2002-05-13 � Between Cat Naps

When I adopted them, Victoria and Albert were feral litermates. Now they are feral litermates that have access to my things.

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It has been decided that I am not to keep anything on the top shelf of the bookcase in my bedroom. This is prime sleeping area and anything I put there will be kicked off at Albert's earliest convenience. I fought this decision for a long time, but he has reminded me that one must choose ones battles.

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Last night the first winged beastie of the spring found its way inside. I think it was a moth. Albert had it pinnned beneath his paw as he examined it. It writhed in an express effort to get free. It managed to escape and took refuge about seven feet up the wall.

Albert took a few running jumps the moth infested wall. His claws scraped against the plaster making a disquieting squeeling sound. When it became clear that he would never be able to reach the moth, he hugged the wall with both front paws, threw his head back, and hissed. He hissed and hissed and hissed and hissed.

Then Victoria went over and slapped him.

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Yesterday was particularly horrifying for the kitties. I ran the vacuum cleaner. When I get the sweeper out Victoria cries. Albert attacks the bag and hangs from it in an effort to kill it. He bites it and slashes at it and does a little more damage every time.

Then we had a killer thunder storm. It reminded me of the thunderstorms we get back home in Oklahoma. Tons of beautiful lightning and deafening roling claps of thunder. We even had tornado warnings. The cats hid under the rocking chair in the living room. They would peek their heads out from under and tuck their heads back in when they saw lightning or heard thunder.

I think having two such horrifying events in one day is fairly cruel. Remind me to watch the weather reports to better co-ordinate my cleaning regiment.

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A few moments ago, Victoria vomited a rubber band. One of the big thick ones. You know the kind.

I try to tell her not to eat office supplies because they are just for people. They are not for kitties. They are for people.

She never listens.

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Yesterday I sat in amazement as Albert climbed the hamper and pulled open a drawer in my dresser. He hung from it and used his very strong lower limbs to push against the greater structure, giving him the leverage he needed to get into my pajama drawer.

Once inside he vanished into the bowels of the dresser where he promptly got stuck.

Victoria lay on the carpet in front of the dresser, silently appraising the situation. She did a little grooming, a little stretching. When Albert finally started to cry, she went to sleep.

I tried to help him, but my dresser was designed such that the drawers cannot be removed. I had to take all the clothes out of the bottom drawer, open all the other drawers, shake the dresser to knock him into the bottom drawer which I then opened to free him. None of this activity disurbed Victoria's nap in the slightest.

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Tommy took this picture of my kitties.

The one on the left is Albert and the one on the right is Victoria.

Posted at 7:28 p.m.

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