The cats have been rather… interesting this week. Nothing bad, just decidedly feline variants on interesting.
Over the weekend I celebrated the mumble-mumph anniversary of my birth, in commemoration of which The Husband got me a new computer chair to replace the rather sad, flat, and partially de-upholstered specimen that’s been in constant use for at least 18 years. The fact that the chair is still working is little short of a miracle.
It’s a very popular chair. As soon as my backside leaves it, it acquires a cat. Which cat varies – usually depending on which one of the three gets there first, although there have been more than a few feline versions of “animated discussions” over who gets to stay in it. So naturally, as soon as we moved the old chair to the living room as an emergency spare, it acquired a cat.
Since Her Royal Highness Princess Buttercup is Queen of the House and All She Surveys (and don’t you forget it), naturally she made the first claim on the old chair. She’s also had to be… encouraged to allow me to park my butt on my new chair, since I’m the one who needs to sit in it to work. But then, Midnight and the Dread Kitty Westley have also needed encouragement to move their little fluffy bums so I can have my chair, so it’s not like this is anything new.
And of course, since all of them like their high vantage points, the back of the chair frequently acquires a cat – which can be very interesting, since Princess Buttercup is not a lightweight. Oh, no, she is a heavyweight of great distinction – whose elegance and distinction is showing in the featured image.
Which resulted in a resounding thud at some point yesterday evening. Then, when I went to go to bed, there’s the old chair fallen over, and Buttercup sitting on the backrest giving me one of those “What?” looks as if she was completely innocent in the horizontallity of the backrest.
Cue one Kate fit of the giggles and a complete inability to even think about putting the chair back. Heaven forbid I should disturb Her Royal Highness, after all.
She didn’t stay there all night, though, because she was in her usual place on the bed when I woke up in the morning and – as usual – I got to “enjoy” the three-kitty-rampage in the bathroom while I was getting dressed. It is truly interesting trying to put clothes on while there are three cats playing “kill anything that moves and most things that don’t” around you. They usually don’t pounce me but it can still be quite… exciting having a feline suddenly fly up out of the bathtub to viciously maul the evil bath mat (I’ve yet to figure out what the bath mat did do deserve this treatment, but we’ve found it all over the house so obviously it is a Bad Bath Mat and deserves kitty retaliation).
It’s a good thing we love them. They’d drive us even more insane if we didn’t.
have they sat on the bath mat and left an imrint?
Frequently. They also leave fur and shed claws.
so is the cat butt imprint them winning?
that would be a catastrophy.
The fat cat had a spat with the mat?
After claiming where you sat.
Yes, fancy that.
Her Royal Lowness, Athena T. Cat, has been in a snit all week because of the roofers. RedQuarters has a new roof. She slept through all the thumping, thudding, and pounding, but is sulking about the disruption anyway.
You… changed things! You’re not supposed to do that! That’s against the Rules For Servants of Felines.
Perhaps she’s just sulking on general principles.
Happy belated. As for the cats and moving chairs, yep, been going on here too. I bought mom a new recliner–which she decided she didn’t like (it rocks when upright)–so it now resides in my office. It replaced an old recliner that was falling apart. But that was the cats’ recliner./scratchpost. How dare I 1) sit in the new chair and 2) not let them play with it. Oh and then there are the hairy stares of death when I start talking about how I will be carrying the old recliner (which currently resides in the breakfast nook) out for the trash tomorrow.
Thank you! I’m sure it’s dreadfully cruel of you to take the cats’ chair away from them. It’s just terrible the things they have to suffer…
Speaking of which, I got a good giggle out of the Westley’s antics today. He parked himself in one of the kitty beds and was happy kneading it into submission and purring loudly. He was so vigorous he managed to push the kitty bed off the desk…
“I meant to do that.”
I shouldn’t laugh at poor Westley, but I am. VBEG
Peter has been working in the garage, sorting and moving things, and looking for things we’ll need as fall grows colder and winter approaches. The cats are fascinated, and consider this the greatest game ever.
Ashbutt is also checking out every new dusty corner and crevice that was previously inaccessible to cats… and bringing half the dust back in the house on himself. And they’re doing their kitty best to imitate malamutes blowing their summer coats. I am so glad we got the knockoff Not-A-Roomba. The cats… aren’t.
Yay for new chair! Too bad relocating the elder chair won’t grant you any peace and quiet.
I live with cats. Peace and quiet does not happen.
But yes, I imagine the interesting new smells and corners are of great interest to your fuzzy explorers.
There are no cats at Chez Phantom. There is only Maximum Maxwell.
Currently threatening to -eat- the delivery guy. “Just open that door and let the eating begin!” said MAXwell in Northern Dogspeak. (He won’t -really- eat the guy, mostly he’ll jump up and nomnomnom on a hand. Mostly. Disconcerting for a city boi delivering to Redneck Territory, I will freely admit. Sometimes they call ahead to make sure he isn’t “patrolling the grounds”, as it were.)
After the 400th time of him going inside out at the front door, it does get a little old. But, at this weird time of 2020 with Corona Chan and #BLM and all that great stuff, having the super-fast murderpoodle with the wild eyes and insane barking, I’m pretty okay with it. Like a pet cruise missile.
Release the hounds!
Husband wants me to send you a thanks– we were discussing variations on Smite spells for his game, and…short version is I chirped “oh haiyo, Ebola-Chan!” and he nearly hurt himself laughing.
I repeated your comment out loud and our Chez Phantom resident weeaboos gave me the harshest looks…
…so I’m giving it a 10/10, would repeat out loud again. ~:D
This is one reason why I’m glad I’m not in the office. I can read comments in between work and not have to worry about someone wondering why I’m dying laughing.
For a while my parents had an Old English Sheepdog. 100-ish pounds of mostly dog hair that would lean against the screen door and bend it while barking her head off. The assorted door knockers (mostly people trying to sell us something) never saw the rear end wagging frantically or realized that this was “Ooh, new friends?” bark.
The “I’m protecting my pack” bark was a LOT deeper and scarier.
The Maximum Maxwell bark sounds like “I want to EAT my delicious new friend!”
He also “yells” sometimes, like a cross between a bark and a howl when he’s frustrated. Comes out like “What is WRONG with you people?!”
Protecting the pack bark, I haven’t heard that one yet. He’s quite nervy, so he might not give a warning. Hard to say, because he’s also a huge wuss.
Perfect dog for Chez Phantom. Too smart for his own good, acts weird as hell all the time, never does what he’s supposed to.
One of our gaming buddies– who I think is actually blonde, but know is chirpy, and sweet, and painfully helpful– just celebrated the anniversary of he 24th birthday.
She’s turning 28.
Cue half of the rest of the gaming group groaning because NOW we feel old…. (Husband turns 40 next year; on mentioning that, the buddy felt young.)
Birthdays are almost as funny as cats. Almost.
Think of me, one year from Retirement Age and surrounded by weeb teenagers. They’re learning Japanese so they can get the jokes in anime better. Oh, the humanity…
Oh, mine try to speak Japanese from anime.
I really want to hire someone who actually speaks the language, because I can hear it’s wrong how they say it, but they suffer from the eternal teen curse of being certain Ma’s wrong. (I have the perfect pitch curse and the picks up accents curse.)
See if they’ve run into THIS yet:
Bwaha, that’s so crazy! ~:D
I celebrate my 25th… plus shipping and handling!
Lately, it’s getting to be international shipping rates, but hey! It makes me laugh!
The time to worry is when you start getting charged interstellar shipping rates.
I’ve stopped caring about the day over the last few years. It’s stopped being an anniversary and started being yet another sign that I got the chassis from a shoddy salesman and really should be able to trade for a working model. Bodies should come with lemon laws, damn it.
Another reminder that I miss our cats. We’re cat-less and dog-less and I just couldn’t go through the loss again and I miss my kitties especially.
Olga would perch on the back of my sewing machine chair and supervise.
Maybe a cat will show up at our back door and take the decision away from me. I understand they do that sometimes although that has never happened to me.
“I understand they do that sometimes although that has never happened to me.”
Bast: “Challenge accepted.” 😉
Oh, it happens. And I sympathize – it hurts so much every time you have to say goodbye to a beloved cat or dog.
Our animals LOVE to torture us with their imperatives.