Or perhaps more of a Kitty Corner. Ziva Zone? Pet Parkway?
Bring it on, people!
The real reason I moved the main structure is because Tiger peed on it. ::sigh::
I let Ziva sleep with me all night for the first time last night, hence I was up at 5:00 am because THE PURRING. MY GOD, THE PURRING.
At least she didn’t bite my face in my sleep, which was my biggest worry. Well, that and the possibility of rolling over and committing kitty smothercide. But it was an uneventful night except for the part where every time I made the slightest change in position, the purring motor started and she migrated to whatever side I’d turned to and started grooming me. My chin and lips are exceptionally clean. And somewhat chapped.
So I got up at 5:00 and freshened the kitty dry food in the pet playpen, after which Tiger moseyed in to sniff around, which he has done before. I figured it was only fair he poach some of her dry food since Ziva is always eating his. Then he sniffed the litter box.
I saw it coming, really. He squatted to pee, then halfway through raised his rear end up and peed over the side of the box, onto the inside of the playpen, out the mesh “window” and all over the floor.
Hence the cover over the litter box in the second photo. Don’t need it for Ziva. It is solely protection from big boy pee.
I suppose it was time to let her roam free 24/7 anyway but, man, it sure was nice having her essentially crate trained. Can’t find the kitten? Go look in the pyramid in the playpen. Getting tired of the kitten? Zip her into the playpen and relax without fear of suddenly feeling tiny claws climbing up your leg.
She can often be found in other sleeping places, these days, such as my bed or the top of one of the kitty trees, so I don’t think she’ll miss the playpen much. She did used to play on top of it as well as use it as a bridge from one side of the dining room table to the other when she was trying to be stealthy but so far this morning she is bounding around like it was never there.
Look at all that white hair coming through making her all salt and peppery! I finally settled on the name Ziva* for Terror Kitty because, well, no explanation needed if you watch NCIS. If you don’t, here’s a wiki page on Ziva David. (That’s “dah-VEED” not “DAY-vid,” by the way.) Let’s just say NCIS Ziva is rather capable.
Because “killer” sounds so rude.
Lest you think Ziva is an inappropriate name for the sweet, adorable, sleeping kitty pictured above, here’s a clue:
Note the bulging pre-attack eyes. Then she mysteriously disappears and before you know it:
So my Labor Day weekend consists of K Y L:
Kitten, Yardwork, Laundry.
Have some bar-b-que for me, won’t you?
*Hat tip to my bro-in-law Dave for the name suggestion.
Not the kitty, silly! The name. She is no longer skin and bones and, as much as I adore Star Trek, “Bones” simply doesn’t fit my girly girl. Here she is 2 days after she fell into my life:
We’ve been calling her Bonesy, because Dr. Google says cats respond more to names that end in “y,” but that doesn’t really fit her either.
So, I need your help, Oh Wise Internet. The kitten needs a brand new name. Here are a few possibilities but I’m counting on you to provide more:
Elvira, Mistress of the Dark
Ripley (the kickass heroine from the “Alien” movies)
Stinky (okay, not really, though I do call her that sometimes)
Rosie (cuz both Janice and Debbie said independently of each other that she fell in some shit and came out smelling like a rose)
To give you an idea of how much she has grown in 3 weeks, here are 2 cat scratcher comparison photos. The first is the one at the beginning of this post taken Sunday, July 29th. The second was taken today, Sunday, August 19th:
I’m even farther away in the second photo and she still looks like a giant compared to 3 weeks ago. The respective weights are: 8 ounces (1/2 a pound) versus 29 ounces (1.8 pounds.)
MAH BEHBEH’S GROWING LIKE A WEED!
I’m relying on you people to come up with the perfect kitty name. Don’t let me and whats-her-name down.
She called me Friday morning in a panic to say her daughter’s step-mother found 3 teeny tiny kittens by the side of the road and brought them home Thursday night.
This woman is apparently brain damaged because:
Did she put them in a box with a blanket? – No.
Did she bring them into the house over night or at least the garage? – No.
Did she put them in the backyard so they couldn’t run away and would be somewhat protected from roaming predators? – No.
She dumped them in the front flower bed and let them fend for themselves overnight.
Seriously, I just want to punch her. HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO SOMETHING THIS CUTE?
Some size perspective:
She was covered in fleas so an extended bath in dishwashing soap (I’m told flea soap is too harsh for such tiny kitties) was first on the list. A bunch came off in the bath but many were quite stubborn and congregated around her face and in her ears. I now know tweezers are an indispensable kitten grooming tool. This is what I got off after the bath:
Gross, huh? I count over 60 fleas in there. At 7.95 ounces, that puts her at about 4 fleas per ounce, not counting the ones that came off in the bath.
By the way, did you know you can kill fleas simply by putting them in soapy water? And flea combs don’t work worth a crap on wet fur?
If you’re wondering what happened to the other two kittens, one had run off by morning and the wicked step-mother took the other one to the pound. (!!)
Why did she take only one?! Not that I want her to have taken ANY of them to the pound, but I have serious doubts about this woman’s judgment. I tell myself she must’ve panicked and/or could only catch one of them but, seriously, they are too tiny to be able to get away from giant humans and their teeth and claws are not developed enough to hurt you if they protest to being captured.
Look at that face. Who could take that to the pound?
Her name is Bones, by the way. It satisfies both my Star Trekkiness and her general state of health when I acquired her.
Oh crap, now I have to go to the pound and look for her sibling(s.)
I’m so glad my sister Karen was able to help you obtain your new dog from California, a sweet blue Queensland heeler.
After paying $200 to the breeder/trainer in California, I can see how the idea of paying another $600 to have the dog transported up to you in Bend would have been rather daunting. So lucky Karen was heading back to Idaho from Central California so you could save some money!
I must admit, I worked Karen rather hard down here. Our 84 year old mother has been ill so I moved her in with me and Karen and I spent a week and a half clearing out her house. Three dumpsters, many truck loads back and forth to my house, and a giant pile o’ garage sales items later, we had it done. Then came the washing of the kitchen items we were keeping, laundering of mom’s stored clothing, and organizing my garage and house so everything would have a place. Whew!
Karen had a lot to take back with her after clearing out mom’s house, so we strategically packed her car to the gills. Even so, she had to leave some things behind to make room for your dog but the gas money from you would help defray some of the cost of the trip so it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
Imagine her surprise when the “gas money” you gave her was a mere $10. TEN DOLLARS. For transporting a dog, in the back seat of her car, over 500 miles from Modesto, CA to Bend, OR at a total of over 9 hours.
She saved you $600 in transport fees – or the alternative of having to spend your personal time and money to drive down to California and return home with the dog – and all you thought it was worth was $10? 500 miles at the IRS standard mileage rate of $0.51 equals $255. AND you were disgruntled you had to drive 15 extra miles to meet her at your mutual friend’s house rather than CostCo because, after all, she had only just driven ten and a half hours with two dogs and a car full of childhood memories so what would another 15 miles have been (plus another 15 to get back to the friend’s house?)
You live in Bend, OR so you are financially well off. Poor people don’t live in Bend. Neither do they spend $200 for a dog nor contemplate spending $600 to transport it. Your ungracious behavior in this matter and disrespectful treatment of your fellow human being is appalling. Shame on you!
At the very least, please immediately send Karen a check for $190 which, combined with the $10 “gas money” you gave her, amounts to the same fee you paid for the dog. That would be fair and right and still save you $400 in transport fees.
If you choose not to do so, please explain how you came up with a figure of $10 as equitable compensation for the service Karen provided for you. She was too nice – and too tired – to argue with you. Also kind of hard to do so from the shower since you showed up while she was washing the travel away and couldn’t be bothered to wait for her to get out to introduce yourself and properly thank her.
Do the right thing. Or prove the unwashed 99% masses right. Your choice.
I, uh, think I may have a slight addiction problem.
Yes, I really do use all three of them at once sometimes.
Please ignore the cat behind the screen. Or not. He’s probably part of the problem.
Do, however, note the fingerprint smudges on the laptop screen. Going back and forth between a touch screen and having to use a mouse takes some coordination, which I don’t always have.
Reminds me of the time my friend JennBo lathered up her hands with soap in a public restroom and kept thrusting them under the spigot trying to trigger the faucet’s IR sensor before she realized it was the kind you have to turn on manually. Thanks for making me smile, JennBo.
Seriously, we need an office cat. I would take full responsibility for the litter box and the feeding and stuff.
Life is much too simple without a cat jumping up on your desk and interfering with your typing, or standing smack in front of the monitor so you can’t see anything on the screen, or laying on the papers strewn across your desk because something located on top of something else hence must be laid upon.
I suppose a dog would be nice, too, but dogs are much more high maintenance. Though having something warm and furry curled up under my desk would be rather nice. And there’s that whole unconditional love thing you don’t always get with a cat.
Both of the partners have pets at home yet seem strangely resistant to an office pet. They keep muttering things like “not professional” and “hair everywhere” and “the smell.”
And by “contests” I mean you don’t win anything other than having your name posted as the winner, a runner-up, or an honorable mention. But hey, for anyone with narcissistic tendencies (hello me!) that is quite enough.