How La Doof Kitton got Dawg's bed 2 nights in a row, a story in 2 parts

IN the last few months, sleeping arrangements in the G house have shuffled a lot.

Initially, the screen door in the nursery was used to keep all the pets out when Buffy was sleeping but Dawg was insistent and well behaved so she gets screen-door-ed Into the nursery at night.  (when we get up to check on the baby/feed/change/whatever, the door is left open.  It's shut when she's sleeping or when I'm pumping because SOMEONE (La Doof Kitton), seems to think that the hoses on the pump are tiny little snakes that move on their own, make hissing noises, and need to be killed.  In fact, he has figured out how to unzip the pouch that holds the hoses if I don't latch it.

But when I'm awake with the baby, the door is open and the pets come and go.  We even put a blankie-bed in there for Dawg.

Thanksgiving morning, for the first time in 6 months, I woke up w/ a migraine.  (the migraine is relevant for the level of "OW ness" in the story that follows.  Normally annoying lights or noises are just annoying.  With a migraine, they're agony)


Actually, I woke up w/ it at 3 am and asked the Mr. to let me pump and then feed the baby what I pumped so I could grab an ice-pack and go back to bed. Which I did.


At 7 am, the Mr. offered to take her but she was being quietly fussy (loud fussy = bad. quiet fussy = not to bad--didn't feel like an ice-pick-through-the-skull...baby cry + migraine=badness, obviously) and I needed to get up regardless to pump if I didn't feed her so I got up w/ the baby.

But I was in 'not see straight, OWWWW' mode. Dawg was a bit concerned and got up from her blanket in the nursery to make sure we were OK.
Once assured that no one was going to die and that the 'puppy' was eating properly, Dawg went and had to re-arrange her blanket. It was in the wrong spot, the footstool blocked her view of me nursing the baby. SO Dawg spent 15 minutes shuffling her blanket over 2 feet (she's kinda slow at these things because she isn't especially bright at how to do this. You know those doggie IQ tests where you hide the treat under a towel? in a world populated w/ towels, Dawg would starve to death.). Dawg moved the bed so she could see us. She curls up and falls into 'watchdog' sleep.

Around that time, La Doof Kitton makes his way into the nursery-- If I'm just up, he can be in w/ us. He likes to curl up w/ Dawg. He decides this would be a great time to engage Dawg in 'lazy play'. Dawg doesn't WANT to lazy play. She's been up w/ the baby all night, she's tired. Wants to sleep. So she gets up, turns 180 degrees, and lays back down--her butt toward us, her face toward the bouncer seat.

La DOof Kitton decides that this means he needs to try harder and continues pestering Dawg. (throughout all of this, I'm deciding whether or not putting on sunglasses because the nightlight in an otherwise dark house is ridiculously bright and thinking my pets breathe to loud.) Dawg stretches herself away from La Doof Kitton...and one claw manages to hook the button on the front of the bouncer seat...and turn on the damn music box.

ARRRGH. I hate the music box.

Everyone in the room jumped. The baby woke up. I grabbed my head. La Doof Kitton's eyes got big, Dawg jumped to her feet...
Once my head adjusted, it wasn't HORRIBLY painful--and I couldn't get up and turn off the damn thing w/o waking the baby (and waking the baby would lead to crying which WOULD be horribly painful) . So Buffy went back to nursing and I watched as Dawg looked at me. Looked at the baby. Looked at the bouncer making this horrid tin-ny music...and made a whine that clearly said "that thing is effing annoying", got up, and left the room.

Thanks Dawg.  ANd La Doof Kitton took another look at the loud music box, looked at us...and curled up in the middle of Dawg's bed with the "HA, more giant squishy blankie bed for ME"

(luckily the Mr. got up 15 minutes later and responded to my "THANK ALL THAT"S HOLY< TURN OFF THAT DAMN THING" whisper.)




Story #2, the Friday after Thanksgiving...

I still wasn't feeling swell on Friday but, I was feeling somewhat better.
I get up and my headache and I were, at 5:30 AM, sitting in the rocker, feeding Buffy.

Dawg was on her blanket and La Doof Kitton was sitting next to the heat vent.

El Gato came in to beg for pets--she jumped up on the footstool and tried to convince me that putting down Buffy to give her attention was the way to go.  I gave her a few pets but didn't have much in the way of a free hand--she did get rubbed with my foot but we all know that cats don't think that counts. 

Then Dawg sneezed loudly.  REALLY loudly.  This caused El Gato to throw herself off the footstool and run behind the chair t hide.
This lunging by El Gato caused the footstool to throw itself back...and biff Dawg in the head.
Dawg jumped up and was utterly confused as to why she was being pelted w/ flying ottomans! (ottomen?  no, ottomans, I think) and puttered around, looking upset.
El Gato came out and stared at the ottoman...she considered jumping up on it but, being round, it just rolled over and bumped Dawg's shins when she put her paws against it.

This was to much for poor El Gato who left, sad at the lack of pettings and went to sleep with Mr. G.  This was also to much for Dawg--she was trying to guard the baby and instead mom was laughing at her as she was attacked by furniture.  She also went to sleep in the bedroom.

At which point, La Doof Kitton, who had kept his cool through all of this, walked over to the Dawg blanket, and snuggled himself into the middle of it with a smug "AH, THIS is my bed" look on his face and slept in a giant squishy bed of bliss for the next few hours.

I am a very bad blogger, but, YAY, updates

For being a lousy blogger, I am sorry.

Problem being that, recently, I've had some stories to tell but I didn't think I wanted to jump into telling them without making a 'returning/announcement' post--which I haven't had time to make (so I'm hacking it out while on a lunch break)

That and I said I'd not post until I finished writing thank-you notes. (No, I haven't finished. I happen to have a BORING meeting for work this weekend that I plan to finish them during. Sorry Aunt Gertrude, the interwebz have spoken).

So, on to the announcement.
YES, the pets have a human sibling. She was born Sept. 2 and is wonderful. Everything went well and we're thrilled. (and online, her handle remains 'Buffy')

Dawg is in love. Absolute love. This new 'puppy' is her main concern in life. I worried the first few weeks about her level of exhaustion because she was guarding the baby and if I was awake w/ the baby (which was most of the time), she was awake and watching me be awake w/ the baby.
Heck, when the baby was on the floor, Dawg made an effort to nurse her (yes, really). There is no doubt that this child will be very spoiled with dog affection--the only 'problem' we have is excessive affection ("Dawg, leave her alone, the baby is clean", etc)--the sort of problem that I know other pet owners would pay good money to have.

The cats are wary but interested and no longer scared. El Gato and the baby have 'conversations' that go like this:
Meow
coo-gurgle-eh
meow
eh ugh, grunt
meow
coo
me...I'm done.

So, the story of Buffy meeting the pets.
Once we found out I was being induced, things happened fast. We got home and Mr. G called 'Uncle D'--a friend of his who is our pet-sitter and home-looker-after-er (who all the pets adore), to ask if he could pet-sit. We got the answer of 'er, uhm. No. You see, I'll be down the hall where my sister is having her c-section. I can let them out at some point but, no, not really".
Best laid plans and all that--we got Uncle D and the grandparents to take shifts so that the pets weren't locked away for extended periods of time.
Then there was labor that looked remarkably unlike TV shows. Then there was Buffy and much rejoycing.

A nurse reminded us to send home the wee-hat-that-makes-her-look-like-a-gnome for the pets to sniff; the Mr. took it home and then realized that, since labor looks remarkably unlike TV shows, the excessive interest Dawg had in the hat was focused on the area where there was blood. ew.

But we got ready to go home and decided to spread out the attentions--I kept the pets with me whie the Mr. went into the nursery and closed the screen door (the screen door was put up to control the pet entrances/exits while we get things sorted out--we still use it because La Doof Kitton likes ot reach between crib bars and pat at the mattress and if he wakes her at 4 am, so help me Cuthulu, I will call down curses on him)...

I walked to the screened doorway to see what was happening, Buffy made a small cry...and in that instant El Gato removed herself into some sort of hiding, which is where she spent the next 24ish hours. La Doof Kitton CLIMBED the screen door to the top to try to get in and see--I turned my head and was looking, eye level, at cat-butt. Dawg tried to claw through the door and successfully made an impressive gash in the screen.

We decided keeping pets and baby separated was causing more trouble than it saved us, so I gave up and opened the door.
La Doof Kitton approached the crying bundle, sniffed and then the baby moved and La Doof Kitton lost his bravery and joined El Gato in hiding.
Dawg? well, Dawg put a paw on the side of the crib, climbed up and looked in.  THen she decided to stand guard and for the next 45 minutes, it looked like this:

That's the best picture we have because Dawg's tail is an absolute BLUR in the rest of them.

So the stories of the G household will now have an extra person.  And I fully expect Dawg to continue being confused about her role with the 'puppy'.
But La Doof Kitton and El Gato have gotten braver and they're willing to sniff Buffy and to be in the same room with her (La Doof Kitton will even try to get into the same lap).
ANd we can now return to regularly scheduled blogging :)

Milk ring day!

You'll have to forgive the camera work--this is a new toy and I"m not real adept.  And I was filming w/ one hand while getting a milk ring w/ the other. (and I was obviously in the middle of baking...and taking care of groceries because I had run out of powdered sugar while baking)

But every 3 days at our house, this is what happens...and no, I have NO IDEA where he takes the milkrings.  There are 3 in the office closet right now--or, to be more accurate, 2.5-one of them was half-eaten by Dawg.

We've been building new shelves

But La Doof Kitton likes to consider them cat-cozies designed so he can stair-step between them.  (The picture doesn't give scale well but, do realize that the shelf he is currently on is almost 6' off the ground.)

I'd like to pretend that adding books to them has moved the cats away from the lovely stairt-step shelves.  But currently?  that shelf holds Lemony Snickett's books...and La Doof Kitton on top of said books.

I suppose it's an improvement over his other book obsession. For the last 3 weeks, at least every-other day, La Doof Kitton places himself on the other bookshelves (the ones that just look like bookshelves) and finds my old paperback copy of _Les Miserables_ (on the shelf about 4.5 feet high) and places one paw on top of the book...and flings the book from the shelf to the floor where it lands w/ a very loud thump.
And then he curls Scooter-the-Tail around his paws and looks pleased with himself.

I'm not sure what Victor Hugo did to my cat or if it's merely that La Doof Kitton resents Jean ValJean's transition to a model citizen but he *really* dislikes that book being on the shelf.
(while it screws with my book organization, for this week, we swapped _Les Miserables_ and _Shogun_ [since they're similar thickness] as an experiment--I'll let you know how it goes)

Recently, the G family toilet paper has looked funny.

The toilet paper in the house has looked like it belongs in a cartoon where the kittehs unroll all the TP. 

This, of course, is silly because for all their PITA-ness, our kittehs don't unroll the TP.  Oh no, the TP is shredded because La Doof Kitton decided he wanted to go to Narnia.  Now, the proper way to do this is to find a wardrobe which was carved from magical wood from the tree planted by the Magician's Nephew, but La Doof Kitton, not being literate (at least I don't *think* he is fully literate) decided that poking around in the back of the linen closet (since said linen closet has a small access panel to get to the bathroom plumbing--a kitteh who tried really hard could probably manage to make it into the basement ceiling, heaven help us) might be the best way to make it to Narnia.

Of course, he neglected to tell us that he planned to go to Narnia, so when he snuck into the linen closet, we wondered who had left the door open--and closed the door.
Now, trapped in a small dark closet with the dreaded vacuum (which was off but is still the scary sucking noisy machine of DOOM), he decided he needed to claw his way out.  He could have clawed towels or vacuums or soap or a wall or a door--any one of which might have made enough noise that we would have opened the door to let him out...but he thought that digging a hole in the toilet paper was still his best bet on accessing Narnia.

Several hours later, when we realized the house was to quiet, we opened the door and La Doof Kitton sauntered out.  I haven't yet decided whether or not he really found Mr. Tumnus but he did leave behind a mega-jumbo-gigantic pack of toilet paper--in which every roll has lost a battle w/ wee kitteh claws.
And I do think that he must have been successful--why else would he rush to trap himself back in the linen closet now, every time I open it?

But it is hard on the toilet paper.

Trying to get him to announce the news...

So, (as promised), I decided that La Doof Kitton, as abdication of his 'baby of the family' status, would announce that he was going to be a big brother...by wearing a t-shirt. (although forwarning now--there are no wonderful announcement pictures I love. They're amusing but the fates didn't cooperate)

Yes, for anyone not already in the know, we are adding our first 2 legged child to the mix.
The pets don't quite 'get' it yet--La Doof Kitton isn't sure he wants a new kitten in the house and El Gato is holding out on giving an opinion until after she determines how much milk is in the deal for her. And Dawg is still asking if it's a new puppy or a new kitten.
They'll understand eventually.

I 'made' a t-shirt (which is putting it very generously. I barely know how to sew. But I had a t-shirt I was using bits of for something else--I turned it inside out and sewed it 'smaller' and then painted "I'm gonna be a big brother" on it), pictured here:


Well, we put La Doof Kitton in the Mr's lap and showed him 'his' new shirt and he wasn't convinced. I tried my baby-sister's trick of telling him 'it will be FUN, I promise' and he wisely gave me the 'fun for WHO?' look in response (which is the only appropriate response).

So, we attempted to put the shirt on him.
I'm still forever confused as to how the bones of a cat turn into cooked linguine when you try to make them do things. I'm also forever confused as to how 4 feet and 1 mouth manage to make EVERY side of the cat pointy when you touch it.
(so, NO, there are no pictures of us getting him into the shirt--there were not enough hands)

So with the shirt on, La Doof Kitton decided that his legs no longer worked.

After trying repeatedly to stand him up...and failing (I'd pick him up, he'd be limp. I'd set him down on his feet and he'd give me the 'but MOM, there's a SHIRT, they don't WORK' look and flop down), I went to the craft cupboard to grab a poofball...

Ah, yes, the legs they work to get poofs.

Poof in hand (er, claw. Er, accurately, mouth), La Doof Kitton stalked about the office for a few minutes as the shirt proved to fit him less and less well...and he couldn't decide what to do about this new level of stress I was causing. The poof was wonderfully fun and needed to be played with--but the shirt was still causing his legs not to work. So he carried the poof the dark cave under the desk to hide his embarrassment.


At this point, I took pity on him and went through quite a struggle to remove the shirt without having him turn all pointy again. The fact that he got multiple poofs out of this ordeal is the only reason I'm not going to be sleeping with one eye open tonight.

So I think La Doof Kitton is beginning to understand what it may be like to be a big brother. It means weird upsets to routine and being dressed up. But does result in poofs and attention too.

Although he's still not as excited about the prospects as Mr. G and I are.

Sewing with cats

I should once again apologize for being lax in my posting...but that would be redundant because I do that much to often. So you'll all just have to assume I'm a jerk.

But I am a jerk who recently sewed her first-ever-project from a pattern.
And La Doof Kitton helped. (El Gato helped too but not nearly as much)
The project turned out OK, and the story isn't very entertaining (except the point where La Doof Kitton tried to get his wee paw run over by the sewing machine, I panicked in trying to rescue him, and instead, I thumped myself with the pressure foot and thought I broke a finger) but the pictures make me giggle :-)


Where's the kitteh? And where did this lump come from?


At this point, El Gato decided to pounce the lump in the pattern...of course she wasn't picking on her baby-brother, she just was pouncing the lump for me. And, of course, La Doof Kitton pounced from the other side. And left his tail [Scooter] hanging out so that Scooter could flop around angrily)

At that point, they started damaging the pattern so I took it away. La Doof Kitton instead positioned himself to be able to pounce the thread tails as soon as I started up the machine. (He did eventually get himself locked out of the room until the project was done)