And I thought dogs were weird.

Cats. I can’t figure them out.

Our two newest fosters have decided that going up on the roof is The Plan. We leave them out in the morning, and we come home to disembodied meowing. They get up in the rafters of the garage (it’s open on one side), and they settle in. Very strange. The part I love is where they forget how to get down. You’re a cat. JUMP, idiot. It’s what you do.

Gizmo, who has become 100% my cat, is so proud of his new Adventure Cat status. Of course, when he hears me calling, he talks back to me until he tears home and gets back inside. He’s got some incredible speed in those kitty legs, and barely touches the grass as he flies across the yard. Giz has also decided he’s my guard cat. He sleeps on the floor beside our bed, just like a dog would.

Stash!

Mmmmm. Yes, that’s the spot. Don’t stop.

I’m following the hand….

You cannot escape me….don’t stop!!

Where do you think you’re going?

He is, quite possibly, one of the most affectionate cats I have ever met. And I’ve met a crapload of cats. I look at him and he purrs. I touch him, and he turns himself inside out to get more pets. He’s freaking adorable.

Fuzzy bunny puppy kitteh (redux)

He’s not as unimpressed as he looks. You can just see the shaved part of his left front leg. Poor little kitteh.

Rethinking the Kitten Whore Title

Kittens. Cute. Cuddly. Sweet.

Really. Fucking. Annoying.

Last night, I was all prepared to sleep like I haven’t done since I was pregnant with Austin. There were no other humans in the house to disturb me, cry about the one-eyed cat scaring them, keep the TV on all damn night, or wake up in the middle of the night to join me in bed.

I forgot about the cats. And the dogs, albeit to a lesser degree. Ok, one dog. The otherwise good foster dog has only 2 bad habits: licking himself incessantly (ewww) and barking too much (our two aren’t big on barking).

I was up until 1 am, coming down from the auction high (if there is such a thing). I put a lot of time and effort into the event (as did others), and it’s weird that I can stop focusing on it now. Anyway, back to the animals. Somewhere around 3 am, all four of the kittens - we still have 3 fosters - decided that in D’s absence, it would be okaysurefine to bother me. If I haven’t mentioned it before, I like my sleep. I especially like it to be continuous. I am not a cheery woman when woken for no good reason in the middle of the night (for me, “no good reason” includes, but is not limited to, D asking for sex and children informing me that they have to pee. To both: why are you talking to me about it? I’m sleeping.).

So. Four kittens. 1 Refinnej. I was doomed from the start. Closing the bedroom door wasn’t even a viable option, because they meow and scratch at it all night. Furry little fuckers.

At one point, they decided that my feet (under cover) were playthings. I disabused them of this notion by kicking them all off the bed. Twice. Yes, I literally kicked my feet until they got the message that the feet? Not fun playthings. Not at ALL.

Then Muffy (or is it Keesha? I really don’t know their damn names right now. They are kittens 22, 23, & 24 this year, cut me some slack) tried to get cuddly. She doesn’t yet realize that cuddling doesn’t include the following: wet nose in face/eyes/ears of person, light claws to remind person she’s there, or returning to bed after being forcibly removed 14 times in a row by person.

Therefore, on a Sunday morning, with no requirement to converse or interact with anyone of the human persuasion, and no pressing need to be anywhere else on the planet, I was up at 7 something. Gahhhh. At least the basement has been vacuumed and there’s a dent in the laundry piles.

I look forward to D returning home. He sleeps on the couch most nights (it works quite well for us, thankyouverymuch) and the kittens view him as their personal plaything. I knew there was a reason I love him.

The whole kitten caboodle.

Miss Mabel.
She’s going to have some funky colours going on when she’s bigger.

Mr. Snowball.
I know, not exactly original.

Mr. Tigger.
He’s the most mellow of the bunch. And he adores Gizmo.

Actually, they ALL adore Gizmo.
I’ve caught at least one of them trying to suckle at his non-existent teats. They think he’s Mom.

And you thought *I* was bad.

Last night’s conversation (repeated from Tuesday night, no less):

D: Awwww. These kittens are pretty damn cute.
Me: Yeah, they are.
D: (picking up the black torti female) I like this one. He..she…?
Me: She.
D: She’s very cuddly.
Me. Uh-huh.
D: I think since you get Gizmo, I can have this one.
Me: Um. What?!
D: Yep. That’s fair.
Me: Uh. Ok. I think you’re nuts.
D: Probably. But what’s one more cat?

Blessed peace.

The husband? In town, searching for a good bowl of soup.

The children? At a friend’s. Have been there since noon, not coming home until 5 pm or so.

The newest kittens? Finally asleep. They’re cute and all, but man, they’re fucking busybodies.

Gizmo? Also asleep. Mock wrestling matches with small kittens will do that to a slightly bigger kitten.

Other animals? Sleeping, I assume. They’ve scattered to favourite corners, as usual.

There’s a nice breeze wafting through the house, and I have nothing on my agenda. Ok, so I’m supposed to be writing yet another Official Letter in regards to the Neverending Daycare Drama. Fuck it. I’ll do it later.

I could be doing laundry. Or vacuuming. Or running the dishwasher.

But I’m not. I’m going to go & get myself a snack (no lunch, unless you count crackers & cheese) & read my book. Yep. That’s it. Back to work tomorrow, and I’ll be busy enough then.

Why, yes, insanity does run in my family. Whatever was your first clue?

Kittens.

In my bathroom.

They are unrelated to Gizmo, who is no longer the youngest mammal in the house. I think he retains the record for holding that title for the least amount of time, however. I’ll have to check.

They were wild(ish) cats. Momma disappeared. The nice people who live in the house Momma was squatting in took them in. They are no longer wild. People! make them happy. The nice people have an allergic son.

So now they live in my bathroom. I almost put them in the shop in our garage (it’s heated, and fairly luxurious, when compared to the wild), but they’re so little. If these 3 are 6 weeks, I’d be surprised.

I didn’t even ask run it by D* this time. I just presented it as fact.

It’s possible he’s breathing a sigh of relief that we didn’t end up with the rottie cross that was found today. Now there’s a sad story. Sigh.

*D has decided that, in the footsteps of superheroes past, he will become AnimalMan. As AM, he will avenge the cruel treatment of animals everywhere**. There will be no more kittens in dumpsters, dogs with healed-over fight and/or beating scars, puppies with their legs duct-taped together (all the better to keep them at the dump, and to prevent them from following the human-driven vehicle that dropped them there, of course)….you get the idea.

**or at least local to us.

Honestly, I wish AM could exist. In the meantime, I will have to be comforted by the fact that my husband is a softer-hearted person than even I can be, and I’m pretty damn marshmallowy.

Gizmo, the Wonder Kitten.

A kitten after my own heart. He lurves Spider solitaire.
Ok, he’s in it for the moving cards and the whole mouse thing, but whatever.
I’m not picky.

The darker side of a Spider addiction.

My arm? It is comfy.

So tired, he didn’t even wake up when I finally removed my numb arm from beneath him.

Blue toenails.

Ok, they’re not technically blue yet. But they will be. Maybe even tonight!

Gizmo is fitting in fairly well. He’s stopped hissing at the dogs every time they come near him, and only Cookie is still doing the hiss/growl/fuckoff bit. She takes a long time to warm up to anyone, let alone some annoying little whippersnapper, so I’m not too concerned. Rastis, aka Mr. Big Ass Cat, has been caught grooming Gizmo. I think they’ll get along just fine.

This week has been stupid-crazy. Short staffed at work, trying to do my other “jobs” (aka SPCA & daycare crap), blah blah blah. I hope that it’s quiet at work tomorrow.

Jack & I are having a night to ourselves. D is at work until 10 or so, doing inventory. Austin’s at a friend’s overnight.

Kitten on the keyboard. He’s not helping. Must go.