All posts in: kitty pics

21 Oct 2013

when life hands you kittens…

I am having trouble getting posts up here in a timely fashion. This has nothing to do with what I’ve been reading or what I’ve been feeling – my usual excuses for radio silence – and everything to do with time management troubles. Apartment-life-management troubles. Life management troubles. Trouble is the wrong word, perhaps. I don’t feel troubled, just distracted.

Top Five Distractions, end of October 2013 edition

1. Book Review Writing. Book Review Writing related procrastination.

2. Going to the gym, getting on a treadmill, and running one minute, then walking one minute – repeat until legs fall off. Subsequent gym-related exhaustion.

3. Attachments by Rainbow Rowell; How to Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran

4. Living in tighter quarters with The Boy. I like him too much. I want to talk to him too much. I talk to him instead of engaging on other, more productive and solitary pursuits.

5. The four kittens living on my back porch. I just… can’t. This is an awful time of month for me to discover adorable nascent lifeforms on my property. Can’t deal. Can not deal. Must go outside and check on kittens every few hours.

I should be back here soon. In a few day’s time. If I’m not too busy playing Skyrim. Did I mention Skyrim? Yes, well… Skyrim.

31 Jan 2013


One more piece of advice for those of you looking to Read More Books, or otherwise fulfill librarian/avid reader/nerd girl stereotypes:


Procure a cuddly cat creature.

You will find yourself frequently trapped, pinned down, unable to get up and move around your home as you please, and that one chapter you wanted to read will turn into twelve.

Bonus: you will have an adorable view.

27 Sep 2012

life as a normal human: sick days

You go to sleep with a sore throat, wake up with a headache. Walking from bedroom to bathroom seems about all the walking you can muster at a time.

So you call in sick.

And it’s been a long time since you’ve called in sick. In school, you were prone to going to class ill, saving your absences for more relaxing/fun endeavors. In recent months, you maybe even “scheduled” sick days, staggered to miss different jobs, so you wouldn’t have to work fourteen straight days… but when you were actually sick? Have fun with a 12 hour day…

Waking up and letting your body just be ill. Sleeping in a little, drinking tea, taking medicine. You watch TV until you get too tired, you play games until you get too tired, feel unproductive and try to clean up your house until you get too tired.

You rest, you get a little better, a little less contagious.

You read a book.

A cat sits on your lap.

Life as a normal human.

22 Jun 2011

happy blah day

I am feeling too blah for words today.

There is only one cure I can think of:

dreaming about a new kitten.

Look how cute the one I have used to be!

Or maybe an extended cuddling session with this grown-up kitty named Peach.

She grew up awful cute.

Please note that “working for another six hours” is not a valid cure for any blahs.

And to that, I say: double blah.

28 Aug 2010

what a peach

My animal did not particularly enjoy her trip back to her birth state.

On the drive from Boston to Jackson, Peach sat in the backseat, curled up fairly compactly, and refused to move or eat or drink or use her litter box for the entirety of the 14 hour trip.

And when we carried her into my parents’ house, she flipped a lid at having eight people, two friendly Corgis, and a foreign cat all in her face. I was bitten, Lance scratched, and she hid under a foot stool and swiped at her offenders with her claws all evening.

I learned that my cat can growl! Which she did toward Moonshine right on through our trip, never letting her enter the room without at least an intimidating hiss.

She also hissed at my parents, my sisters, and me. We penned her up in Dorothy’s room during the day, and she spent nights perched on the arm of the sofa that was my bed. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to see her 2 inches from my head, gazing intently into the ceiling fan. And when our eyes met, she would give me a good hiss too.

Anyway, then she had an appointment at the Reproductive Organ Removal Facility. I was in Ohio with my mother for two days, so my sister Betsy was so kind as to fetch her from her surgery. The drugs must have done her some good because from there on out, she was a changed cat. She let everyone pet, often to the point where I wondered what happened to her old fighting, biting spirit. Was her personality due to too much kitty estrogen? It was strange. She cozied up to the dogs, although they wouldn’t come near her after she’d swiped their noses a few times on that first night. She roamed the house freely instead of hiding in the fireplace all day, or behind a couch.

The abundance of loud voices and slammed doors and barking dogs still frightened her multiple times daily. And of course, she and Moonshine still had territory wars, but no actual catfighting took place. Which was for the best. My Peach has a freaking creepy growl, but Moonshine lives Outside, with Other Animals With Claws and Teeth.

I spent some time fretting over my antisocial animal.

“Are you upset because it’s your fault that your cat is hissing? Do you think you broke her?” my dad ask.

Which I could tell was code for, “Do you REALLY think you can control your cat in ANY way, you silly girl? I could barely control you as a child and you were a HUMAN for Pete’s sake!”

But no, I wasn’t upset about that. I was mostly upset that my animal was being such a poor houseguest. Like when somebody invites their grumpy boyfriend over and he gets mad at the world and then everyone rolls their eyes at that particular sister? I was that sister, and while my actual grumpy boyfriend spent most of the week in Lapeer with his family, my cat was an annoying stand in.

And also, ever since we got Peach, I’ve wanted another cat, someday when we have a slightly larger abode. Watching my cat claw at other animals dampened my menagerie-related spirits just a bit.

But I guess she ended up okay.

She’s now back in her home, where she hasn’t hissed once, where she eats, drinks, uses the litter box, and wakes me up every morning so I can pull her security blanket onto the bed she she can lay with me. She fights. She bites. She loves our abundance of moving boxes.

It’s just the *actual* moving I’m concerned about. We are moving in with a roommate. And I will be bringing both a freeloading friend of Lance’s who is looking to move to Boston, AND an antisocial cat who, on her better days, has a tendency toward ankle biting.

Everyone cross their adorable little paws for me.

01 Feb 2010

the joy

Still grumpy.

But will you LOOK at this!

She is just so cute.