The further misadventures of Hooligan kitties

I think I should write a book series. Maybe it will be a children's book. On the misadventures of sister kitties. Perhaps it will be a sweet compelling tale of humor and triumph ala "Marley and Me." More than likely. If I were to write a book. It would be of a self-help type. Explaining why you don't really want a cat. And especially why you don't want a pair of kitties.

I could start with the fact that you could end up with clever cats who turn on the faucets because fresh water is much better than the swill in the bowl.

Or clever might not be the word for kitties who get trapped behind bookcases.

I could also mention the possibility of ending up with chewers. Who could destroy your blinds.

Be attracted to the smell of crocs...which demand to be eaten.

Or really the scent of any foam. Which leads to things like intestinal blockages.

One would not want to end up with clever cats who like to chew. Because they might open your bathroom drawers. And feel the need to eat all the hairtyes in said drawer. Yielding yet another high vet bill.

I could also wax rhapsodic about those chewing kitties. Who insist on chewing. Climbing. And sleeping in your Christmas tree. Forcing you to put it away. And changing the face of your celebration forevah and evah.

And then. I could mention this day. Which started with an email. And a query. "Is there something wrong with your phone? I tried to call you this morning. It rang once and then nothing." After much investigation. Calling my own house. Having other people call. Calling the phone company. But being perplexed because the internet works just fine. We discovered the problem.

Every. Single. Phone cord. Has been chewed on. Every. Single. One. When your phone cords have been used for lunch. The phones no longer work. I am quotable. Just like Confucius. I am quite sure I have the makings of a best seller. If only the kitties would stop prying the keys off of the keyboard.

So. If you are trying to reach me. Don't call.

Well laid plans

I thought that I would get back to writing. That I would get back to reading and commenting. But getting back into the swing of things. Finding my routine. Well, it hasn't been an easy process. Especially since things here are not exactly normal.

Michael is doing great. He gets his staples removed tomorrow. I think he'll be back at work next week. But. He can't drive until the end of July. So, I have begun a six degrees of seperation quest. There has to be someone who lives somewhat near us. And that works near Michael. He cannot be the only one making that daily commute. I have yet to find that person. So. It looks like I am going to be his chauffeur.

Chauffeurs spend an awful lot of time in the car. Time they could be spending at home. Or shuttling children to activities. Or cooking dinner. I have no idea how I am going to get everyone where they need to go. I am going to be an incredible juggler come August.

So yesterday. After my end of year PTA meeting. While I sat here in front of a blank screen and contemplated my next blog entry. Thinking I might tell you about the snow that we had on the first of March. Or maybe about our Spring break. Or meeting Paula Deen. Or my strange desire to have chickens. Or about my newest TV addiction. I was brought out of my day dream by strange hacking noises.

And as I went to investigate, I found one of the hooligan kitties coughing. And foaming at the mouth. She naturally ran from me. And hid behind our washing machine. Still making these horrid gagging noises. Finally with a broom and the long arm of Michael, we extricated her. Stuck her in the kitty carrier. And set off in search of a vet that was really close to our house.

It was challenging paying attention to the road as I listened to Jessie try to breathe. That high pitched wheeze. The struggle to push air into her lungs. The wet congestion as she tries to release whatever she is gagging on.

The first one I pulled into...the doctor was gone. And they directed me to another vet another mile up the road. As I pulled into the next office...they were expecting us, and took Jessie right away. It wasn't too much longer before they came to let me know that they had to put her under anestheia. And it looked like she had a shoe lace stuck in her esophagus. They were working on pulling it out. And they would keep me updated.

Have I told you how bad these kitties are? I thought so. Well. Apparently, these vets now have a great story to tell. About the cat that ate 40 hair tyes. And got them stuck in her throat. At least the bill this time was only $400. And not the $1200 that her sister cost us for eating foam.

Happy first birthday hooligan kitties.

So...what about you? How many emergency room visits have you had this year? Ever? Do you keep a running log of blog topics? Know anyone Michael could carpool to work with?

Curiosity will kill this cat

Hooligan kitty strikes again.

She is usually causing trouble of some sort. Chewing up my blinds. Eating crocs. Jumping up on the table. Having to get part of her intestines removed.

She is also a very social kitty. She likes to be where the people are. She greets you when you walk in the door. She likes to follow you to bed. To the bathroom. To the shower.

So when you are in a room. Alone. For more than a few minutes. You know that something is wrong. She is most likely locked in a closet. Because she stealthily snuck in while you were getting out a towel. Or on quiet kitty tip-toes snuck into the pantry while you were rummaging for a snack. Or in the dark, you didn't notice the gray streak as you attempt to find a pair of jeans from the shelves of your clothes closet.

And off you go. On a quest to find hooligan kitty. Opening all doors. And at the same time trying to make sure that sister of hooligan kitty does not get caught in the same predicament. Often you will open doors and no cat will come charging out. You must actually look on each shelf. Under clothes that are hanging. Behind the cereal boxes. Because the kitty is snoozing. And entertained. Just knowing that are you are trying to find her. She is content to lay quietly in wait. Biding her time. And waiting to stretch out that tell-tale paw till you come looking for a second time. Or a third.

A few weeks ago, hooligan kitty pulled off the disappearing act of the century. She was in the kitchen when I left the house. But when I got home. Only her sister was to be found. I knew immediately something was up. She didn't come when called. She didn't come when I added food to her bowl. She didn't come when I started shaking her noisy toys.

I began my quest. She wasn't in the pantry. In any of the closets. Under the bed. In the bathtub. She was no where.

When Katie got home, I had her help me to look. We looked where I knew she wasn't. We looked where we knew she couldn't be. So, I called the last person that might have seen her. The housekeeper.

Apparently she left me a message that I didn't see. To tell me that hooligan kitty had jumped up on my book cases. These book cases. The ones that are 8 feet tall. Yep. Those.

And then. She jumped behind them. Jumped. Not fell. Jumped. You see. There is a space behind the book cases. The CD shelves don't go all the way to the wall.And Rhonda, our housekeeper, couldn't move the bookcases to save hooligan kitty. She couldn't move them because the bookcases are bolted to the wall. And to each other. Again - because some of them don't actually go to the wall. And that space. It called to Hooligan kitty. And asked her to fill it.

And as I stood in front of these shelves. Talking to Rhonda. And wondering where on earth the screw drivers might be kept. I heard a plaintative meow.

I got Katie started with taking ALL the books off the shelves. While I went to find a screw driver. Both kinds. And a step stool. And then I started unscrewing. And unscrewing. And a little more unscrewing. And then with a little brute force. I moved that book case.

And what to my wandering eye should appear? But a fluffy hooligan kitty. With her tail up. And a sway to her hips. And an "I meant to do that" meow. And after she had said her peace. She turned right back around and settled herself into her new hidey hole. Quite proud. As she thought about her cousin. The cat that swallowed the canary.

Christmas - It was the best gift EVAH!

It's January 5th. I can still talk about Christmas, right?

We had a great holiday. We got to visit with Santa. With the ER doctors. And with each other.

After Madalyn's visit to the ER on Christmas Eve to get her splint. We did manage to get ourselves to church. Where Madalyn could proudly show off her arm. And tell the Pastor how I didn't believe her. And we got to listen to Katie play "I wonder as I wander" during the service.

After church we went home to cook dinner. And usually we have a Thanksgiving redux. I am not sure why as I do not like Thanksgiving food. So this year we did things a little differently. My mom had gotten us steaks from Omaha steaks. So, Michael grilled those. Grilled some asparagus. And I made Pioneer Woman's twice baked potatoes. It was all rather delish.

And then the girls got to open their first Christmas gift. It's always pajamas. And it's always matching. Madalyn was told by the doctor to not use her hand. So, she tried to open her package with her feet. She was rather miffed that I got them matching clothes. Really miffed. Which got me rather exasperated. Once a year I can get them to match. When it's my idea. Now, next year, I think that Katie will fully be entrenched in junior sizes. So matching will be a thing of the past. Can we have a moment of silence? I am still grieving the loss of Gymboree clothes.

I might need another moment.

Sigh. Okay. I think we can move on now.

The kids put on their pajamas.

I am not even sure what happened then. But I managed to tame them for a moment. Except that they felt the need to channel the Rockettes. Before they could pose with Santa's cookies. And then they were sent to bed.

And when they got up the next morning. They were surprised with the best Christmas gift.

They quickly figured out how to work it. And Santa was kind enough to hook all the stuff up so it was ready to play. They played wii sports. They played Cooking Mama. They played Sims Castaway. And I they became rabidly addicted to Sims.

And then we opened Mario Kart. That Heather told Santa to bring to them. And now. Mario Kart is all that we play. Even Madalyn. Who figured out how to drive with a cast on her arm. (Yep. She graduated from a splint to a cast.)

We even got my mom to play. She keeps looking for the blue hair lane. And driving cautiously. Sometimes she actually wins.

But you know what? There was more. There was another gift. It was the best evah. Here are the girls with it on Christmas morning.

It's a stroller. But no ordinary stroller.

It's a kitty stroller. Yes, really. A stroller meant for the kitties. It's got mesh viewing windows. And it zips so that they cannot escape.

I am not sure if it was the best Christmas gift for the girls. Who can now take the kitties out on walks. Or if it was the best for the kitties.

Those same kitties who now sit in the stroller. And cry to be taken out for a walk.

ETA: Yes...the kitties really do LOVE that stroller. My mother will not reveal how much she paid...but I really didn't think they'd go for being zipped in it. On the first walk of the day, one kitty did freak out. She was let out. And she stood at our glass front door and watched her sister go on a walk. She cried. She felt left out. Really. And now they both are constantly clamoring for walks. I swear that these kitties are really dogs in disguise.

So...what about you? What was the favorite gift this year? Do you have a wii or game system? Do you have a favorite game? Have you entered the contest?

Theme song: Julie Andrews - I wonder as I wander. Because it is still Christmas. At least until tomorrow.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

I love Christmas. I love the season of giving. I love getting out our Christmas tree. Putting on the ornaments. Reminiscing about where they came from. Setting out my mom's huge collection of Santas. Opening the pockets of the advent calendars with my girls. Driving around neighborhoods to look at lights.

But this year. Everything has been on hold. Everything has remained in the attic. Because a certain species. In some circles known as feline destructicus. Has invaded my house. And after the intestinal blockage incident. I am rather leary of setting out all of my Christmas items. Because the hooligans might attack the hanging advent calendars. Steal the baby Jesus from the creche. Eat the ornaments. Or maybe even the tree.

So rather than putting everything up the day after Thanksgiving. We waited until December 14th. And we set up our Tree. Watched. And waited. We didn't have to wait too long before the invading hordes arrived to have their curiosity assauged. Here they are. Whispering plots and plans to each other.They quickly decided to put on their game faces. And pretend ingnorance. And innocence.But when the tree came out of the bag. They could not contain their excitement at having something new to investigate destroy. There was a little bit of chewing. But after few squirts of water. And they seemed to leave it alone.Seemed being the operative word. And the reason why my beautiful pre-lit tree is back in the bag. And back in the attic. Because apparently my kitties are still confused. And think themselves to be ornaments. Or perhaps tinsel. Or that elusive partridge.

So...what about you? Is your tree up and decorated? Do you have a favorite decoration for the holidays? Do you have to worry about feline destruticus? Canine destruticus? Homo sapiens toddler-zila?

(Did you enter the contest to win the HUGE pack of Disney scrapbook supplies? What are you waiting for? Only 2 more days to get your name in the pot.)

Theme song: Blue Oyster Cult - Godzilla. Which sparked a conversation about who Godzilla is with the girls. So, I found the hilarious video to this song. And then we got sucked in by You Tube. And watched Godzilla vs. Megalon. And Godzilla vs. Mothra. And laughed ourselves silly.

Wordy Wednesday: A State of Confusion

I have always had cats. When I was about 8 we got our first one - TJ. Well...I think it could more accurately be described, that he chose us. Our next, Bootsie, was a rescue. And then she slept in our nativity set over Christmas. And shortly after had her own immaculate conception - and we now had Bootsie and her daughter, Tiggy. Then we adopted two farm cats - Ivan and Cindy. Next, Buddy, a stray, adopted my dad. When Michael and I moved in together we rescued Frannie and Zoe. Then a feral cat had five kittens under our deck. That we took in. And got them shots. And fixed. And really high vet bills for Tar-jay, Sweet pea, Baby, Katie (guess who named this one!), and Todd.

13 cats have been a part of my life. Todd the hermit cat still lives under my mom's bed. And then at the end of July, we brought two more cats hooligans - Jessie and Ella - into our lives. You'd think that after 13 cats - all of them being with us since they were very young - we would know what to expect. But these two. Well...I just think they are crazy. And confused.

Sometimes I think that they were circus performers in a previous life.

Or perhaps a spider.

Guerillas. In a war against napkins.

A roach. As they flatten themselves to micro inches to fit under furniture.

Stealth fighters.

Potted plants.

A Roman Emperor.

Or a very tired Mommy Blabber.

Sometimes, they act more like magpies. As they steal shiny bits. Like cell phones. Watches. Earrings. Shoes with buckles. Or cups from my bathroom sink. Nothing is sacred from their desire to hoard.

But most of the time. I just think the kitties think that they are dogs. They like to drink from the toilet. Sometimes they'll get a bit more high brow. Because they can turn on the faucet.They really like a good game of fetch. Just about anything will work. They like kitty toys. Stuffed animals will do the trick. My personal favorite is the heavy silver lever you use to flush the toilet. Yeah. They got that off the toilet and like to carry it around. I can attest that it is not fun for it to be "clunked" on you in the middle of the night when they want to play fetch.

But the biggest problem with kitties that think they are dogs. Well...it's chewing. They have ruined blinds.

Crocs. And anything that they can find. They have eaten most of their kitty toys. Soft mice with leather tails are now tail-less. Feathers at the end of a plastic circle. Well...feathers are devoured. The plastic circle. I have found bits of it around the house.

And the kitties most recent adventure was to eat a bunch of foam letters and numbers that the kids used to play with in the tub.

You know. Foam and kitties don't mix well. Foam forms a cork in the intestines.And causes kitties to have intestinal surgery. Requiring staples. And vet bills that look more like mortgage payments.

So...what about you? Did/do you like to pretend to be something that you are not? Has it ever taken you to the hospital? Are your pets struggling with identity as well? Do you have a favorite song that is a re-make/cover?

Theme song: Violent Femmes - Crazy. Because they are just as confused. Thinking that they are Gnarles Barkley.