Day 163 - An email - "She's a social little cuss, isn't she?"

Let me just preface with this: for the last two weeks or so, I've been taking pictures of our cats. Not because I'm a cat lady, but because I then send those pictures to my mom, who's stuck in the north teaching for a bit longer before she can come south for the summer. She misses her little buddies (it was just her and the cats this school year), and so I try to bring them to her for a little bit each day. This is one of my finer emails (just written today, recounting the weekend of painting).


Subject: Busy busy busy!


Oh wow! It certainly has been an eventful weekend! Both for the humans and for the kitties! I know we've talked, but just wanted to give you some visuals.

Saturday we painted my room. I've sent pictures, but here are some more:

a photo of the corner near my bed. It was the best picture of the actual color.

the flags are finally back up. I must admit - the wall looked bare without them!

Now to the more important subject: the rotten furballs.

Blizzard and Libby pretty much kept to themselves on Saturday. Hiding under the sofa. All day. Well, mostly. Blizzard came out to check on our unpacking process - the box looked a bit suspicious.

 Dad and my's thumping around in the bedroom kept them pretty clear of the door, and there was a decent amount of activity going on in the hallway (both apartments across the hallway had people coming and going). When the cats finally did come out (it was pretty late), they acted a bit lethargic, but themselves nonetheless. Libby did a very nice cat roll, and Blizzard thought she was on something.

But, eventually they hit their rhythm, and mirrored each other in the funniest way.

Sunday was a bit more .... interesting. In the morning, Blizzard wanted desperately to help, whining at your door just begging to come in - "I can help! I promise! White cat hair will give the paint texture! I can help roll the paint on the walls!". We kept her out, with the promise that she could help if/when she grew opposable thumbs. She didn't much like that answer, so she and I played a nice game: she would try to paw the door open, and I would swing it shut again with my foot. I think I thought it was more amusing than she did. Oh well. Tonight she was more social, and helped me study, while keeping me warm (well ... a part of me anyways).

Yup, she's laying on my textbook. And yes, I am now apparently a footrest. Good to know my place in the world. Once I started writing the email, and transferring photos to the computer, she decided to "help". She was really cute, until the giant glob of drool landed on my arm.

She was shameless, and gave me one of those "you're welcome" looks. I guess I should be grateful ...?

Not to be forgotten, even Libby ventured out for a bit. Well .... if you can even call it that. Come night-time on Saturday, she faced one of the toughest decisions of her life: eat or hide. She had come out from under the sofa (cat equivalent to coming out of the closet?) to get a little nibble, but right at that moment, someone across the hall went out, or came in. Anyways, there was noise. Woah there ... something different. The only problem affecting her decision was that my room was different. And you know how much we don't like different. So she just sat there... still as could be (if I don't move, they can't see the fat cat, can they?) until the noise went away. Then she continued on her journey to the food bowl. Mission accomplished.

Overall the weekend has been fun - though it looks like Dad's going for a repeat performance next weekend and we'll try to tackle the living room.