning to wake me in Boo! style. Which is to say I get lots of kisses and face rubs. She also does a purr/chirp/chortle thing which sounds odd but is very pleasing. I love this baby cat and truly believe she was sent to make life fun. (I almost wrote more fun - then wondered if that should be funner - which is not a word and funnier didn't seem right - oh Lord....)

I will end this right now before I start giving away state secrets. Actually, I should have left the typos - it would have been the funnest blog entry yet...

You cannot believe how much noise is generated by a tiny cat demolishing a half empty water bottle case. It's not like we don't buy her real toys...

Day Two Hundred Seventy Seven

Random Musings on a Monday Morning

This is the tableau I see played out every night :

 

 

 

This picture says it all:

 

I love my Dad.

Um, could you get us some snacks? Chips would be nice.

You thought you were so clever moving the sofa. Well, I win, cause I still get to sit with Daddy and you lost your favorite chair. (Well, this one is actually going through my mind. Rooney is not a snot.)

 

We take every day we get with our pets as a blessing, but perhaps a little more so with Rooney. She is on borrowed time. Her Daddy makes sure every day of her life is filled with love. I love her, too, but it means more to her coming from him. He is her person.

 

 

 

 

 

I think it's safe to say I am Boo!'s person. I am grateful everyday to have that little comical spirit in my life. She is like a mischievous fairy always getting into some type of trouble. If she wasn't such a Boo! I would have named her Tink. I know all of the other cats love me, she is just the one who shows her affection in such a darling way.

 

Eli is a bit too rough in his attention; Fancy is too sparing; Chance wants me to come to him and Finn loves me from a distance. Dash, who had been a cuddler, defers to little sister now. Boo! gives me lots of kisses and snuggles and can't get close enough. I must have done something right to have this tiny bundle in my life.

 

  

 

Dash! I had to laugh yesterday when it dawned on me why Dash, who has become a model citizen, was being a bit of a pest in the kitchen. This role is usually reserved for his sister.

 

Our beautiful red boy!

 

I forgot Boo! had run into the laundry room and refused to come out. I closed the door; waiting for her mauhs of protest. She must have been on to my ploy and decided she was just fine in there; in the dark. Dash took advantage of her absence to revert back to being the impish Dash we knew before. He was having a blast playing in the kitchen sink and splashing water.

 

When I remembered Boo! was stuck in the laundry room, I opened the door and she haughtily strolled out like, "Well, it's about time. It took you long enough..." Dash snapped back into good boy mode. Wow. Never underestimate the power of a little sister!

 

I'm the baby and don't you forget it!

 

 

While I'm on the topic of the kitties, I have some random thoughts for them...

 

To my feline kids:

 

I shouldn't have to try to sneak into my own bedroom! What do you think I do in there anyway? I'm not having a sardine party! And this whole thing of pushing past me and running under the bed is getting old. You'll be sorry if I trip and break a hip. I'm just sayin...

 

Just because I am in the kitchen does not automatically mean I am going to feed you. Breakfast/Lunch/Supper was an hour ago and you can't be starving.  Well, okay, if you put it that way...

 

If you slide your toy under the door, it isn't going to magically reappear. Staring at the door won't make it happen. Here's a thought - don't whack it under there in the first place.

 

Don't pick a fight with a streetwise cat who could kick your ass. He has claws and knows how to use them. I know you have them, too, but seriously, let it go...

 

Finally - To the resident Rags - sure, we know you can climb as high as an Aby. The thing is, you can't get back down. It hurts to fall ten feet. Stop doing it.

 

 

Day Two Hundred Seventy Six

Life is Like a Monkey - 
Entertaining till it Throws Poop

I love my life! I have a patient and loving husband (well, I may have to amend that because he just gave me a hard time about when the windows were last washed); two wonderful and loving kids; two incredible and loving grandkids; two sweet and loving dogs; six challenging but loving cats; a cute and loving bunny; kind and loving relatives; witty and loving Facebook friends - and last but not least - my kids have talented and loving partners, one of whom brings two charming and loving grands of the heart into the mix. Operative word in all cases: loving. If you don't have loving souls in your life - find some.

All in all, I am a lucky gal. Oh, life has thrown its share of monkey poop at me - but so far I have survived and thrived. It's all a matter of perspective. One can look at life and its challenges as poop or giggles.

For example, Andy is washing the windows. Simple enough project, right? Not when it involves cats and a ladder. Now, there are those who might lose their patience when doing something as precarious as climbing a ladder, accompanied by a few curious kitties. Not my husband. He keeps chuckling and warning (Boo! I'm guessing) that a ladder is not the place for cats. They disagree and keep trying to prove him wrong. According to them it is the perfect place for a cat - couldn't be better. He's the one in the way. And where has this thing called a ladder been all this time?

Even cooking is a challenge these days. I mean, I can barely cook under the best of circumstances. Adding cats to the equation makes it nearly impossible. One needs eyes and arms everywhere, like a hybrid fly/octopus. (Note to self - pitch that idea to FX!)

And Boo! will taste anything - raw bacon, hotdogs, soup, sour cream, egg shells - you name it. We don't want her to taste this stuff and do everything in our power to prevent it from happening, but she is not to be denied. Finn is the polar opposite. We have to coax him to try cat food! But Boo! will eat anything. This makes cooking very challenging.

Then there are the two humongous dogs that park themselves right in the middle of the action in the kitchen. Both are afraid of missing something that might be shared or accidentally dropped to the floor. I have been stepped on too many times to count by a giant bear-clawed paw on the end of a man-sized creature. I have the bruises on my feet to prove it.

I'm not in your way am I?

Oh, and how stupid was I to buy a brown rug for the kitchen floor, with two brown dogs that blend in like those "find the ___" posts you see on Facebook. I could never find Waldo and here I am really needing to see these dogs before I topple over them.

My parents took life very seriously and every snag was a monumental catastrophe. That there was never really anything that disastrous notwithstanding, they went through life waiting every day for some horrible thing to happen. I can't live out the rest of my life in that manner. I won't. This is why I am determined to see every part of life as hilarious.

Of course those things that bring us to our knees, like losing a loved one, are not funny. Well, there was that time my cousin and I decided our dead grandmother's nose was crooked. She was laid out for viewing and it really bothered us her nose went off sideways like she was a witch who died mid twitch. We waited until the coast was clear then tried to straighten it but, holy moly, it was  impossible to budge. We burst into a fit of giggles at the precise moment our aunt walked in.  Quick thinking made us pretend our tears were from sorrow not laughter. She bought it. Dumb cow.

Life will toss monkey poop at you, which is all the more reason to build up a reserve of adrenaline or save your Weltschmertz for those occasions when you will need it.  Best not to use it all up on the insignificant stuff. Oh, and I am going to make a last request that my nose be intentionally bent so my grandkids will remember me and laugh. I may even be wearing Groucho glasses...

Day Two Hundred Seventy Five

Did You Say Something?

I'm struggling with my blog today. I don't know why - I mean it's not like I don't have plenty of material. Already this morning Boo! has climbed to the highest area she can reach next to the fireplace and proceeded to knock over a fairly large and heavy candlestick.

 

Also, she has been letting her brothers know she is not to be messed with by emitting a tremendous scream whenever they dare to try to wrestle with her or take away her favorite toy these days - a tiny pinecone.

That pinecone has become somewhat of a thing. Boo! was happily batting it around when Dash tried to take it (nothing is more fun than the toy someone else has.) She flew into a royal fit. I'm talking blow the top of your head off squealing. I ran out to the kitchen fully expecting to see blood, but all I saw was Dash looking dazed and confused and Boo! hiding her prize behind a gate.  It was also the hiding place of last week's favorite toy - her catnip mouse - and a half of a plastic Easter egg from the week before.

Boo!'s treasures - a tiny pinecone,
half of a plastic egg and a mouse.

As I was leaving the bedroom, I saw the pinecone, which is the size of a thimble, lying on the floor. I kicked it under the door and it immediately came back to me - compliments of a tiny Boo! paw. I sent it back and she returned it. We played this game until she got bored and went on to something else, like a nap.

No, there's a lot going on here. I just can't wrap my head around anything newsworthy. Oh, I could go on ad nauseam about politics and current events. But I have a strict commitment to stay on point - that being funny animal stories. I'm trying here, people.

Over the years, I have observed how the animals in my family seem to be able to read my mind - when it's to their advantage that is. Jack and Rooney will act like they were never given names in all these years - "Who are this 'Jack and Rooney' of whom you speak?" I can stand there calling them until I get hoarse, and they may or may not respond. However, if I am at the dinner table and so much as silently think, "Maybe I'll give some of ____ to Jack and Rooney" they jump to attention and the drooling begins.

I tried an experiment the other night at dinner. I intentionally cleared my head and then thought to myself, "Maybe I'll give some of this to Jack." His head spun around like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist and his ears perked up as if to say, "Wait. What? Did you just say Jack's getting something?" Not a word was spoken.

Trust me, this never works when I want something - like room on the couch; for both of them to go out the same door, or for both of them to come back inside as I'm standing there getting soaking wet or freezing my butt off.

The cats are another matter. Not only will they intentionally ignore you, they will actually do the complete opposite of what you want. It's like they can also read your mind and use it against you. "Oh, did you say you have to leave for an appointment and you want me to not go into your bedroom? Well, then I am not only going in there, I am going straight under your bed to the spot where you can never reach me. Sorry. I'm a cat and we have a reputation to uphold."

Fancy was just calling to me. He sort of panics when he can't see me. In all fairness, I do the same when I can't find him. Anyway, I know it's him because I swear, when he gets nervous, he calls for "Mumma."  I heard, "Mumma! Where are you?" I knew it was him because Eli calls for me by saying, "Hullo-oo?" Well, that, and when I responded with, "Mum's in the living room!" it was Fancy who came flying into the room, looking ever so relieved.

One of these days I am going to get this on tape and prove to the people who think I'm deranged it actually happens. Andy's no help to me as a witness cause he can't hear. Huh! He doesn't fool me one bit. He can hear - he just loves having an excuse to pretend he lives alone....

Day Two Hundred Seventy Four

The Life of Boo!

It is only ten o'clock in the morning and I have already saved Boo! from life threatening peril about twelve times. Just moments ago she was hanging from the shower curtain rod. THE SHOWER CURTAIN ROD! I guess she thought it would be fun. She just didn't factor in getting her claws caught on the shower curtain. That I had to rescue her is the reason it isn't captured on video. I did get a picture of her sitting on the shelf which is where she was able to knock the clock off the wall. Remember that fiasco? The clock fell into the tub and shattered into a million pieces.

That is the shower curtain rod from which
she was hanging. Behind her is the hole in
the wall where the clock used to be...

 

So far this morning: She rushed past Andy and into the bedroom when he opened the door to go out to the kitchen; pounced on me to make sure I was awake; covered my face in kisses (which is why she is still here and not returned for a refund); got in the way while I was super gluing the weather-stripping she pulled from the cat door, causing me to glue my hair to my fingers while I was saving her from getting it on her whiskers; found a tiny pinecone from the rabbit cage (they're in the rabbit's treats and she discards them) and has been playing hockey with it all over the house; oh, and she hid away in the laundry room then pitched a fit when she  found herself alone in the dark. 

Here she is harassing poor Roxy who
just wanted to eat her carrots in peace.

At one point, I turned to look at Fancy who was sitting on the window perch calmly watching the squirrels, and the expression on his face spoke volumes, "Don't look at me - you're the one who just had to have another cat. Are you happy now?"

Actually, I am. Yes, Boo! is a hot mess. She is also a never-ending source of amusement. Okay, so fear and anxiety are thrown in there as well. But it's all about trying to keep her safe. You know, we're stodgy old farts who are set in our ways and it took this tiny creature to snap us out of laziness and ennui. We are constantly being challenged by her.

For example, Andy had a busy week of travel and all he wanted was to sit down to relax and watch TV. Unbeknownst to him, Boo! was curled up in his chair. Before he could squish her, I screamed and he caught himself just in time. She just looked up and blinked, "What?" Of course he had to watch the movie with a heating pad on his back since he kind of wrenched it contorting his body in an effort to not sit on the baby cat.

Then, while we were watching a movie, she decided to walk back and forth across the mantelpiece under the TV; while periodically standing up to get a closer look at the things moving on the screen. She then positioned herself on the highest perch she could reach which just so happens to house the DVR and the other gizmo for watching Amazon and Netflix.  She curled up on top of that thing and looked like a statue of a cat.

Despite all the ways she can drive everybody crazy, she is beloved. Rooney adores her and I caught her snuggling up to Old Sourpuss Eli last night. Nobody wants to admit it, but she was just what we all needed.