I have new skin and its furry....
OK, so I really don' t have new skin and I haven't grown fur...yet. Ever since I got home on Wednesday, however, my cats have decided that they missed me. Now, normally when I go on a trip I'm ignored for a week. On occasion something gets pull marks from someone "kneading" it or there might be drool marks or on the off chance I've really ticked one of them off, I might have something soaking wet from either being pushed into water or peed on. Lately the latter has been rare, but it has happened. There's nothing more frustrating and irritating than picking something up to put away only to find that a ticked off feline has made it known that they're mad at you. It has something to do with the cat DNA and I have yet to figure it out. It was my understanding that cats don't really care what you do as long as they have a clean box, plenty of water from either a running source or a massive bowl and a full food bowl. Apart from that, they're good. Sometimes they're pretty happy that you've cleaned up the hairball that they keep stepping in even though they've got a whole room to go around it, but for the most part its, "leave me alone until I'm ready to engage your services, Slave". This trip, well, lets just say that my cats are tripping for sure.
I'm not sure exactly what happened while I was gone for two weeks. Not one of them is malnourished and at last count all eight are present and accounted for. I did notice, however, that the food bowl population has gone down some, perhaps because my husband has decided that since all but three bowls are ignored unless the designated three bowls are empty, or maybe he just got tired of cleaning up the mess that they made when they eat, I don't know, but we're down to three bowls that contain food, the rest are put away. Whatever it is, my normally clingy cats are more clingy and my aloof cats have gone bonkers for mama. They are in my skin, almost literally. As I sit here, one cat is wrapped around my mouse making it pretty useless so that I have to use the touch pad, and another is in my lap, puncturing my left leg because he loves me. Another, Gir, is sure that she wants to be on her leash to go outside and the rest are within touching distance just in case I want to pat a head or scratch an ear. I'm not used to this much attention.
Now, I know that cats can tell a person that likes them a mile off. They can also tag a person that absolutely detests cats and usually are the first ones to greet that person at the door. My mother in law is one of the people that doesn't care much for cats, but my brood loves her. Beth's cat, Raja smelled me when I got off of the plane. She was curious about me as soon as I walked in the door and followed me everywhere the entire time I was there. Maybe that's what my cats smell...a foreigner. They know I've been playing around with another cat and its a Japanese cat at that. Maybe they're jealous. Or mad. Or maybe they're plotting revenge and this is their way of catching me off guard. They know where I sleep and they're plotting my demise. Already I have more cats than normal trying to wrap themselves up in my lap. One of them, Squirt, usually will crawl up onto my shoulder with the intention of being cradled and wanting kisses. That has been an almost constant since I walked through the door Wednesday, but now Uno and Snickers have gotten in on the action. Widget, who normally doesn't want to be held is wanting to be by my side constantly and Dorrie, who is the ultimate cat refuses to move until I pet her. Gir is following me like a puppy and Harpo and Yoda, well, they still are pretty normal for them. The rest, good grief!
I suppose I should be flattered, after all, they are cats, but the hair in my nose and on my arms; the puncture marks from me being kneaded; the head butts and taking over of my mouse....oy vey! Lol! I keep telling my husband that he needs to be more patient with them because, after all, they were once a species of animal that was worshiped in ancient Egypt. Rumor is, that the cat has never forgotten that point. Dogs have best friends, cats have staff. Dogs ask what they can do for you, cats expect the job to be done before they are awake from their naps. Dogs are flunkies, cats are plotting our demise. Its the nature of the beast, and I'm beginning to worry that they will block the exit when they see the suitcase come out again tomorrow morning. You see, I have to go and get Andrea and although I won't be gone for two weeks this time, only for three days, they will still be demanding to go with me. Mom has three cats and I will be strapped to a chair with a bright light in my face and cats beyond my line of vision interrogating me as to what I have been doing and who I'm collaborating with when I return. I know this and I am worried. Until they are over me being gone, I will have to close my door at night. They don't have opposable thumbs, so they can't open the door, yet. I've already tried to make up with them with new mousies, but the mousies are still in the same place that I put them on the floor, untouched. Yup, I'm in trouble.
If you don't see my blog in three days, call the FBI and let them know that there was a plot by my cats to get rid of me. Hopefully, they won't send you to Bellview in one of those spiffy jackets that you can hug yourself with.
I'm not sure exactly what happened while I was gone for two weeks. Not one of them is malnourished and at last count all eight are present and accounted for. I did notice, however, that the food bowl population has gone down some, perhaps because my husband has decided that since all but three bowls are ignored unless the designated three bowls are empty, or maybe he just got tired of cleaning up the mess that they made when they eat, I don't know, but we're down to three bowls that contain food, the rest are put away. Whatever it is, my normally clingy cats are more clingy and my aloof cats have gone bonkers for mama. They are in my skin, almost literally. As I sit here, one cat is wrapped around my mouse making it pretty useless so that I have to use the touch pad, and another is in my lap, puncturing my left leg because he loves me. Another, Gir, is sure that she wants to be on her leash to go outside and the rest are within touching distance just in case I want to pat a head or scratch an ear. I'm not used to this much attention.
Now, I know that cats can tell a person that likes them a mile off. They can also tag a person that absolutely detests cats and usually are the first ones to greet that person at the door. My mother in law is one of the people that doesn't care much for cats, but my brood loves her. Beth's cat, Raja smelled me when I got off of the plane. She was curious about me as soon as I walked in the door and followed me everywhere the entire time I was there. Maybe that's what my cats smell...a foreigner. They know I've been playing around with another cat and its a Japanese cat at that. Maybe they're jealous. Or mad. Or maybe they're plotting revenge and this is their way of catching me off guard. They know where I sleep and they're plotting my demise. Already I have more cats than normal trying to wrap themselves up in my lap. One of them, Squirt, usually will crawl up onto my shoulder with the intention of being cradled and wanting kisses. That has been an almost constant since I walked through the door Wednesday, but now Uno and Snickers have gotten in on the action. Widget, who normally doesn't want to be held is wanting to be by my side constantly and Dorrie, who is the ultimate cat refuses to move until I pet her. Gir is following me like a puppy and Harpo and Yoda, well, they still are pretty normal for them. The rest, good grief!
I suppose I should be flattered, after all, they are cats, but the hair in my nose and on my arms; the puncture marks from me being kneaded; the head butts and taking over of my mouse....oy vey! Lol! I keep telling my husband that he needs to be more patient with them because, after all, they were once a species of animal that was worshiped in ancient Egypt. Rumor is, that the cat has never forgotten that point. Dogs have best friends, cats have staff. Dogs ask what they can do for you, cats expect the job to be done before they are awake from their naps. Dogs are flunkies, cats are plotting our demise. Its the nature of the beast, and I'm beginning to worry that they will block the exit when they see the suitcase come out again tomorrow morning. You see, I have to go and get Andrea and although I won't be gone for two weeks this time, only for three days, they will still be demanding to go with me. Mom has three cats and I will be strapped to a chair with a bright light in my face and cats beyond my line of vision interrogating me as to what I have been doing and who I'm collaborating with when I return. I know this and I am worried. Until they are over me being gone, I will have to close my door at night. They don't have opposable thumbs, so they can't open the door, yet. I've already tried to make up with them with new mousies, but the mousies are still in the same place that I put them on the floor, untouched. Yup, I'm in trouble.
If you don't see my blog in three days, call the FBI and let them know that there was a plot by my cats to get rid of me. Hopefully, they won't send you to Bellview in one of those spiffy jackets that you can hug yourself with.
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