For Jon’s birthday, one of the presents my wonderful mother-in-law gave him was K is for Kitten so that we could start reading to our boys. As a good mommy, I immortalized the first reading session in pictures.
Finian was the only one that would sit still and read with me. In this picture, I’m stroking his chin as an incentive to stay.
Cullen looking at the book while I’m getting his brother settled
Me and my flufferpie posing after finishing the book. He is wrapped in his tail, which is his favorite “sit alongside” position.
Our next book: Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot
Today, Finian decided to help with the laundry.
Finian helping to flatten the pile of t-shirts
Finian cleaning my shirt… and his plumey tail
Finian resting after his hard work. He is an ummmm… helpful cat!
I know that I really should post more about my felines (and that I should post more pics — if you’re not on my list for kitty pictures and want to be, leave me a note in the comments), so here’s “the state of the felines”.
The boys are growing. It is so crazy to look at pictures of them nursing on Jon’s stuffed fox and then to look at them now that they are the same size as Jon’s stuffed fox. Finian is my office assistant. He is too big to fit in either of my desk drawers, but he *loves* the camping chair in my study. I’ll be working on the computer and I’ll hear a mew from the doorway or my feet and I’ll just pat the chair. He will come bounding up and leap gracefully on to it and allow himself to be petted while he purrs lustily and lashes his beautiful, plumey tail. He will then occasionally attack my right hand, causing me to have to type lefthanded (and make instant message conversations a little more difficult); but he always cleans my wounds when done. He is a wonderful stressball and is content with me reaching down and petting him occasionally.
Cullen is still the smaller of the two but is an adorable cat. He is a total Daddy’s Boy and will not let Jon leave his sight if Jon is at the vicarage. His stripes and yin yang are still bold and his Mary mark (the little M that tabbies have on their heads) looks like someone painted it with henna. He is still the more skittish of the two but he is a definite attention monger and loves to “explore” my study and bat hangars out of my closet. He keeps me company at night and is very good at attacking anything that moves on the bed. He considers himself to be a mighty cougar (or puma) and enjoys bringing his “prey” (a pair of ski socks that he has completely unrolled or a skein of yarn that he has claimed from my crocheting basket) onto the bed and kills it before my eyes. Currently, he is being a homicidal, jungle cat in the forest of paper bags we have scattered in the living room. He still loves to “help” us make the bed by pouncing on lumps. He is a very useful cat.
My boys don’t think I have enough peach and orange in my wardrobe and have set out to rectify this. Any ideas on getting cat fur off of clothes quickly?
This is my parents’ scaredy cat Trail Kitty. My dad took this portrait a few days ago. Isn’t he a handsome beast?
I have my flufferpie on my lap right now. Our congregational council president is ripping apart our shower to fix it, and is hammering in order to do it. My black shirt is now peach with cat fur — I swear that there is enough fur on here for a new cat. I will also be sneezing up cat fur for the remainder of the night.
By the way, I am calmer this morning and not as panicky. All will be well. OK… now to the cat stuff:
Finian and Cullen have created a new game: steal Mommy’s socks, underwear, and bras and carry them around the house. They then leave them in odd places. I found a pile of my underwear under the dining room table last night as well as one of my bras lying in the middle of the living room. This would be funny except… we have someone from the church over daily fixing our shower wall (which has disintegrated). Should I be having to do an underwear check when I get up every morning? I think not!
I also put my mother-in-law’s bridal shower present to good use today. She gave me a set of 5 cat cookie cutters (from Martha Stewart Living of course) and I made cat cookies for my mommy. The dough was soft so a few cats ended up as manxes. This is fine because we used to have a manx named Ivan when I was little. He “ran away” when I was 4 or 5.
Pat has a cat ranch. I am *soooooooooo* jealous. I only have a small herd. 🙂