Fibby is now a stealthmaster

        As of last night, I'm officially a high school graduate! And aside from my new macbook pro being ordered, my own star in the universe (yes, really), a beautiful necklace, and other fantastic gifts from various important people in my life, I got one more gift today: my cat finally came home. I had some family in town for the big day and my godmother is deathly allergic to cats, so Fibby simply could not stay at the house with me. Since my sister owed me for watching her evil cats, it only made sense if I just left Fibby there once she got back in town and passed her the burden of caring for all three of them as I did. It was the first time I have ever spent a night without Fibby. I have ditched out on parties early just to go home and hang out with Fibby, 'cause I am that much of a loser (but in my eyes, I just love her that much). The point is, for the past three days I felt like I had no soul and my sister only made it worse by declaring how much fun Fibby was having with her and that her and the other cats are getting along now so she'd never want to leave. Now that Fibby is back, though, I know my sister was full of lies because she was thrilled to see me and her new kitty kube that I got to bribe her into loving me again after leaving her... That last part is unimportant.

Aw yeah, son!

        Even though she adores the kitty kube, it is apparently not her favorite hang-out at my house, catnip or no catnip. I don't know when or if I would have ever found this out if my feet hadn't gotten cold. I went into my room to get some socks and when I pulled out the drawer, I saw pretty much the last thing I was expecting. Whaddaya' know, Fibby had gotten perfectly cozy with my socks and bras... and managed to "knock my socks off" (though I wasn't wearing any yet) while she was at it. She is so good at scaring me that she scares me when she's not even attempting to scare me and ends up scaring herself too because I'm sure she wasn't expecting me to find her in her cat-version of a military bunker, completely unguarded, while she was sleeping.

The jig is up.

        She used to hang out underneath my dresser as a wee little baby, so I am assuming that she wandered under there today and with her older, slightly more intelligent brain realized that she could climb up my drawers and slide into the one to her liking.. depending on her mood, of course. Thursday, it's socks and bras; Friday, it could be pajamas and t-shirts. I don't know; I'm not a cat whisperer. I can only assume that Holly's cats are to blame for Fibby's newly surfaced stealth ninja skills, considering the fact that they too, are stealth ninjas, if you recall from my last blog post their secret spot in the trundle bed: Fibby finds feline friendship?.  Honestly, I'm kind of jealous of cats in the sense that they can fit in these places. I wish I could snuggle with giant fuzzy socks that were proportionaly to my theoretical, fibby-sized body and in a dark place where no-one would ever think to find me. One can dream and in the meantime, I'll just search through all of my drawers until I find my toasty cat fresh out of the dresser-oven and cuddle with her.



Fibby finds feline friendship?

        As of yesterday evening, I am house/cat-sitting for my sister. She has two cats, Tiger and Rosca, who both hate Fibby and myself. The first day went smoothly.. and by smoothly I mean horriffic. When the hissing finally winded down and I was at least sure the cats weren't about to throw up their separate gang signs and have a blood bath, I sat down and watched Knocked Up. After the movie ended I noticed that it was quiet... too quiet. I could find Fibby because she hadn't yet gotten used to the apartment and remained hiding in the same spot for four hours, but Tiger and Rosca had disappeared out of thin air. After calmy combing through every possible hiding spot (or so I thought) in the entire apartment, I grew frantic. I started running from room to room just to make sure they truly weren't in the apartment anymore. I realized I had opened the door once, to get Fibby's litterbox out of my car (I figured they wouldn't be to happy sharing theirs with some random new cat) and the thought popped into my head; the ninja cats got out, and it's been approximately two hours that I haven't noticed. So I ran out into the lovely 90 degree weather we were having here in PCB to look for them. I couldn't really decide what to do when I got downstairs because they could have gotten anywhere in two hours and I wasn't sure if they had really gotten out, so I kept going back upstairs to look again then back downstairs when I still couldn't find them. My sister lives on the third floor of a building that doesn't have elevators. I ran up and down those stairs at least seven times. Then, an hour and a half later when I was thoroughly drenched in sweat, blood, and tears I decided to get my keys and drive through the complex. This is when I decided it would be best for me to call my sister to tell her that I had failed at the simple task she had given me to feed her cats every now and then and I had lost them. So I called her and said, "Hey you... so, uh, is there anywhere your cats, uh, hide, like really well?" to which she replied, "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, they like to hide inbetween the two mattresses of the trundle bed". Sho'nuff when I got back to the apartment, the nincompoops were exactly where she said they often were.

 a seemingly ordinary day bed.. gone sneaky trundle.

 This tubby tom is Tiger.

And this is Rosca. She's about the same age as Fibby, though they still hate eachother.

        I guess the moral of the story is that instead of getting myself in a tizzy when something seems to be going wrong, I should breathe a little. I had to go to work pretty much immediately after I found Tiger and Rosca because I had spent so much time looking for their furry behinds and didnt have much time to get Fibby situated. I spent pretty much all day at work envisioning her getting a deluxe, two-against-one ass-whooping from Tiger and Rosca.. but when I got home she was fine, just hanging out on Tiger and Rosca's kitty condo which she loves and makes me eager to get her one for her very own.

        Tiger and Rosca had unsurprisingly returned to their lair between the mattresses of the trundle bed. I went and saw Bridesmaids which was hilarious thanks to Kristen Wiig and Krista Rudolph and came straight home after that again (because I'm a grandma). Still, Tiger and Rosca were in their lair. I took a shower and just when I had laid down in bed with my hair wrapped up in a towel I heard something fall.. though I didn't really think anything of it, just kinda' figured it was one of the cats knocking something over for shits and giggles. Then I heard a lot of things fall, very suddenly, loud enough to make me believe, for a moment at least, that Al Quaeda had chosen my sister's bathroom to unleash their wrath for the death of their leader by means of nuclear bombs. Very slowly, I crept into the bathroom to see just what in tarnation was going on. The damn shower caddy fell over, along with and thanks to my sister's extensive collection of shampoos. Upon discovering the wreckage of toilettries, I realized that I had enough rises in my anxiety for the day and turned around to pass out in the cloud made out of "NASA's space-age, visco-elastic memory foam".

All hail Tempur-Pedic.

        Today hasn't been quite as exciting, though I did spend some quality time making monkey bread with the kitties when I got home from work. It was fantastic.

come to momma!

        If you'd like to try out the recipe, it's right here: Monkey Bread. I personally prefer to leave out the walnuts and raisins, but I'm sure that would be rather scrumptious.. if you're into that sort of thing. Also, I use four cans of the cheapo small cans of biscuits instead of two cans of the pillsbury homestyle-whatever that the recipe recommends to get your moneys. Don't know if that makes much of a difference (in taste or in finances) but really the only reason I went by this recipe is because I couldn't find the one I had written down years and years ago from my elementary school best friend's momma.. and I just remembered the biscuits she used. I ate a whole plate of this stuff.. couldn't help myself. I'm cat-sitting for two more nights so I'll let you guys know if the cats come out of hiding to give me a chance or if some other fiasco goes down. Bye-bye and good night!

My first mother's day!

        It dawned on me today in the produce section at Walmart that perhaps I deserve some flowers this Mother's day also along with you people that birthed human children. Fibby might not have 46 chromosomes, but she certainly is an expensive handful... and her outbursts are more painful than even the screeches of the most awry babies thanks to the talons that the Lord allotted her along with her 38 chromosomes. I'm not trying to complain about my new motherly duties by any means, don't get me wrong. In fact, I accept them full-heartedly . Besides, it's not like I had to produce milk and have her latch on to my nozzles with her splintery fangs. No, I entered into the joys of motherhood when the true torture of the job was done and over with. All I have to do now is handle cat excrement a lot more frequently than ever before and you know.. feed her, bathe her, take her to the vet, give her medicine, love on her, play even when I'm exhausted, and the worst that's come yet: force her to wear a cone that I know makes her miserable but is for her own good.. even if it breaks my wimpy heart. Before I put myself on a pedestal, I'm going to end this short blog post. Just wanted to inform you all of my celebratory spirits this Mother's Day and also I'd like to wish a happy one to the truly worthy recipients of appraisal this fine day (even if it is a bit late in the day) because I know it's probably a lot harder than caring for Fibby. Also, if anyone would like to give me a card or flowers that would be perfectly fine as well. ;)

Introducing Conehead

         My cat looks like a spaceship. No really.

        So Fibby's spay went well other than the fact that she apparrently was in heat when I brought her in for her surgery which led to additional charges.. le sigh. Those veterinarians; they pocket your money faster than you can "meow?". That explains why she's been extra affectionate lately though. She's been all up in my grill like a monkey to a guy in a banana suit. I just made up that expression.. if you didn't notice. Anyway, twelve hours later I went to pick up Fibbs to find out that she has to wear a cone on her head for seven to ten days so she doesn't chew out her stitches (I thought the lady said 17 at first and almost screamed). She got the torture device off about 20 minutes after we got home of course since she takes after her houdini mother (the three-year-old me once had to be put in a straight jacket to have my stomach pumped after downing a bottle of cough syrup.. and still managed to get the tube out of my throat). I tightened it though and she hasn't magic'd  herself out of it yet, though she did manage to get through the doggie door with it on and that truly bewilders me... I know the thing is bendy but not really and honestly, she can hardly walk with the thing on much less maneuver herself through a doggie door with a width that is shorter than the diameter of the cone. I mean, what did she do; walk through it backwards with enough force to cause the fairly rigid cone to fold in on itself? I just imagine the twilight zone theme song.

doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

        Either that or she is wondercat. I wouldn't be that surprised. She is wonderful. She is a cat.

which makes her wondercat.

        I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I have fallen head over heels for those face-in-the-holes. They are simply fantastic and crack me up. I don't know how Fibby feels about them because she is passed out. Her three medicines (which you all should know do not make for the most pleasurable experience to give her) make her loopy as hell and all she's been doing is sleeping, being hyper for ten minutes, and then sleeping some more. I don't mind too much because I am a big fan of ze cat naps myself (as you already know).

        Speaking of naps,  I missed mine today.. so this g-maw and her conehead kitty are tuckered out and we are gonna' hit the hay. I have no idea how Fibby sleeps with that contraption on her head but I suppose pain and uncomfort do not phase her hardcore self. Goodnight!