I’ve been considering lessons in relaxation.

I’ve got two experts in the house to demonstrate.

The cats were excited to receive their loot from Amazon this week.

There was a whole lotta crinkling going on.

Finally got a new scanner!

Last scanner was purchased in August of 2000, so I figure that we got our money’s worth from it.

I was surprised that the two scanners are quite similar in size. (Kat is added for comparison)

Anyone interested in a used scanner? Still works fine–and has drivers for Windows ME! (but not Vista or Windows 7)

All attempts to escape were foiled.

I went back and checked the rabies records from 2006–both cats weight exactly the same now as they did four years ago.

Perhaps now Grandmom will believe us when we tell her she isn’t making Kat and Kit fat by giving them treats.

We are so cruel to cat, making him sleep on newspaper and cardboard.

“In the flowers? You think I was in the flowers? Why would you think that?”

Someone doesn’t want me to check my e-mail before leaving for work.

Just a note: We do, in fact, have heat in the house. Not that you could tell by the way those two are cuddled up together.

Or the way Kit is currently, pitifully, leaning against my legs, as if attempting to warm her poor, cold self against any heat source she can find.

What? WHAT?!

Don’t tell him that bookcase gives him a double chin.

Crinkle crinkle! Crinkle crinkle crinkle crinkle!

(more…)

It feels like something is blocking the heat in the living room…

“What? Me? I wouldn’t attack the Christmas tree! No way!”

“Pay no mind to the furry gift under the tree.”

Many furry thanks to Diana who provided fresh, homemade, catnip toys to Kit and Kat!

Yes, Kit really is that much smaller than Kat.

“I have no idea why I keep falling off Grandmom’s ottoman.”

Or more accurately, Kat Blogging.

You have to wish that you could relax as well and as frequently as cats do.

Cats around here have two modes: adorable and insane. Sometimes the two coincide, but not always.

What do you mean Grandmom doesn’t want us on her chair?!

We got Kit by accident.

We’d gone to the Stonewall Jackson craft fail Labor Day weekend with my parents, and on the way home, my dad wanted to stop at a pet supply store in Clarksburg to check out their fish supplies.

Michael and I wandered around the store, and found in the back corner a set of cages, one cage had a ferret, but the cage about it had kittens.

“Someone abandoned them outside,” the salesperson said. “I think they’re only about four weeks old.”

“We don’t need another cat,” I said, “but thanks.”

“But look at this one!” said Michael. “Look at its face! Look how cute!”

“But we don’t need another cat. We already have a cat.”

“That really is an adorable cat,” said my mother.

In the end, I admitted defeat and we brought had ourselves a new kitten.

Did I mention the kittens were above a ferret cage? They were. She stunk for the first couple weeks we had her. Kat hated her, and hissed and got a big fat bushy tail and generally wanted nothing to do with her. Until he suddenly decided that maybe she was okay.

Of course, as soon as we took her to the vet, Kat hated her again when we got back, until he–again–decided she was okay. This has happened any time she’s gone to the vet alone. She comes back, and Kat wants nothing to do with her for a couple days. Then suddenly he’s over it.

Because she was so young when we got her, she has issues. She likes to lick, but mostly she has this thing about paper. Any kind of paper. She’ll stand on the paper and then dig and dig and dig and dig–never using her claws, just rubbing her paws back and forth.

And she’s also obsessed with water glasses, believing they need to be tipped over.

But she’s sweet natured and affectionate, which combined with her cuteness has saved her when she’s dumped a large glass of water on the floor or furniture or my head and three in the morning.

Once Michael and I moved to an apartment that allowed pets, I wanted to get a cat. So in 1998, on my birthday, we went outside the city and picked out Kat.

Now let’s let’s go back a couple decades…

On my 4th birthday, I had been playing outside when I appeared at the door holding a gray cat, and saying, “Look! I got cat for my birthday!”

Despite my parent’s best efforts, no on in the neighborhood would claim him, so Smokey came to live with us. They got him fixed and all his shots and he joined the family, consisting of me, my parents, and Ari the dachshund.

One of the first things Smokey did was claw the kitchen chairs. So was taken to the vet to get declawed. (I think my parents were also concerned that he might scratch me.)

Unfortunately, one night–in the middle of the night of course, when everyone was sound asleep–there was a commotion in the basement. A very loud commotion. A crashing and crunching and rattling and rolling commotion.

My parents rushed downstairs to discover that Smokey had used his back claws to shred a 50 lb bag of dog kibble, which then cascaded down the wooden basement stairs.

Smokey quickly went to live somewhere else.

Thus, I wasn’t sure if it was auspicious or not when we got Kat on my birthday. Yet despite his really bad attitude (which to be honest, is not all entirely his fault), I’ve enjoyed having him around, and hope he stays healthy so we can keep him around for awhile longer.