Goodbye, Miss Juliet

The tears are flowing so fast and hard right now, that a mere Kleenex can't keep up with the deluge.

And my heart…oh, how my heart hurts…it aches to the point where I want to rip it out, hoping that will stop the pain.

All of this…over a cat.

My beloved cat, Juliet, passed away this morning…about an hour or so ago, actually…fresh enough to bring on this state of mourning and grief that seems unbearable.



She was my baby…my precious little sweetheart…who only wanted to love and be loved in return. None of the usual diva-cat behavior from her - she carried no attitude, no superiority complex, no finickiness…she just wanted to sit on your lap and purr.



We had seven years with her…seven years of sweetness, gentleness and love…wrapped up in a giant furball of hair so thick and bushy, that I had nicknamed her my "Squirrel Girl" a long time ago. She was calm, she was serene, she was zen…and if you'd had a bad day, her mere presence on your lap and steady purring would be better than a week at a relaxation camp. An informal poll done in our house had revealed that she was everyone's favorite pet in our house, but of course, we'd never tell that to the other three.



She had seemed in perfect health…up until last week, when we noticed she wasn't eating or drinking in her normal way. Normally, Juliet is what you would call a "Hoover" - she would suck up and eat anything and everything in her path - again, I say, not finicky in the least. I would often call her "Miss Piglet" because of her snarfing up food…so to see her turn up her nose at dinner was our first red flag of something not quite right.

We monitored her over the holiday weekend, but by Monday, we knew something was wrong. Off to the vet's office she went, where she had been ever since. Fluids were administered, food was forced down, and my twice-daily visits were spent talking to her and scratching her lethargic body, as I tried to figure out what was going on. This is when it can be so frustrating to not have a common language between us and our pets - so they can say exactly what hurts. I'm a mom. I want to fix the hurt. But I can't fix it when I don't know what it is.

The vet didn't have any answers…saying that cats will sometimes just choose to "shut down." But this made no sense to me…as Juliet had everything to live for.

This morning, I was literally heading out the door to visit her, when I got the sad news…that Juliet had had a seizure overnight and passed away. I was stunned.

It may seem crazy or ridiculous to be this upset over a pet, but for pet owners, we know how much we fiercely love and protect our fur babies. They're our children, and are treasured and loved just as much as a real child. I know, that with time, I will heal…the pain will go away and the tears will lesson…but for today, I hurt.

Rest in peace, Juliet, my little Squirrel Girl. You will be missed.

Postscript: The vet called while I was writing this…a quick autopsy revealed that Juliet had congenital heart disease, along with a packing peanut obstructing her intestine. I have no clue as to where the packing peanut came from…but that, combined with a weak heart, led to her death.

The Scritcher Striketh

Sadistic? Or indulgent?

You decide.

I have been away from my Kansas City home for almost two months now...my "exile" has been tough, but I've managed to communicate with Hubby and the kids back home using all means of technology available to us - iPhones, Facebook, and emails....As frustrating as my absence has been, my family understand not only why it's happening, but also it's temporary-ness. I know. That's not a word. But you know what I mean. They know this won't last forever - and that soon, after my upcoming surgery, I'll be back in KC.

However...my "furry" children don't understand this. I have four furry children back home - three cats, and a dog. Hubby and I have very clear-cut responsibilities when it comes to the furry children...he is "The Feeder" and I am "The Scritcher." The animals have probably realized that although they are continuing to get their daily Kibble from "The Feeder" - their belly rubs and ear scritches have all but disappeared, with my absence. I can't exactly send them a text or an email explaining why "The Scritcher" has dropped off the face of the Earth - albeit temporary - and that frustrates me.

So, tonight...we did an experiment. While Hubby and I were talking on our iPhones, we activated "Facetime" - which is really just "Skype" for an iPhone. Hubby then put the camera on Cocoa, my little Shih Tzu, so that I could see my fur baby. Well. After not seeing my fur baby for almost two months, you can imagine how NUTSO I went on the phone....I went into full-blown baby-talk mode, which is how I talk to my fur babies (and doesn't everyone??), and of course, this drives Cocoa...CRAZY.

Poor Cocoa. She can hear The Scritcher's voice - but she can't see me. She's frantically looking everywhere in the room, and I can hear her whining, as she's trying to get a visual, and I'm not there....She went NUTS. It was almost laughable, to see her so determined to find me in that room...but it was almost sad. Poor baby.

Was I sadistic? Or was it indulgent?

So...isn't this rather pathetic? On a beautiful Friday night in Florida, I am conversing in baby-talk over a phone with my fur babies, who are a thousand miles away from me...and it's the highlight of my evening.

For what it's worth, we did this with the cats, as well...but really...my cats can ignore me when I'm practically standing on top of them and pulling their whiskers out hair by hair (not that I would ever do that), so ignoring me while I'm blabbering on an iPhone was nothing for them. All they need - or want - is their Kibble.

Sigh.

For Obvious Reasons

Cats are quirky.

I get that.

Being a feline aficionado for pretty much, well, forever - I totally know that cats are very unpredictable, quirky and even a bit wild...especially when still in their "kitten" stage.

But...THIS cat...ACK. He's driving us totally crazy.

If you remember back, from this blog entry, we somewhat became the proud (???) parents of this cat when he decided that he belonged to us and no one else and followed us home from a walk in the woods by our house. Sometimes that happens...when the animal decides who his "people" will be, and that's that.

And it's funny...because when it's the ANIMAL who decides...then the people aren't changing it...no matter how hard they may try, as we've found out.

We initially named him "Shadow" - as he constantly shadows us as we meander through the house...but thinking that we couldn't keep him, due to three other pets in the house, we looked into getting Shadow a new home.

We first gave him to my sister and her family, who promptly renamed him "Truman" (after the University of Missouri's mascot) - and then promptly returned him. It appears sister's Hubby is deathly allergic to cats...huh. Who knew? Apparently not them.

So Shadow/Truman came back to our house, where he stayed until September...at which time, my son decided that Shadow/Truman would make a good pet in his apartment at college. So Shadow/Truman went off to college, where he was renamed "Velcro" (for obvious reasons) by my son and his roommates.

Unfortunately, it appears that one of the roommates is deathly allergic to cats, so Shadow/Truman/Velcro was back home - with us - by Thanksgiving.

At this point, I renamed him "Boomerang" - due to obvious reasons...as we can't seem to get rid of this darned cat. He keeps coming back.

He really is a sweetheart...but he's extremely ornery - to the point where it drives us CRAZY. He's extremely curious, and intelligent, and energetic, and sociable...and when you put that all together, combined with his young age, it just leads to disasters. So much so, that Hubby recently renamed him "Mayhem" - for obvious reasons, of course.

Yesterday was a particularly wild day for Shadow/Truman/Velcro/Boomerang/Mayhem...last night, Hubby decided that perhaps he should be renamed "F5" - as in an F-5 tornado... but at this point, I don't think the cat particularly cares what he's called - and really, what cat does? This poor cat probably thinks his name is "NO!!!" because that's pretty much all he hears...for obvious reasons.

So...anyway...it looks like when this cat chose us as his people...it was a lifetime commitment...and he's here to stay.

The other day, I gave him a stern look and said, "We'll eventually settle on a permanent name for you, once YOU decide to eventually settle down and start behaving."

He yawned...and then went off to look for more trouble. I'm not sure if he gives a darn...for obvious reasons....

Peace.

Christmas Tree Catnip

*


Bad juju will follow anyone if they dare mess with the Thanksgiving gods....

Trust me.

I know from experience.

For the first time, like, EVER, I attempted to get a "jump" on the holidays by sneakily putting up my Christmas tree this weekend.

I know...it's not even Thanksgiving yet, but hey - I'm crazy busy, and I may not even BE here next weekend to put up the tree - so I justified it in my head and drug out the tree and the decorations and had Hubby set to work.

Don't judge me.

The first hint of bad juju began after Hubby assembled the tree...I was standing next to it, puzzling over the fact that it looked...short. REALLY short.

"Something's wrong," I began....and Hubby, always a bit defensive with his Christmas-tree assembling skills, immediately tried to cut me off in whatever criticism I was about to lay on him.

"WHAT??!" he said...."There's NOTHING wrong! It's perfect!"

"It just seems...short," I continued. "Normally, I need a stepladder to reach the top - and yet...this year, the tree is rather...stumpy."

That's when Hubby realized he had totally forgotten the bottom section of the tree. Chagrined, he went off in search of the missing piece, and didn't we have fun trying to get all the pieces reconnected afterwards. Not.

After all the pieces were assembled, the second bit of bad juju hit...when Hubby plugged in the various cords, and we were greeted by the grand and glorious sight of...darkness.

Apparently, our pre-lit tree decided to be temperamental, and about half the lights stubbornly refused to turn on. We were faced with a blackout covering the square footage of approximately New York City, and now had the daunting task of trying to figure out how to turn the freakin' lights on.

Awesome.

While we were both engrossed in the task of checking Every. Single. Light. Bulb. on the tree, our 8-month old kitten/cat came sauntering up from the basement to see what trouble he could get into we were doing....


Anyone wanting a cat? This one's looking for a good home...


He took one look at the assembled Christmas tree, and with a yelp of delight that sounded suspiciously like, "COWABUNGA, DUDE!!!", he launched himself into the mass of pine needles and light cords.

He was in a Disney World of Cat Heaven, slithering and jumping from branch to branch, while Hubby and I were screaming and yelling, "GET OUT OF THERE, YOU LITTLE SH*T!!!", all the while trying to grab him whenever a glimpse of grey fur came near.

Strangely enough, at some point, all his wiggling and wriggling and slithering jiggled just enough light cords that miraculously, caused half of the darkened lights to suddenly begin blazing in their full glory...which, although somewhat tempered Hubby and I from chasing him, by no means lessened the danger that this cat was creating in his frenzied joy of exploring the tree. He still needed to get out before he toppled the tree, or electrocuted himself, whichever disaster decided to come first. I was voting for electrocution at this point, as that would save me the trouble of killing him myself.

About the time we finally managed to get the mangy furball out of the tree, the cat decided that my carefully arranged piles of decorations on the floor were the indoor equivalent of piles of leaves, and he then launched himself from pile to pile, delighting in the mess he was leaving behind.

ARGH.

Hubby eventually caught the cat, and carrying him by the scruff of his neck, he was banished to the basement, with a decidedly dejected look of, "What? Me? What did I do now???"

Sigh.

Two hours and two trips to the store later to buy supplemental lights, the tree was finally ready for decorating...which didn't happen until today.

So...an entire weekend wasted dedicated to decorating the tree, just so I could get a "jump" on Christmas.





Take it from me...do NOT put up a Christmas tree before Thanksgiving.

The Thanksgiving gods don't like it.

Bad juju, I'm tellin' you.

Peace.

Image from HERE

Kitten Encounters of the Close Kind

Every other day or so, Hubby and I strap on our running shoes and run.

Well. In full disclosure, there's a tad bit of walking in there, as well, but lately, it's more running than walking, which is a good thing.

Anyway, we follow the woodsy road around the lake, which has curves, hills, gravel, an occasional car, and animals.

Lots and lots of animals...since we're running in the woods by the lake, natch.

We've encountered possum, skunk, raccoon, deer, and cows on our nightly excursions.

Yes, cows - as in big, giant cows that live in a pasture across from the woodsy road around the lake. And, I don't claim to be a cow expert by any means - but those cows sure give us the side-eye every night as we go jogging by. I'm not sure if they're more disturbed by us, or by the peppy music that's blasting from my iPhone...but whatever it is, they do not take ONE EYE off of us until we are safely around the corner and out of sight. I'm always a bit flustered by the creepy, staring cows, but that's neither here nor there.

One night, we thought we saw a wolf go sprinting by us into the woods, which gave me a bit of the heebie-jeebies, but we finally decided it was probably just a wild dog. But still...Hubby has now taken to carrying a pocket knife so he can protect us from the big, bad wolf of the woods. I feel so safe. Not.

Anyway, this morning, my daughter decided to accompany Hubby on the run, being that it was Father's Day and all...and I decided to stay home and get things ready for Father's Day festivities to be held later in the day.

A few minutes ago, they both came in, all excited, rushing to tell me of their latest animal encounter.

Apparently, as they were running along, a "cute, cuddly grey kitten" (their words, not mine) came out of the woods and began following them, meowing plaintively either for food, or attention - or possibly both.

No Mama Cat could be found, and both Hubby and Daughter stopped to give the kitten some love...which always leads to trouble. The kitten didn't appear to be shy of people at all - rubbing affectionately and purring contentedly with my running warriors' ministrations.

They eventually came home - without the kitten - and immediately said, "We wanted to get your wisdom" - which is code-speak for, "We really, really like this kitten - and would love to bring it home - but we already have two cats and a dog - so let's have MOM make the decision."

Well, THAT could lead to trouble. Because if left to me, I would be the "Crazy Cat Lady" with 500 cats running around my house...so asking me for my "wisdom" in what to do with a stray, cute kitten is not the most wise decision.

Well, let's review our current situation, here.

We're leaving for a two-week vacation on Tuesday.

After vacation, I'll then be leaving for Florida for a month.

Having a new kitten around would not be the wisest decision at this time...especially when one of our cats is totally ALPHA and would probably tear the new kitten to shreds - especially if we're not around to act as the United Nations Peace Keepers between the two.

But...gosh darn it...he sounds so, so cute, which kittens are prone to do. He's cuddly. Purry. Affectionate. Needy.

Ack.

What to do, what to do?

In my most Solomon-like voice, I finally declared that we should take some food to the kitten, but he should not be brought home at this time. Tomorrow - if the kitten is still there - we'll scoop it up in a cat carrier and take it to the nearest no-kill pet shelter.

Here's hoping I've made the smart decision. If we brought home every cute, cuddly, affectionate being, our house would be bigger than Noah's Ark. And I really WOULD be the Crazy Cat Lady, which is not exactly a title that I'm hoping to achieve.

Peace.


Kitten making himself at home in the basement....

Update: As of Sunday night, the kitten was happily ensconced at our house. Of course it was. Because me, in my infinite "wisdom", decided to have a look at the kitten myself. Remember that song..."Just one look...that's all it took...."???? Yeah. One look. Kitten happily came home with us, and has been loving all over us and purring and making himself at home.

I contacted my sister, who I decided was in serious need of a cat...and I think that may be where "Shadow" - or whatever they decide to call him - will make a permanent home. He is truly a beautiful, loving cat.

Meet the Quackers

Over the years, our household population has expanded and decreased at various times...

...at one point, we had five kids and two adults...

...some kids moved on and moved out, but they would be replaced by a foreign exchange student here or there....

Over the last few years, our census has been slowly shrinking, as our little birds flee the nest.

And speaking of nests....

We now have three new members of our household.

Meet....the Ducks.

The Ducks moved into our backyard about a week ago, and they appear to be quite comfortable with their surroundings. Mama Duck appears to be a bit injured, and I'm not sure if her sore leg is what has "grounded" the ducks to our little abode - but it's been quite fun to watch their antics.

The two male ducks love to chase each other around in the back yard, while Mama Duck sits and chastises them. They just ignore her - as teenage males are prone to do with their interfering mama.

Things are no different in the animal world, apparently, as they are in the people world.

When the boys aren't causing trouble, they sit...quietly and loyally...taking care of their mama. We've watched them as they waddle along beside her as she limps her way down to our dock, which fortunately, isn't too far.

And you're probably wondering...really? You're blogging about a trio of ducks in your back yard? Why am I still here? Why am I still reading this?

But if you ARE still reading this...then you know just how kinda' cool it is to have ducks...in your own backyard.

Life can move pretty fast - and it's moments like these, when you stop and watch the ducks, that makes it all worthwhile.

Peace.

The Look of Love

Hubby and I have several furry children in our house, along with all of the non-furry children.

Our furry children aren't really good for anything - except for a few laughs every now and then - but we love them anyway and continue to put up with their existence in our house.



Wait. Maybe we've got it backwards.

Anywho. Moving on.

Romeo, our tuxedo cat, has always been the Master of the House, and he lets you and everyone else know this in no uncertain terms.

This is ROMEO'S world, dammit, and don't you forget it.


King of His Domain...

Over the years, we've resigned ourselves to the fact that Romeo really only has two different expressions, or "looks", if you will, that he bothers wearing.

The first look is the look of Pounce...this is when he is ready to go into full attack-mode on something, whether it be animate or inanimate.



He will give the Pounce look to anything that invades his personal space - it's his own personal alarm system, warning the invader that it is about to be...well...pounced upon.

Which is supposed to be a scary thing, but we just laugh.

His second look - his favorite, without a doubt - is the look of Indifference.

Yes. The look of Indifference is pretty much on Romeo's whiskered face about 99% of the time. He wears this look well, and although I'm sure it's supposed to send a message, we just laugh.

Poor Romeo. He really doesn't get much respect around here.

So, imagine our surprise, upon returning from vacation last week, that our dear Romeo has now mastered a third look. Yes, our normally Indifferent cat has now developed a look of, what can only be described, as Adoration.

What the hell?! Where did THIS look come from? This is definitely a new look for him, and well...rather unsettling for us.



It's like the cat woke up one morning last week, and said, "Hey. I know it's been six long years...but I think I kinda' LOVE these people here. Wait. I DO. I DO love these people!"

Wowzers.



My daughter was on the sofa the other day, and Romeo jumped up and practically molded himself to her face, showering her with kitty kisses and purrs..."Oh, I love you! I love you! I love you! I can't live without you, non-furry thing!"

Fortunately, our other cat, Juliet, is easier to read.

She has only ONE look - and it is the look of Arrogance.



Ah...my little Diva, Juliet. You will never see a look of Pounce, or even Adoration on HER face. Ever.


How DARE you give attention to a computer...and not ME? I come FIRST.

No indeed.

Just...arrogance.

As it should be.

Alive After 16 Days

And some good news from Joplin:

The woman in this photo lost her family home in the tornado on May 22, 2011.

She and her family returned to their home yesterday (June 7th) one last time to take a look at what used to be their house.

They heard a cat crying, and began digging like crazy.

The homeowner moved a board and wedged under it was her 13-year old cat, Lavern.

Alive after 16 days.

Doesn't her expression say it all?

Rejoice.

Our House Was a Crime Scene!

Warning: the story you are about to read is true. Not even the names have been changed to protect the innocent, because as you’ll see, there WAS no innocent in this crime of passion.


It’s bad enough to have to deal with errant children – as mentioned in yesterday’s post.

However, to add canine misbehavior to my ever-increasing load of stress is really the last straw.

Yesterday, I came home from lunch to find THIS little crime scene on the floor of the laundry room:


THAT, in case you can’t figure it out, is a mostly-eaten box of Girl Scout cookies.

“Ack!” I screamed. Eating one of my treasured boxes of Girl Scout cookies is tantamount to murder in my book, and I immediately went into Sherlock Holmes-mode to solve this culinary mystery.

I wanted answers – and I wanted retribution. The gall of someone eating MY Girl Scout cookies!

Considering that our Shih-Tzu, Cocoa, was the only animal/beast/life form running loose at the time in the house, it didn’t take me but a second to figure out the answer to the immediate question of, “Whodunnit?”

If I had any doubt, all it took was one stern look at the guilty party’s face:


She’s never been one to mask her feelings of shame. And notice how she absolutely will NOT look me in the eye. Hmmm....

What’s amazing is the determination she must have demonstrated to even get TO these cookies. It wasn’t easy.

She had to somehow get the cookies out of THIS box that is on the floor of the laundry room:


After getting the LemonAid cookie box out of the big box (and she doesn’t even have thumbs - amazing!), she somehow had to rip the box open – as demonstrated by this picture of the evidence:


And how the heck did she get the cellophane open??!!

Of course, her fate was doomed when she barked out, “I’m sorry” – in her little doggy bark – and I immediately detected the faint sweet smell of lemon on her breath. (Which is actually a good thing, if you’ve ever smelled her normal breath. We may be on to something here - lemon-scented mouthwash for dogs....)

Not to mention, little bits of lemon crème were clinging to her whiskers.

Guilty as charged.

She’s now doing 5-10 days of hard labor. When her parole hearing comes up, I’ll let you know if she’s shown remorse and has been rehabilitated.

And for the record, HER record will never be expunged. I’ll never trust her again with boxes of Girl Scout cookies on floors of laundry rooms.

Peace.

The Cutest Two Hours on Television

Today is one of the days that I most look forward to all year...the day that I set aside all those little annoying things that get in the way of life...such as my children...just so I can focus my eyes and my attention on ONE THING.

The BIG DAY is finally here.

The Puppy Bowl.

Yes, the highly-anticipated annual Puppy Bowl is back for it's 7th season, and if you've never watched it...or even heard of it...then all I have to say is, "What rock have you been living under?!"

Because no matter what problems you may be dealing with - or what hurdles you are having to jump over in life - all will be forgotten for the few mindless hours of watching cute, adorable little furry puppies romp and play and chew and nap...along with an entertaining half-time show by cute, furry cuddly kittens.

New this year are the chicken cheerleaders.

CHICKEN CHEERLEADERS??!! How awesome is that??!!!

Classic television, I'm tellin' ya.

Heck, if we could get Osama Bin Laden out from his cave and put him in front of a TV with the Puppy Bowl playing, that would be the end of terrorism.

Let's put the Puppy Bowl on in Tahrir Square in Egypt, and the next thing we'll see, both sides of the protestors will be holding hands and singing Kum By Yah.

Last year, over 8 million people tuned into the Puppy Bowl, which is on the Animal Planet channel today, starting at 3:00 ET.

So, before the big kick-off for that OTHER game today - the Super Bowl - you'll know what I'll be watching.

Puppies. Kittens. And chickens.

Oh my.

Peace.

Naughty or Nice?

Today, I walked into the living room, only to discover Romeo, our tuxedo cat, sitting at the top of our stairs...stalking his "sister", Juliet.



We've always known Romeo has an ornery side to him - but here he was, just waiting for our other cat to come innocently up the stairs, just so he could pounce and scare the bejeezus out of Juliet.

Romeo thinks that's pretty funny - Juliet understandably doesn't.



Little did he know that Juliet had already come up the stairs and was sitting innocently in the kitchen. Bwahahahaha.

Plot foiled.

But I didn't tell Romeo that. I let him sit there for 25 minutes before he finally gave up.

Peace.

Takedown!!!

I’m really too old for this...

After wining and dining all weekend, I guilted myself into climbing onto my treadmill Monday morning….

It was a rather pathetic attempt at trying to atone for the damage I did this weekend to my waistline.

I jogged/walked/ crawled for about 2 miles and then said, “Good enough!!”

Later that afternoon, I drove over to visit my sister.

Sis was showing me the remodeling they’ve done in their house, when we happened to look out the back window and saw their 100-pound Golden Retriever, Cujo Shiloh, making a break for freedom through the not-quite-latched gate. Uh oh.

Sis breaks into a dead run, yelling over her shoulder, “OMG! We have to catch him! He won’t stop!”

I start sprinting behind her – down the stairs – out the front door – and sure enough, there goes Cujo – running down the block, as fast as his hairy legs can take him…with Sis, two of her step-daughters, and me – chasing….

She's not kidding. This dog is not stopping.

Of course, this big hairy evil canine thinks this is all a game, and as soon as we’d get within grabbing distance, he’d take off again. ARGH!

About five houses up the street, I managed to sneak up behind him and made a desperate lunge, grabbing his collar.

Well, Cujo wasn’t going to go back to captivity willingly, so the dog drops to its knees (do dogs have knees?) and the four of us are literally dragging this mangy mutt through the grass and back to the kennel.

(He’s really not mangy…I’m just mad at him, so I’m being deliberately insulting to him on this blog as a means to extract just a tiny bit of revenge.)

And here’s where we made a critical error.

We’re one step from the gate, and Cujo gives all indications at this time that he’s quite happy to go back into his kennel…and so, we let go.

Psych!

Cujo does a 180-turn and takes off. Again. Only, because he knows what lies in store for him if he’s caught, he’s running faster now. With wild abandon and only one thing on his mind – FREEDOM!

As he's running down the block, faster than ever, he turns around, and I swear I heard him say, "Suckers!!!"

Are you freakin’ kidding me??!!!??!!

We start chasing him – AGAIN – and this time, he manages to get quite a ways down the street…

…and I’m huffin’ and I’m puffin’ and I'm wheezin' and I am SO cursing this dog….

We eventually get the dog somewhat cornered, and we all lunge for him, and the next thing I know, I've tackled the dog and have him pinned to the ground in a headlock….

Cujo isn't going anywhere. Fool me once....

I whispered, “You’re mine now. You think I ENJOYED our little romp through the neighborhood??!!”

Yeah…just call me “The Hammer.”

I could have skipped the treadmill that morning.

Peace.

When Mommy's Away...the Cats do Play

This is not my photo - but I loved it...so, kudos to the photographer, who is not me!


I'm minding my own business today...the house is quiet, as the whole family is out and about. They're all out enjoying the last few days of freedom summer before school starts back up next week.

Yep, just me and the furry four-legged family members...

I'm in my bedroom, sitting with the laptop, paying bills and enjoying the quiet....

When, suddenly....

What the hell??!!

The most strangest sound comes out of the living room....it's loud and it's obnoxious.

Worse, I am unable to identify this bizarre sound. It is foreign to my inner sound-library....which means, of course, that I must go and investigate this nerve-wracking NOISE. Because, you know, it could be dangerous or something.

I enter the living room to see both cats...perched oh-so-innocently on the hardwood floors...they look up at me and give me a look, as if to say, "Why, Mommy! What a surprise! What would YOU be doing in here? Because we're so innocent, you know...."

Uh huh. I know better.

The cats both have "guilt" written all over their whiskered faces. Because they're not forthcoming to me on what they had been up to before I entered the room, I have to resort to doing a search.

I search. I look high and low to find the source of that weird sound. What the hell WAS that??!!

Meanwhile, the cats sit there, watching me...purring in a prayerful tone that I just leave already and let them get back to whatever it was they were doing.

And then....SUCCESS!!!

I found it. The source of the noise.

The cats had somehow - in their great hunting skills - managed to find a lone glass marble.



Which they had been rolling back and forth on the hardwood floors.


Culprit #1...aka "Romeo"


Culprit #2...aka "Juliet"

A glass marble on a hardwood floor makes a most horrible sound.

However, it provides minutes of delight for two playful cats on a Tuesday afternoon...until horrible, mean Mommy takes the marble away.

Peace. (And yes...peace...no more nerve-wrattling noises.)

Ode to Dr. Seuss

I have a cat....

...who thinks he's all that...

...he sits in my chair...

...giving me the stare...

...as he surfs the net...

...and I'll just bet...

...that he's reading this blog right now as we speak....

...and he ate my mouse - the little freak....

...since I caught him red-handed (red-pawed?) using my laptop on Mulberry Street.

Silly cat.

Peace.

Reigning Cats & Dogs at My House

I've always said that if I were to die and come back again, I want to come back as a pet.

Pets - at least in my house - have it made. Here, its dogs and cats rule while people drool.

Yesterday, while doing a whole bunch of work at home online for the American Red Cross, I happened to look up and saw this:


That is our dog, Cocoa...and no, she's not dead. She just likes to sleep on her back. Here's a close-up:


She was snoozing away...no worries in the world...probably dreaming of giant dog bones and squirrels.

Now, my cats are usually pretty close to the dog - but they have to be somewhat aloof - they ARE cats, after all...so after searching a bit, I found them both behind the chair in my room:

Yeah, a good photo of what appears to be two cats with no heads...

A close-up of the diva, Juliet:


And of course, Romeo - when he saw the camera, he had to come out and pose; he LOVES getting his picture taken:


Oh, to have four legs and whiskers...

Peace.