Rules are for humans

As previously noted, Whitey likes to burrow under blankets. Usually this is cute. It's not so cute when you're half awake, move your feet away from a warm kitten lump, and feel needle-like claws raking your ankle as he pounces. Owww!

Pouncing is against the rules, of course, but Whitey has a history of considering rules as merely guidelines. This morning I heard a sad and lonely meow coming from downstairs. "Won't someone please play with me?" I went down to investigate and found Whitey sitting on the dining room table, which is also against the rules. I think he was actually saying, "Won't someone help me climb on the chandelier?"

Meanwhile, the "breakfast at 8:00" rule is strictly enforced.

Feline Friends

We haven't been posting much because we have both been sick with 10 day colds from hell. The cats, while computer litterate, consider actual typing to be a clerk's job. (They may have something there.)

At the same time, the cats do have priorities, like actively being family.

It seems every time I take a nap to fight the cold, a tiger cat or even two appears to keep me company, trying to nestle of up to my legs in a mixed species creature pile. Because I am a restless sleeper this doesn't work, but the boys are accommodating of my human limitations, moving out of the way but still sticking close.

When the bedroom door has been shut for noise control, Billy even mews and scratches at it to be let in so he can look after me. (Katherine now has instructions to prop the door open for him.)

As I type this in my office, I can see my roll-away printer stand (sans printer) which mostly acquires junk. One item on it today is a semi-wadded up sweatshirt, and that sweatshirt has now acquired a napping Whitey. And that's not junk at all.

The Mighty Hunter

Billy, the master of the chow line, has found something more important than food.

Someone online mentioned of a
Feather Cat Teaser as the one true cat toy for his cat, and so when we were getting kitty litter I picked one up. Net result:

Emily

Is interested in it, a little scared of it at times. At her age, she tires easily, which may be a factor.

Whitey

Spider-cat acrobatics in full glory as he leaps up and after it. He thinks it's darn near as good as a kitty treat (see below).

Billy

12 pounds of Sabertooth tiger; this isn't pleasure, it's business. He makes Whitey seem disinterested, and when Billy latches on to the feather, it takes 30 seconds to a minute of working the line just get it loose again. And he will growl defending it.

Billy is so focused on the feather that even literally dropping cat treats in front of his nose doesn't make him let go of it. (Whitey will dispose of the treat for him, if needed.) When we put the feather away, Billy lies quietly on sentry duty looking at the place he thinks it roosted, waiting for it to take flight again.

And we do put it away, because Billy would chase it until he collapsed.

Nice to know Billy is on our side.

The Daily Mess

Knowing there are those hang on every purr of the cats ...

Emily threw up today for no appearent reason.

Go, go Catzilla!

This is mostly posted because I named a big fast computer I test on at work after Catzilla, and I need an accessible picture for its web server.

Penthouse Rumble

Sometimes the boys play nice. Sometimes it gets a little purrsonal, like the left hook Whitey delivered to his brother.

(Pardon the focus and quality, shooting action shots with flash is not our forte).

    

Back by popular demand

Eek! We've got an actual audience, hanging on our every post! (See comment to previous entry.)

We've actually spent most of the last week dealing with human concerns: baseball, elections, and the lack of productivity inspired by both. The feline contingent has been pretty well-behaved through all this. After all, awake humans are more willing to play than sleeping humans.

Today, both boys reminded me that the distinction between human furniture and cat furniture is purely artificial. Billy decided to hop up on the dining room table to help me put together a grocery list. He was very annoyed that he not only didn't persuade me to buy more kitty treats, but also got smited by the Mist of Doom for being where he didn't belong. Not to be outdone, Whitey decided that the bunch of bananas I brought back from the store was too heavy for me, and decided to help me put them on the banana hook. Tsk tsk tsk.