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.

Because we need some cuteness by the end of the week.

Kat has shoved himself into the corner, so it looks like we’ve placed him in time out.

Turn about is fair play apparently.

While I was sick, I was ensconced in the computer room in the basement, which doubles as a sick room, because it’s away from Grandmom. As the basement is where the cats go in the basement at night (so they don’t accidentally trip Grandmom) I had plenty of feline company–whether I wanted it or not.

Here is Kit making herself at home on my bed.

Caught part of the WVU game, but slept through more of it I think. Ah well, napping is good for me.

Kat is doing very well, and aside from really not wanting antibiotic shot down his throat, seems to be doing far better than I would have expected. He’s even come around for attention and petting, which is very unlike him.

Otherwise? I see reading and napping in my future.

Cat is at the vet today to get one or more teeth pulled. Because of his age (11) it’s going to be expensive. Yay.

Meanwhile, I’m sure Kit will be wondering around the house, lost.

Hopefully, he’ll be far less cranky afterward.

ADDENDUM the First:
Kat woke up from the anesthesia fine; we’ll see about the cranky when we pick him up.

ADDENDUM the Second:
If you’re wondering why there are no pictures this week, it’s because I’m still ensconced in the basement, and my cameras are upstairs.

Apparently it IS Kat’s window seat, and Kit isn’t really wanted.

I can’t decide if she looks extremely lazy, or slightly dead.

Help! Help! I’m being repressed!