This app gets me!

We had a snow day this week. I had visions of maybe catching up on grading. Olivia Wigglebothum had visions of me entertaining her.

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I had just texted MomBert that I was going to go get a kitten so Olivia would chew on it instead of me, when I checked my profanity laden weather app.

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I do need a fucking kitten! This app totally gets me.

#Caturday

 

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Dinner Entertainment

This has become our evening ritual. I sit down to dinner and Olivia Wigglebothum waits patiently for THE STRING.

I keep THE STRING hidden. She can only play with it under supervision after infamously hogtying herself.

THE STRING gets dragged around and repeatedly taken to the box that dominates our living room. I just have to securely hold the other end.

Cue the sad music

I was trying to get some work done, but could hear the periodic rustle of paper in the living room somewhere out of my eye line. This could be one of the cats shredding important documents for me, or someone playing in the gigantic Amazon box that has been in the living room for months now.

The box has been a source of great entertainment. It’s fun to jump in and out of, especially with toys in one’s mouth. Olivia Wigglebothum’s newest dinner time game is to drag our string toy around while I eat. She jumps with it into the box, and then proceeds to shred the Hell out of the butcher paper as if hiding the string. The paper which started as several feet of solid wrapping is now the consistency of something you might put in a gerbil’s cage. To add interest, I recently cut a door and some “windows” in one side of the box. These are good for stealthy exits and for smacking the other cats.

However the rustling I was hearing was not the enthusiastic leaping and tearing about associated with the box. These rustles were the equivalents of dramatic, long-suffering sighs of tragic discomfort.

Birdie.

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Birdie had crafted a nest in the paper and was allegedly sleeping in between sadly rearranging her position. No one sleeps in the box! However Birdie was busy channeling her former homeless self. She’s a “domestic short hair” like everybody else in the house, but somehow she managed to poof out her fur as if she was battling the cold, cruel winds of central heating.

I swear she got into my Sarah McLachlan cd‘s. (I don’t allow the cats to watch those commercials.)

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It took me a moment to figure out WHY she was impersonating a sad street cat. Birdie is in a  deeply emotional relationship with the duvet on my bed and I had the gall to strip the bedding and wash the duvet cover in a fit of tidiness.

Since putting the duvet on the bed for cold weather, Birdie’s life has a new purpose. She talks to the duvet, she kneads it, she burrows into it, she creates little valleys and pockets to sleep in. I’ve never seen her happier than when she sleepily looks up from its polyester-filled folds. (This does not bode well for her warm weather emotional state.)

Washing and drying done, I made the bed. I selfishly wanted clean bedding for myself. I always forget that none of this is about me. Birdie and duvet reunited.

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Satan is Just Santa Spelled Wrong

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According to my cats, Satan is just Santa spelled wrong or vice versa. If it involves costumes, they certainly lean towards the Satanic interpretation. Costumes at this time of year means Christmas card photo shoot!

This year I was lucky enough to find a Santa beard. I looked last year, convinced that Maury desperately needed a white beard, but was only able to find him a moustache. Worth the $8 at Target.

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Who wore it best?

Acquiring the beard, was definitely the signal to drag out costumes. I rarely put up a Christmas tree (Someone has to put that shit away later!), but it’s nothing to drag out the costume bag.

There was the typical forest of trees wandering around the kitchen in festive capes.

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Sookie, as usual, declined to be involved and went into hiding. I basically dropped a costume on her then pulled it off before she panicked.

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Olivia Wigglebothum explored the beard situation. She already has the meowstache.

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Birdie was uncharacteristically annoyed by her costume options and I let her smack them around after pictures.

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Miles, ever patient and accepting, gave me the winning shot. Because of his facial expression though, I used lyrics from “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” as text on the card. The Grinch’s dog Max was always one of my favorites with his giant reindeer antler attire.

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You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch!
You’re the king of sinful sots!

 

 

Karate Kitten Cuteness.

People keep sharing articles with me about Hisakata Hiroyuki’s photography project with street cats. He captures what every cat owner knows: cats are amazingly bendy and can dance through the air. The photos are colorful and dynamic. I particularly like the one where a cat appears to be dancing in a twinkling field of flowers.

Every once in awhile, I try to recreate popular cat related experiments and photo shoots. I can assure you that my cats do not care about cucumbers. They spent most of the time licking them. We’ve tried Maru’s slide through a box: meh success. Years ago, Bella and I spent some time playing around with black and white photos after I attended a photo exhibit by Tony Mendoza of Ernie the Cat.

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Practically as cool as Ernie the Cat.

So when Olivia Wigglebothum was begging for play time in a convenient sun spot, I gave kung fu kitty photos a chance. It became immediately clear that Hiroyuki has a better set up and/or far more coordination than I do. I’m right handed so the camera was steadiest in that hand, but my left hand’s ability to flip the string in an alluring way was suspect. However, 50 photos later there was some undeniable karate kitten cuteness.

Airborne, but blurry.

DSCF2245Caught it, but seems confused. I love her planted hind feet.

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Had it! Cat tongue!DSCF2250Anticipation. Whiskers at the ready.

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The Winner!!

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A Caturday Cattoo

In the name of my cats and their shelters, I’ve bought t-shirts, catnip pillows, spent ridiculous amounts on yearly calendars, dropped off donations ,and petted strange heads. All pretty mild mannered ways to support the kitties.

However last weekend I was offered a bolder option: cattoos!

I really like tattoos and I love cats so…yea…this sounded like the best combination fundraiser ever. (Based on the profit, I’d even propose it for my high school publication if my audience wasn’t 1500 under-aged students.)
Colony Cats & Dogs, former shelter to Sookie and Olivia Wigglebothum, and local tattoo shop Envy teamed up for an amazing fundraiser. All profits went to the shelter; the shop got tips and foot traffic, essentially donating materials and labor. The shop prepared nine flash options-small tattoos that can be applied quickly without variations-at $60 a pop. I was in the chair maybe 10 minutes and most of that time was the artist prepping his station. A couple of lines later and I was on my merry way.img_2948

Miles says it doesn’t look like him, “That cat could be ANYONE.” His classic cat disdain pretty much mirrors Bella’s impression of my back piece which was inspired by her and some artwork purchased on a 17 day road trip. If there aren’t treats, nobody cares.

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While the cats may not have been impressed, the shelter reported an impressive $2600 in the four hours that the fundraiser lasted. The artists cranked out 40 cattoos (there were also a few dog options), and the shelter set up a table in the lobby with pet related jewelry, magnets, stickers, and, of course, catnip pillows.

You know what I bought for the fur kids.

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