Posts Tagged With: Kitten

Lazy Week

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My week has mostly been the boring kind.  Which is the kind I like best, in some ways.

I bought Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone Illustrated Edition on Monday and have burned through it.  Brian has hardly seen me, as I’ve been reveling over diagrams of dragon eggs and portraits of Harry and Hagrid in a rowboat, seagulls wheeling overhead.  It’s prettier than you ever could imagine it would be, even if you’ve already seen the pictures.  My only criticism is that it is a bit too huge to hold and read, though it’s good for spreading out on the pillow next to you.  (Brian?  No, he doesn’t need a place to sleep).

Previews of Chamber of Secrets are available, and I already can’t wait for the next installment.

I made strawberry jam from strawberries we bought at the farm store down the street on Sunday, which I know Brian has been DYING to get into.  We still have ½ a jar of Apple/Lemon left first, though.  It was so good that I licked the pot clean (shhh… don’t tell anyone).  I also had about ¼ of a jar’s worth of leftovers that didn’t fit nicely into the 6 full jars I made, which I promptly ate as well.

The tomatoes have tripled in size, overnight, and are starting to flower.

The kitten has been into her usual shenanigans.  I let her ‘help’ me clean up this weekend (by which I mean I crumpled a bunch of the junk mail into balls she could chase around the house so she would stop bothering me to pet her).  I put them in the recycling at the end of the day.  Don’t worry, she upended it all and pulled them out again (plus more), and strewed it all over the house.  It might have been my own fault for giving that stuff to her to play with in the first place…  I’ll tell you though, the lesson is not learned.  She’s too adorable, and at least the mess is clean paper.  She was waiting in the window for me to come home last night, too (and then promptly showed me that she didn’t care about me at all when I walked in the door).

My mom started a puzzle of Yellowstone at her house, which I find impossible to step away from.  Must get one more piece in (*eye twitch*). I have most of the lodges together, and was starting on the bears taking pictures of humans when we realized how late it was.

Hats off to lazy weeks.  I don’t get many of them.

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Weekly Round Up

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This week has kicked my butt.  I’m not exactly sick.  It’s like I never got to the “can’t get out of bed so I get to rest and watch terrible videos all day” stage.  I just went straight to the “mild headache, with mucus in Technicolor” stage.  I’ve been sucking it up and going to work anyway.  I took some Dayquil the first few days, but I forgot about Dayquil.  I always feel like I’m seeing out of too many eyes and my brain can’t quite make the links I want it to, even though it’s making most of them.  So now I’m just suffering in silence and drinking as much liquid as possible.  Hot tea for the win.  And I’m much better than I was on Monday.  I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.

I blame my misery on the weather.  I like the rain.  I like the sunshine.  But when the day swaps back and forth from pouring to shining, to pouring while shining, it does a number on my sinuses.  And it all happened mid-day, too, which meant no pretty rainbows to make up for it.

I have learned this week that there’s an award for the book with the oddest title each year.  Among those currently in the running are “Nature’s Nether Regions,” and “Divorcing a Real Witch: For Pagans and the People that Used to Love Them.”  I think those two are gonna be neck-in-neck.

Spring has come to Redlands.  I pointed out the spring-green bits on the top of the giant tree in our front yard, and Brian groaned.  “It starts…” he said.  “All those leaves to pick up next Fall.”  I’m thinking instead about the lovely deep green it turned last summer, and all the cool shade we got.  The neighbor’s plum tree lops over a bit into our yard and I can see the white blossoms through my bedroom window.  The Roger’s Reds went from looking like twisted dead twigs to sprouting little silver leaves no bigger than a dime.  I have a feeling the yard is going to start looking closer to how I want it to look in no time.

The kitten has decided that we’re writing buddies.  Or rather, that she wants me to stop writing and be buddies.  She has eaten two of the cloth bookmarks tethered to my Moleskine notebooks, skittering around the table after them.  When she realized that wasn’t working, she attempted to sit on the notebook.  When I still didn’t stop scribbling, she sat on my hand.  My aunt is in the middle of a house re-do and she gave me a tiny desk with an adjustable sloping top.  The kitten doesn’t understand why the surface isn’t flat.  There has been much snuffling, some climbing and sliding, and a bit of trying to climb underneath the mechanism.    She’s SUCH a problem.  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Her problematic mannerisms are what make me love her so much; and that deep, throaty purr of hers.

The last news this week is that 2015 might be just as filled with babies as 2014.  First set of friends just announced they’re having a girl.  I’ll go get out the crochet hook…

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An Old Year

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This week I can finally feel the year getting old. I don’t know why that feeling has eluded me for so long. After all, it’s December. I put the Christmas stuff up already, and by next weekend the season is upon us with a vengeance.

Perhaps it is because it’s finally getting to be sweater weather in California. This is the first week in as long as I can remember that we got four straight days of rain. I got a little Fall in Maine, but I mostly felt like I went from summer to fake-Fall-land and then back to summer again. It is so easy to believe that Maine is a place outside of the world, because I fly in and I fly out and neither life touches the other, except when it does.

This morning, I drove to work in the rain, wipers swishing. Last night, it got cold in the house, and somewhere in the depths of night, and the kitten burrowed under the covers and snuggled up to me. I slept badly, afraid that I would forget she was there, turn over, and crush my favorite fluffy pincushion. But it was cold out. And the other cats won’t let her snuggle yet (maybe never). I didn’t have the heart to move her.

It could also be the time change and those dark evenings, or the fact that Trader Joe’s has started stocking eggnog, spiced cookies, candied sweet potatoes, and real evergreen wreaths.

But whatever it is, I’m glad to see 2014 go. It was a weird year, full of high highs and low lows. The year started with me finding out I was losing my job, but somewhere in the middle we bought the house. Now the year is mostly full of hard work; between sprucing up the yard, work itself, and the huge writing push I’m forcing on myself. I’ve taken on Ukulele Christmas Carols and some crocheting of Christmas presents as well. I’ll never get it all done, but it’s fun to see what lands completed in the bits of time that I can steal. Often it’s not what I think it will be.

And then we are on to a year with no mistakes in it yet.

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Anydots Update

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It looks like our visitor will stay. We introduced her to the other two over the span of about a month. It was a grueling process in which Brian held one cat and I held the other, and we let them hiss at each other until they were tired of that. Then we let them wander around the room together and hiss at each other. When the hissing subsided, we let them out into the house. Hissing still takes place, but usually only when Anydots has pounced on someone’s tail or has the audacity to try and share the window sill. No one has been beat up, and I consider that a victory.

Jennyanydots has a penchant for getting into the trash and a taste for earrings, or really anything that’s shiny lying around (little magpie). Pens are also her favorite to munch, especially the silver tip of the fountain pen I write with, preferably while I’m writing with it. She has grown a bit in the past month and is infinitely fluffier. Her hobbies include standing on keyboards of all kinds and running break-neck towards dinner plates.

It is the Anydots show, and if you are not watching she isn’t pleased. She’ll meow until she gets your undivided attention. Her meow is rather large for her size, and so is her purr. If she isn’t meowing she’s purring. There is no in between. I may be losing my “favorite” status because she’s been sleeping in the crook of Brian’s elbow, but I love her just the same.

I’m awfully glad she can stay.

Now if we can just get her to stop clawing at the carpet…

She’s too adorable to reprimand.

But I’m doing it anyway.

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Jennyanydots

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I found a kitten last weekend.  It was the night of Kristen’s wedding (who is a good friend from college), and no one had been designated to bring the presents home.  Half of us were bushed, having stayed up until 3am decorating the hall the night before.  I was the half that did not decorate, and was (mostly) awake.  So Aseneth and I drove the presents to Kristen’s and had the neighbor let us in to put them carefully on her living room carpet in all their silvery glory.  Then we all three stood in the driveway and talked.  Then I took Aseneth home.  Then I drove home myself.  By the time I stood on my front porch with the key in my hand, trying to get the thing into the lock, I was pretty bushed myself.  It was after midnight.

And then there was this noise.  High pitched, and repeating.  It took me a second to realize that the noise was coming from a cat, and that the sound was shrill and frightened.  I wondered how Amy or Annie had gotten out – we’re usually so careful – and stepped up to the bushes to grab the problem child.  No cream and brown cats presented themselves.  Instead, there was a little black lump of fur tucked behind the umbrella plant.  I bent down and she came to me.  Her face was spotted cream and orange.  Not a calico, but as if a black tabby had been rubbed off in spots to reveal the marmalade underneath.  Her eyes were orange.

There wasn’t anything else to do.  I picked her up and brought her inside.  She weighed almost nothing, and she snuggled to my chest and began to purr.  She wasn’t crying anymore.

I closed the door with a clatter behind me, one arm still cradling the kitten.

“Is that you?” Brian called from upstairs, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yes, there’s a kitten on our doorstep,” I said.

“A kitten?”

“Yes.”

But he didn’t get up.  He probably fell back to sleep, and I wondered if he would even remember that I had found a kitten the next morning.  So there I was, alone with a furball and no idea what to do with it.  Brian is the cat person.  Heck, Brian is the reasonable person.

She had stopped meowing by now.  What does one do with a kitten found at midnight on the porch?  Amy and Annie were already tucked in their room upstairs for the night so we didn’t have to worry about them.  I sat on the kitchen floor and let the bit of fluff prance around with her tail in the air while eyeing the top of the cabinets.  I took my shoes off.  I petted her.  I asked her what she would like me to do with her.  She didn’t answer, but instead tried to jump onto the top of the cabinets and failed.

Eventually I decided on the downstairs bathroom.  I could put some towels in there and if she peed all over the place we could clean it up pretty easily.  The only litterbox was in the room the other cats were inhabiting.

I left her in the kitchen when I went upstairs to grab some towels.  I could hear her crying again, so I hurried back.  She had wedged herself, cowering, into the crook underneath the cabinets.  I was gone about 10 seconds.

“What are you doing?” I asked her.  “You’re fine, silly.”

She stopped crying pranced right out to me again, tail waving.

I put the towels, some water, and the cat into the bathroom.  She curled right up on the blue towel in a tiny black and orange lump.  She purred, and her head began to nod.  I closed the door when she fell asleep and then went to bed myself.  I worried about her all night long, in a strange house after a traumatic night in the bushes.

Brian and I went to the store Saturday morning and bought a second litterbox and some kitten food.  We fed her, watched her play with the Christmas bows I dug out of the wrapping paper box, and laughed at her gumby, falling over ways.  I have known many kittens and there is always something a little sadistic about them, but there is nothing like that about this gal.  She mostly just wants cuddles.  She bit my shirt yesterday, contemplatively, and then looked up at me with those big orange eyes.

We named her Jennyanydots, for her spotted coat and her gumbyness.  But also because she stretches her little legs out behind her like a dancer sometimes for no rhyme or reason.  Whether we claim T.S. Elliot or Cats the musical, it all works.  I did not have a hard time imagining her tap dancing with the cockroaches once we all go to bed.  I’m head over heels for her.

The only catch is the other cats.  They were here first.  If they don’t get along, then Miss Anydots will be seeking a home.  We plan to introduce them all tonight and I am crossing my fingers that it goes well.  I think giving her up might break my heart.

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