Cats are evil

My three cats are evil.  There's really no other way to put it.  I've known that Georgie was bad for a while, but now that I think about it, the other two aren't really all that good either. 

 

Georgie is a destroyer.   All toilet paper MUST be put under my bathroom sink or Georgie will decimate it in about 3 minutes (I'm talking the huge, Charmin triple roll here).  Paper towels are also fair game if they are left where he can get to them.  iPhone charger cables and earbuds are just too tempting and he just can't help but destroy them.  I think he's destroyed 4 cables and 10 pairs of earbuds.  My iPhone and iPad charge on top of the printer so he can't get to the cables.  I don't own earbuds because they don't fit in my ears, but H needs a new pair to replace the eaten pair at least every 8 weeks or so. 

Sniper takes great pleasure in knocking everything off my beside table except for the fan so he can sit in front of it and let it blow his fuzz in my face.  He also knows how to open drawers and cabinets to get whatever I've taken away from him.  He figured out how to open the back door if it isn't locked when he was about 5 months old.  I don't really need to buy any toys for him.  He will just go in the garbage can and find something in there to play with.  He keeps doing this even though I'm certain that he knows it grosses me out.  His latest thing is to stand on my stomach and meow in my face at 6:58am - 10 minutes before the alarm goes off - because his food bowl is empty.   Then he runs when I start to get up as if saying "that wasn't ME meowing.  It was Georgie"

Harper can hear my bedside table drawer open from across the apartment AND in a dead sleep.  She will take off in a flat run because she is certain there is something in there that she must have between her teeny little paws immediately.  She also has figured out how to open my closet door so she (and the boys who follow her in there) can poke around in there and hopefully find some contraband.  If she were brave enough, she would growl at me when I make her get out of there.  It's one of two places in the house that they are not allowed to go - the other is Henry's room.  Ponytail holders are in danger from her teeny little mouth.  She can't resist them.  I keep trying to loop one on her tail so she will run in circles to get it, but she doesn't fall for that.

But then they are super sweet and purr and curl up in little cat balls to sleep with Mama every night so I guess I'll keep them.  Besides, my queen size bed is much too big if they aren't taking up about 80% of it. 

Harper (back), Georgie (middle) and Sniper (front) on Mama's bed

Georgie turns 2

I can't believe that Georgie is 2 today.  He was just 2.5 weeks old when my wonderful stepmom heard him squeaking in her front yard under Daddy's old john boat.  He was the 3rd kitten this cat mama had abandoned in their front yard.  My parents have the two older ones, but with 4 cats and 2 dogs, they just couldn't handle a 5th cat, much less one that was so incredibly young and dependent.  Lisa waited about 24 hours after she heard him squeaking to make sure that mama cat wasn't just out scrounging around for food before she texted me "do you want another cat? I found a little teeny orange baby."

Harper was not quite a year old and Sniper was just 18 months old and I had a full time job plus a teenage boy.  I wasn't sure if I was able to take care of such a young kitten, but I went over to their house to see "her".  We were convinced that Georgie was a girl at the time and her name was to be Claire.

This is the day I brought Georgie home

I fell in love with this feisty, tiny, squeaky little orange baby.  He was so young that his ears didn't stand up all the way yet and his eyes had only been only for about 6 days.  He had already lost his umbilical cord, but he was unable to eat on his own or even pee or poop on his own.  My stepmom showed me how to make kitten formula and how to feed the kitten with the bottle.  She also told me that I had to burp the kitten about halfway through the bottle, just like I did for "H" when he was a baby.  She also informed me that I had to wipe his little butt to make him go potty after he was done with the bottle.  Oh dear lord, what have I gotten myself into????

I brought him home in the baby kitten carrier talking to him the whole time.  He didn't seem too impressed with my words or with my singing abilities.  He got bored and went to sleep.  After I got home, Sniper and Harper both knew something was up and there was some sort of creature in the carrier.  Harper stuck her little black nose in the air and went straight to my room and curled up on the bed.  Sniper was interested, but he just meowed and wrapped himself around my legs so I would fill up his food dish.

holding the bottle and winking

As soon as I got home, the kitten started squealing again to be fed.  I warmed up a bottle and got him out of the carrier.  Harper hissed and ran.  Sniper ignored both of us.  As I fed the kitten, his little ears wiggled back and forth after he finally figured out that the bottle was a good thing and not something to be fought or attacked.

I quickly figured out that the kitten did NOT like laying on his tummy to take a bottle.  He preferred to be held with his back against my chest so he could hold (or attack, depending on your point of view) the bottle.  After he ate and burped stinky kitten milk burps and peed and pooped, he wouldn't settle down unless I wrapped him up like a kitten burrito.  I could then gently (!) sway him back and forth and he would go to sleep for 2-4 hours.  This went on for 7.5 LONG weeks until he was weaned at 9 weeks old.

he really loved his burrito

I had never known a kitten that loved being swaddled almost like a human baby.  My own human baby hated it!!  This little guy went everywhere except work with me.  He had to be fed every 3 hours with a longer stretch of 6 hours at night.  He didn't know how to walk so watching him learn to walk was hysterical.  The first time he ran, he actually ran backwards.  Harper was terrified of him until he was about 12 weeks old.  Sniper still isn't quite sure that he likes him, but I think he's accepted that he isn't going anywhere.

I took him to the vet 4 days after I brought him home.  The vet assured me that the kitten I thought was a little girl was actually a very healthy, 9 ounce little boy kitten.  His name was changed from Claire (and other names that I thought of but didn't stick) to Georgie.  He is a total rascal and as my sister says, "Jeez, your cat is BAD!"  He got put in time out more than H did.

Georgie, age 2

That 9 ounce, helpless kitten is now 2 years old and weighs about 13 pounds.  He loves his Mama and his feline sister.  He wants to love his feline brother, but he's not real sure about his human brother.  He is bitey, but the vet says that's common with bottle fed kittens. He sleeps with me every night curled up in a Georgie-ball at the foot of my bed.  He's been on every surface in the apartment.  He's terrified of outside and the vacuum cleaner but doesn't mind water.  He sits on the edge of the tub to keep me from getting lonely in the shower.  He is still super playful and I have to remind him daily that the phrase "climbing the walls" isn't to be taken literally.  He doesn't know many tricks (unlike the other 2), but he does know his name and knows I mean business when I yell "I'm DONE - GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

Happy birthday Granny!

Today would have been my Granny's 95th birthday.  She was my mom's mama.  I have such fantastic memories of Granny.  I spent 4 summers with her growing up.  She used to "sneak" us coffee-milk when she thought Mom wouldn't know.  Coffee-milk is milk with enough black coffee in it to make it turn colors.  We would have toast and coffee-milk for breakfast every morning and have devotion.  There was something so comforting about listening to Granny read from the tiny devotional book and the Bible every morning.  She was the best Christian I've ever known, but she had the most wicked sense of humor.  I like to think I got my sense of humor from her.  When we would get in her way when she was cleaning on Saturday mornings (she wouldn't let us help), she would put the bar chairs in the living room and turn on either cartoons, wrestling, Grizzly Adams or Tarzan to keep us out of her hair until she was done. 

Granny had 2 gardens in the summers.  I miss shucking corn on the front porch and snapping beans in front of Guiding Light.  I miss listening to her singing to babies while she rocked them to sleep.  I miss the gentle way she woke all of us up with a quiet voice and a gentle back rub until we were awake.... Her Sloppy Chocolate Cake and her fried chicken and sweet tea.... The way she would cut her beautiful green eyes at someone who had irritated her.... Going to church or to Angier or to Belk's in Fuquay....  The way she would get frustrated if she forgot her grocery list ("Well, I can't go to the grocery store if I don't have my memorandum"  The memorandum was always written on the back of an envelope)....  The way she would ooh and aah over every single gift that was given to her and would show it off to everyone in the room like it was the one thing she had always wanted but had never gotten.....  The way she called credit cards "charge plates" and didn't quite understand why she couldn't write a check at McDonald's....  How she sang "Sal Jones" with such heart and feeling as if it were the most popular song in the world even though nobody but the family knows the song and there are only 2 words in the song.  Most of all, I miss her voice and the way she hugged us and the devoted, unabashed and unconditional way she loved us all. 

H and Granny - H was 2 days old

Granny died at home on August 15, 2002.  I was with her when she died along with most of my immediate family.  H was almost 4.  He doesn't really remember her.  I think his "memories" are just the stories that she told us that we are now passing down to the next generation.  It breaks my heart that he doesn't remember the woman that went by Kit, Miss Kate, Granny, Mama, Mother and GG.

Happy 95th birthday Helen Kate Dove Smith!  I love you!!!!

The BIG 4-0

Oh lord - my 40th birthday is in 10 days.  10 days!!!!!!!  How the hell did I get old enough to be 40 and have a kid that will be taking driver's ed soon???  My mom is throwing a birthday party for me.  I came up with the guest list and originally there were 60+ people on there.  I didn't know I really knew 60+ people well enough to want them to celebrate my birthday with me, but then I realized most of them were family.  This will be the first birthday party I've had since I was 10 and had a slumber party with a couple of girls from school and my sister helped us dress up at punk rockers.  Think hair like Boy George in 1984..... 

I can't wait for my party......  I wonder if Mom will get party hats and balloons????

I really want a fennec fox for my birthday

Ahhhh...teenager memory.....

My son, "H", had an English paper to write and was supposed to be working on it all this week AND turn it in yesterday since he will be at a marching band competition the rest of the week (YIPPEE, Mama gets the weekend off!!!!!).  He had done absolutely nothing on the paper.  Thank God his teacher is super awesome and called his dad to let him know.  The assignment was to write a personal narrative about a foolish decision that he had made in the past.  He started on it at his dad's house, there was some yelling and tears and snot and shouts of "I GIVE UP", so I went to get him and played referee for a few minutes (think "both of you to opposite corners").  After H and I got home and he annoyed the cats for a minute, this is the conversation between us (the Readers' Digest version)......

Me:  "Honey, you need to start writing"

H:  "I don't know what to write about"

Me: "You can't think of anything???"

H: "No, I'm trying to write about my bike accident, but I don't really remember it."

Me:  "OK, well, I can help you with what happened and everything"

H: (getting seriously exasperated) "But I'm not going to write about YOUR memory.  It's supposed to be MY memory."

Me:  (big sigh) "OK, since you don't remember anything, why don't you write about another foolish decision?"

H: (quite innocently)  "I can't think of a bad decision or a foolish one that I've ever made"

Me: "REALLY?!??!?!?!?!  You've made it to almost 15 years and have NEVER made a bad decision"

H: "Not that I can think of"

After laughing at that statement, and giving a couple of very good suggestions that came to mind in about 3 seconds, he finally settled on a subject and began writing.  There MAY have been some tears involved (his) and some yelling (me), but his paper got written and turned in on time.

Oh dear lord....

Georgie relaxing on Mama's bed

OK - I don't really know what I was thinking about starting a blog, but I came up with the name of it so I'm just kinda going with it.  The "Georgie" from the title is the youngest of my three cats.  I rescued him in March 2012 when he was 2.5 weeks old.  I question his intelligence on a daily basis.  I don't actually let him drink tequila.  He took a little nip out of my margarita one night when he was little.  He leaves my tequila alone now.....



My mom has been after me to start writing for a couple of years now so I thought I'd give it a try.  I don't know if I'll write every day or not, nor do I know what exactly I'll write about.  But it will probably be mostly childhood memories or stories about my son or the three cats or maybe a combination of all of the above.   Or I could just vent about the stupid crap I see or hear on a daily basis.  I'm almost positive there will be some cursing involved and probably some questionably inappropriate comments, but we'll see what happens....