lisaviolet's diary

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

catstuff
12:36 PM - 06/21/2006

The topic: Captain
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Brian was in bed by the time I got Phoebe in. I kicked back on the loveseat, looking for something decent to relax to on television, when I saw a black cat jump up on the coffe table, growling.

It was Captain, come from his hiding spot under the loveseat.

This was the first good look I’ve gotten of him. A small cat, very nice looking. But growly.

He came over to me and I petted him, scratching his head and ears. He spied Chander on the arm of the sofa and went over, gave Chandler a growl, then halfway jumped at him. Chandler kind of flinched, but didn’t move from his spot on the sofa. Captain came back over to me.

I decided to go to bed and turned off the television. Captain followed. Letting all cats along the path that he was not to be messed with. He even slapped Lorelai. When I climbed into bed, he followed. He chased all cats off of the bed and staked out the big pillow at the bottom, where he could see who was coming and going. Then he saw the window and climbed into that. Growling the entire time.

Brian was awake and I warned him to watch his head. Heads aren’t the best landing pads for cats with claws. I don’t know what finally happened, but it was after eleven when I finally fell asleep. I don’t know if Captain was still growling.

This morning, he’s back in his spot under the loveseat. At least he’s starting to make integration progress.

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catstuff
12:30 PM - 06/21/2006

The topic: The brat known as Phoebe
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So, after all were settled in, Ben and Mystie were indoors, garage door is blocked, it’s time to get the Pheebs inside.

It took me forty-five minutes. I was barefoot. It was dark. She’d run from this spot, to that. Brian finally said the hell with it and came inside. I pursued. Then I’d say the hell with it and come inside. Then ten minutes later I was back outside trying to catch the little spit.

It finally go to the point where she was wearing out. She was by the pool and was laying in the cement drain area. I would pretend I wasn’t looking at her. I’d slide over to get closer to her. And she’d get up and move about three feet away from me. I’d move, she’d move. This went on for about ten minutes. Finally, I was able to get close enough to hold my fingers up to her face. She rubbed them. And eventually, I was able to get her. She protested. She squirmed, but I was able to get her inside with minimal blood loss.

It was after ten.

This morning, she’s all over me, ready to be my best buddy. Silly cat.

But this is why I want the cats in before the sun goes down.

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catstuff
11:23 AM - 06/21/2006

The topic: Ciara stuff
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The vet didn't call until after 7:30 last night. I was in the middle of getting the cats in. He apologized, saying that he'd had to go to a meeting, he didn't mean to make me wait (little head voice: yeah, yeah, get on with it). So, there's good news and there's bad news.

But wait! I'm not done yet!
I've got more to say!

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otherstuff
11:17 AM - 06/21/2006

The topic: Stumbling home
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This morning on our walk, I was paying more attention to what I was saying to what was in the road. Past the first half of our walk, going down a fairly long steep asphalted hill, I stepped on a rock with my left foot. Hit it just right. I was down before I knew what had happened. Boy, that ankle popped.

I stood up, Brian supported me. We’re probably a half mile from home. I was able to put weight on my foot and I started walking. I scraped up my hands a little and I put no holes in my sweatpants. There was a lady we see on the mornings we walk this route and she came over and asked if we needed help, she had a car and could take us (she saw me go down, how embarrassing). We thanked her and told her I’d be alright, I mentioned this was an occasional reoccurance of a high school injury (yeah, stepping on rocks, blame it on youth).

I made it home okay, but as the day’s progressed, that puppy is hurting. I iced it down a little. And my upper arms aren’t real happy right now either, bad way to start a regimen of push ups, yanno? The palm of my left hand hurts, too.

Ah, the joys of not watching where you walk. Of course, I get no sympathy from my DH.

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