Sunday, November 03, 2013

P. B. and C.

The Boys - couple years ago*
The boys have decided that I am their new best friend. They have made it their mission to break into my bedroom at 30 minutes prior to the crack of dawn each day for the past week.

During the week, the workdays it isn't a humongous deal since I'm up pretty early anyway but I'd still like the option of not having two sacks of fur scratching and cat-body knocking on the door--causing the larger bundle of fur (Cinnamon) pretending to be asleep on the other side of said door--to whimper and pounce around, making it near impossible to ignore the scratching and cat-body knocking.

Again, during the work week, not a humongous deal, but on the weekends? Large. Deal. Larger? the weekend where I was to have gained an hour of . . . if not, sleep then certainly rest.

My Saturday and Sunday mornings are designed (in my head) to be lazy, hazy risings. No alarms. No alerts. Letting the day unfold somewhat organically. After a trip outdoors to allow the puppy dog to do her puppy dog business, all bundles of fur are fed while coffee is brewing or water (for tea) is boiling. After all are settled, a cup is poured, and . . .  

This weekend, in addition to the hour (earlier) scratching and cat-body knocking the boys has made it their mission to sack out on top of my bed most of the day. Now, again, not a humongous deal because of course, I love the boys and as they are relatively small cats (compared to the good sized dog) and were not in the way. They also didn't make a nuisance of themselves. Much.

The problem with the boys deciding to be my new best friend and wanting (needing) to spend so much time with me, next to me, is . . . Cinnamon. She is extremely excited to play with her personal radio control pets. She is mostly frustrated because they (normally) spend so much time on their higher perches and when they are not on higher ground, they are shielded against her ministrations by myself or daughter--mostly.

Now, as the boys have spent so much time on the floor, or bed, just nearer to Cinnamon, that it has been . . . let's us just say,  the opposite of lazy, hazy.

All that said, I'm happy that Cinnamon likes to play with the boys, that the boys recognize what she's doing as play and that their interactions are of a mostly friendly nature. My concern is that she is so much larger and heavier that she might injure them without meaning to do so. Or that they (especially Pete) might become less than pleased with her attention and strike out.

I feel, however,  they are all coming to a meeting of the fur minds and working out an arrangement that suits them all.

My interests don't seem to be part of the overall negotiations.

Though, I must say,the loss of lazy, hazy aside, it is pleasant having so much company.

Mostly.


9 comments:

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  2. It might be easier to open the door and let them in. I hesitate to say that though, because two of our cats insist on sleeping next to me, and I mean right up against me, and it isn't always restful.

    Still, a new normal could be established wherein they lie the hell down and go back to sleep!

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    1. It might. But, when I do open the door I just get up. That is easier because by the time the dog calms down enough to relax, it is time to get up anyway.

      The new normal shall be to work to adjust the pup's behavior to ignore the cats' middle of the night / very early morning antics.

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  3. I am an early riser (even on weekends) and I am usually waking the cats and dog to start the day. But I used to have a cat that started his day before 5 am by taking one extended claw and putting it my nose and pulling. Yowza! That opens your eyes fast!

    But I'm with you - I love the furry, purry cuddliness of them all.

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    1. . . . wake them first. Hmmm... one day. Perhaps.

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  4. And I meant to add - congrats on marriage equality!

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    1. Ain't it grand? !! ♥ equals ♥

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  5. It just might end happily. When I lived with Corey, she begged me to let us get a cat. I do not like cats. They are smarter than I am and I feel intimidated. But, I said yes, and we got Petunia, a plain gray cat. I grew to love her. She reminded me of Jane Eyre, plain, prim and kind. And then Corey brought home a stray kitten that she found on the street. I sighed, it was a wildly colored tabby, a boy. She named him Buddy. And Jane used to take that kitten roughly between her paws, licking him with what seemed to be angry intent. She would hold him down and vigorously clean him daily while he mewled. At first, we tried to stop her and then, I realized that she loved him, was mothering him up. After a week, the daily cleanings were less vigorous, as she had that kitten as clean as a whistle. And she watched him carefully ALL THE TIME. And him? He was a very rebellious boy, but when he was tired? He sought her out, wanted to be wrapped in her arms. Corey took the cats when she left and I have no idea how their story ended or if it is still ongoing. They do have 9 lives, yes?

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    1. They do. I'm learning more and more about cats in general and mine in particular as the days continue. I believe there are times they goad her into chasing, capturing, and licking them silly.

      Whatever their tales I hope they were together.

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