He's SMILING, You Can See It.

I promise I will stop talking about the damn cat.

But I couldn't make the bed this morning because there was a truly pathetic creature in there.

All tucked in and everything. ON THE PILLOW.

ANNNNND... Happy Anniversary. You know who you are. ;)

But the Cat Came Back, The Very Next Day

More Cat Drama...

I had to wait until later today to make this post. See, the damn cat came back. We went outside the morning after he left and he was nowhere to be seen.

I broke the news to all the kids and informed them that Crook would be unwelcome back in our house because of the fleas that would bite us and the other germs he may have picked up.

(Yes, I know a lot of cats go in and out of homes all the time. But not here. And I REALLY don't like this cat!)

So when we went outside to get in the car later that morning, there was Crook's face, staring us down from between the top two stairs of the stair case that runs above our door.

He was cussing us out.

I was faced with this cat, my statements to the kids about not letting him back in, and the reality all right in one fell swoop. In front of the girls.

I had to get to class so I threw him in the house and off we went.

Annie told me that we should vote about what to do with Crook. She voted to NOT let him stay in our house. (She also said she thought he HAD picked up some germs because her throat felt a little weird, but whatever)

Jack, the good cat, did not like that Crook was back. He spent the ENTIRE day following Crook around. He generally stayed one half a cat-length behind him and kept shouldering him. Then there was the smelling. I think Crook may have had a good time that night, ifyaknowwhatImean.

At one point Crook was sleeping on the chair Jack likes to sleep on, too. Jack couldn't get Crook to wake up and respond with a fight from the razor sharp claws to the side of the head so he went to the other end and bit Crook's manly pieces. Clearly Jack was out for a fight.

After dinner Jack escalated his disdain. He puffed up his tail and ROWRRRRRED at Crook. Then he followed him all over the house. Every time Crook sat down, Jack was claws out batting at him, biting his fur (and actually getting skin) and there was all kinds of hissing/spitting/low throat growling.

Since Crook had spent the day running back outside at every opportunity, and since I like Jack and want him to stay and feel good about it, I loaded the dumb cat into the van.

We drove out into the country a bit and I stopped the van. I opened the door, he stopped crying, and took about 2 seconds to judge this new idea.

Off he ran. I have never seen a cat go so fast.

If I had any second thoughts, I would have been out of luck as he was gone gone gone.

So now I am the culprit but the kids all know what happened. Alex "woke up" when I was heading out the door and was ready to fight on Crook's behalf.

I explained the thing about wanting Jack to like his home and feel safe. Alex didn't believe me about all the cat drama. Jack started cursing out Crook right then. It was AWESOME timing!

I guess I drove him far enough away (and past the bears where he started crying differently like he could smell the danger... he SO won't cross that line of the space between here and there). He didn't make it back this morning.

Old Mr. Johnson does not live here!!!

To Clear My Name Up Front

It is not a secret that I like one of our cats better than the other one.

It is a running joke that I am going to give him away.

Last night Aiden opened the door and the cat ran out.

Nothing new about that part, at all. But normally he stops under the stairs and is too chicken to go on.

Last night Aiden managed to grab his collar, which came right off, and the cat kept on a goin'.

Of course this was after the kids went to bed.

Now when they wake up they are going to think I got rid of him (I've been threatening since Christmas or something).

We stayed up looking for him for too long. I got up this morning and looked for him some more. Jack is freaking out. That part is actually kind of cute. And sad. He keeps sitting by the door. Either that or he's sitting in my bed rowr-rowr-rowring. Which at 2:30 a.m. is NOT cute.

And the great part now is this: even if he comes back, I cannot let him in. Who knows what bugs/fleas/etc he's picked up by running around with the random cats and bunnies and such last night?

The girls would LOVE me for that. "There he is, Mom!!"
"I can't let him in"

That would be all they hear. Not the reasons WHY.

Anyway, when my kids show up at your door asking to to move in because their mom gave away the cat, it's all a lie.

Maybe Jeff Dahmer was just misunderstood

I decided tonight was the night.

The cats really needed baths. (Yes, they did.)

The only other time we gave them baths we found that Crook (washed by Aiden) hated it and Jack (washed by me) was more tolerant, although far from happy about it. We had approached it differently and so it was unknown whether the difference was from the cats or the person washing them.

Tonight we found out.

It's the cat.

I decided to start with Crook since he was such a beast about it last time.

We walked into the bathroom and I shut the door. This was his first clue that something was awry. Then I took off his collar, opened the shower curtain and turned on the water.

After I peeled him from the ceiling I got him back in the tub and started to attempt the washing.

About 2 seconds into that I could see I would need help. I had run an inch or two of water into the tub so I could avoid his exposure to the shower head (that was Aiden's gig last time. Cat's don't like water and REALLY don't like it coming out of a shower head on a hose at them, FYI.)

The entire contents of the tub ended up on my shirt, including the cat. Aiden came to my rescue and while I attempted to hold the cat, claws, and jaws away from me (and keep his fierce crying/growling/faked asthma attacks at a minimum) he washed the parts he could reasonably reach.

The rinse cycle was severely short and may end up making the whole dandruff issue worse. I decided it was most definitely over when he bit through my finger. In two places.

Aiden asked if I needed anything and I composed myself enough to say "a hammer".

Jack's bath went a WHOLE lot better. He's just a better cat, in general, although the kids all call him the mean one.

The whole thing got me to thinking about two things. First, we should zip-tie Crook to the chain-link fence and use the hose next time he needs a bath.

Second, maybe not everyone who kills cats is going to become a serial killer. Maybe the cats have it coming.

***I would just like to explain I would never actually kill a cat. The zip-tie thing would only work if Aiden was helping and since he's morally against it, I can assure you, the cats are safe.

Um, Excuse Me

It is VERY hard to write about what a brat you are when you are sitting RIGHT THERE!!!!!!

Yes, the cats are brats. Today the fish called Lunch went to live in Annie's kindergarten classroom. It was for the fish's own safety because of incidents that looked like THIS:

THIS:

AND THIS:'Nuf said.

That's Enough Already

My poor wife got hit with a sciatic nerve attack tonight and hobbled to the bedroom before we had even tucked the kiddos in for the night. She finished her book during a nice session with the heating pad.

I've been trying to watch Cinderella Story for the past few days, as I never saw it when it was still a big deal. I finally put it on tonight while folding the last of the laundry. Half way through the DVD stopped working. In fact, it stopped working to the point I thought it was going to take the DVD player down with it. I tried it in the laptop but it started making sounds that scared the cats.

I decided to go to bed. There was just enough light coming through the window for me to realize that my wife had finally found a position comfortable for her back. It involved both of my pillows and most of my side of the bed.

99% of the time I would rather sleep on the couch in these situations. My wife's comfort pretty much always wins out. The couch is actually quite comfortable (it helps that I'm so short and fit on it nicely). However, the cats have now awoken from their day of rest and refuse to stop terrorizing me.

Here is a brief list of some of their favorite nighttime games:

• Whine at the door until daddy attacks us with the spray bottle.
• Whine at nothing in particular until daddy attacks us with the spray bottle.
• Play hide-and-go-seek in the laundry that daddy just finished folding and mock the fact that he can't put the laundry away because if he opened ANY bedroom door in the house we would bolt through it and force him to fumble in the dark to find us. Get attacked by the spray bottle.
• Jump on the table until daddy hears us and attacks us with the spray bottle.
• Jump on the counter so we can find something to knock down onto the floor. Once the object is on the floor, wait on the counter until daddy attacks us with the spray bottle.
• Jump onto the rocking chair sending it careening into the wall, startle ourselves by this noise, jump off the rocking chair sending it careening into the wall once more, then run after each other because, well, it's so much fun.

There are a few things I could probably do (instead of whining on our blog), but all I really want to do is watch my darn movie! Plus, many of the things I have to take care of involve opening at least one of the doors. And, as previously mentioned, opening any of the doors at night around here is a really bad idea.

Maybe I'll iron. And find a different movie to watch. And spray the cats some more because that is always a good time.

a concert and a stand off

I finally made it through a culture inducing and GPA raising concert. This weekend is the festival of contemporary music at WSU. To kick things off they had the faculty composer's concert last night. This was promised to be extra credit and less than an hour so a lot of our class showed up.

While it did NOT last less than an hour (1:45) it DID consist of six songs by four different faculty composers. The first one was a computer generated mess that felt like a bad acid trip. Stephanie and I went together; I think she summed up the first number best: "It felt like that point in those movies where you find out your kid is actually an alien and you rethink everything he's ever said to you". yep

The rest of the concert was not quite as bad but it was not good, either. Until the last two songs. These were composed by our professor's husband who looks a little like Liam Neeson (a LITTLE, like they have similar hairlines and both have two ears...). His two songs were not jarring and scary. They were musical and had pleasant feelings attached to them. It was a nice way to round out the evening.

I got home and there is this orange cat wandering around outside our building. It was out there the other night and Aiden said it followed him around while he looked for a Missing Cat poster. It even kept pace. This cat looks like Garfield. A lot. And he's very sweet and has a broken meower so it comes out all sad and pathetic.

I decided the thing to do was (I don't know why!) to let him in the house. But he wouldn't come in. He just kept standing in the doorway with his head cocked like he was deciding. I don't know what his problem was, maybe the two black cats in the kitchen puffed up and Row-er-ow-er-ower-ing at him was part of it. (Crook proved what a pansy he is by hiding behind Jack which I thought was fantastic).

I picked up this cat and set him juuuust inside the door. He would not make eye contact with me, Aiden, or the cats who were spitting at him. huh.

Eventually I put him back out and we closed the door. Our own two cats, who are from the same litter and have always been together, spent the next half hour puffed up at each other and smelling each other and me and the door and everything else.

Aiden says if they start spraying it is my fault.

(no more rhyming about that...) anybody want a CAT?

I had to twist Princess Bride to get it to work but I figured it's better than just straight out trying to give away my cat. Maybe this way someone is dumb enough to think the cutesy rhyme is due to the cutesy cat.

Right.

I was laying in bed next to my dear Aiden last night, doing the "what the heck is wrong with that one kid?!?!" discussion as we tried to fall asleep. He is usually the one who can't sleep but had taken two Tylenol PM so he would sleep for sure. I can ALWAYS fall asleep but not if I stay up past that point. The one where you get your second wind and are then wound up and cannot sleep for... ever?

I also cannot fall back to sleep once I actually wake up. In this light Aiden moved the cat box out of our bathroom and into the kids'. I know he posted about it but here's the kicker: I can now sleep, the cats are not climbing on me and clawing me to hold on as I try to roll over. Grrr...

But now they sit at the bedroom door and crrrryyyy all night. I can sleep but AIDEN is kept up all night by the damn cat. Sigh.

It's only one cat that is doing the crying. (guess which one is available.)

Part of the talking last night led to how crazy the cats are (I had been telling Mom about them on the phone). On cue there was the requisite crying at the door. Clearly it's Crook. it went on for a little while and then I got sick and tired of it and barked back at the door.

It shut him up for a few minutes. It also made Aiden re-think being married to me. Luckily he just laughed. In fact, when it started back up after awhile, Aiden barked at the door.

That got him to stop for a bit also but THEN came the running at the door. How do we know he ran at the door? Because he doesn't stop until his head runs into the door. BAM!

They have also managed to jump at the door handle, hit it just right, and get the door open. This was apparently the tactic he chose to employ next. Y'know that cartoon spring sound? Boi-oi-oi-oi-oing! This is the sound our door handle makes when Crook tries to jump it open.

I don't know what happened but I eventually fell asleep. Long after Tylenol PM boy did. And then Ashley came in to tell me she had to go potty.

I wonder what else I can bark at today? I'm that tired.

**This was a lot funnier in my head last night as I couldn't sleep.**

It's Now the Kids' Problem

As Holly has previously mentioned our two cats are the best cats ever (can hear me snickering?). I will leave you with a short list of their wonderful, charming attributes:

1. They play in their cat food sending it flying far from their food bowl. And then they whine because their food bowl is empty and apparently cat food on the floor is too good for them.
2. When they are fed and have a full bowl of food, they look down their kitty noses at the kibble as if we were feeding them something from their cat box.
3. The cat box is a toy.
4. Ashley goes to school every day with at least one new scratch on her. This is, of course, not entirely of the cats' doing. She totally antagonizes them, smothers them, or does some other horrible thing to cause such recourse.
5. They climb e-ver-y-thing. If we're particularly lucky, they knock something over in the process.
6. They have have figured out how to get on the kitchen counters.
7. One of them whines at the door to be let out. Constantly. Incessantly. All.of.the.time.
8. The best and sometimes only bed they will sleep on is Holly. And only while Holly is also trying to sleep.

To remedy this last problem we moved the cats' food and water to the hall so we could kick them out during sleeping hours. Because the cat box is in our bathroom (with only an entrance through our bedroom) one of us would have to open the door at some point in the night. We learned this when we discovered cat poo in the kids' bathtub. At least they had the decency to not poo on the carpet.

Well, the cats wised up to our plans. Instead of simply pooing in the cat box once we open the door in the middle of the night, they have realized that Holly is still sleeping at this time and must be slept upon.

NO MORE! I have figured out a way to get the cat box to fit in the kids' bathroom without too much problem. Well, it fits without too much problem. It living in their bathroom could cause plenty of problem. I foresee the kids standing on it, Ashley playing in it (ick, I know, but she's done it before), or the kids forgetting and shutting the door leaving the cats no way to access it.

But I don't care. I don't want my wife waking up at 4 a.m. anymore because the cats are using her as a pillow and she can't fall back to sleep.

I'll move it when company comes over because even though I maintain it fairly well, it is still a cat box. Now I'll just have to remember to remove the cat box and leave a roll a high quality toilet paper in the kids' bathroom when our honored guests (read: 4 year-olds visiting for play dates or Holly's college friend) arrive.

Animal-ality

We got these two cats in October. I would post pictures of them but they are black from nose to tail and it's hard to get a picture that looks like anything besides a black sweatshirt sitting there.

Crook and Jack are 6 months old which I am assuming is like adolescence in humans. They have the weirdest mannerisms I have ever seen in cats. Someone forgot to give them the handbook in which they learn to be snooty and only allow petting when they want it.

These cats will follow you around waiting for you to just talk to them. If you sit down, it must mean you want to pet them and they are instantly in your lap.

One of them sounds like George Jetson's car. He can make regular meowy noises, trust me, but he makes those fun little space travel noises anytime he:
Jumps
Lands
Targets his eyes on something
Sits
Stretches
Wakes Up
Enters a Room
Leaves a Room
Uses the cat box
Sees one of the many random wild life creatures out our back door (bunnies, birds, etc)
You get the point?

If this cat was wild and had to hunt something other than Meow Mix for a living he would be dead. He tries so hard to sneak up on his brother but can't hold in his little Cherble of excitement. I don't know what a Cherble is or if I spelled it right but it's the only word we can use to someone describe this noise.

The other cat is currently hunting down a rogue piece of kitty litter that fell off one of the boxes we bought last night (clean!). He's stalking it from 10 different directions under the kitchen table. Unfortunately he's going to sit there until the kids get up and he runs for cover.
Jack also enjoys hunting down Kleenex after it's used, any kind of wadded up paper, hair ties, and anything he can bat and cause movement with. The cat-nip mouse was a hit for about fifteen minutes. And never again. But the paper game, that can last up to twenty or thirty minutes and then I can use the same piece of paper an hour later and he'll eat it into submission all over again.

Both of the cats enjoy the toilet flushing show. They will stare you down while you go potty and then rush the "stage" with their front paws up to watch the water go down and then fill up. They will stay there until you SHOO them or the water stops moving. At all. In case they have to beat it into submission, I guess.

My personal favorite with the potty fun (I got out of having toddlers just to lose my privacy to the cats) is when I get toilet paper out. They will watch with increasing excitement as I get it and then get disappointed when I don't throw it for them. Never fear, the flushing show is about to start and will lead them back to the throws of excitement for at least another 30 seconds.

They also compete for attention. Both of them jumped on the bed this morning to lay on me. Well, one did and I gave in and petted him. This caused the other one to run from the living room to partake in the attention being meted out. Rather than jump onto AIDEN he walks up my whole body past Jack to sit closer to my face.

I treat this like I would with the kids and ignore that one just a little longer for being so rude. I'm probably not teaching them anything but I feel better.

As I pulled my hand from Jack to pet Crook (who I swear had a smug look on his face. His black face. In the dark), Jack reached out with one paw to claw my hand back into petting him. Lest you think him abusive, when I went back to petting Jack (I know why God didn't give me twins now!) Crook thought he'd win my love back by biting my hand with slowly increasing pressure. And a Cherble.