Dispatching Team Kitten

I happened upon a sign for a lost cat the other afternoon. When I got home, I told the boys about it, and they became quite intent on organizing a search party. Howie wants to be a volunteer firefighter anyway, so this could be some great experience for him. I know the recovery of lost cats is something he's passionate about, seeing as he's probably the result of a little girl "losing" her cat as well. We try not to talk about it. Anyway, the guys started hashing out a plan. They decided they'll need to split up to optimize their search radius. Howie's thinking he can look behind the couch. Patrick has the underside of the rugs covered. I'm not sure they will be too successful, but I'm certainly not going to squelch their enthusiasm. I'm going to try to keep Patrick away from the mirror though, because I don't want to deal with the heartache that will inevitably follow when he realizes the missing cat isn't small, orange, and mimicking his every move.

I have a feeling the search will continue well into the night, probably starting with some preliminary laps around the apartment, followed by a thorough hunt around my toes beneath the covers, and culminating in a strategically placed nap.

I'll update with any progress on the missing kitty front.

We can't all be Randy Barnes (world record holder for the indoor AND outdoor shot put)!

I sure hope Howie didn't see my blog last night. Maybe I'm being a little paranoid, but he seems to be overly self-conscious today. The last thing I want is for him to get down on himself. He really is perfect just the way he is--snaggletooth and all! However, I do always get nervous when I think he's having self-esteem issues. I don't want him falling off the wagon. I know, people say, "it's just catnip! A little here and there won't hurt!" But catnip really is a gateway drug, and I just can't afford rehab right now.

Patrick's track and field training has intensified. He's not only training for the 100 meter dash, hurdles, and the high jump, but he's started tossing the shot put around as well. He's not very good with the old shot just yet though, mostly on account of the fact that he can't find it again after he throws it. After a moment of looking, he usually just ends up in a grocery bag. I might have to chat with him about focussing on only three events for now because I don't want him burning out.

Well that's all for now. As always, Patrick and Howie send their best out there to cyberspace! Cheers!

You can't always get what you want...

Howie has a snaggletooth. It's not much of a problem just yet, as I feel pageants are a breeding ground for self-esteem issues. However, I have started thinking about the impact this could potentially have on his future career as a dental hygienist. I don't want to dash his dreams and tell him that he should rethink his career choice on account of his dental imperfections, but I also don't want him to face rejection after rejection from area dentists due to his appearance. I can only imagine that dentists (at least good ones) try to hire assistants with impeccable teeth. While his snaggletooth is endearing to me, I fear the DDS may see it differently. 

I'm trying to nudge him in the direction of the paralegal. I think this field will not only be more intellectually stimulating for him, but sitting behind a desk might be more his style. He could keep M&Ms in his desk and find joy in operating the paper shredder on a daily basis--not to mention the headset he could wear for telephone operation convenience. I just have to find a way to make him think this is his idea. Perhaps I could pretend to have some legal issues come up, and I could seek his assistance with the paperwork. I'll praise his skills and say, "Oh if only there was a way you could do this for a living!" Now where do I find a template for fake legal documents...?

Patrick is starting to display some definite potential in track and field. He seems well-disciplined, waking up for 6am runs around the apartment and late-night high jumping practice. Howie seems very supportive of his talents as well, offering himself as a temporary hurdle until we can remodel the apartment to better suit his athletic needs. I'm very proud of him, but I do hope that if he starts competing on a regular basis, Howie won't feel over-shadowed by his younger brother. I think we'll have to find him a sport in which he can excel equally. Perhaps croquet or curling. 

OK, if you haven't had a chance to see this viral video yet, I'll post the link. As always, Howie and Patrick send their best.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtX8nswnUKU

Frickin' Bureaucracy.

Howie's picture still hasn't been published on Stuffonmycat.com! What the dude? Would you hesitate to make this picture available to the world? I think not. He's a frickin' pumpkin! I don't know what kind of hoops I'm expected to jump through to get Howie moved to the top of the queue, but I'm not doing it. His unbelievable cuteness should speak for itself. I'm not playing their little game. If they don't appreciate pure adorableness when it's right in front of them, we can take our pictures elsewhere. Their loss. The world wide web's loss. 

Gotta go. Patrick is trying to eat foil. 

The Cat's Out of the (Plastic) Bag

So yesterday I was in an organizing frenzy. I decided to finally tackle the mess that was my desk. This is obviously something I should have chosen to do while Patrick was asleep, but I failed to consider this. Howie is much more respectful when it comes to my need to organize, and he occasionally even has some helpful tips for me. Patrick, on the other hand, is new the scene and still takes advantage of every opportunity to strew my belongings around the apartment. Within a few minutes of my taking things out of drawers and placing them in strategic piles on the floor, Patrick noticed the new playground in front of him, and Operation Make My Job More Difficult was underway. I began chasing him around amid a sea of scattered papers collecting pencils, erasers, and various desk-fillers. I soon resigned myself to the fact that I just had to let him make a mess until he either fell asleep or found a new mess to make elsewhere. He finally focused his attention on a bag. It seems cliche--a cat playing in a bag, but Patrick, never one to allow himself to be stereotyped, set his sights on a plastic bag. He does this often, crawls inside a plastic grocery bag and starts twisting himself in circles and sometimes getting his neck stuck momentarily in the handle. This isn't good. If he was a human child, I'm pretty sure I could be reported to CPS for letting my kid put his head in a plastic bag for some fun. But c'est la vie. I mean, at least he's got a passion. That's more than can be said for a lot of people who stuck their heads in bags as children.

In other news, Howie seems to have resumed eating non-edibles. I was wondering where all the buds were disappearing to off of my artificial flowers. I assumed Patrick was pulling them off and hiding them until I caught Howie chewing on the stems. I'm sort of glad. He's got a passion of his own that he's finally reawakening. His head also smells like a campfire or old Barbie dolls. I can't tell which. I guess I don't know what he does when I'm not home. He could be sneaking off to Mattel conventions in the woods.

Oh right, the cats' bedtime rule. One is not permitted to wake the other cat when he is deep in sleep. This sort of came about when I first got Patrick, and Howie would wake him simply to hiss at him and run away. Now it's more strictly enforced because of Patrick's habit of rousing himself every half hour and forcing Howie into consciousness by biting his neck. The other night Patrick woke up and was headed in Howie's direction for some neck biting, so I had to grab him by the scruff and hold him until I was able to lull him back to sleep.

Being a mom is tough.

The Craziest Cat Lady

So, at the suggestion of some friends and the true acknowledgement of my craziness, I've decided to start blogging the day-to-day musings of my little princes. Yes, that's right, I am a crazy cat lady with two adorable baby boys whom I love probably to an unhealthy extent. Howie is my eldest. He is a fluffy mcflufferson tuxedo kitty. Actually, more precisely, his full name is Howard Gene Puddington III. No, there aren't any other Howard Gene Puddingtons, but it sounded fancy. The pudding part comes from the fact that he has a splash of white on his face that looks like he's been licking a bowl of pudding. My youngest is Patrick, or rather, Patrick L. Fitzpumpkin, due to the fact that he is orange and kind of Irish. Well, I don't think he's actually Irish, but at this point he could fit inside a pumpkin, and I think if he had the chance, he'd drink several pints of Guinness with a bunch of rowdy pub-crawlers. 

I guess now is the appropriate time to mention that I often imagine cats doing human things. This little trick of the imagination has gotten me through many rough times. I implore you to try it. On a bad day, imagine a cat you know dressed in an apron and bagging groceries at the supermarket. Another notable scenario is a kitten in cargo shorts and a polo shirt (with the collar popped) rolling a keg up the path to his parents' house while they are out of town. Are you smiling? Well if not, you are clearly not a crazy cat lady (or gentleman). I suppose we can still be friends (though you might not want to be).

Anyway, I figured I would embrace the fact that I love cats too much. My friends know it. My family knows it. I'm fairly certain all of my neighbors know it. So why shouldn't I broadcast this love to cyberspace? Maybe because it will make me look unfortunately sad? Pshhh. 

Musing #1: Patrick and Howie took a marathon nap today. They snuggled and dreamt simultaneously. I could tell by their twitching ears and paws. I wonder what they dream about. I think Howie dreams of going to technical school. He aspires to be a dental hygienist, but we'll see how that pans out. Patrick I think is too young to start thinking about schooling, but he may dream about auditioning for American Idol.

Musing #2: Since Patrick entered the scene, Howie has not been eating as many non-edible items. Before the holidays he ate all of the following: a twist tie (not good), a puzzle piece, a large wooden chunk of a Christmas ornament, several tassels off of a blanket, and various scraps of paper. He has also stopped batting each individual piece of cat food around the kitchen floor and sticking his head under the rug.

Musing #3: I have a few rules by which the cats must abide. I think I shall share one now. Perhaps more will follow in future posts.

Rule: Catnip is FORBIDDEN. This rule came as a result of having to take Howie to the emergency vet after a catnip OD. I did not know that he had gotten into a large quantity of the stuff until he started panting and falling over with his tongue out. His heart rate skyrocketed, and I feared he was going to have a heart attack or something. Turns out he's just not very good at handling his high. This news comes after $400 of vet bills. At least I got to take home his x-rays.

Expect a rule tomorrow about bedtime behavior. For now, contemplate this. The oldest known cat lived to be 36. Wow. That's fantastic. Older than Jesus, I think.