On Saturday night I woke up at four in the morning convinced that Pfennig was outside and dying. No amount of rationalization could fix it, so – creak, creak creak down the steps to look for her, then outside to call for her. I didn’t find her, but Neighbor Kitty and I had some meaningful moments. Pfennig met me in the kitchen when I got back.

Last night, there was the familiar *skritch*skritch* at the attic fan, and Lloyd caught another bat. I was super-brave this time and watched it all (from the safety of the bathroom), but we couldn’t get a ‘during’ photo because the camera was downstairs. Lloyd brought it back up before he took the bat outside and said, “Take a picture. Tomorrow might be a slow news day.”

It was.

Yes, she’s in his shirt with her evil eyes.

Cricket, like most cats, likes to cram her body into tiny nooks & crannies. There is no box she can’t fit into, even a box that doesn’t exist.

Ok, think ill of me if you will, but I let my cat sit on the counter. Not the food preparation part, but the ‘desk’ part where the computer is. It’s usually covered with mail/papers/boxes I don’t deliver, and she sits on the paper in a very “I’m not actually on the counter” kind of way. (If she does try to get on another part of the counter or on the table , you must yell “DharmaDharmaDharma!!” at her. Nothing else will work.)

So, a couple of nights ago I was trying to clean off the area and pulled a small envelope out from under her. Lloyd said, “Do you think she’d sit on a rectangle if you drew it on the counter?”

Hmmmmm.

Wisely avoiding the Sharpie, I went with tape. Sure ’nuff.

What is the point of my closing off rooms so they don’t have to be heated when you just open those doors when I’m at work? I know that the door won’t latch because it’s winter and this dumb old house leans when it’s cold, but that’s no excuse. Knock it off. Don’t make me make Beth come over here.

Sincerely,

The Boss

NOTE: I always ask Lloyd to read through posts before I publish them, and now I know that if you’ve never watched Project Runway, the following is completely unfunny.

Tim Gunn: Designers, your challenge is to take this ordinary leather glove and create a fabulous restraint system on a budget of no dollars.  Good luck.

Tim Gunn: We’re sending in your models for a fitting.

Heidi Klum: I’m so beautiful, let’s start the show.

Heidi Klum: Designers, we found your work to be careless and unfinished.  Lauren – you are somehow the winner of Project Runway.  Cricket – have some cat food.

My day was less productive.  Lloyd helped me take the sticks to the burn pile, and we ran a few errands.  Back at home, I was getting the recycling rounded up and started a conversation with my neighbor.  As we talked, we heard a meowing.  Bob said, “Sharon heard that last night.  We don’t know where it’s coming from.”  Well, it was coming from the cat stuck up in their neighbor’s tree!  Poor thing – all night it had been up there!  I knocked – no answer, so with good intent I broke into their fenced yard and got the little thing out with a ladder.  (I’m just like a fireman!)  The sad part is that this barely-not-a-kitten-herself has recently given birth, because her lady bumps were pretty swollen. I spent the day trying to find her home (and her lost kittens), but no dice.  She followed me all around the block but no one knew where she was from.  She’s hanging out on our front stoop now, but she thinks Lloyd did a fine job with the car.

Regarding water, I’ve got some of those plastic waterers for Pfennig, but Cricket always gets a nasty face infection when she drinks from those.  Tonight I rigged up an all-glass model for her.  I’m sure it will sell millions!

That’s right – a board with a hole cut out of it. The mat is there to catch all the water I spilled when testing it out. I’ll be sure it’s full before we leave. (The bottle, not the mat.)

Everybody pray for us!  We’re going to try driving the whole way in one shot.  I haven’t done that since college.

Anyway, to keep from going broke feeding them both prescription stuff, I ‘cut it’ with some cheaper stuff from Wal-Mart. That means that every few weeks I have to break out all the containers and prepare the concoction. It’s not exciting, but when you’re desperate for post material, it’ll do.

Anyway, here is proof of the eating.  If this was our cat, I’d call him/her P.T. for ‘Pretty Tiny’.  This cat is SMALL!  S/he’s very friendly, as well.  She only looks stupid in this photo because the flash is destroying her night vision.

Occasionally we give our old, creaky cats some catnip just so we can watch them get high and beat the Meow Mix out of each other.  There’s no greater entertainment.  These photos are pre-attack, when they haven’t quite realized that they’re actually occupying the same rug.