The Tweetie Chronicles: Chapter Seven

I'm going to try to write while sipping iced tea and nibbling at a chocolate muffin. I know I shouldn't eat it, but heck, some times a girl's gotta eat what a girl's gotta eat. Plus, my pants feel loose. Okay, maybe my stomach popped over the top of my pants so they feel looser, but who can see me right now?

I'm trying to keep muffin bits off the keyboard. Good thing it's one of those uber flat ones from Apple. Less crap can sneak under the keys. Have you ever looked or dusted or CLEANED your keyboard? I got rid of my last keyboard because I swear I heard growling coming from under the "T" key.

For all those concerned, and there were a few, thankyouverymuch!, my finger is not infected and I didn't have to visit the ER. There's one spot near my knuckle that's quite sore, but nothing disgusting is oozing out of it. It should heal in time. I even found a bandage. Good old Sponge Bob Square Pants! I thought I had ones that looked like bacon strips, but I couldn't find them.

Oh! Tweetie. Yes, Tweetie.

Tweetie is insane, but to be fair so are Sprinkles and Pixie. Twinkles, is too mellow to be crazy.

There's an energy that forms when kittens hit about seven weeks old. It grows to explosive proportions that radiates from their tiny little bodies from eight to ten weeks and beyond. They can climb well, run endlessly, jump high, mixed with an insatiable curiousity for everything around them. These changes indicate the time is coming for the kittens to leave!

They start to GET ON MY NERVES!!!!

All these kittens do is RUN RUN RUN, fight, climb up the side of the dog crate...which gives them access to the top of the cable box (nearby), a shelf full of books, and a ton of crap I put high up to keep it away from their destructive paws. Then they...OOPS...knock stuff to the floor, hurt themselves, run so hard they start panting and Tweetie even started foaming at the mouth-which scared the shit out of me.

I ended up putting Tweetie back in his room, alone, to force him to just REST. He was fine in a few minutes, but I was shaken. I tried to just hang out with the Sprinkles and her gang, but they too were too busy poking around, ripping at things, treating me like a scratching post and fighting with each other. They would not sit still even after a good hour of hard playtime-an hour that I witnessed. Who knows how long they were running around BEFORE I was in the room!

It was getting late. Their crazy antics made me feel stressed out. It's weird. Their energy flows so strongly, you can't help but be effected by it. It was like coffeeless surge of caffeine. I had to leave the room and just stare at a TV show for an hour before I felt my pulse slow down. I was ready for bed.

I finally got a decent night sleep thanks to the new pillow I got at Bed, Bath & Banal. I have a "thing" about pillows. I constantly have a problem finding one that supports my gigantically fat head. They're either way too hard, then my neck aches, or they're so mooshy I have to shove my arm under my pillow to give me the support I need. I even blew $150!!!!! on a Tempurpedic pillow. I used it a few nights and it was ok, but then one night I woke up in the middle of the night. I literally could not sit up. All the muscles in my neck were LOCKED. I started screaming and hyperventilating. Poor Sam woke up, did not pee in his pants or the bed, thankfully, and after a few fuzzy minutes of me screaming and writhing, he got the idea to pull me up, then started to dig his iron fingers into my neck to loosen up the muscles, while I began to cry, of course.

Yeah, so I have a thing about good pillows.

So, I'm rested and somewhat refreshed. Ready to face a new day full of insane kitten behavior. Next Wednesday all but Tweetie are getting spayed and their final shots and tests ('cause Tweetie was already vetted). Then Thursday/Friday they'll be going to their new homes and I'll get the house back to myself and my seven bratty cats.

There's a new found appreciation for my own cats, I must admit. Yesterday I jiggled a few toys at them and they just laid there and looked at me. Not one of the cats would actually get up off their big ass to even bat at the toy! I whipped the feather toy past their heads, taunted them, was provocative in my every move and nothing. They just looked at me. Their expressions asking; "Are you quite through now? I'd like to go back to bed OR You could pet me OR you certainly could FEED ME. Other than that, would you mind going away?"

I love kittens. Really, I do, but there's nothing like an old, slow moving, bored cat that really makes my day.

And, by the way, that was a pretty good muffin, too.