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      Thursday, March 26, 2009


otherstuff
09:11 AM - 03/26/2009

The topic: So, we’re watching television last night

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and that Quaker Oatmeal commercial comes on.  You know, the one where they strap on the jet packs, but the “jets” are cartons of oatmeal, then they take off.

Brian has expressed his not understanding this commercial a couple of times.  I explain it to him. That oatmeal is supposed to give you energy.  Then he tells me “well, whenever I have it, I sure don’t have energy for very long”. And I say “well, maybe that’s because you eat the sweetened crap, the flavored stuff. If I made it from the oatmeal carton and it was just plain, you might have more energy.” 

He takes umbrage.  Tells me that there are plain flavors in the box of mixed we get at CostCo. And that he has those “every other time”.  Now, I know that there’s not much of a sweet smell to the regular, plain flavors.  And that I usually get a whiff of sweetness when he has oatmeal.  Anal person that I am, I get up from my spot on the sofa, go into the kitchen, grab the box of oatmeal and dump all of the packets on the counter.

“Okay, let’s just see how many of the flavorless packets you’ve actually eaten….”

He’s getting pissed off. He starts to tell me “well, I just grab what’s in there, I don’t pay attention.” 

I ignore him and start splitting the packets into individual piles.  I read from the box.  “Okay, there are ten packages of regular included in the box.”  I count the regular packages on the counter.  I count ten!  Then I read the side of the box.  “Okay, there are six packages of oats and flax included and there are four in the pile. You’ve had two of those!”

The mixed berry count was way down (only two left), the apples and cinnamon was down, and probably six of the maple flavored gone. 

My point made, I put all of the packets back in the carton and put it back on the frig.

But that said, I do agree with him that a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast does seem to last longer than a breakfast of oatmeal.  Flavored or not.


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catstuff
08:56 AM - 03/26/2009

The topic: You’re probably gonna get tired of these updates….

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but so what? tongue laugh

*lol*

So, this morning, Spot wanted in.  It’s cool outside, the heater is on and I’d shut the doors.  I open the door.  “Come on, Spot, get in, I’m not keeping the door open”.  He comes in.  Skippy is right behind him.  Not sure if he’s gonna come in or not.  I shut the door, he stands there, looking at the door, looking so pitiful.

I open it.  “Come in!”  After doing this about ten times, he decides he wants to be with Spot and comes inside.  They eat a little, then go into the main part of the house. Then into the garage.  I follow.  “Hey, Spot, let me show you something…”

I pick him up and show him how the cat door works.  I pushed it open, held it that way with my hand, then put him in it and he walks outside.  I opened it for Skippy and he followed Spot.  Then Spot turns around and comes right back in, he’s got the cat door down after one try.  Skippy, on the other hand, stands outside nudging it with his nose. And cries.  “I want in, please let me in!” 

Goof.

I guess he’s still traumatized by that trap being on the other side of the door.  He’ll get over it.

 


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catstuff
07:46 AM - 03/26/2009

The topic: While I’m pleased that

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Skippy has a friend in Spot, the problem is Skippy is now more active.  Much more active. And he looks to be a little possessive of Spot. This made for a not too much fun evening last night. 

Now, I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned that Captain is a slappy cat.  He’s one of those cats who will not make friends.  Any cat who gets into what he considers his space, gets slapped.  Well, he’s on the dining room table last night.  Spot jumps up onto the table.  Captain Slappy slaps.  A little fight ensues. Skippy gets riled up and starts going after other cats.  I grab the water bottle and start spraying like crazy. Skippy runs, smacking cats along the way.

I find him and yell at him.  I tell him ‘you don’t fight the other kitties!’ 

The problem right now is that many of the cats are on edge and will jump at the littlest thing, which has the domino effect of everybody wigging out. An example.  We’re watching television last night.  Georgie is sleeping on the arm of my chair (like in this past Tummy Tuesday pic).  There’s a small table next to the arm of the chair, where I have my glasses, my water glass, a plastic coaster, a plastic hair clip and the remote.  Georgie gives a little stretch and moves the hair clip. It makes a little scratching sound on the table top.

The cats scatter.

The cats slap.

It’s not the most fun thing in my life.

I find the Feliway spray and go nuts through the house. I get a headache, Brian’s chest gets tight from the smell of the Feliway.  But the house calms down. Then I go in search of my diffusers.  I find one brand new refill, but I can’t seem to find one of the three diffusers I know I’ve got.  It took about fifteen minutes, but I did find it and got it set up in the family room. 

The household calms down.  Spot stretched out on the cedar chest in the dining room and Skippy took up watch on the kitchen counter, keeping an eye on his charge. 

Things were quiet until 3:30 this morning.  At which time Little Shit decided he was going to get into it with Spot. And Skippy wasn’t going to let this happen.  I got out of bed and opened the sliding door to the patio.  “Just get the hell out, I need my sleep.”  The posturing doesn’t happen as much outside.

I’m seriously considering calling the vet and getting a prescrip called in for Skippy.  I know he’ll take a pill in a pill pocket.  Just to keep him calmed down until everybody adjusts to having new cats in the house.  The skittishness and slapping doesn’t bother me as much as the thought of him getting into a bad fight with one of the others, because everyone is so spooked.  You know, that misplaced aggression thing.

Brian says to wait, call tomorrow, see how things go today.  He’s probably right.

Oh, and since the introduction of Spot, Skippy is MUCH more friendly to me.  He rubs my legs, follows me around (just a little bit) after I pet him. He talks to me and trills to me.  Which is why I was so upset last night when I started hitting him with squirts of water.  But he’s not holding it against me, I guess, he still likes me this morning.


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lisaviolet is seventy something, married with no kids, takes care of lots of cats, likes taking photographs, loves Southern California weather and spends altogether too much time avoiding her responsibilities.

In her spare time, she makes pretty things to sell in her store.

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