Kepler comes home

Following our anti-climatic hurricane non-event, Chris and I realized we had no plans for the weekend. So what does one do when one has no plans? One goes to an animal shelter to play with the animals and pretend you aren't really planning on getting one but really you are plotting and because you have a nice and non-argumentative husband he doesn't put up a fight when you scoop up a tiny orange and white kitten and say, "Maybe we should take him home because he has no one to love him," whilst shooting the Evil Eye to the group of children who have dragged their mothers over to see said unloved kitten.

Kepler* rode back to our apartment in my lap, peacefully purring and covering me with little tiny cat hairs. We put him back in his carrier to bring him into the apartment to meet Kneazel. The interaction went thus:

Kneazel: Meow (Hi, Mom and Dad!)
Kepler: Meew (Where am I?)
Kneazel: Meow (What's in the box?)
Kepler: Meew (I'm hungry)
Kneazel: Meow (There's something in the box!) Meow (What's in the box?)
Stage directions: Box is opened
Kneazel: Meow (Hello)
Kepler: Meow (I'm going to KICK your butt)
All: hssssssssssss reoooooooooooooooooooow hssssssssssss (I HATE YOU!)
Stage directions: Repeat for several hours

Chris and I left for the movies and came home to find them licking each other. When they spotted us, the hissing started all over again -- perhaps it was a little show for us.

Things have calmed a bit now. Although it doesn't stay calm for long periods at a time. Kepler looks just like Kneazel only much, much smaller, earning him the nickname: "MiniMe." That, plus their feelings for each other mean we keep saying, "No, no, MiniMe, we must not bite our kitty."

Kepler has figured out that Kneazel can't fit under the couch so his new bit is to sit under there and holler -- he's not in pain or scared or stuck, he just seems to know it bothers Kneazel. So he sits under there and howls and every once in a while Kneazel walks over to the couch, swats his paw under and then walks away. Kepler gets bored, runs out, jumps on Kneazel and then goes back under the couch and starts screaming again. True love.

*Chris picked the name this time so Kepler is named for Johannes Kepler (1571-1630), the first man to correctly explain planetary motion.

Bite me Katarina, you useless whore!

Let me say first that I did NOT want to get hit by a hurricane. That being said, it's not fair that I wasn't hit by the hurricane.

I mean, the power goes out all the time in Florida. All I wanted was one and a half days off of work. A freebie, if you will. But nooooooooooooooooooooooo. Stupid Katarina (which by the way, is also the name of a great song by Phil Pritchett). She didn't even knock out the power so I didn't have to go to work. You know what though, I bet the next hurricane knocks out the power -- on a Friday. And then it will last until the following Tuesday because we'll have had a holiday on Monday or something awful. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I have over $100 worth of canned food in the pantry! I have a bathtub full of emergency water! I have batteries -- buy one get one free batteries!

There I was, thinking I was having a ooooooohhh-the-power-of-the-hurricane moment because the cat was acting weird. "Look," I said to myself, "Kneazel is meowing and running back and forth nervously. He senses the coming storm!" After following him, however, I realized he was really trying to say, "The house is flooding, you stupid girl! The house is flooding!" Turns out, Kneazel has never seen the bathtub in the guest bathroom filling up with water. OK, and he considers it his bathroom since that's where his food dish and litter box are kept.

I had dinner ready early, I had the plants dragged inside, I had Scrabble at the ready. We got nothing more than a drizzle. A drizzle. Give me a bending palm tree -- something! Throw me a bone, people!

Florida. Humpf.