Frenemies.

Sometimes I think the cats hate each other. They run around the house, hissing, clawing, biting and wrestling. But then there are times when they think I’m not looking, that I catch them in the act of being best friends.

Here, they were in the middle of what appears to be a very important conversation, which I so rudely interrupted.

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plotting.

And one time I woke up, and they were totally snuggling. That is, until they realized I was awake, and all heck broke loose.

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we’re only sleeping.

Another time, I walked into the dining room, and found this. I’m not sure what exactly they were doing, but it was clearly some kind of bonding ritual.

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bonding or just plain weird.

And then there was the day I found them watching the birds together, and I knew once and for all, they were secretly best friends for life.

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BFFs.

Time to drop the facade guys – the cat is out of the bag πŸ™‚

 

The Cat in the Moon.

This morning, I saw this article on the internet. It was labeled “This is Important,” and since everything on the internet is true, I figured it must be important so I better open it.

Sure enough, it was very important. You can (and should) read it for yourself here, however I’ll give you a quick summary in the meantime.

Grab a toilet paper tube. Take a selfie with it. You’ll look like the moon.

Now this is the best thing I’ve heard in weeks! I had to give it a try myself right away, so up to the bathroom I went, where there was thankfully a roll of toilet paper that was almost empty! I took the now empty paper tube, and tried to take a selfie.

It looked completely ridiculous and it was not living up to the standard the article set. I put down the paper tube, slightly dejected about my failure to achieve the American Dream, when Wednesday walked in, and it hit me: I’ll make the cats look like the moon instead!

I snatched up the tube and my phone, and before she knew what happened, I successfully turned Wednesday into the moon.

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The cat in the moon is smiling.

She seemed pleased, almost as if she aspired to be the moon her whole life. It took one shot to capture this fine work of feline art.

Berlioz on the other hand….

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First attempt.

He was not having it. It took at least 10 takes, and none of them were worthy of the heavenly body we call “moon.”

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Fourth or Fifth attempt (is he eating something here?)

I finally got one that was sort of ok….

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Eighth or Ninth attempt. He’s sticking his tongue out at me now.

I almost gave up, but tried one last time….

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Jupiter has finally aligned with Mars.

This will have to do. At least his eyes are open and his mouth is closed. For once. ;D

 

Happy Mew Year!

Wednesday and Berlioz just want to wish everyone a Happy “Mew” Year! They’re both super pumped for 2019, and all the treats, catnip, naps, fetching, and hissing it will bring.

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Wednesday says, “Happy Mew Year!”

 

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Berlioz says, “Happy Mew Year!”

Truthfully, they were just begging for their breakfast, as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. :-/

 

Hey, Jealousy.

Wednesday does not like to be picked up nearly as much as Berlioz, so when she decides she actually wants to be held, we drop everything and scoop her up immediately, making it a big celebration, worthy of the princess she is.

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All hail Princess Wednesday, ruler of the sofa.

Berlioz always wants attention no matter what, so it’s not such a big deal when we pick him up. But trust me, he gets plenty of affection, probably more than his share – he makes darn sure of that.

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You cannot make this bed until you pet me again.

Anyway, one day last week, Wednesday wanted to be held, so I jumped at the opportunity and picked her up. She was relaxed and purring, and we were having a nice quiet moment of quality time, when out of nowhere, Berlioz jumps up in a fit of jealousy, claws out in full force, and scratches me, down both sides of my stomach. I screamed, Wednesday freaked out and jumped away, and Berlioz stood there, staring, knowing full well what he had done. I was also bleeding, fyi.

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Scarred, physically and mentally.

It was a traumatic experience for all of us, except Berlioz of course, who’s jealous plan was ultimately victorious, in his eyes.

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Excellent….

Halloween Cats.

I’ve been dying for Halloween to arrive, so I could put the cats in their respective Halloween costumes (Wednesday – unicorn, Berlioz – bat). I’ve had the costumes planned out for months, and I knew this was going to be the best thing ever and they were going to love it, right?

RIGHT??

Because what cat doesn’t love getting shoved into a costume while it’s owners huddle around it, giggling and snapping photos?

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my pretty unicorn

 

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my adorable bat

They look thrilled and not at all like we snuck up on them while they were sleeping and forced the costumes on while they remained in a half-daze. Once they caught on, their reactions varied. Berlioz thought it was no big deal, and laid back down to go to sleep like nothing happened.

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this ain’t so bad.

Wednesday, on the other hand….

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i will destroy you for this.

At the end of the day, I got my cats into the costumes and got a couple of photos to preserve the memories, which was really all I ever wanted.

I’m pretty sure they’ve already forgotten about the entire thing.

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forgiven and forgotten.

Or….maybe not….

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plotting revenge.

I’m Only Sleeping.

Today I was off, and I was thinking about my day and what I was going to do. I had a list of things to get done (I actually did most of them!), and I was working my way through the list, when I sat down on the couch for a few minutes. Berlioz jumped up behind me and promptly went to sleep.

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He looks so well behaved when he’s sleeping.

I paused for a few extra minutes to sit with him, but then I had to get up and do other things, like run 8 miles. When I returned from running, I walked into the bedroom, and stumbled upon this:

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Sleeping ball of fur.

I showered and changed in preparation for my next errand, and walked downstairs, only to be greeted by this strangely familiar sight:

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wait…again??

I realized that I’m doing it totally wrong. These guys have the life right here. They’ve got it all figured out. Or so I thought.

I went back upstairs to put away some laundry, and Wednesday was still laying there in the same spot, doing the same thing (that would be sleeping). This time, Berlioz followed me up. He jumped on the bed, and for a split second, I thought he was going to lay down next to her and go to sleep for the third time, but alas, it went a little more like this:

I guess all that sleeping has its benefits – one can unleash those bad-ass wrestling moves at any time and without warning. 13+ hours of sleeping a day sure hones those cat-like reflexes.

The Breakfast Song.

I don’t know about you, but I often catch myself singing to my cats. It’s usually real songs that I change the words to the cats’ names or whatever activity they’re currently engaging in. Most of these songs I would never repeat outside of closed doors, as they are really really really dumb and make no sense.

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Because I’m still in love with mew
I want to see you meow again
Because I’m still in love with mew
On this kitty moon.

Besides my feline-filled tribute to Neil Young, there is one song that I find myself singing to the #catsquad every morning at breakfast time while I feed them.

Sung to the tune of Frère Jacques:

Who wants breakfast, who wants breakfast
Kitties do, kitties do
Everyone wants breakfast, everyone wants breakfast
Mew mew mew, mew mew mew….

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It’s true though – everyone does want breakfast. And now this song will also be stuck in your head for the rest of the day, just like it is in mine. You’re welcome.