Eight Times

"Areow!" Gunnar was crying the loudest I'd ever heard him last night.

"Are you dying?" I yelled back.

Gunnar (pictured above with Mojo who is NOT hurting him) is a very vocal cat, so crying loudly is nothing new. He likes to sit on the top of the stairs and do this every night around the same time. He's just talking or asking for play or cuddles. This was loud and persistent so I needed to check. I scooped him up.

"Mom, I'm sick," he whined. (Yes, I speak cat—sometimes). He promptly started to gag and hack, so I put him down so he wouldn't throw up on me. He hurled and I pet him.

He threw up seven more times after that—eight times in all. It was a combo of fur, stomach acid and bits of fake plant. See, I know he likes to eat my fake plants so I put them away. I just forgot that I put one away in the bathroom cabinet and he can open cabinets. The fake plant is now in the garage.

I just thought it was cute that he told me he was sick. Apparently, I don't have a 14-pound Manx cat, I have a toddler that can open cabinets, put everything in his mouth and even tells me when he's sick.

Kitty Sauna

Today I learned that we have a kitty sauna. I was taking a load of towels out of the dryer and Gunnar decided he wanted to investigate. He hopped in the open dryer door and flopped luxuriously on the warm towels. Must be nice.

Straws

Gunnar likes to play with anything he shouldn't have. One of his favorites, though, is straws. Yesterday morning I was playing on the computer when Gunnar came charging into the room batting around a straw. My first thought was that it was cute. My second thought was where did he get the straw. I figured the husband had used a straw the night before and maybe the straw fell out of the trash can. I wasn't too worried about it until the husband asked me where the straw came from. Still, I wasn't that alarmed it must have come from under some chair or something from this summer. (We haven't used straws since then).

A few minutes later Gunnar waltzed back into the room, with his head covered in spidewebs, paper shreds and who knows what. I had to go investigate. Sure enough I found an open cabinet door and a pile of straws laying in front of the open door.

That particular cabinet I use to store potatoes, extra stuff like salad dressing and paper products. Gunnar had pawed the cabinet open, climbed to the very back corner, shredded open a bag of straws and one at a time pulled them out.

Kudos to Gunnar. I didn't even remember we had those straws.

Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go baby proof my house— for a 13-pound cat.

The kids

I LOVE my pets but sometimes I wonder how people with actual kids do it.

This morning I was rushing around the house trying to get ready for work. I decided to put my basil plant outside to get some sunshine. I look down to find shoes and notice a big pile of cat vomit that the dog is trying hard to get into. I shoo the dog upstairs, clean up the vomit (trying not to vomit myself) and then put my shoes over the spot so the dog doesn't try to lick the cleaning product. I take my basil plant outside (at this point I'm in pajama bottoms and a work dress shirt). I finish getting dressed, go to kiss the dog goodbye and notice that he has vomit all over his snout. So gross. I clean that up. That's not exactly how I want to spend my morning.

But then there's the bedtime ritual. This is what happens every night.

We take the dog out. He comes in, bounds up the stairs and plays for about 20 minutes—while we're trying to go to sleep. If anyone gets up out of the bed to set an alarm, check the dryer, etc, he gets in the bed and is sometimes really difficult to get out of the bed. The lights go out and after another 20 minutes, just when we're dozing in the bed, Katie cat jumps up in the bed. She walks on my legs and then pokes at the hubby until he lets her under the blanket, then immediately leaves. This happens every night without fail. Last night Katie meowed for an hour after we turned the lights out. At some point each cat curls up on either side of my legs so I can't move without kicking someone.

A Thank You Note

Dear Mojo,
Thanks for the hug this morning. I was sad and really needed it. The way you crawled up on the couch and put your head in my lap was very sweet.
Thanks for being the best dog,
Mom

The Q-tip chronicles

My fiesty kitty Gunnar has discovered Q-tips. He thinks they are the best thing ever. So every morning he sneaks in my bathroom when I'm getting ready and steals a Q-tip out of the box and plays with it. He'll flip them around, pin them, hold them between his paws and kick and bite at them, bat them across the floor, etc. He has a ball. Only, I'm worried that he might eat the cotton ball on the end, or even the stick, so I take them away from him. I had sealed up the box well so he couldn't get into it, but he figured out that if you press down on the box's center tab, he can get them out.

For a few days his stealing Q-tips was cute. Then, it became burdensome. I'm trying to get ready for work, I don't have time to babysit this crazy cat while he wastes perfectly good Q-tips. So, I put the Q-tips on the counter, where he couldn't get them.

This morning I was extra sluggish. I had already brushed my teeth but came back to get dressed. I look in the bathroom and see the an explosion of my pink Q-tips all over the bathroom and Gunnar sitting on the toilet lid, reaching over to the counter to knock whatever else was left on the counter to the floor. (And I wonder why I can't find my hair cream or eye gel in the morning!).

Not really wanting to deal with this, I pick all the Q-tips up and throw them out. I scoop up the box and notice it's completely wet. The toilet is closed so I don't even want to know how it got wet. I put the Q-tip box up even more out of kitty reach and go back to hunting for pants that fit.

The next time I glance in the direction of the bathroom, this is what I see:


(Please excuse the blurriness. My cell has the worst camera phone ever).

Gunnar has knocked over the trash cans and is digging out the Q-tips.

He will stop at nothing to get his morning fix of Q-tips.

I pick him out and toss him out of the bathroom (Jazzy Jeff style).

Crazy cat, I do not have time for this. Now, I'm running late for work.

Update: Gunnar continued the craziness by throwing up a fist-size pile as soon as I got home from work.

Lunchtime cuteness

I went home for lunch and was relaxing on a chair by the window. Gunnar jumped up to sit next to me. I petted him while he purred loudly. Maybe Mojo was jealous because he came over and ever-so-sweetly started licking my bare feet. It told him he was a sweet boy.

Then Gunnar decided that he needed to show some affection for Mojo and Gunnar started licking Mojo's snout. It was a big ol' love fest. When the licks were done, Mojo went to look out another window. Gunnar decided he needed to lick my foot (I'm not sure if it was because Mojo did, because he thought my foot was tasty or because he loved me). But it was all just too cute.

Late Night Rendezvous

My husband came home from work very late the other night—so late that he got a glimpse of what the kitties do while we sleep.

He came in the door and he said Gunnar rushed the door. When he closed the door so the kitty couldn't escape, Gunnar began furiously pawing at the door. Hubby looked to see what was going on and saw a very cute kitty on our porch asking to be let in.

So, I guess Gunnar has a girlfriend ♥

Starting the day off with a good deed

This morning I was  out the door on my way to work. I was running a few minutes behind my drill-sergeant, timed-to-the-minute morning schedule, but it's summer so I wasn't worried about it. I drove past my neighbor's house and his dog was playing crazily in his front yard. I didn't see him anywhere, so I pulled over to check on the dog.

She was very happy, jumping on me (yay for dirt and wet dog smell on my work clothes), and rolling around. She had her tongue to the side like she sometimes does. She looked very excited to see me (she kept jumping, and standing up on her back legs) and content to play in the yard. I looked for my neighbor and still didn't see him. I grabbed her collar and walked over to the door. It was locked (it never is!). I knocked on the door. No answer. 

Even though it's 7:40 in the morning, I call my neighbor. The call drops. I call again and it goes straight to voicemail. I wait through his message and am about to leave a message when he beeps in.

"I have Schaui," I say before he can get anything out. "Is she supposed to be running around the front yard?"

"I'm in Florida," he replies.

So I take it that she is not supposed to be frolicking in the morning dew unsupervised.

"My roommate is supposed to be watching her. I guess she got out."

She did have the proud look of accomplishment on her doggie face. It must have been a feat.

"Is [Roommate name here] home? Is his white car there?" he asks.

I tell him that the car is there and that no one answered when I knocked.

"Can you put her in the backyard?"

I stay on the line as I walk to the gate, and grimace at the red mud between me and the gate. I journey through in my work clothes, glad I opted for Chaco's instead of the stilettos I had in my hand when I walked out the door. I stuff the dog in the back yard and close the latch on the gate. I wonder if she'll manage to sneak out of the gate again. Hope not.

I hang up with my neighbor and head on to work. I make sure to stop by the bathroom to wash off some of the mud and dog fur.

Playing with Spiders

Dear Gunnar,
I appreciate you finding spiders for me, however they are dangerous. Don't play with them.
Love,
Mom