Upset Tum Tuesday

Me: “Who wants their tum rubbed? Do you want your tum rubbed?”

Olivia Wigglebothum: “I WANT Donald Trump to go away.”

Me: “Yea, we all do.”

Olivia Wigglebothum: “He’s embarrassing, sad, and frightening all at once. This shit keeps me up at night. He makes the Bush years seem elegant, safe, and rational. Is there no psych eval for world leaders? Why does he hate EVERYTHING? What the Hell?!”

Me: “I know, kitten. How about that tummy rub now?”


For less upset tums, check out Katzenworld’s weekly Tummy Rub Tuesday.


Happy Friday the 13th

Nothing unlucky here except that these two got snagged for an early morning selfie and kisses.

Yes, those are Lularoe black cat leggings. Paired with a lovely “Scaredy Cat” tee from Shred My Couch. I bought it because, at the time, they were making donations to hurricane (pick one!) relief for animal shelters. Squirrel Den Studios made me do it!




MomBert makes me pretty things

My colleagues and the people who sell skulls for ridiculous amounts of money ($50, really?) at flea markets, like to remind me that deer skulls don’t NORMALLY show up in your family’s yard.

Deer skull number two begs to differ.

MomBert found this skull hanging out by the BF’s communal dumpster. Who throws away a perfectly good deer skull? Sure, the dogs had chewed on a few antler points, but it was otherwise intact.

She asked me what she should do with it and I said, “BEDAZZLE IT!” Jazz hands!

So she did.


MomBert has been playing around with stained glass for a few years now. Usually she adheres the glass to old windows,…..old window…found deer skull…same, same.


She was going for a floral theme. The final product now graces my living room. Cat approved.




Olivia Wigglebothum is my in-house document shredder. All I have to do is leave something on the corner of the counter for a few days and …POOF! Confetti! The v-e-t thinks it feels good on her teeth. 

With this in mind, a recent Amazon box became my gift to her. 

I ordered a new cat carrier which arrived in a box five times its size. The box is taking up most of the living room floor. Several toddlers could nap in it. 

The kicker is that the carrier wasn’t even assembled; I got that tedious as Hell job. However the pieces were wrapped in yards of brown butcher paper like it had been prepared for mummification. 

I dropped the Wigglebothum in and told her to go town. Shred it, baby! She obliged. 

Big eyes of excitement!


Catzilla’s Revenge! This time he brought a friend.

Catzilla re-emerges to rampage through the kitchen with his sidekick mini-Catzilla created from the depths of the Target $1 bin size SMALL!


ROWR! Appease us with treats!

Rub our tummies!

Take these stupid costumes off us! Right meow!!


I feel like they both just looked at each other and, with zero sense of irony, said, “You look ridiculous.”

Color or Texture?

Grammie bought Miles a present because she loves her grand-cat , and she had a coupon. It’s a vibrant pink fabric, very close to the Fuchsia Orchid color of my sewing project that drove him wild.

I liked to theorize that it was the fabric’s color that brought out his inner panther every time I spread it out to work on.


Grammie luvs me!

However, I have to acquiesce that a more likely cause of his reaction was the texture. The fabric is silky soft with textured bumps.

The mother of the baby blanket recipient suggested, “Awww, it’s the subtle nubbins….he must be a breast man.” While Miles does love his bosomy mum, Olivia Wigglebothum is the more likely child to treat my chest like a pillow or a spot to wipe her face against.

While Miles did react in a similar wild man way to his new piece of fabric, I’m not sure that our experiment is set up correctly to accurately determine whether it’s truly color or texture that inspires tail chasing. Perhaps another piece in a much duller shade.


Draped over his giant pillow.

Cats vs. Butterflies: We were bad.

Friday night, the last two chrysalises had just started showing their inhabitants and started to darken. I thought I had a couple of days yet before anyone hatched.IMG_1483

However, when I got up Saturday morning, I had two freshly emerged monarchs. All four have left a red, bloody looking goo behind on the netting of the enclosure. I’ve learned this is called meconium and is waste material.



Knowing that I would be out for the day and that these two needed time to dry out, I gathered fresh flowers to leave as snacks and planned on releasing the butterflies that afternoon.

Of course, I came home to chaos and destruction. What’s new?

When I left, one butterfly was already at the top of the enclosure starting to open and close its wings. I’m guessing that the second one joined it at some point.

Then I’m speculating that my fur crew could no longer take the unexplained movement high up on the book shelf and took action. I remember Olivia’s fascinated stare when the very first butterfly hatched and started exercising its wings. Two might have been too much.

I’m assuming that, egged on by Miles, Olivia somehow leaped the six foot height of the bookshelf and knocked the enclosure to the floor. Either that or they formed a cat ladder and stood on each other because nothing else was was disturbed.

At any rate, I came home to butterflies on the floor.


Fortunately, both butterflies seemed to have escaped the pile of objects that would have tumbled off the shelf with them.

At least one butterfly was coherent enough to talk shit to Birdie.


“Yea, you’re all tough talk inside a net, bug!”

Before even feeding the furred ones, I took my traumatized bugs out for release.

This was the type of goodbye a girl anticipates. Enough time for butterfly selfies.


The second butterfly just wanted away so it could rest in my maple tree.


In the end, four of the six caterpillars managed to make it to the butterfly stage. I’m not sure if those statistics are good or bad. Articles said to expect fatalities, but it’s never fun to see a little creature die.

Amazingly, this is one out of many, many projects that I actually got done. DIY butterflies.