I can't help it. Animals are cute. Bobby makes fun of me, and especially makes fun of me because I get so fed up with my Mom's picture-taking madness that I call her the paparazzi. I try to tell him that the paparazzi takes pictures of PEOPLE, not animals, but he doesn't get it. Or he likes to make fun of me. Either way.
There are few things that infuriate me more than the internet not working I feel like I should get money back for every second it refuses to cooperate. However, I am pretty sure I know the root of the problem:
Yep, that's our router. And don't think for a second these are the only 3 pictures I have of her doing this. Right now as I type, she is in this spot. Cute? yes. Helpful? no.
Moving on, and like I said, don't call me a cat lady. Same Ella cat, different day. She thinks she owns the place. When she sits in your lap and you need to get up, and therefore move her, she hisses at you. She actually thinks that your lap is her property. Good thing she is cute.
And for an introduction to the less-ungrateful of the three cat-things I call pets, Bunny cat:
This picture may cross the line into cat-lady territory, but I don't care. Look at that thing!!! I wish I could be that happy by simply having something to lay on. And again, remember I hit hard. Furthermore, after kicking her off my lap (claw + sweatpants = not appreciated), she put herself in time-out:
For the last, and most elusive, cat we have Slater. Slater had a little adventure on the New Year's Eve eve. By adventure I mean he escaped. Around 8:00 I went to dinner, leaving the house empty. Less than 5 minutes before this departure, I intercepted Slater cat on his attempted escape, and ran him back into the house. All is good, so I think. Around 10:00, my brother calls: Where's Slater? I don't know, probably hiding. He's a jerk, he'll show up. But in the morning, he isn't around. And as it gets dark that night, despite our rather intensive searches of the house and surrounding areas, he is still not found. At this point I am freaking. He's gotten out plenty of times before, but I always find him in his favorite spots: behind the firewood on the porch, behind the trash can, behind the air/heat units. But no Slater. We call, but Slater always pretends he doesn't know his name. Ella and Bunny are cat-dogs. They come when called and want to please you, at least to some extent. Slater doesn't care about you until he is hungry. Or you open the door.
Anyway, around 8:00 on new years eve, I'm on the verge of tears. We are supposed to have people over to celebrate the new year, and I want to call it off. I have visions of a hawk swooping down and grabbing him up (in hindsight, I don't know what kind of hawk could pick up Slater's fat butt), and of coyotes surrounding him. I'm thinking about what he must have felt as these things were happening. I am dying. I call my mom and admit he's gone, while wandering around outside the house just in case I catch a glimpse of him. My phone cuts out, and in a last ditch effort I call his name: SLATERRRRRRRR???? Then I hear my neighbor: Hey, are you looking for a cat? YES!!! I say. Neighbor: Is it Orange? My spirits lift a little, but I know that there is an orange stray that hangs out down the road. Neighbor: With a white chest? YES!!!! Neighbor: is he fat? OMG, he found him!
Turns out, he made his escape, got across the street, and ran into the neighbors garage, which was open to let the dogs out. He then spent the night and next day hiding on top of the rear axle of the fixer upper car in their garage while being stared down by two golden retrievers.
I don't even think Slater was happy to be rescued by me (a human), but I don't care. I took that covered-in-grease gasoline-smelling cat back to the house and proudly decalred that I foudn him and that the party could go on (with Slater locked securely in the basement, of course). Here is the mischief maker himself, making mischief:
Alright, next time I promise to talk about dogs and horses, much more acceptable animals to love. Until then, remember if you are at my house to watch for the fat orange cat.
And as a parting gift, Ella's current position:
It will be amazing if my internet holds out long enough to post this.
