We had a scary sort of experience here yesterday morning. I was in the kitchen, minding my own business, when I became aware that the sponge, sitting in its holder on the side of the sink, was giving me a rather malevolent look.
“Sponge,” I said. “What IS your problem?”
It didn’t respond – those sponges are known for their silence – just sat there, glaring evilly at me, and I stared back it, hoping it would calm down and go back to sleep.
Like cats, sponges spend most of their days sleeping.
Just as I began to fear for my very life, Joe Bob FLEW up onto the counter, grabbed that sponge right out of the holder – just, I am certain, as it was going to attack me – and he showed it who was the boss around here.
(Hint: It’s not the sponge who is the boss around here.)
It was a magical thing, to see Joe Bob defend me, kicking that sponge’s spongy butt until it quivered and begged for mercy.
That sponge will never glare malevolently at me again, I’m sure of it.
(And just to reinforce the lesson, Joe Bob kicked that sponge’s butt again an hour later.)
The week before last, reader Christine emailed me to tell me that she’d purchased something for me (or, actually, for the cats) and wanted to send it to me, but they wouldn’t deliver to a PO Box address and could she have my mailing address? I thought about it for a while, decided that since we’d occasionally traded emails for the past two years, she maybe wasn’t a psycho stalker and could be trusted with that top-secret information.
(Plus, I have her address.)
So I gave it to her and sat back to see if a gun-wielding crazy was going to show up on my front steps.
Instead, I got a huge, heavy box, and on the outside it said “Cat tree.” Fred kept forgetting to bring his tools home to put it together, and finally remembered to do so on Sunday. The funny thing is that he ended up not needing any tools – the tree screwed together quite easily.
And I must say – it’s a big hit with the cats.
Sugarbutt and Tommy, especially, like to hang out in the top platform. No one’s tried out the “hammock” on the bottom, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.
Thank you, Christine, on behalf of the cats. They told me that you RAWK!
Myrtle (formerly known as Moondance) enjoys her solitude on the platform. She’s got the screech of a hellbeast, and she makes the other cats nervous. When she hangs out on the cat tree, they wisely stay away.
Tuesday, I had to take Fantine back to the vet. Her eyes had cleared up a bit from Friday (they gave me a triple antibiotic to put in her eyes), but had only gotten a little better, and weren’t healed yet, still goopy and crusty and bright pink around the eyelids.
The vet gave her a hydrocortisone shot to bring down the swelling, and had me put her on doxycycline, to see if that would solve the problem.
I got home from the vet’s, Fred and I ate dinner, we ran out to the Smallville house to check on the floors, then when we got home I boxed up Javert, Eponine, and Cosette, and took them to the pet store.
At 7:30 the shelter manager called to let me know that Javert and Eponine had been adopted together! Now that’s what I like to hear – the only thing that would have made me happier would have been to hear that Cosette had been adopted as well.
I’m hoping she’ll have been adopted by Monday.
As soon as I left to take the cats to the pet store, Fred let Fantine out of her room. She is such a sweet laid-back cat; she sniffed around and explored for a while, then ended up hanging out back in her own room for a good part of the evening.
One of us has litter on our nose. (Hint: It ain’t me.)
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.