My home life is a little like that scene from Office Space when Peter points out that he has eight bosses micro managing his existence.
Given, I only have four different bosses, but they are completely up my ass about every thing that I try to do. They question my competence at every turn. I can’t even carve pumpkins without major supervision.
First, there has to be an inspection of the pumpkins. Were these REALLY the best ones?
Then my top supervisor, the Helper, has to be a part of the whole process. Step by step, he has to put in his squash related know-how. “Back when I was just a feral kitten, we only picked the biggest pumpkins…”
It turns out that he was mostly concerned with watching the rest of Season 1 of Stranger Things even though he and the other bosses were very upset by the flashback where Eleven appears to be torturing a cat with her powers. They don’t like yowling cats unless they are the ones doing it.
I think the giant knife really completes the photo.
My at-home bosses don’t realize that at my “real job,” I was told to either watch the series this weekend or be ostracized from lunch discussions. I can’t deal with being ignored at both of my “jobs.”
Finally, all the bosses had to weigh in on my job performance. I don’t think that this was really my best work, other years have been better. However, none of them have fired me yet or pooped in my shoes.
The Kitten Room at the shelter is not much bigger than my bathroom; but like the Tardis, the Kitten Room’s power is way bigger on the inside.
In the Kitten Room I am a benevolent tree, an Ent if you will, being climbed by a horde of tiny, squirming creatures, all vying for cuddles. One rooted leg is assailed by a miniature black panther who gives up around my knee. The other leg supports a tiger who may have hit the weight limit for climbing jeans, as his needle-sharp claws dig deep into my hip. Meanwhile a tinier, wiggly tiger is running laps around my neck and periodically sticking his nose in my ear to demonstrate purr potential.
While the slightly larger tiger makes sleepy eyes at me from the crook of my arm, tinier tiger keeps zooming. He stops once in each lap to settle on the convenient shelf my chest makes and nose boop the calmer tiger. Then back to zooming.
Whenever I manage to sit down or bend over, a black and white, cow-spotted kitten gives me “soft pets,”patting at my face with insistent paws. This tears me up a bit as it immediately reminds me of Bella Luna’s possessive paw to my cheek when we first met at her shelter. Cow kitten then hangs out on the elevated foot of my crossed leg.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m covered in strange cat hair and strange smells. I will have to leave my shoes and clothes in the garage when I get home. Windowless, attached garages are essential for extended shelter cat petting. My cats will know I’ve been cheating on them with younger, more enthusiastic versions of themselves.
Since I didn’t fall madly in love and bring home a fifth,- this is the miracle of the day
– they’ll forgive me.
Sookie: “Stop it. I don’t want to be in your stupid picture.”
Me: “Then stop skulking around behind me. Lurker!”
Adding ridiculous photo filter of entirely fictional cat who actually likes me.
Sookie: “Now I really don’t want in your damned photo.”
Whoever creates the photo filter app that recognizes pet faces so I can put cartoon cat ears on my cats, will be a hero. Even as I type this, one is probably out there.
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.
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!
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.