dora came into my office today and demanded a nap in my arms. i couldn't help it. i tried putting him down next to me so he could sleep in my inbox, like squeak seems to enjoy, but no good. had to be in my arms.
and as bonus pictures for you... minnie climbed onto the top of the deck umbrella the other day.
UPDATE: if you know smudge at all, you must wonder what happens when i come home with dora-smell all over me. smudge was practically glued to me by his nose for a good half hour. following me around and crying when i tried to go anywhere, and climbing onto me as soon as i sat down, so he could deeply sniff every square inch. since most of dora's scent was on my chest, that's where smudge stood: on my boobs. and ouch, he is a large animal.
my mother calls me all the time now, just to tell me something cute about her cat. like he rolled over and stretched. or he was sleeping in the sink. or, i don't know, he looked at her. basically, his existence is her very own personal cute overload.
tonight, when she called me for the third time of the night, just to tell me he stuck both his front legs over his head so she could rub his belly, i should have said "get a grip woman! he's a CAT! all cats do this! have you taken leave of your senses????"
instead, i giggled and said "don't you love kitty armpits? they're like little chicken wings!"
so, yeah, it's apparently hereditary.
well, i guess there's no turning back now. last night, dora was hanging out inside when mom wanted to go to sleep, and she just didn't have the heart to put him out in ten-degree weather.
so he came to bed with her and squeak. she said it took quite a while for the two of them to stop fighting, but when they finally settled in, they both slept through the night on her bed. of course, it was with their backs to each other, but still.
so, through sheer force of will, dora has managed to worm his way into her house and her heart. next stop is the vet's "stray spay day" on january 4th, where he'll get snipped, and his shots, and he'll be a full-fledged member of the household.
okay, i've been thinking about whether or not i should post these videos, but i've been hinting for a while about smudge's night-time routine, and i felt it was about time i offered up proof.
if you think you may be offended, then you don't have to click on the videos.
and you shouldn't click on them if you find graphic depictions of animals having sex offensive. well, he's not really having sex. animals having sex is kind of acceptable, really, it's on pbs all the time. but that's (usually) between two consenting adult animals, not between one animal and a human.
whoa -- NO! this is not what you're thinking, you dirty, dirty person. it's not sex between an animal and a human. that would be wrong. and illegal, at least in most states. what we have here is video of an animal, whose reproductive hormone-producing organs have been removed, simulating the act of intercourse with part of a human, and not really the part that would make this a felony.
as long as we've got that clear in our minds.
so, without further delay, i present ... the possibly NSFW, probably uncomfortable to watch, definitely not something those with a delicate nature should see ... video of what smudge does almost every single night when he follows me to bed.
what makes this cross the line from porn into comedy is the way he keeps falling off. god bless him, the little trooper does keep getting back up and trying again. you have to give him points for that.
i finally remembered to bring a camera with me to bed last night, and was able to get video of smudge's nightly ritual. so while i set about converting all that endless video, and while i debate whether footage of my cat using my leg as a love-buddy is really appropriate in this milieu, here's another video i took this morning, of smudge stealing my pretzel.
dora does not want to be a feral cat. really really does not want. all you have to do is reach for the back door, and he senses it, and rockets from wherever he may be so as soon as you open the door, he streaks inside. once in, he goes to the kitchen to clean up squeak's leftovers, he hangs out in the office, gets a little snuggle time, wanders around the house, explores the closets, hangs out in the dining room, and usually ends up stretched out across one corner of my mother's persian rug.
today, after a brief freezing rain, big fat cottage-cheesy flakes of snow came drifting down to blanket the deck, and we were very excited to see how the kittens would react to their first snow. but it was older uncle ghost, who i think has already lived through one winter, who completely lost his shit.
i tried to catch the action on video -- the fuzzed tail, arched back, sliding lunges through the snow slapping it around with his front legs, twitching and spinning trying to track each flake as it fell down around him -- but for the most part it was like trying to catch the elusive yeti. one second he was standing in one place, the next there was a blur of siamese fur and he was somewhere else. i did manage to get a few bits.
the boys, shakes and dora, had fun, making snowballs out of the snow that ghost churned up, and batting them around like soccer balls. at one point, they were rolling one back and forth between them and it looked just like they were making a snowman. and then dora pounced on it and crushed it.
smudge disapproves of anything on the walls. pictures, picture hooks, ornamental metalwork, shadowboxes full of crystals, curtain ties...he definitely prefers a bare, simple type of aesthetic.
but when he pulls out the staples that the cable guy used to run the cable along the baseboard molding, that is just going too damn far.
7am:
smudge walks up to my face and meows at me to wake up. i do, and reach out to pet him so that he'll lay down and be quiet. (if i ignore him, he jumps onto my nightstand and starts swatting at the painting hanging over our heads, and the noise as it scrapes along the wall is very annoying and cannot be slept through.)
the top of his head is wet.
very wet.
this only happens when he drinks from the bathroom sink, but that's not possible, since jeff and i have been sleeping for hours. uh-oh.
i get up and walk through the apartment, looking for leaks, drips, floods, anything he could have dunked his head into. the only thing i can find is the toilet, but he doesn't usually get the top of his head wet when he drinks from that. he'd have to turn his head upside down to do that, and why would he want to dip his head in the toilet?
7:15am:
smudge climbs on top of jeff's chest while he sleeps, and sits down. he ducks his head down and gives his daddy a nice long head-butt to the face, his usual greeting to his beloved human. i notice he stays there with his head pressed against jeff's mouth longer than he usually does in his customary head-butt hello.
7:30am:
me: smudge woke me to pet him today.
jeff: me too.
me: his head was wet.
jeff: i noticed. i thought you must have gotten up to pee and run the sink for him to drink.
me: i thought you did.
jeff: i didn't.
me: neither did i.
jeff: then where...?
(3 seconds of silence as we ponder the possibilities and jeff remembers smudge's extra long, extra loving head-butt with the top of his wet head rubbed all over jeff's mouth)
me and jeff: EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
7:45am:
jeff: i've been thinking about smudge's wet head. i think you must have gotten up to pee and turned the faucet on for him, and you just don't remember.
me: but i didn't get up.
jeff: you just don't remember.
me: i didn't get up to pee.
jeff: i think you did, and you just don't remember.
me: ok, you're right. i did turn the water on in the sink, i just don't remember.
jeff: good.
tonight i brought home some groceries in a brown paper bag. it took smudge just a few minutes to knock the empty bag off the counter and crawl inside, and of course we had to carry him around a bit, because that just never gets boring.
then we had a nice quiet dinner, after which my mother called. she was upset because there was a noise coming from her basement, sort of a banging, intermittent kind of noise and she had no idea what it was and she's never heard that kind of noise before but she ran out of the house and she's standing outside and could i please call my friend who lives around the corner from her and ask her to bring her husband?
i couldn't reach my friend, and of course my mother was too embarrassed to call any of her friends. so jeff and i got our coats and went to the car to come check it out. that trip, which normally takes at least fifteen minutes door to door, took six. those six minutes were full of all sorts of scenarios in my head, running the gamut from exploded gas heaters to rabid raccoons to psychotic axe murderers. oh, and jeff had spent the day home sick and was running a low grade fever, so he was just thrilled to be out.
we got there, and mom and jeff grabbed flashlights and we all started towards the basement. jeff turned on the lights (why the flashlights if the lights were working? no idea) and was first to go down the stairs, where he stepped over the large brown paper bag that was laying there. and then i knew.
"mom, where's the cat?"
"oh he was here a little while ago, he's around somewhere."
"could he have been playing in the paper bag?"
"i think so - look, it's chewed up at the edges."
"mom."
"what?"
"MOM. could that have been the noise you heard?"
"....oh."
jeff and i went home, and now his mother is allowed to be crazy and frustrating and annoying three times and i'm not allowed to say anything.
