Posts Tagged ‘Kitten’

Fur Baby 4: ALFONZ

Posted: July 9, 2010 in Pets
Tags: , ,

Okay.. so about two weeks ago or so, me and Chief headed out to Dunkin’ Donuts around 11pm.Alfonz, The Female Kitty

Just let me reinstate the fact that we’re idiots. We knew.. KNEW.. we didn’t have any coffee at the house OR the store for that matter so does ONE OF US drive the three blocks to WalMart and get a HUGE can of Maxwell House for 5 bucks?

Nope.

For one, he can’t drive yet and two, we’re just idiots.

So off to DD we head.

When we get into the car, I hear this tiny little meow. Then I hear it again. Chief’s ignoring it.. and me.. because he knows what’s going to happen.

ME: Did you hear that?
HIM: Hear what?
ME: The cat meowing
HIM: um…….. nope
ME: YOU DID! YOU DID! YOU DID HEAR IT, BASTARD!

Anyway.. so he tells me that he did hear it.. DOES hear it, as a matter of  fact, every morning for the past three days when he leaves for work. Apparently, the people that lived across the street moved out leaving the kitty to fend for itself. After giving him the GLARE.OF.DEATH he tells me when we get back from DD he’ll put some food out for it.

Cool.

So we go get coffee and on the way back.. just as I’m pulling the car next to the house, he jumps out of the car and run up into our back yard. Before I know what the HELL is going on, he races into the house. The word “SQUIRT” entered my head ‘cuz yknow, those things DO happen but I follow him into the house and he’s on the back porch with this little meowing kitten.

I guess the look on my face said it all because before I got a word out he explained that when we pulled up, he saw the kitten in our yard about to have the crap kicked out of it by the yellow feral cat that’s in the neighborhood. He did the “psst psst psst” thing that people do with cats :: the one that I personally haven’t mastered :: and the kitten just about jumped into his arms.

So while I was all … Awww.. I love this man.. he gave her food and water and put the gate up so that Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy wouldn’t bother her. We went into the bedroom and I was like We gonna keep him? We gonna keep him? and he was like I dunno .. so I started to come up with names because yknow, once you NAME an animal it’s yours, right?

So I started saying Bob .. or Chuck.. or Ronald.. and he said Alfonz and I loved it.

It wasn’t until the next morning when I picked her up that I realized he was actually a she and realized that she wasn’t about to the the crap kicked out of her by the other cat, but brutually jail raped. When I told Chief, I knew that as much as he isn’t fond of cats he wasn’t going to put her out knowing she’d be in danger so she’s been with us ever since.

And let me tell you.. she is one crazy cat. She sleeps in the bathtub.. or the sink.. turns up in cabinets or in the laundry hamper.

In other words… she fits.

.. so I was going to get all Once Upon A Time-ish and start spewing this story about a lonely tree in the the Holiday forest that found a home in my house.

But dinner’s in the oven and I don’t have time so you’ll just have to be bombarded with the real story.

You can't really tell from this picture but the tree really is 9 feet

Ok.

First of all, let me tell you that the painting above the gel-canister fire place is a view of  St. Mark in Italy. My mother has had that picture for EONS and thought it was A REALLY REALLY NICE GESTURE to give it to me after I bought my first house. Mind you, this was after my father died and since he was the one that actually WANTED the painting, I think she just wanted a guilt-free excuse to get rid of it.

I don’t have the heart to throw it out.. but I also do not lack decorating savvy so I only hang it when she either comes over :: which she never does :: OR when I have to send a picture of the tree to her cell phone.

This way she thinks it’s on the wall.. I get away with her thinking it’s on the wall and everybody’s happy.

Ok.. with that said..

You have to picture this so that you get the full effect.

This is a picture of the right side of my dining room. The entry way on the left side of the tree leads to the stairway to the second floor.

The fire place is one of those “real flame” ones that use the big sterno gel things. They’re actually pretty cool. You can’t tell from the picture but the fireplace itself is REAL!! wood and even though they market the ambviance .. it really does throw off mega heat.

So normally … like OTHER normal families.. the tree is put up in the living room. However, with the addition of a hand-me-down sectional from my uncle, the 52″ flat screen and 110 gallon fish tank had to be re-arranged. Putting the tree up in the living room meant that everything had to be re-arranged again.

Man’s job.

I can move around the furniture but there was NO WAY IN HELL that I was even going to think about moving the flat screen and forget about the fish tank.

His babies.. not mine.

NOTE: Although our three year old fish, Mr. Pink :: fuck him, I named them anyway :: did not die after all. I think he was just starving to death because I finally remembered to buy fish food and he came right around. Ah, another story for another time.

Anyway.. so we decide to get the tree on Friday because of the STORM! OF! THE! CENTURY! on Saturday. The plan, as Chief tells it, is to take off the webbing on Saturday so the leaves can fall and then decorate it on Sunday.

Fine. Whatever. I just wanted a damn artificial tree anyway.

So Saturday comes.. and the damn thing is still sitting on the front porch with the webbing still on.

Ok.. so he openned the shop amid the blizzard and had to walk home through it.

Big hairy deal.

Sunday morning comes around and since he didn’t cook the big breakfast to celebrate the STORM! OF! THE! CENTURY! like he said.. I figured we’d get to the tree.

Nada.

By one in the afternoon, he was conked out in the bedroom.

Well.. I guess I’ll at least go up in the attic and get the decorations out. Maybe that will spark a fire in his ass.

So I go upstairs in the attic.. now, mind you, my attic runs the full length of the house on either side. So basically I guess I have two attics. And it’s a big space. If the roof wasn’t slanted you could definitely chain a few kids to the beams and keep them there forever a while.

I don’t normally go in there. Ever. But I went in there this time and it was trashed. All the decorations from last year were just thrown around.. broken balls all over the place.. wreaths strewn about.. stocking with all kinds of shit all over them just thrown all over the place.

The kids put the decorations away last year and when I took a look at what the attic looked like I WAS ROYALLY PISSED.

I MEAN PISSED.

REALLY. REALLY. PISSED.

NOTE: OMG.. I just remembered RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW that the cops were up there when they raided the house last year. Shit! Not that the kids wouldn’t have just thrown the decorations up there but I bet you the police did the same thing to my attic that they did to my bedroom!! Um.. how do you spell “woops”?

Ok. My bad.

Anyway.. so my little pissed off self had a discussion with my little OCD anally organized self and I cleaned the attic. Not quietly, mind you. Cursing and bitching and all of that the whole time.

I bring whatever decorations I can salvage downstairs :: funny how all the ones that broke were from girlfriend’s past, huh? Talk about irony! :: and then stomped to the front porch .. passing Bubba who was playing PS3.. lifted the 9ft tree.. started to carry it into the living room.. felt something go “ccrreeeiinnccchhh” in my 44 year old back.. dropped it.. and then started to drag it across the living room almost knocking down the flat screen tv.

Fuck it, I figured.. if nobody was going to do anything in the living room to make room for the fucking tree that I didn’t want.. then I’m just going to stick it where ever it could be stuck and that’s the corner where it is now.

Who cares if it blocks the stairs? No one is sleeping in the bedrooms upstairs anyway so go ahead… argue with me.. I DARE you!

With all the grunting and dragging and hollering at the dogs to get the HELL out of my way, Chief and Bubba lined up like little Dr. Who robots to help.

Full of fucking Christmas cheer now, arentcha boys?

So the Ultimate Tree-Putter-Upper stands the tree up in the stand and tells me he isn’t going to secure it to the wall until I put the lights and decorations on it.

ME: What are you talking about? I’m only going to decorate the part that everybody sees.

CHIEF: You’re kidding right?

ME: You’re telling me I should decorate the back of the tree? The back of the tree that’s facing the stairway that nobody is going to be able to use? You’re kidding me, right?

CHIEF: But.. um.. isn’t that.. like.. a little .. um.. ghetto?

ME: OH.. cuz we’re so fucking bourgeois, right? I forgot..

CHIEF: Forget I even said anything.

ME: Good call, Bucky.

So he goes and does something.. don’t remember what.. maybe take a hit to take the edge off.. who knows.. but as I’m trying to untangle the icicle lights to put on the tree :: yes, I did say icicle lights. I like a bright tree :: nobody remembered that we have a very curious kitten in the house. A kitten who’s natural instinct is to get into anything and everything that will make my life miserable.

So while Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy is chasing the kitten through the house she jumps.

Onto the tree.

The tree that isn’t yet secured to the walls because Father Uber-Christmas wanted lights behind it.

And it goes down.

Hard.

Onto the dining room table where I have a decorate basket filled with Christmas balls that goes sliding across the table and onto the non-carpeted floor.

I honestly wanted to cry and I don’t cry over stuff like that but I was SO overwhelmed and that just added to the overwhelmed-ness.

Chief comes running out of the bedroom and Bubba comes running into the dining room and I just put my hands out like Diana Ross stopping love and said;

JUST.

GO.

AWAY.

They knew better then to argue and where probably relieved that they got a free pass.

So I cleaned everything up and lifted the tree up. I couldn’t secure it because I’m not tall enough to secure a 9′ tree.. especially when the steps are now blocked. So I filled the base with water thinking that would at least give it some weight and proceeded to put the lights on.

Everything was going well until my OCD self just HAD to do something with the fireplace.

Remember, it takes gel canisters but I do have real logs in there just for appearances. I had bought these lights last year that look like real flames but found out the hard way that they burn too hot to put them on anything that would burn or blow up so I figured HA! I’ll put them in the fireplace.

So as I was monkeying around with them, I figured I would plug them into one of the icicle light sets. Fine. No problem.

I crawl under the tree and as I’m digging around in the branches for the end of the icicle lights, Ernie decided HE wanted to know what was under there and tried to belly crawl around me.

Ha.. ha.. cute.. UNTIL he used MY BARE FLESH to dig his claws into to pull himself under. I howled.. instinctively jerking back and amid the rain of pine needles, felt the tree falling. And me getting soaking wet from the gallon or two of water that I had put in the base.

Again the boys came running and again I told them to get the HELL away from me.

The knew I wasn’t going to be able to handle this one.. being all wrapped up in a tree and everything.. so they helped and I give them credit for trying not to laugh.

So everything gets cleaned up.. AGAIN.. and I go back to monkeying with the flicker lights.. hoping to be enveloped by some kind of holiday zen.

I finally get the lights just the way I want them :: thank you duct tape :: and go to plug them in. You know.. to the icicle lights? Yea.. well.. the only problem with that is that when the tree was re-erected for the second time it wasn’t exactly in the same spot.. so the end of the icicle lights was further way and when I tugged on the extension cord to get more leeway .. well.. you know what happened.

If you don’t.. just take a look at the picture again..

Picture me sitting in front of the fireplace where that nice little glow is coming from .. see that where the tree is? Now picture where it would fall if you tugged a little too hard on the extension cord.

Actually the tree in the picture is pushed back further then it was when it fell RIGHT ON ME the second time.. but you get the idea.

CHIEF: We’re getting an artificial one next year, huh?

ME: I hate you

CHIEF: Oh, come on.. at least I didn’t say TIMBER!!

.. I usually have an “Wanna Annoy Me” post every now and again but there were too many things today that just crawled up my ass so I figured I’d go easy on you guys and just enter one post.

Actually.. that’s not all together true. I just got back from the laundromat with 5 :: count ’em 5 :: hampers so stuffed with clean clothes that I’ll never get the wrinkles out to fold that multiple posts just isn’t Father Time’s hourglass.

Ok..

So..

Things that annoyed me today:

  1. I cut my bangs too short. I have this crazy curly hair that just magically shortens by 5 inches when you cut it. I usually leave it to the professionals :: which, I WAS one before I let my license expire :: but it got on my nerves so bad today that I dry cut it. This.. for all you non-professionals out there is when you cut your hair.. dry. Meaning, not wet. Meaning you just get done blow drying your hair and you can’t stand the way it fall into your face and annoys you that you grab the nearest scissors you can find and just start chopping. That’s a “dry cut”. The problem is when you cut your bangs yourself, you kind of get cross eyed. So it’s not a pretty thing to witness. So what was once a bang length down to my chin is now a bang length just in the middle of my eye. Too short. Long term baseball cap wear-age definitely in my future.
  2. Men who wear tighty-whities. I am allowed to say that out loud because Chief is among the tighty-whitie wearers and I am the one who has to launder his tighty-whities. I used to roll my eyes at the Spawn from Satan’s Ass because he wore tighty-non-whities and it just looked ridiculous but if there is one kind thing I can say about the Spawn, it’s that he spared me from looking at and having to handle stained underwear. And we all know underwear gets stained.. PLEASE don’t try to convince me that your’s doesn’t. My question is.. how are you not EMBARASSED by it? I have been know to wear underwear on occassion :: yes, I usually go “commando” :: but even then, one little thing that isn’t suppose to be there and they get chucked in the trash. Buried deep. So no one can see them.
  3. People who drive with handicap placards hanging from their rear view mirror. Because.. like.. it clearly states DO NOT HANG WHILE DRIVING. I know.. because my dad :: RIP :: used to have one. If you’re going to do that then I’m going to assume your handicap is of the mental variety and you shouldn’t be driving anyway. Therefore, I can’t help what comes out of my mouth when you decide your going to make a UTurn on a four lane highway from the far right lane, while I’m in the middle lane. Jerk off.
  4. .. and speaking of stuff hanging from rear view mirrors. What’s with all the damn plastic leis all of a sudden? Did I miss a memo? Forget to invite me to a party. Get that dumb shit off.
  5. People who think THEIR time is WAY MORE valuable then mine. You know the whole issue we’re having with Bubba and school, right? Well, I’ve been in email communication with his primary teacher and since today was report card day, she suggested that I go to the high school at 4:30 so that I can have a sit down meeting with all his teachers. 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30. I KNOW she said 4:30 because when she said 4:30 all kinds of things started running through my head like, “Will Chief be able to close the store and come with?” .. “Do I leave Bubba home alone?”.. “Will I be able to pick Bubba up at 2:20 and then go to the wholesalers and make it back in time?” .. so yea.. I KNOW she said 4:30. So what happens? I get to the school at 4:30 and no one. Anywhere. I check the library where we were suppose to meet and it’s empty except for someone that’s somewhere in the back who won’t respond to my HELLOs or EXCUSE MEs only to make an appearance after I roamed all over an empty school :: so much for fucking security :: and happen to see the above mentioned someone in the middle of the library vacuuming. When asked the whereabouts of the teachers, she looked at me in disgust and told me that report cards weren’t going to be given out until 6… with an attitude. But no bigger then the one I was already carrying around. So I drive back to the shop fuming and then drive back to the school fuming and when finally face to face with the primary teacher, she tells me that she smugly told me that she had something to do. If Bubba’s education was NOT as important as it is I would have dropped the cow on her fat ass. Immediately.
  6. My father in law telling me he can’t believe I stayed with his son this long. That annoyed me. Maybe because it’s true and I know it’s true. Dunno. Must ponder that one.
  7. Missing school pictures. OH how that annoyed me! If you read some of my recent previous posts, you know that the Crack Whore was throwing up accolades in my direction because I sent her a message that I had Spaz’s school picture for her. Well, today, Spaz got out of school early and because .. well, I don’t really know “because” .. anyway, he called the Crack Whore and she how ever it happened, she came by the shop and took him somewhere. I was in the back.. didn’t see her.. didn’t care. BUT I figured when I got home, I better sort out the pictures because I wanted to put which ever ones in the Thanksgiving cards I got for Chief’s brother, my mom, etc. So when I get home.. there’s no 8×10. There WAS an 8×10 because I ordered and 8×10.. and even if I didn’t think I ordered an 8×10, I clearly remember the day that Spaz came home with them and pulled the 8×10 out of the envelope because I told him to put it back before his sticky candy fingers smudged it. I have a wall lined with their 8×10 school pictures so I know there was one. So I call the Crack Whore and leave a message to have Spaz call me because there’s a missing 8 x fucking 10 picture missing. About an hour and a half goes by and he calls and asks if I want to talk to him and I ask him if he took the picture. He said no.. and if there was ever a time that I could tell this child was lying it was then. The pause.. the stutter.. all neon arrows. He tells me that I didn’t order one. Now.. excuse me.. my brain cells are not swimming in anything chemical. It’s sharp as a tack so to try and convince me that I didn’t order one only inflamed me more. That and the fact that the edging that was on the 8 x fucking 10 picture was cut. And not in a straight line. We had issues with pictures before, me and the Crack Whore. Especially when she stole Weed’s prom picture. Yes. You read that right. STOLE. So I’m not putting it past her that she asked about the pictures and Spaz gave her the 8 x fucking 10. What I’m more pissed about is that she made him lie about it. So tonight at dinner, after he came home from her crack den, I told him that I wanted the picture back. That no one but me and him knew where the pack was. He started pulling his drama queen shit which further proved he had lied. So Chief gave him the opportunity to come clean saying that it’s understandable if he did because he’s just a little boy but he had to be honest about it. Which of course, made Sarah Bernhardt rise from the dead. And so I got pissed. Because I paid the $60 that I didn’t have for these pictures and I told Chief, he could call her all he wants.. she’s not going to ‘fess up to it. Because she never does. But I will tell you one thing.. in a few days that picture is going mysteriously turn up.. or I’m going to hear, “oh.. I forgot!’ or “I didn’t know you were talking about THAT picture”. I’ll bet you any amount of money on that.
  8. Supermarkets that tell you that you CANNOT get the free turkey that is owed you for spending over three hundred dollars on their discount card because you lost the receipt that says you are entitled to a free turkey because you spent over three hundred dollars on their discount card. Since my father in law is coming over for dinner Thursday, I need a fucking turkey. Because as un-traditional as Chief is.. he CAN’T have ham :: of which I have one frozen in the freezer :: on Thanksgiving. It HAS to be turkey. It’s the TRADITION. I rolled my eyes at him and said, “.. you’re fucking kidding me, right?” Which, of course, he wasn’t. So I drive over to the supermarket .. grab a frozen bird :: AND thinking that if any bird deserved to be frozen right then it was Chief’s :: and when I get to the counter I remember that I don’t have the coupon. Not only don’t I have the coupon but I realize that I have no clue where it’s at. No problem. I have my discount card on my keyring. So I run out to the car to get my keys :: yes, I put my keys in the glove box if I know I’m not going to need a damn discount card because I always lose them and my car has coded locks so it’s not like I’d be locked out. :: come back into the store only to have the cashier tell me that I need the coupon. UH-UH! I have the discount card. She says it doesn’t matter.. that she has to ring up the card along with the coupon and bedlam ensues. Because I want someone who gets paid more then the cashier does to tell me that my discount card is NOT good enough.. because if the damn card can tell them everything about everything I’ve purchased then why the hell can’t it tell them that I get a free turkey. But of course, this is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and the crowd behind me is looking for things to impale me with so I told her that I would return tomorrow to speak with the manager. Then I went home and told Chief we were starting a new tradition and having ham, dammit.
  9. Cats that chew on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots that have been stored in the deepest, darkest depth of my closet since last winter REALLY ANNOY me. I mean REALLY annoyed me. Annoyed me so much that I started to believe that the author of “Puss In Boots” had a cat that chewed on a ridiculously expensive pair of boots and made him pay for it dearly. Or maybe that’s what I was thinking when I found my boots were chewed. Hard to tell. I was annoyed.

Well.. I think y’all had enough of my ranting for now. I still have two hampers of laundry to fold and the laptop battery is running low.

Wish me a better day tomorrow.. either that, or send me a REALLY good recipe for spiked egg nog!

Okay…

So we have to back up a little here…

The other day I came home from the shop and went into my bedroom to change my clothes.

For some unknown reason that I can only attribute to the fact that God takes care of babies and fools :: HINT: I’m not a baby :: I look down.

And there it is.

ME: Spaz?Spaz??SPAZ!!!!!!!!
SPAZ: Are you calling me?
ME: UM.. yea.. can you come here please?
SPAZ: What?
ME: (pointing to the floor) Can you get rid of THAT please?

NOTE: THAT being a mouse

SPAZ: Oh. Ok. I’ll get a tissue
ME: Ok.
SPAZ: What do you want me to do with it?

CONFESSION: I couldn’t watch

ME: I don’t know.. throw it outside?
SPAZ: I’m going to have to drown it
ME: WHAT??
SPAZ: (so matter-of-fact that I would be scared if it wasn’t for the mouse) Leese, it’s still alive.. you can’t make it suffer
ME: WHAT??? No, it isn’t
SPAZ: Uh-huh! Look at it.

Against better judgment, I did look. And he was right. OMG was he right!

ME: Well… well… I DON’T WANT TO THINK ABOUT IT.. just do what you got to do
SPAZ: (all proud of himself for being the man of the house at that moment) Ok. I’ll just drown it in the bucket like dad did..
ME: WHHHAAATT????
SPAZ: Hm. Guess I shouldn’t have told you that, huh?

So he did what he did :: and probably called the critter BUBBA while he was doing what he had to do :: and I promptly had a self induced black out so I wouldn’t remember it.

The following night.. at about 2am.. I had to go to the bathroom. I was in one of those not-even-awake stupors so instead of my usual jump up and down REALLY hard while turning on all the lights routine, I just made my way down the 4ft of hallway to my bathroom.

And stepped on something.

Squishy.

I squealed like I never heard another human being squeal before ending with CHIEF!CHIEF!OMG!GETUP!OMG!HELP!HELP!

Chief come running out of the bedroom .. well.. that’s an exaggeration because like I said, it’s only about four feet from my bedroom door to the bathroom and I was only halfway there.. and finds me leaning up against the wall with my foot up almost sobbing OMG!OMG!OMG!

He had the good sense not to chastise me on the whole “.. taking the Lord’s name in vain” thing.

“Good God, woman, what are you screaming about?”

Actually, that’s not what he said but I KNOW he was thinking it!!

OMG! I stepped on a mouse.. I can feel it between my toes! Get it off! Get it off! GET. IT. OFF!

All of a sudden he starts getting hysterical and I tell him that he has every right to laugh AFTER he gets the mouse off of me.

Through the gasps of air he’s trying to breath.. he points to my foot and tells me that it isn’t a mouse.

OF COURSE, IT’S A MOUSE YOU DUMBASS! NOW GET IT OFF!

He swears that it isn’t but reaches out to my foot and takes off the offensive mass.

I don’t know what it is, he tells me. Look at it.

OH.

HELL.

NO!

There is no way in hell that I was going to fall for one of his “Let’s Make Leese Squirm” bits at 2am.

I tell him that he tells me that, honestly, it isn’t a mouse.. he doesn’t know what it is and it’s blue.

Blue?

BLUE?

I slowly open my eyes to look and it’s part of a stress ball that Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy had ripped apart like.. three weeks ago.

Where it came from and how it got to where it was is still a mystery but BIG SIGH OF RELIEF.. it wasn’t what I thought it was so I could die happy.

Apparently, the whole Get-A-Kitty plan is working out. Not for the mice.

So last night, we’re in bed watching Dexter :: great show.. you have to watch! :: and I reach over to grab my cup of coffee on the window sill and again.. for some unknown reason that I can only attribute to God looking out for the fool that I am, I look down and see a dead mouse next to my bed.

ME: Um, Yo.. Chief?
HIM: Hmm?
ME: There’s a dead mouse next to the bed, can you get it?

To his credit, he didn’t wait until Dexter was over.. but got right up and took care of the issue.

So what’s this all got to do with the title of this post?

Heh.. well.. if you haven’t figured it out yet then you may need to suck up some of that herbal stuff that makes your brain work.

This afternoon I came home from the shop and was getting the laundry together. Next to my side of the bed, there is a little hamper type thingy that I use for my own socks and underwear. Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy was apparently playing the stuffed animal that has no stuffing left next to the bed.

I step on in while I was leaning over to get my little hamper type thingy .. barefooted.. and I stepped on something cold. And wet.

Not really knowing WHAT it was but knowing that it wasn’t GOOD.. I did the whole “EWWWWW!!!” thing and shook my foot.. releasing what was stuck to it.. which was a cold.. wet.. dead.. mouse.

A cold.. wet.. dead.. mouse that flew into the wall and bounced back onto the floor.

The scream was real.

Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy.. deciding that he was going to get into a WHOLE lot of trouble for leaving a cold, wet, dead mouse next to my bed for me to step on… figured his best course of action was to get rid of the evidence. So he grabbed it and dived under the bed with it.

Where it still remains.

I called Chief up and told him what happened and the silence told  me everything I needed to know about his man.

He REALLY wanted to laugh his ass off but knew that that was NOT the appropriate thing to do so instead went into an analysis of it’s :: and others :: demise… that being that the kitten is getting the mice and Ernie, the self absorbed, narcissistic, self fuck that he is.. is taking them from her.

My psyche is scarred beyond repair, I think.

So I went ahead and dug my Burberry plaid rain boots out of the closet and will be wearing them through the house from now on.

Cause, yknow.. they’re rubber so I can just hose them off!!

So Pretty the Kitten :: no matter how much Chief calls her Katu, her name is still Pretty :: is adjusting quite well.

Her normal routine is hide sleep during the day and then play to her hearts content at night.

Which, you know, considering that I have a mouse TWO mice, is just fine by me!

She’s eating well.. pooping like there’s no tomorrow in her brand spanking new litter box :: thank Jen512 :: and until she tells you she wants to play, is like she isn’t even here.

The scratching post I bought her is working out great.. she hasn’t yet scratched the furniture or tried to climb the curtains.

She’ll let you cuddle with her and and will ball herself in the crook of your legs  or on your chest or the nook of your arm.

She’s fine with the dogs and is just a real sweetheart.

One funny thing..

Her arrival was the catalyst to an new Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy trick.

Now.. when you say WHO’S THE BABY? he jump up in your lap and throw his body backwards so that he’s cradled in your arm like an infant and nuzzles his nose into your neck as if to say ME! ME! I’M THE BABY.. NOT HER!!!

I have to find the video camera.. as annoying as it can get to be, it’s just too damn cute!