The kittens are looking at me funny. Probably because I am actually cleaning house. They keep coming over and sniffing about, trying to figure out what I am doing.
I tried to explain to them that the time to come over, all big eyed and kitten curious, is NOT when a trash bag full of two litter boxes worth of excrement and litter ruptures, and THEIR POOP goes spilling out all over the hallway and kitchen.
It really is not the time.
I just sent the following IM to Wil at work:
1:10 » momo is attacking the front door
1:10 » i'm doing the dishes and hear this thump and then momo runs past, towards the bedroom, and then i see her run back and i hear this thump and she attacks the front door.
1:10 » and then she just looks at me. with these eyes.
1:10 » eyes that say "what? it had it coming!"
Scene: I'm in bed, trying to go back to sleep after Wil left for work. Momo jumps up on the bed and sits on me, sphinx like, and gives me the stare.
Me: What?
Momo: ...
Me: Didn't your dad give you crunchies before he left?
Momo: ....
Me: Hey, it's not my fault he put them in the water dish. Pretend it's cereal.
Momo: ....
Me: There is no need for that kind of language.
Momo: ....
Me: Don't make me roll you off me!
Momo: ....
Me: ok, fine, git off me and I'll give you new crunchies.
Momo: .....
Me: You're welcome.
Isn't it precious how I refer to Wil as her dad? Like the kittens are our children? Don't you just want to throw up a little?
The cats still don't get along. I don't know if they ever will. Here is a song I made up for them this morning. Sung to the tune of the theme to the "Beverley Hillbillies."
Ode to Mo and Pru
Let me tell you a story about a cat named Mo,
Eating is her favorite, a hallow leg that's for sho,
Then one day comes competition for her food,
A snaggletooth kitten, a fluffball named Prud.
Prudence that is,
American girl,
Yankee cat.
Next thing you know, ol' Mo is getting pissy,
Both cats are fluffing up, getting ready for a hissy,
But just before all the fur can hit the fan,
In she comes, The Girl Who Opens The Can.
Jodi that is,
American girl,
The true Alpha Cat.
Oddly enough, they both seemed nonplussed by my song. Although I am sure that secretly they love my singing.
My new bed has broken me. It's so freakin' fantabulous, that all other beds are now The Suck. I'm at the house, packing, and the bed I previously considered to be so comfy is now a box of rocks. The many layers of padding I have added to it, trying to simulate Pillow Top are flat and unflufffilling. They probably need to be flipped and manually poofed up, there is a definite dip in the middle of the bed, where I sleep. And that's the other thing, I couldn't even begin to get comfortable until I moved to the previously untouched Edge Of The Bed. Because that's where I sleep now. I sleep on the right side of the bed. Wil sleeps on the left and part of the right. Sometimes, Pru sleeps on the far right side of the bed, and I am left with a thin strip of bed between the two. (Momo sleeps pretty much on me, or Wil, when she sleeps on the bed. After 4 am, she prefers to just jump up and down on my ass, however. )
So last night, it's 3 am and I am still not asleep, even though I am pretending I am in my new bed, by sleeping on the edge of the bed. The parts of Wil and both cats was played by Pru, who managed to stretch her body across the rest of the bed, and somehow steal most of the covers. But it's not the same. She's cute, but she lacks of the manly arms for snuggling. And that Sleep Number bed is THE BOMB.
When we first tried it out, Wil said his Sleep Number would be 100, because he is a man. I declared my Sleep Number to be 35. Wil said 35 was for pussies, but I told him that 35 was TV's Bionic Woman, Lindsey Wagner's Sleep Number and I'd like to see him say that to her FACE. Her bionic face. But, after sleeping on it for a while, Wil has decided that real men like squishy. He will sometimes deflate down to 20 or less, effectively creating a nest, or bowl, of smooshy cushiness. He likes the feeling of sinking in, I can always tell when he's doing it, because he becomes lower than me. I find that I like it about 35 to 45, depending on how I like to sleep. We usually default at 45 and adjust accordingly. And when Wil gets up for work, I will roll over into the Mattress Bowl and sleep there for while. Although, it's much easier to get out of bed, if you firm it up a bit before attempting it. I find it impossible to leave the warm, soft Mattress Bowl.
Maybe Pru is a bit neurotic. I fear that trait is only exacerbated by the move. Momo is handling things better. She's known me for a long time. Got to know me slowly, in her own territory. And is not an antisocial freak to begin with, unlike sensitive, twitchy Pru. She's adjusting. Slowly. But she's moodier than normal. And has a short span of tolerance for anyone but me.
Wm: Honey, can you come get your cat?
Jodi: What is she doing?
Wm: She's sitting next to the toilet. She won't let me go to the bathroom.
Jodi: Did she hiss at you?
Wm: Yes. See?
Jodi: Pru? What is your problem. Oh, look... she threw up. Well, there you go. It makes perfect sense. You can't use the bathroom. SHE is using it. To barf.
