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.