Weekend Wrap-Up, You just can’t bathe a cat edition.

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Gentle Reader,

Thanks for hanging with me during my unanticipated bloggy break.  I’ll try not to leave you hanging anymore.  Well, my Butter Rum Brigade mission was a great experience, I met lots of other Butter Rum Brigaders, and learned a lot of new tips on how to better bring back the Butter Rum flavor.  Since my boss is cheap, I had to stay in a rather sketchy motel, but I survived the experience and think I’m a better person for it.  I do know that the importance of socks in these kind of circumstances CANNOT be overstated.

After my Butter Rum Brigade duties were over, I drove to The Ranch, where the big excitement has been this:

Cody Winning Friends and Influencing People

One night this week, the parentals heard a cat mewling (mewling?  meowing?  whatev.) in the woods behind the homestead, and happened to tell me about it.  I was terribly concerned because what if the cat was hurt or injured?  Wouldn’t you want someone to at least come and rub your ears even if nothing else could be done?  Dad, however, was not moved.  WE ARE NOT CAT PEOPLE.  (This is what we refer to as “foreshadowing”.)

The next day, I got a call during a particularly boring portion of the Butter Rum Brigade meeting, and so I was grateful for the chance to excuse myself.  It was mom, telling me that she was going to send me the above photo (calling to inform someone of a text is a little like calling to make sure someone got an email, right?  thought so.) and to explain it.  No, we have not trained our labradors (HA!) into being chimney sweeps.  At some point in the night, the cat found its way into the chimney of our outdoor fireplace.  Cody (the blonde rump seen above) decided to try to make friends with the frightened three ounce kitten, and proceeded in the way he always proceeds when trying to make friends.  He climbed up INTO THE FIREPLACE, and started barking at the kitten.  (The “into the fireplace” is a fact-specific part of the process.  If you climbed down our chimney, he’d do the same for you, if you came in through the front door, he’d mow you down at the front door.  Just a clarification.)  Mom had to remove Cody from the fireplace (and wash the ashes off of his posterior) and put him inside (Cooper, too, he’s just a little bit too rotund to get actually INSIDE the fireplace.) so that she could put out a plate of tuna for the kitten.  Hoping that would lure him out.  Kitten came out, grabbed the tuna, and RAN BACK INTO THE FIREPLACE.  So at this point, I was pretty well convinced that:  1)  We now had a cat.  And 2) the cat and Cody were going to be pretty good friends, because clearly, they are unmatched intellectual equals.

The next morning, The Boys awoke to the mewling of the kitten, who had climbed the faux silk ficus tree on the porch.  (We really are Klassy.  But we just can’t throw that away, one of our cocker spaniels LOVED that tree, and it holds fond memories.)  The Boys were doing exactly what you can imagine they were doing, and the kitten was responding in the manner you would imagine.  After dragging the beasts back inside, mom tilts the tree down in order to rescue the kitten (it seemed wrong to call the fire department over a cat in a faux silk ficus tree…) from the tree.  The kitten promptly ran and hid IN THE LAWNMOWER for safety.  (Yep.  Kitten and Cody=total intellectual equals.)

The lawnmower is in the garage, so we could ensure the safety of the kitten by: 1) not mowing the lawn (not a problem!) and 2) closing the garage door and running a giant box fan to keep him cool.  (Which, as we were lacking one, my dad promptly ran out to the Wal-Mart three towns over to purchase.)  So the tuna, water, hide routine continued until I got there.  When I injected a little bit of sanity into the thing (mom is still pretending we don’t have a cat…she also pretended she didn’t like The Boys for the first three years of their lives, so she’s clearly good at denial…dad thinks we’ll leave it an “outdoor cat”…because cats in garages and lawnmowers have great quality of life standards…) by purchasing some cat food, some cat litter, something to play with, and one of those scratchy things.  I was, however, in total agreement that the kitten couldn’t come inside until 1) homeslice had a bath, and 2) the Ranch Vet could check him out.

And after getting closer to a lawnmower than I have EVER been in my life, I found the kitten.  And we discovered that the tiny thing likes being held.  Imagine!  So we fed him and tucked him in for the evening.

This morning, The Boys and I had to get up super early and head back here to The World’s Smallest Apartment (I have both boys this week because mom and dad need to have some stuff done for which having a Cody underfoot is a Bad Idea.) so Cody is learning about apartment living.  So far, not a big fan.  He does, however, enjoy the view of the pool.

Won't get INTO the water, but enjoys watching others do so.

 

Mom and Dad gave the kitten (tentatively named “Finch”-if you think about it, it’ll come to you…) a bath, and again, kitten and Cody=MADE for each other, because the kitten didn’t care for the water AT ALL.  But now its fur is all soft and fluffy and he’s (we have no idea, really, it’s WAY too tiny to tell…) embarrassed because he can’t do a thing with his hair when it gets all wet and humid.  So he wouldn’t allow photos. Perhaps later in the week.

And now, I’m exhausted from BRB missions, The Boys are exhausted from befriending the kitten, and my pizza should be here soon.  After that, we’re going to live dangerously and go to bed.  Someone tell me how the Mavs game turns out.

Goodnight,

Wordie

PS-Well give “My Monday” another try tomorrow, m’kay?

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