Good stuff.

Just finished the most delightful weekend. I only had a couple of things I needed to get done, so most of the weekend was spent hunkered down, relaxing. I never did get out of pajamas on Sunday. I sent Xtian and Cory to a movie on Sunday (they've had a long stretch of extra mile child care lately, and totally deserved a treat), and Warren and I got to spend some unstructured time playing. It was so fun to actually enjoy his company, rather than being frustrated that he isn't doing what I need him to be doing. Such a neat little human.

The entire weekend was really all about just being together as a family and having a good time. We did a little housework, did some baking together, but mostly just chatted and played games. I'm feeling pretty domestically satisfied lately.

Mrs. Sparkles is doing well after her surgery. She was so lonely being locked up alone all weekend. We finally let her out for a few hours of play on Sunday evening. I'm so pleased that even when she is hurting and tired, she still indulges Warren's cuddling.

It was a good few days and it was about time I expressed a little gratitude for my sweet little family.

Well, here I am.

So, Bristol Palin (aka Mrs. Sparkles) had her kitty abortion today. Whew, she's still eating kitten food, so I daresay she's too young to procreate. Of course, we've now removed that option for her.

Meanwhile Warren is being a decidedly whiny little cuss lately. He's still cute and doing neat things, he just whines a lot more. I think we're having a language frustration stage. He whines because he can't tell us what he wants. Whenever he wants something he has words for (like milk, or banana, or daddy etc) he calms right down and when he verbalizes his needs. If he wants something he doesn't have a word for, hold on to your frickin' hat. He will whine your will to live away.

I have a consultation with a tattoo artist tomorrow. I'm finally going to get the ink I've wanted for years now. I'm super excited. I'll be sure to share pictures whenever I have something to share.

And now I'm going to drink some rum and go to bed.

So far, so good.

Oh man, I barely have time to check my email these days. Turns out, if you don't have 8 hours of empty time to burn during the day (say, your job) there's not much time to read or write. But since I don't have to go to bed by 8 pm anymore, I have all this evening time to hang out, cook, tidy up, actually SPEAK with my husband... it's just bizzarre.

I heard something really heartening at work today. I spent all day shadowing people to get a better idea of how the different departments function in helping our clients, and when I asked one of the other folks how they liked it, they said, "It's great. Really good people. In fact, the only real way to get fired around here, is by talking shit about other employees." Wow. After my last job, full of people who can't wait to spread gossip and negativity, this is so refreshing. Of course, maybe it's just an indication of how far my standards have fallen.

Still no sign of stupid Maggie (the cat who escaped on our first night here). And I've got to be honest, the house is so much nicer without her. She's been such a problem for so long, I'd given up trying to make it better. Although, now Fiddy and Vickie are arguing over who's Alpha Kitty. And Fiddy took a swipe at Warren last night. Before I could intervene, Fiddy laid some pretty good scratches on my baby's FACE. So, I took several deep breaths, counted to 10, and kicked the shit out of that cat. And don't anybody lecture me on animal cruelty. He's fine, doesn't even remember it now.

And of course, Warren is spiking a fever tonight. I'm pretty sure it's just some molars coming in, but still it sucks. Poor guy.
That's it for me. Maybe I'll get a chance to catch up on my blog reading on the weekend? We'll see. Hope y'all are doing well, I need a nap.

For those who like horrific descriptions...

If I may offer some words of advice, google and WebMD are evil, and should be avoided at all costs. Because, damn will they show you some pictures of little bitty kids with fucked up heads. And you really don't want to see that.

I've been working on keeping my shit together, and trying really hard not treat Warren and differently. Meanwhile, he couldn't give two shits about the whole "his head is closing up so fast his brain won't have anywhere to go soon." But I'm still scared to death. It seems I just have to avoid talking about it. That's the only way to keep from screaming and crying.

But in the interest of information sharing: best case scenario is the specialists all take turns poking and prodding him, taking blood samples, knocking him out cold to get all the CT scans done and decide that it's not that big of a deal, we'll just keep an eye on it. (Warning, some graphic descriptions follow. Just for those a little sensitive about babies and descriptions of medical procedures).

Middle of the road scenario: after running every test in the world on my tiny little boy, surgery is deemed required. They'll cut his head open from ear to ear, break his skull and implant some plastic. There will be a long recovery period along with ongoing visits to doctors and probably some very strange headwear. Surgery is a complete success and he gets to live a nice long normal life complete with sports and normal rambunctious fun.

Worst cast scenario: they do the tests, the surgery and it still doesn't fix the problem. His brain will continue to grow, forcing his skull to grow in terrible mis-shapen ways and causing brain damage as it goes. Warren is left mentally retarded, and will not be able to play sports, run around or...
ok, I'm done going down that road because it's just too hard right now.

I just need these specialists to call me already so we can tell what we are dealing with. I'm thinking the first scenario is probably not very likely, since his little noggin is already starting to grow in a little weird shape. Nothing terribly noticeable, but if I were to point it out, you'd all go..."Oh, that's what's going on there." So, the likelihood that we'll just keep an eye on it doesn't feel very good to me. And the longer I'm left to my own devices the more worked up we're all getting. I'm also trying really hard to just accept that this happens and it's no one's fault. That Warren is a healthy happy kid, and that we're doing everything we need to do to meet his needs.

And this is also when I'm a little jealous of religious people. I almost wish that I was able to believe that there's a reason and a purpose and some benevolent thing that cares about the fate of my kid. But I don't. And I can't.


Ok, and since this is getting entirely too serious in here, I thought I'd lighten the mood a little by telling you all about the new outfit our kitty Fiddy is rocking these days. We had the businessman tie on him for a while yet. But it's mostly white, and he drags it through his water dish all day, so the thing is filthy. So, whilst cruising the Target aisles, I found the greatest thing ever: a sailor collar. It's delightfully nautical and super super gay. So you know I love it. And I must say he looks quite fetching. I just need a Village People cd to help get him into the proper state of mind. God I love cats that let you put ridiculous outfits on them!

No sleep and no beer make Coley... something something.

Yesterday someone replaced my sweet, good-natured baby with the Child Who Screams If Mom Fails to Rock/Jiggle/Sway in the Exact Manner Said Child Prefers This Very Second. Unfortunately, it also happened to be the first time I had to get myself and Warren dressed and out of the house at a specific time without help. Not a good day. After battling with the Screamer, and still managing to get showered and dressed, and loaded into the car at the right time, I found a parking ticket under my windshield wiper. Spec-fucking-tacular. Needless to say, I was a bit of a wreck.

Today is not shaping up much better, but at least I don't have to go anywhere. Warren has only slept in 30 minute chunks since 3 am. He's tired, and cranky and so am I. I'm pretty sure the only thing holding my patience together today is the knowledge that Xtian doesn't work tomorrow. Which means that tonight, all night, Xtian's on duty. So at the very least, I can get a little sleep. Maybe.

Lucky for Warren, he's still so goddamned adorable. If babies weren't cute, I don't think many of them would live to see adulthood. (And I haven't even gotten to the teething stages yet. *shudder*)

To keep it interesting around here, I present to you a picture of Fiddy the Cat in a tie. Yes, I bought my cat a tie. Don't you judge me.

Is there anything better than waking up to a pile of snuggly kitties?

So, the daily schedule is off to a much more promising start. Same deal, up before the drunks have gone to bed, hit the gym, shower, and back in bed. Xtian only works a half day on Wednesdays, so I got up when he got home at 9:30. Breakfast has been had, hot cocoa is on the way and soon we'll both go to the Mall for some preliminary Xmas shopping.

Tomorrow, I think I'll attempt some baking. I've got a kickass recipe for Ginger Spice cookies (like gingersnaps, except chewy and moist), and I'm feeling pretty Donna Reed these days. Perhaps I should invest in some high heels and pearls for housecleaning?

Oh and in answer to JP, the Turkey Tetrazzini was AWESOME. But, I don't like mushrooms, so instead I cooked up a couple of slice onions in butter, made the cream sauce and threw the pasta, turkey and sweet peas in before baking. Oh, and not to forget the cheese. SO much CHEESE! I'm so hitting those leftovers ( I know, leftovers of the leftovers, we're getting ridiculous around here) for lunch. Xtian liked it so much, he took a serving of it for breakfast, and ate it on his break at work. To quote him directly, "I sat in the truck at work eating it and shouting 'GODDAMN THIS IS GOOD!'"
Have I mentioned that I love that man?

Oh, and in completely happy and relief-inducing news, my big girl kitty is actually frisky! She'd been so out of sorts and mopey and mean for so long, I'd thought she was just getting old and crotchety. Turns out, she was sick and feeling miserable. So, two weeks of antibiotics and she's running around the house stirring shit up with the other cats. I was so worried that we'd have to put her down if this course of meds didn't work. (As the doctor said, if this isn't it, it's probably cancer eating away at her skin. And if it were cancer, we'd have had to put her down.) But, it is working and she's back to the sweet cuddly, feisty cat I've always known her to be. *Sigh*

I was so annoyed at having to go buy stamps, and yes they were for thank you notes, Faith. Nice guess. Actually, I don't mind writing Thank yous. I really hate addressing envelopes and stamping things. Isn't that strange? Well, anyhow. I was particularly annoyed because I was only two stamps short. And that's a bitch. So, yeah, a drive downtown, parking in Chinatown, and the whole thing took me 4 minutes. Threw a couple bucks in a machine and viola! Stamps.

Ooh, better figure out what I'm making for dinner tonight. Only 7 hours until I plan to eat it, so clearly now is the time to start working on it.

Whatever and ever.

So, here we are. It’s Friday. About freakin’ time, is all I have to say about it. Since Monday is a holiday at my work, all of the coworkers I like have taken today off. I knew today was going to be boring, but wasn’t aware that my first order of business when arriving would be to BECOME COMPLETELY INFURIATED!

I can’t go into too many details, but there’s an issue with an employee I supervise, who is bored, agitated, and half of his job responsibilities have gone away. He’s not able to do other kinds of work, so after weeks/months of finding tasks to take up his time, we’d determined that updating his job description was in order. This did include a 5-hour/week change in his scheduled hours. Still, we were within all legal/contractual bounds.

A meeting was scheduled to finalize this and some other issues. And I walked in this morning to an email from my VP completely reneging on every change we’d agreed to. I mean, I knew she didn’t have a spine, and frankly, I was surprised at how far this was allowed to go. But, it’s still irritating to have her turn tail and run.

So, it’s official, every single time I’ve attempted to make a change to any aspect of this organization (from a letterhead design, to attempting a cooperative maternity leave plan) I’ve been shut down. Complete fucking waste of energy. So, I’m out. I no longer will try. I will fill my chair like a good houseplant, and do only the bare minimum expected from me. God, I love feeling absolutely useless!

In other news, this weekend is the baby shower! I’m so looking forward to my home being overrun with family and friends, giggling and being silly like we do. Then Xtian’s heading out of town, and my mama will be staying with me. Hurray for Mama Time!

My big girl kitty is a mess these days, so I finally made a vet appointment for her. She has nasty skin sores that I thought were just from overgrooming. Then I thought they were a reaction to something. But, they are getting worse, and she’s getting anti-social and hiding under the bed for most of the days. So, clearly, after making the appointment, I had to get myself all worked up convinced that the vet was going to put my kitty to sleep. Or, even worse, tell me that the treatment to fix her is going to cost $5,000 or we could just put her down, and leave me with that decision. Which would probably kill me.
She’s not that old, she’s only 5! Wah!

But then this morning, I’m back to “it’s nothing, and the vet is going to tell me she’s just a neurotic nutbag.” Who the hell knows?

Right, time to heat up my bagel and avoid my coworkers!

If it's not one thing, it's another thing.

I slept like a baby on Tuesday night. I woke up at 8, then stayed in bed reading for a couple of hours. Just fabulous. Of course, then I went to the gym, rearranged all the bedroom furniture and generally did chores the rest of the day. Not as restful as I’d hoped, but productive. I was in bed by 7, and falling asleep by 8.

Unfortunately, Xtian cleaned the carpets Wednesday evening. Well, that’s not unfortunate, that’s awesome. The unfortunate part is that the portion of the house we usually lock the cats in for the night was all wet, so we had to keep them in the kitchen. The kitchen that shares a door to our bedroom. My little girl kitty, Maggie, spent the entire night howling at the door. I know it was the entire night because I watched every single minute tick by, until I gave up at 3:45 am and just got up. Needless to say (but I will) I’m fucking tired and cranky. What does a bitch have to do to catch a break around here?

And like a retard, I’ve been completely overdoing the last few days. At the gym I’m pushing myself into pre-pregnancy workout routines. At home, I’m demanding that I can do it! Whatever it is, regardless of the fact that I shouldn’t do it. At work, I’m refusing help, even though I need it. What is wrong with me? I know I’m not supposed to be lifting 5-gallon jugs of water. I know I’m not supposed to move furniture. I know I’m not supposed to do any of these things. But I do them. And then I feel horrible, achy and contraction-y all day. Am I trying to go into premature labor? Or am I just too contrary to follow rules? Or am I just kind of dim?

So, it has officially been two months since I submitted my maternity leave proposal to my VP. 6 weeks ago, I was told that the CEO was reviewing it and I’d have an answer the following day.
That is the last I’ve heard. Just stunning. I know the usual protocol around here is to ignore things until they go away, but I don’t think that will work so well in this circumstance. What the hell, people? I’ve got plans to make, childcare to arrange and a lot of “before you go” preparation to complete. Perhaps I could find out what the benefits are? Or, how I’m going to pay rent while on maternity leave? Maybe?

I have visions of being on the phone with the VP while in labor trying to figure out if I’m okayed to not come in. Although, I’m pretty sure amniotic fluid stains on the carpets might go a long way to changing their policies. Hmmmm.

Cat sitting and baby stressing

Two weekends in a row of absolutely no plans, no guests and no interruptions. I feel like a new woman. I’ve become such a hermit these last few years. My favorite days are the ones during which I never set food outside my home. I’m perfectly content to clean my house, snuggle on the couch, make a big ass dinner and go to bed by 10 pm. Just perfection.
Of course, I’m also trying to bank days like that since in just under 5 months, they will no longer be an option. Sure, I may not leave the house, but I’ll be stuck inside with a bald, toothless screaming boss. Who has the audacity to want to eat boob. Sheesh, the nerve of some infants!

This particular weekend we were kitty sitting for Sarah. Sarah’s kitten is only a few months old, and I didn’t like the idea of him spending that much time alone, so he came to play at my house. Most people would never think to do this because cats are all a bunch of assholes. But my girl kitties genuinely LOVE other cats, especially baby ones. I was a little worried about Fiddy, since he’s never been around kittens, but figured they’d work it out.

I am clearly a retard.

As soon as the kitten was in the room, the girl kitties tried to adopt him. The kitten freaked the fuck out, and started hissing, spitting and slapping. Fiddy, it turns out, is not a fan of any other cat being the center of attention, and promptly hissed at the kitten.

That pretty much set the tone for the next 36 hours kitten was over. So, I spent a lot of time refereeing, and reminding the big cats “You are bigger than him! Don’t let that punk push you around! Teach him some manners!” Eventually they all found a way to co-exist, the girls ignored the kitten, and avoided any room he was in, Fiddy eventually figured out he can take this kid, and started smacking him around.

So, if having more than one kid is like that, I think duct tape and rope will definitely be in order.

I’m not good at procrastinating. If something needs to be done, I want to do it now. As such, this whole waiting for baby thing is beyond annoying. It’s way too early to be purchasing things, and really there isn’t much I can do right now to prepare that will keep. So, instead, I settle on making spreadsheets of items needed, when we need them by and the approximate cost of these items. Type A personality, indeed! I’m such a planner, I can’t help it, and I know I’m driving myself and Xtian nuts. But what else am I going to do?
I think my friends will all remember the panicked grout-scrubbing that preceded my wedding. Well, what else was I going to do with TWO WHOLE DAYS before the wedding? I’m not very good at sitting still.

So, hurray, anyone with kids want to tell me things you needed but didn’t think you would? Or things you thought would be important and totally weren’t? I’m starting to lose my mind a little bit here, and we still have until December. GAH!

I know, there's nothing more boring than someone telling you their dreams...

I know a lot of pregnant ladies start having really vivid and/or disturbing dreams. I was prepared for all the “giving birth to monsters” or “being a terrible parent” dreams. What I was not prepared for were all the “Getting arrested because my friends were all smoking weed” and “my MIL doing everything in her power to make my life suck” dreams. I mean, really? Where is all this shit coming from? I haven’t had any contact with MIL in months. She keeps sending things in the mail, but Xtian gets rid of them before I have a chance to see, and since I blocked her email address I haven’t heard a peep out of her. (Luckily she hasn’t figured out the whole “Get a new email address to continue harassing people” thing).

And I’ve never been arrested *knocking wood* and was never into weed, so what the fuck? After a night like that, I wake up all pissed off, not realizing that those things DIDN’T actually happen. (Much like when I dreamt Xtian and I had a nasty, loud, fight in the middle of Target, and when I woke up I kept glaring at him and being bitch until I realized that it didn’t really happen, so I should probably stop acting mad at him. Once again, Xtian is a lucky man. This kind of crazy can’t be learned, it’s born.)

So, nights full of vivid, never ending stress dreams suck.

Tonight I have a “Prenatal Orientation” meeting through my doctor’s office. It’s going to be 3+ hours of: Don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t do drugs. Eat well, call your doctor, and keep peeing in tiny plastic vials. And because I decided to do all my prenatal stuff at the doctor closest to my work (35 miles from my home) it’s not like I’ll get to make any new friends, since they all live far. So, aside from irony and mockery, tonight might just be a complete bust.

Now that Sarah has moved to her own place (within walking distance of at least 5 stores I am capable of spending an entire paycheck, much to my budget’s detriment) the cats again outnumber the humans. I’m a little concerned about what this will mean in the long run. Already, the girls are whiny and in need of constant attention. (And telling my cats, “You need to shutup. No one cares about your feelings. You are my least favorite cat” will never stop amusing me. Because, you know, they’re cats and have no idea what I’m saying to them, only that I’m looking at them. So they’re pretty happy). The boy cat will not stop following me into the bathroom to try and sit on my lap while I pee, or watch me shower. No, that’s not creepy at all. Not one bit. I think they are trying to break us, but alas, I will prevail. Because, if nothing else, I’m bigger than them, and I can close doors.

This was, quite possibly the worst post ever written. But you know, since I wrote it in between three different pee-breaks, I don’t really know what you were expecting.

Happy Monday, ya’ll.

My Cats Had Better Appreciate this...

Last week, I wrote about spending $424 at the vet’s office, for three healthy cats needing only immunizations and checkups. I was really annoyed about the amount of money that cost me, but was at least comforted knowing that I wouldn’t have to do this again for at least two years.

One of my cats (I’m looking at you, Maggie) has been pissing on the floor, directly outside the litterbox for the last couple of months. I’m pretty sure she’s showing her displeasure at Sarah’s taking over the cats’ bedroom. (Yes, the cats had their own room. It was just by default though, I promise. Not like I furnished and decorated it for them or anything. Don't you judge me.) But, just to be sure, I asked the vet about it, who gave me the tools to snag a urine sample from her, or they’d want to do a sonogram for a cool $350. Since I am cheap, and am sincerely convinced nothing is wrong with the cat, I opted for the cheaper “Do-it-yourself” method, involving a syringe a vacuum-sealed tube and a drive back to the vet. She gave me instructions on how to get a sample, how to preserve the sample, and mentioned that I should get some tooth stuff for the other cat.

When I checked out and paid at the front desk, they glossed over the details of the bill. Revived me when I passed out at the damned total, then showed me all the stuff they were sending home with me. (Flea/tick control, tooth stuff for Vickie, sample gathering stuff for Maggie’s piss) In this bag, she also showed me two sample containers preprinted with the kitties’ info. The lady at the desk said the vet needed a fecal sample (forgive me for just saying EWWWWWWWW!!!) from the older two cats. She gave detailed instructions on how to get it, how soon the vet needed it back and all that fun stuff. She reassured me about the cost, “Well at least that’s it for a couple more years!”

The next day Maggie took it upon herself to piss on the floor. So, there’s that sample taken care of. We put off bringing the sample back, hoping we could also get the required poo samples and only make one trip back to the vet. This was not to be, as the cats went on a hunger/poo strike. We finally gave up and just brought the one sample, figuring we’ll deal with the others as needed.

So, we’d been manning the catbox for several days, waiting for one of the cats to leave us something. Of course, my cats are assholes, and would only use it at night or when we weren’t there. Until Friday, when I caught Maggie leaving the scene. I quickly, and with only minimal gagging, packaged up the sample and dropped it at the vet’s office.

Later that night I noticed I had voicemail. “Hi, this is Sharon from the Vet’s office. You dropped a sample off today, and it seems that this lab wasn’t prepaid. So, you do have a balance on your account. We’re going to need you to come in and pay this balance at your earliest convenience.”

Ex-fucking-cuse me? If I had told that picking up my cat’s SHIT and driving it to the vet was going to cost me more, do you think I would have done it? The answer is NO. I repeat: NO!

So, I’ve come to a decision. I have healthy, indoor only cats. They are well fed, well watered, and well loved. But, I am as now, never taking them for a routine check up again. If there is something wrong, sure, I’ll take them. (And by something wrong, I mean their legs fell off) But I will never be screwed out of that much money again.

And before anyone mentions those goddamn “clinics” held at Petco or wherever, allow me to tell you this story:

When we first got our little Fiddy, he was barely 4 weeks old, his face had been badly burned and his tail had been broken. He was found abandoned and alone at a barn in the hills. I heard about him, adopted him and brought him home to be loved on. He was too young for shots, and needed to be loved and taught to like people again. So, after about 6 weeks, he’d healed up nicely and was starting to trust humans again. We hadn’t found a vet we liked yet, so just to get the immunizations going, took Fiddy to one of these assembly-line clinics.

They put him on the table, put a metal and rubber tourniquet around his leg and tried to draw blood while Fiddy cried. Except, the tourniquet got stuck in his fur. So, the tourniquet is on, but the needle is out, so he’s shooting blood out of his leg and the tourniquet is RIPPED off while I yell at them to stop hurting my baby.
They then rip his mouth open; shove some shit down his throat while he’s STILL BLEEDING. A few more shots later we’re sent home to deal with the aftermath, as Fiddy has now been abused again.
So, no. I will not use one of these clinics ever again. I cried for a long while after that experience, and I’m not putting any of my animals through those incompetent hands again.

I also will not put my poor wallet through the abuse of my normal vet. I’m out.

If only it was Friday...

All right ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement. My back F’ing HURTS.

And one again, my boss has removed every picture of a non-white person from the piece I’m working on. He claims he “doesn’t even notice” the race or ethnicity of the people in the artwork. Really? Then why hasn’t a single picture of a blond been replaced? Yet every, and I mean EVERY, picture of a black or Hispanic person been removed? That’s called “covert racism.” You’ll notice that the word “racism” is still part of the term? Yes. That’s because EXCLUDING PEOPLE FROM YOUR ADVERTISING BASED ON RACE IS: RACIST.

Ok, moving right along.
All three kitties went to the vet this week. No real problems, just check up and immunization time. Just guess the final bill. Nope, not even close. $424. Seriously. These are INDOOR only cats. They have no health problems. They eat better than 90% of Americans. This is beyond ridiculous. I don’t think they’ll be going to the vet anymore. Ever.

If you write a blog, and were thinking you might want to give up posting, have me start reading. Seriously. Every time I start reading someone’s page, they decide to stop writing. What have I done to offend, people? What? I get bored easily, and need a few blogs on hand to lighten up my day. Is that so much to ask? Le sigh.

In other news: someone sent out an email today reminding everyone that Daylight Savings is this weekend. “At least we get an extra hour of sleep and sun earlier in the day!” Umm, I’m pretty sure you have that EXACTLY wrong. Geez, she’s got to be 55 years old, has she never dealt with Daylight Savings before? Fuck, man.


As we can all tell, I’m just a mite irritable today. I think the constant, searing pain in my back is not allowing me to absorb any happy goodness. Maybe some drugs are in order…

Return of the Prodigal Son, or something...

Keeping y’all (well, all 3 of you anyhow) in the loop: Maggie made it home late last night. Our plan had been to let her come home when she was ready, rather than chasing her around the crack-ass neighborhood. In the hopes of keeping her relatively safe we tried to make some visual contact with her whenever possible. Sarah saw her before she went to work, then we saw her later that evening when we were all in the living room.

I got a little skittish after dark though. I’ve watched those nasty raccoons rip a live chicken to pieces; imagine what they could do to my teensy runt of a kitty! So Sarah, Xtian and I took some flashlights and scoured the neighborhood. All to no avail, we headed home, opened all the windows with screens so we’d hear her. Sarah and I, old ladies that we are, went to bed around 7:30 or 8:00.

Xtian stayed up for a while, and luckily so! Around 11 pm, he heard some scratching, followed by a loud, high “Frrrrrow?” When he opened the door, Maggie ran and hid some more. He called and coaxed as best he could, but she wasn’t having any of it. At that point Vickie, my big girl kitty (and Maggie’s sister and life partner. Don’t ask, these bitches are inseparable), walked to the open door, sat down and yelled, “Reeeeeeeeoooooowwwrrr!” And Maggie immediately ran inside. So, all it takes is her sister yelling at her, and she’s all obedience and sweetiness. Fucking cats.


That is all.