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

 

Cats and Wine (Or Wine and Cats).

So two of my favorite things on this planet are (it’s not a trick question):

Cats and Wine. Or Wine and Cats. The order flip-flops any given hour, depending on my mood at that moment.

And sometimes, on that wonderful rare occasion, the two cross over. Like in this amazing magnet a friend gave me for Christmas this year:

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Yes. That would be my answer.

Or this Riesling, that I originally got because it had a picture of a cat on it, but wound up loving it, regardless of said cat label:

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Delicious, with or without cat.

I really do love this wine, and I recently purchased it again, because it has become one of my favorite go-to bottles. So, I was sitting at the table, enjoying my glass, when Captain Curious (aka “Berlioz”), jumped up to investigate. And by “investigate,” I mean eat whatever possible food he came across. There was no food this time, but I guess he, like his mama, is fond of Riesling. In fact, after sniffing the bottle and my glass, he decided that this wine was from this point on, his and his alone.

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Note the tail wrapped around the glass.Β 

Either that, or he’s just a little ham who wanted his picture taken….again.

 

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.

Things That Go Bump in the Night.

Yesterday morning, I woke around 5:30 as usual to get ready for work. It’s still dark at that time, so I have to turn on the lights in each room as I go through them. Once I’m finished getting ready, I shut off the lights upstairs, and head downstairs into the darkness to feed the #mewcrew. And yesterday was no exception.

I reached the kitchen, hit the switch, and everything appeared normal. I made coffee, then fed them their breakfast, as they begged as if they hadn’t eaten in two weeks. Berlioz finished first as he always does, so I stood guard by Wednesday’s dish, so she could finish eating in peace, like I always do. Once we finished this song and dance, I packed my lunch, and headed upstairs to say goodbye to my husband. I came back down, put on my jacket, and stopped in the sunroom to read my quote of the day, which I read every morning from “365 Days of Wonder.”

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My favorite quote from the book.

I walked unassumingly into the dark sunroom, and turned the light on, so I could get my daily dose of motivation, but as I turned around to grab the book, I saw it. The utter destruction and devastation that was previously hidden by the early morning darkness.

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What he did in the shadows.

Berlioz (I’m sure it was him and not Wednesday) had knocked over my big, beautiful plant in the night. There was dirt, leaves and death everywhere. Plus a tennis ball, which I really still can’t figure out what, if any part it played in this whole debacle. I stood there, staring at it, while the tears began streaming down my face (I’ve been extra emotional these days). I did my best to scoop the dirt back into the pot, but part of the plant was broken off, and dirt was embedded into the carpet and I had to get to work at some point. So I went back upstairs (this sounds familiar) and woke up my husband like before, and told him (well, more like sobbed at him while trying to form words) what had happened, and that I tried cleaning it, but couldn’t finish because I had to leave. He groggily said he’d clean up the rest, and I exited the room went back downstairs and grabbed my bag. But before I left, I put the broken plant piece into an empty pot that I had been on a search to find a new plantΒ  for (plants, like books always find their way to me at the exact right time), so I guess that was something, and it seems to be doing pretty well so far.

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Silver lining?

But you know what he worst part of the whole thing was? Not the dirt, or the destruction or the death; the absolute lack of shame that Berlioz exhibited through this entire ordeal.

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It wasn’t me, mama.

Why’d he have to be so cute?

Cats in Odd Places.

Sometimes, I find the cats in the most bizarre spots. I don’t know why suddenly they decide to go into this spot which they’ve never been in before, but I guess something about it is suddenly appealing. For example:

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Cat in a nightstand.

Why on earth Wednesday decided the nightstand was suddenly exactly where she needed to sit is one of life’s unsolved mysteries.

Here’s another:

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Cat in a drawer.

I guess I can see the appeal of sitting on a pile of soft clothes in a drawer. But there are plenty of other soft surfaces for her to sit on.

Here’s another odd one:

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Cat hiding (sort of).

It’sΒ  not so much that he’s in a odd spot, it’s that he seems to think he’s hiding there.

This was a first:

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Cat in the tub.

Cat life can be soΒ  hard, but it’s nothing a bath can’t fix.

But just when you think you’re safe:

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Cat behind the curtain.

Surprise! There’s Berlioz, totally creepin’.

And sometimes, they even fall asleep there:

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Cat on a bookshelf.

That can’t be comfortable. But cats will be cats. And they always keep you on your toes. And sometimes they even bite those toes. But we love them anyway.

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We didn’t do it. Whatever it was.