Lost Thing Found

I was awakened this morning by the irritating sound of a cat playing with something on the bedroom floor. The sound was reminiscent of a spoon clinking in an empty teacup. That is neither a sound which can be slept through nor the sound of anything a cat should be playing with, so I flopped down to the foot of the bed to peer over at the offending feline.

It was, of course, Yuki … the youngest and most irritating member of the household. She had her paws all up under the rolling rack, desperately attempting to extract something. I poked her pudgy little belly to get her attention. Naturally, this didn’t distract her at all. No, she redoubled her efforts to pull whatever she found under the rolling rack free. And then … she succeeded.

Lying on the floor, pretty as you please, was the leg belonging to my broken ceramic unicorn! The one I was certain I had accidentally thrown away!

While I am still less than thrilled about being rudely awakened from my pleasant slumber entirely too early in the day, Yuki has been awarded the distinguished honor of being Best Cat in the World.

Seeing Clearly

It’s funny story time!

Last night, I was lounging in my recliner playing FFXIV, without my glasses on. If I’m doing something mind boggling repetitive in a game (ex: leveling up crafting), seeing it 100% clearly isn’t necessary. When I decided I wanted to go kill some things, I grabbed my glasses and put them on. Everything looked wrong, and I got instant vertigo. I mean, it was like they weren’t my glasses at all! I took them off, laid them on the side table, and proceeded to kill slightly blurry wolves for a few minutes. A little while later, having completely forgotten the first experience, I absentmindedly put them on again. The same thing happened. WTF!!! I immediately removed them again.

While killing a few more slightly blurry wolves, I mentally ran through all the health problems that might cause a severe and immediate change in vision. I didn’t even need to consult Dr. Google, because I’d looked it up before. The list is pretty short, and none of them are good (though a couple are not actually life threatening). You know, stuff like strokes, brain tumors, and so on. I discounted all but a migraine, though that would be an unusual migraine symptom for me. Also, I can’t recall the last migraine I had, because I just don’t really get them anymore. Therefore, I chalked it up to my eyes being tired from too much reading this week, because I do know from experience that too much reading does change my distance vision pretty dramatically. Usually not THAT dramatically, but yeah, maybe that was it. I really have been doing A LOT of reading.

A little while after that, I needed to read something on the screen, which is something I can’t comfortably do without my glasses. So I grabbed them and put them on. Surely, they’ll work this time, right? Same damn thing! Like the prescription was just completely wrong. I closed my right eye, and everything seemed fine. I closed my left eye, and HOLY HELL WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY RIGHT EYE!!! I prepared to consult Dr. Google, and began to feel just a little bit anxious. I removed my glasses so I could put on my reading glasses (yes, I still refuse to get bifocals), and as I placed them on the side table, this time something different happened. My fingers went through the area where there should be a lens! Yes, the right lens was missing!

Earlier in the day, my glasses had been on the left arm of the recliner, where I like them to be, and a certain large cat had launched himself up to the back of the chair off that arm, very nearly flinging glasses onto the floor. I was pretty sure that was when the lens went missing. So I searched the floor and surrounding environs. No lens. Therefore, I searched the deep inner recesses of the recliner. Lo and behold, my lens was found and popped back into place. I can see! I can see clearly! Well, I guess it wasn’t a stroke or brain tumor. Phew! Just an overweight cat determined to keep me from having nice things, like corrected vision.

And thus ends another installment of Cat and Recliner vs. Human Possessions. It appears this will be a long and ongoing tale. It’s making my hate my recliner.Ronin and Myu

The First Fifteen

I stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee and found the new bag of outdoor cat food, which was safely stored in a cat proofed location, had been plundered during the night. It was definitely an inside job, and I believe it was a group effort. The indoor cats have been monsters the last few days, and no I have not been ignoring their every kitty need. Spoiled is what they are.

After setting last night's last load of laundry to fluff and dewrinkle, getting the water kettle on a burner, and taping together the shredded bag of cat food, I go to the bedroom to get some coat hangers and step in ice cold cat puke. Someone had stuffed themselves with the Purina and then drank a gallon of water and left a nice gift right in front of the bathroom door (a favored cat puking location).

Then, once the laundry was put away and the delicious hot coffee had been poured into mugs, I sat down on the couch, looked to my right, and there's a small multi-colored cat hovering over my perfectly frosty giant mug of tasty water, and there's water dripping off her chin. Just stick your whole face in my water why don't you?! Jeez!

That was the first fifteen minutes of my day. Argh! Currently, the big fat grey one is passed out at my feet, the small striped one is sitting behind me tapping me repeatedly on the head with her claws out, and the somewhat fluffy black one is rolling around on the couch to my left meowing as loudly as she can. It's going to be a long day at Casa de Orb.

Slow Motion Freakout

Who knows how many videos there are on YouTube of cats and kittens encountering a mirror for the first time. It's almost always hilarious. No cat I have ever owned has ever freaked out about their own reflection in a mirror. Not that I have seen. Maybe they did it when I wasn't home, or maybe all my cats have been intelligent aliens from another planet posing as cats. Much to my dismay, I have never personally seen a cat freaking out about a mirror with my own eyes.

Now we have mirrors in this house. We have always had mirrors in this house. The doors on the bedroom closet are floor to ceiling mirrors (and I hate them). Obviously, there is a mirror in the bathroom right above the counter all the cats walk around on. Then there is an assortment of mirrors of various large sizes that can be found leaning up against walls here and there (the locations change regularly). My current collection of cats have known mirrors since their first moments in this house. Even if they could have possibly not noticed any of the mirrors during the years of their lives, I did, in fact, introduce each of them to mirrors when they joined our family as kittens, because I wanted to see a kitten freak out about a mirror in person. None of them ever did.

So a little while ago, when I went to the bedroom to get my phone from the bedside table, I was surprised to see Ronin creeping toward the chest of drawers with his eyes bugged out, his tail between his legs, and every hair on his body standing on end … while staring at the mirror that has been there since before he was born. I sat down on the bed right beside him and watched as his fur got fluffier and fluffier the closer he inched to mirror. His ears finally went back when he was about four inches from it, and his eyes were threatening to pop out of his skull. I couldn't contain my laughter anymore. He gave me a look like I was the one who had lost their mind.

My laughter attracted the other two cats, and all three of us were sitting on the edge of the bed watching Ronin being confused by a mirror he has personally taken naps right next to for years. If cats could laugh, Myu and Tora would have been laughing. Tora eventually hopped over to the chest of drawers and sniffed Ronin's head (which didn't distract him from his slow-moving mission of killing the cat in the mirror). She looked at me and squeaked her little squeak, sniffed his head, squeaked at me again, and I just shrugged my shoulders and said “Yeah, Ronin's brain is obviously farting.”

The other cats got bored and wandered off for naps, and quite frankly, I was getting bored too. So far, it had taken the cat ten minutes to travel five inches, and since I know how Ronin tends to freak out when he finally does (a hiss and then a vanishing act), I figured I would bring this activity to a hasty end. I poked Ronin. Poking him usually distracts him from whatever foolish thing he is doing. Didn't work! He was focused on his mirror self with the intensity of the sun on a summer day in Texas. I rubbed his head and then tapped on the mirror cat head, rinse and repeat three times. This worked. He sniffed the mirror, un-fluffed, licked my hand, and trundled off to have a snack in the kitchen.

The mirror cat crisis was at an end.