Something to keep you from missing me while I’m gone
I generally leave the bathroom door cracked while I’m taking a bath, because if I don’t, Tweedledumb spends the entire time yowling outside the door.
Usually, he just sleeps on the bathmat. Whatever.
Tonight? He jumped up on the tub, looked at me, and attempted to climb on my stomach.
Did he not see the water in the tub? Did he think I really wanted a cat crawling around on my nekkid stomach?
Yowling or no, if he’s going to keep trying to join me in the tub I’m going to start shutting the door.
And on that note, I won’t be posting much for the next two or three weeks on account of having other things to do with what little computer time I’ll have.
I just figured it would be easier for some of you (*cough* Mayhem *cough*) to deal with withdrawal (heh. How I flatter myself) if I made the last post a dreaded cat post.
C’mon now. You aren’t really going to miss the cat posts. We both know that. Maybe when I come back I’ll have something intelligent to say.
Miracles can happen. The movies tell me so, and I believe everything I see on TV.
It’s the end of the world as he knows it
Earthquake this morning.
Pookie: yawned and went back to sleep.
Me: would have yawned and went back to sleep, but
Tweedledum: jumped straight up in the air, bounced off the back of the bed like it was a trampoline, careened into the bedroom door, knocked over his food bowl, overturned the water bowl, knocked my sweater off the chair it had been hanging on, knocked a pile of books off the kitchen table, jumped on the couch and tore through the cushions, bounced off the coffee table, and came to a stop in the middle of the living room, all fluffed up like a puffer fish and with eyes bigger than the moon.
Apparently, in the year we’ve had him, Tweedledum has never experienced an earthquake.
I don’t think he liked it much.
Litterbox Blues
Not to go into boring details or anything, but:
Four cats, two litter boxes. One in the garage, one in my bathroom (temporarily, thank god). Four cats ignoring the litter box in the garage because they are lazy.
Four cats using one litter box. In my bathroom.
Two of the cats think it’s their personal sandbox, and, when they are bored, will go scratch the litter around just for fun.
Four cats, one litter box, two cats trying to make sand castles every day.
And my house mate wonders why I put shoes on to go to the bathroom?
Sounds of the Season
[ring]
[ring]
[beep] I’m not here right now. Please leave your name and number… [beep beep]
[from the bedroom] Mrawwwh-hrumph-huh? Whazzat?
[On the answering machine: Muzak masquerading as Christmas tunes]
[More Muzak masquerading as Christmas tunes]
Who puts people on hold before they even pick up, anyway?
[More Muzak]
And who would stay on hold without even hearing a ‘hello’ first?
[Human voice replacing Muzak on the answering machine] Hello? Hello?
Actually, it’s quite funny listening to telemarketers who can’t figure out the answering machine has picked up the call.
[Click]
[In the living room: Swish swash]
[Thud]
[Tingaling tink ping]
[ting ting]
[tink-taling]
[From the bedroom] Jasper get away from the Christmas tree!
[From the living room: gallump-gallump-da-na-da-da! gallump-gallump-da-na-dada!]
[Suddenly in the bedroom: swush THUMP!] Mraaaow?
[From under the covers] Ffffrah-huh? Jasper? Go play with the Christmas tree and leave me alone.
[Zzzz *honk* zzzz zzz *snort*]
[ring]
[ring]
[beep] I’m not here right now. Please leave…
The Tweedles Have Eaten a Coke Box
Tweedledee and Tweedledumb (two cats) have eaten a Coke box. Seriously.
Last night I finished the last Coke in a 24-pack and, being the resident slave-to-the-felines that I am, I threw the empty box on the floor for them to play with.
This morning, no box.
I don’t mean “shredded box scattered throughout the house” or “box flattened to a pancake by repeated rompings.” I mean no box. Anywhere.
I searched the house. I searched the garage (is it possible for two kittens to drag a 24-pack box through a kitty door?). I searched under beds, under couches, under chairs, and in the potted plants (don’t ask).
I even searched the recycling to see if I had imagined the whole thing and actually thrown the box away.
Nope.
I did find two brown paper bags under the love seat and a stash of kitty food under the sideboard. I even found a dollar bill in the washing machine.
But the box? Let’s just say I think the mob might want to hire these kittens because…. damn! Actually… could they have figured out how to tie the box to a block of concrete? I’ll go check the fish tank…