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There will be more, I have no doubt, but there was suppose to be a break.  This wasn’t suppose to follow the last two in a row.

But this has to come out.

Because I haven’t been able to write, not a post, not a tweet, not anything bright and fluffy and fun.  The words and and ridiculous thoughts are in my brain, but they are stuck there; my unwilling fingers won’t make the connection to type them.

I think it’s because I haven’t fully been able to acknowledge the loss of my Willow, my baby girl.

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She was absolutely one of my best friends and two weeks ago today, she left us and the hole she left is enormous.

I don’t want to focus on the sadness.  I simply want need to take a moment and remember the furball of awesomeness that she was.

From when she was a kitten and used to lie on my pillow and shut my eyes for me, not ever letting glasses get in her way to her ‘I have no limbs’ poses.  Her love of boxes, her ability to make and get into her own costumes, for all the wonderful moments I will never forget.

                            storming the castle

willow (9)

             PIZZA!!!!!!! (which means BOX!!!!!!)

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         willow in fancy dress. she designed it herself

 

For all the time we had with her and all she gave us in that time, I am eternally grateful.

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I can’t quite seem to put my finger on why holiday invites have stopped coming my way, why I am suddenly getting so many cancellations from friends or why even my family seems to be squirming about our upcoming festivities.

Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned some of the crafty creative gifts I plan on giving out this year. I bet my friends are simply concerned that they won’t be able to come up with anything even remotely as awesome and so they are cancelling out of embarrassment.

 

crafting with cat hair

I’m not so sure ‘with’ is the correct word. Pretty sure it should read “Cute Handicrafts to Make FROM your cat – but just the hair, not like its internal organs or anything. Please don’t dismember your cats”.

 

I definitely don’t want friends and family to feel down on themselves for not finding this wonderful inspiring book first.  They really shouldn’t feel bad or compare themselves, and they should know that such amazing creativity often comes from having a limited budget and so you make the best of what you have and what I have is cats.

If they really want to compete, they can always give away all their money (like maybe to me so I can buy presents instead) and then they will start to come up with ingenious gift giving ideas and they can show me up. Everyone wins.

Though now that I think about it, I bet they are simply upset with me for spoiling the surprise.  I’ve accidentally ruined the wonder that comes with gifts and I suspect if I apologize all the invites will start pouring in again and my family will stop suggesting I spend this year entirely with my in-laws.

And since I have already proven how magnificent I am at apologizing, I believe I’ll have this mishap cleared up in no time.

They’re my family and they have to love me, though why they still talk to me is a bit of a mystery.

It started innocently enough with a text to my siblings late last month suggesting that a desk weasel would make a good prezzie for me as I am re-doing my work space and it would be perfect (so long as no one mentions it to Peter).  I can’t say I was surprised when my sister more or less ignored me and moved the conversation in another direction, but what I hadn’t expected was my brother-in-law’s participation. He clearly hasn’t been in the family long enough yet to learn not to engage with me.  I suspect that will soon change.

To be fair, I think my sister may have been baiting him for her own amusement.  She included him in the the group text, then quickly left the conversation after opening with this:

Robin: My house threw up Christmas

Me: Xander (one of my cats) threw up all over my house.  It’s kinda the same right?

Phil: Not really as the house threw up a tree with lights and ornaments, etc. Stockings hung…

Me: Xander made pretty colours too – I mean we do feed him pumpkin. I think it’s unfair to assume he didn’t put the same effort into creating something fantastic and beautiful. You’re clearly being Christmas decorating exclusionary and I think you should apologize. Stop being a cat hater. Xander loves you. Where’s the love Phil, where’s the love?

short time later

Me: Phil, I have just gotten in trouble from Peter for trying to shame you over Xander’s decorative vomiting efforts. As an apology, I am packing up all the sparkly Xander vomit (I added glitter) and sending it to you. You will now have the most amazing Christmas vomit house ever as I am no longer deserving of such things. I hope you can forgive me.

Me: I haven’t run this apology past Peter yet, but I can’t imagine any fault to be found by him as I am giving up so much in my efforts to right my wrong. As he left the room while I was writing this, I can only assume he knew I would do a good job.

Phil: Shall I send that apology and the link to the weasel you want for Christmas to Peter. Think he’ll find it amusing?

Me: Touché

Me: Except I already showed Peter the weasel and told him I asked for it from everybody I know in spite of the warning under the video that says weasels are not good pets and this one is just a rescue – don’t get a weasel. I want a weasel.

Me: As for the apology, I think Peter will not be the least surprised. He knows how super duper generous and giving I am and would expect nothing less.

Phil: Oh, I know… locking up the Crown Royal Apple now. Is there any environmental coal option for your stocking instead.

Me: The only bigger, better apology I can come up with is sending you Xander himself. Then you get ALL the vomit. A Christmas miracle and it’s only November.

Phil: Ok, I’m going to drink all the Crown Apple now.

Me: I’ve never had Crown Apple. It seems kinda rude to drink it all and not even let me try some. I think you may owe me an apology now for your lack of consideration of my thirst. I’ll accept a bottle of crown apple as your sorry. Hey, maybe the apple and the vomit will cross paths on the way to their new homes.

Phil: Maybe. I don’t need the vomit though.

Me: Fine. Since you don’t seem interested in my awesome apology, I will not send you sparkly cat vomit, but in doing so, you acknowledge that not sending you vomit is my apology and I am now forgiven.

Me: You also acknowledge that anything lacking in your Christmas decor is not a reflection of the amazing job I am sure Robin has done, but is because you chose not to complete your holiday cheer with vomit (something I have yet to experience).

1/2 hour later

Me: Hey Phil, Willow just threw up.

Me: Was it just Xander’s vomit you objected to, cause I have another option for you now if you are interested

Remarkably, Phil hasn’t blocked or deleted me from his contacts (a fact which I am grateful for), but I think it’s clear that one of us truly gets the generous spirit of the season more than the other.

At the very least, one of us understands how not to decorate for the holidays properly.

 

 

I really should be getting dressed as I need to be leaving in a few minutes, but as usual I am procrastinating and as we are approaching halloween (the most best-est time of the year!!), I like to begin my daily procrastination ritual with a little more creepiness.

As usual I thought I would share with all of you.

This isn’t my favourite Lenore video, but given all my cat drama lately I thought it would make a better transition from cats to cute little dead girls.  Plus, I have been leaving this video on a continuous loop for the cats as a warning.

All three kitties have been much nicer to me lately.

 

first i will take your tail

October 15, 2012

There’s nothing like a relaxing sunday morning… or at least that’s what I have heard.  Mine don’t usually seem so calm.  Yesterday morning, for example, began with the usual trek down the hall to put in my contacts.  I am super blind and can’t see my alarm clock without squinting and it’s less than a foot away from my face.

Contacts in, so far so good, only then I looked down and realized I was standing in cat pee.

Yep.

Hadn’t felt it as it had almost dried, but there you go.  Anyhow, I cleaned the floor, cleaned my feet, put the bath mat in the wash and then decided I deserved to sit back for a few minutes and try out this lazy sunday morning thing when on the way to the sofa I stepped in cat vomit.

Two minutes after cleaning that up I stepped in a big wet glob of cat fur ball.

There’s only so much a girl can take before vengeance becomes her one and only thought.

I should have seen this coming

I have to wonder what exactly it is that I have done wrong?

Is this some kind of sicko kitty pay back for taking away their third not-really-a-litter-box litter box.

Well, I have decided that for every one of their evil shenanigans, a limb will be removed.  And this will continue until eventually they become mere lumps with heads; potato sack versions of cats; and then I will bring in all my friends and family, (well the ones that don’t like cats that is and who have no sympathy for sad, pathetic looking animals, and who don’t fall prey to giant my-life-is-so-hard puss in boots eyes) and we will all point and laugh and make merry at their expense.

“please help. she’s off her meds again”

“Really, I think this punishment is a little harsh and completely underserved.”

I seriously do love when the cats do their “I have no limbs!” pose.

Though, as cute as it is I really am back to wondering how it is that I am writing two posts in a row involving cat pee.  How has my life come to this?

 

I love my cats, I love my cats, I love my cats…

If I love my cats I can’t possibly rub them in meat scent, put a pretty little bow on their heads, maybe one with a bone in it like Pebbles, and present them to the neighbourhood dogs… can I?

Last month I finally got around to cleaning the front hall closet only to discover the cats had decided that two litter boxes were not enough and they had turned the closet into a third one.  I don’t know how we didn’t notice it before, but all the junk in there must have somehow contained the smell; and then I released it.

Now I live in the bog of eternal stench and have spent the last month trying to rid myself of this delight.  Seeing as how they had peed in the front hall just outside the closet (it’s an open closet, no doors) you think we may have noticed then, but no.  When they peed in the hall, I just figured they were pissed (heeheehee… pissed, cat pee, unintended pun, get it?) at us for something, not that they were trying to extend their territory.

Any who, I have managed to get the smell and mess mostly under control and have been spending the day on what I hope is the last stage, but as I need a break I thought I would bitch and whine about it in a post.

On a positive note I think this has opened our money chakra and wealth is on its way.

See, Peter has been listening to Joe Rogan podcasts (as he often does) and in it Joe had been complaining about his cat peeing in non litter box areas.  So according to Peter, rich people have problems with cat pee too.  I think he was trying to take comfort in that.  I, on the other hand, discovered the root of all our money issues.  I tend to see things much more clearly than Peter.

I think the only way to interpret this information is that we were being held back by the belief that cat pee in unexpected places was a sign of lower-income.

wealth = cats pee in litter box

no wealth = cats pee wherever the fuck they want

So the only thing standing between us and riches has been a misunderstanding of the influence of cat pee in our lives.  Thank you Joe Rogan!

Let the cash start flowing in!

PS. cat pee

PPS. I didn’t think I’d said cat pee enough in this post

PPPS. I wish you a cat pee free day.  Which means I wish you a day free from any actual cat pee and from having to hear/read/see the words cat pee anymore.  You’re welcome!

 

I really don’t have much time for a post today as I have about sixty gazillion photographs to sort, but as I was going through them I came across an anomaly: Xander showed up in a photograph.

As you can see, I am not referring to Nicolas Brendon.  Although, oddly enough,  I have a lot of photos in which he is not visible either.

I swear this is like getting a photo of a sasquatch or the loch ness monster. In fact, those would probably be easier.

Our Xander is clearly feline and has yet to earn either fame or fortune starring in a tv show.  Really, it’s about time he did earn his keep, after all, he’s been with us for nine years now and looking adorable should only get you so far.  Though if he did become a successful television star, he could probably afford all the his desires and wouldn’t need me anymore as there would be adoring fans with laps available at all times and he could hire staff to do his shopping and such.  He probably wouldn’t even let us in to see him or only allow us supervised visits so that we can’t make him do zombie kitty anymore.  (For any cat agents out there, our cats are all very well-trained in zombie kitty.  I don’t know how often you may have need for this and, ok, we may have to be there to hold them in the proper position and to make them move and mumble “brains” in kitty voices, but I promise they have the perfect expression  – one of horror and resignation.) 

I realize now I am going to have to be very clear about his contract details.

Of course, the fact that it is next to impossible to get him to show up on film could create a teeny problem.  I suppose we will just have to come up with another way to pimp out our kitties.  Oh well.

Our Xander and television Xander do share at least one similarity; they both have completely ineffectual fighting styles.  I don’t know why I say that with some sort of pride, but WTF, it was amusing on Buffy and is amusing in our home.

First off for our cat is getting into proper position.

That’s right, this is my look of terror. I will totally take you down bitches. I am threatening and menacing and all that, and you can’t even imagine a way to break my defenses.

Scary, no?

It gets even better as he rolls completely on his back basically offering up any area of vulnerability.  From there he will kick out his legs a few times, make a couple half-hearted swats at his opponent and then hiss.

I will kill you with my breath!
(Which is probably true)

That’s it.

Most of the time the other cats just sit beside him and look down in disbelief, knowing it’s beneath them to participate in such a display.

Though perhaps he’s on to something.  His weight is comparable to a small bag of feathers so maybe his appearance of fight starting is really just a preemptive defensive strategy???  Well played shadow kitty.  Well played.

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And yes, I did just write about my cats.  I’d like to say it will never happen again, but that’s highly unlikely.

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