I gots the Cootie!

Hallo from way-away Land!

I have been sooo busy and I’m not going to apologize. I will admit that I miss blogging, but blogging does not pay me and my job does… so guess what I’m picking to spend my time on, especially with ten people living im my goddamn house?!

Damn straight I’m working my tooshy off, ’cause I need my dose of Rice Krispies treats and when you have that many people in your house, Rice Krispie Treats do not last long. So you either buy tons or you hide and hoard like fuckin’ chippiemunks. And Unfortunatley- Hoarding does NOT work for the Kellimonster becuase this particular Kellimonster forgets where she hides things- might as well just leave them out ’cause someone else will find and eat them ALL.

sob.

I smell like a dog treat. Probably cause I still have one in my pocket.

ANYWAY!

I came to talk about something that Isn’t Rice Krispie Treats. Why? Yo no se.

Wait. yeah.

Okay. So you all have been seeing that I’ve been bitching a bit about having way too many people in our house. It’s a looooong drawn-out crappy situation that we had no choice in and maybe later i’ll discuss it, but right now! No.

But Anyway.

It started about a month ago, when my boyfriend’s brother lost his job. Since he was living from paycheck to paycheck, he could not afford to stay in his home and had to bail before the next month was due. So… I imagine you can guess where he went.
he brought his family of three and his girlfriend.
He also brought his Cat, Cootie!

He brought Cootie mostly becuase he knows how much I love this cat. And when I say love, I mean… like this Cat is totally fucking awesome. He loves people and being petted and he’s so sweet and impressionable! I’m sure if I didn’t express interest in taking in Cootie, he would have left him behind. And I would have given him hell for it.

Cootie has not been well taken-care-of.
He’s not neutered, and was an indoor cat until he started urinating everywhere (has something to do with not being neutered and not having access to a clean litter box, huh?) and was regualrly abused. Regularly abused being thrown around by the scruff of his neck and being locked in closets, bedrooms and garages for days on end. He was also not regularly fed and has probably never had shots.

But sicne coming to my place- he’s gained two pounds in 4 weeks.
He’s insanely friendly- loves being pet and groomed, and has stopped peeing everywhere!
He’s best pals with Racecar (in fact, Cootie was gotten by my BIL becuase his daughters loved Racecar so much!) and they’re around the same age.
Dahlia hated him at first but she’s getting over herself and is taking it in stride. Dahlia is even starting to become much nicer since Cootie showed up- she doesn’t mind being petted and begs for attention!

Cash likes Cootie, but Cootie does NOT like Cash. Bummer. But Oh well.

I want Cootie to be fixed and get his shots. But since he’s not my Cat… I kind of can’t. Even if I asked if I could fix Cootie, my BF would flip becuase he doesn’t want to pay for vet bills for a cat that isn’t really ours!

I honestly know that when they move again ( if, at this point… ) Cootie will not follow. The BIL and his girlfriend are actually allergic to cats and Cootie is a drooling, shedding machine. Like I said before, if I wasn’t offering my place to stash him- they would have left him behind.

After some debating though, I got the BF to allow me to neuter Cootie. He’s gonna go in about a month or so. Good- ’cause this kitty deserves some love.

The furzie ones.

You haven’t seen them in a while, but you can see them now.

Racecar is a tank of a cat- pushing 7 lbs. I had no idea he’d get so big.

 

Dahlia, other than not looking so fragile, still looks very kitten-like. She’s about 4 months now. Has yet to purr. *shrugs*

And they get along pretty well, at first it was kinda stressy, but no more- they curl up together, though Racecar seems to dry and deny it by ditching Dahlia to Greet me.

And that Dahlia man. I can’t crack her. She’s a bitey, scracthy little feral thing. She doesn’t pur, doesn’t look for pets. She just IS.

Feh, as long as THEY getalong, okies.

Small update for now. Still many to do. Keep eye open, they will FLY in the next few days.

more interesting with images.

i have decided.

no one likes to read blocks of text.

As one of Matt’s (x-entertainment —>) Halloween blogs so duly noted :

and using the carriage return can get pretty annoying.

like this.

and this.

it does a great job of displaying my thought process, but I’m sure can get pretty.

fucking

obnoxious.

Okay. sorry, won’t do it again. *snicker*

So I will attempt to integrate more images. Like That California one I just did TOTALLY deserves some nice rural country shots to prove my point. But I just don’t have the resources, time or magically compositing eye (like Rudy, that fucker can make a DEAD CAT look compositonally profound) to make fantabulous images. I will try and remedy that in the future. I mean, by getting good pictures and putting them there. And changing my future posts to be more interesting to read by adding images.

I mean, for god’s sake I’m an ARTIST. Did you know that? That could make a good blog entry.

I should integrate my art here. THAT would be cool, right? it’s not like I suck or something.

So- that will be my ode to you. Or… to whoever reads this. Or, for the tiny note that no one really READS this- to me. I will make an oath to myself that I will put up more images, and more of my own art to make these entries more interesting. DEAL?

Okay. That brings up another thing. I don’t write about everything. I mean, you guys know I took dahlia home, but you haven’t seen her. And you haven’t seen Racecar in days.

That’s another oath. If things happened and I have images, I don’t need to write entries. Just post images. Dahlia’s cute-as-a-button face should pique enough interest to merit an entry just by looking cyoot. There ARE such things as photo essays, and photo blogs. No everyone wants to hear about my innane life. and Pictures are Just more Fun.

 oohfuck, my head hurts.

I should jam. Hope y’all are having a good-whatever it is you do. Day, I guess.

massacheef lives!

finished halo last night on co-op on normal with Rudy. I swears, if I see a dood this halloween in a master chief costume, I would totally take a picture of him with me in a lewd pose, cause I fargin’ love that guy. Master Chief, not some random stranger.

you knew that.

Slightly bummed when I thought he died. like… almost cried. but no. he’s okay. well… yea. okay.

Also got Dahlia home last night!

Her and racecar are getting along okay- he keeps being too forward and smacking her kinda hard- like the way wicket treated him. I hope she’s doing okay. I’m so worried cause she is so small, and I need to ger her shots but my nomal place won’t get us in until the end of this month. Maybe there’s one of those pet-store vaccination places I can take her to. I already lost a kitty, don’t want to lose another one due to stupid stuff like forgetting shots.

Oh.

Ohmaigawd. I was thinking- something big happened to me but I couldn’t remember what it was. And then I remembered that we had family come down from Washington State to visit us and we showed ‘em the area. We wanted to show them so much more, but they are all so diverse we had to cut coeners to entertain everyone.

In 3 days we:

went to a niner game. Went to the boardwalk, saw another choptops show, drank way too much and have the incriminating photos to prove it, went to Abuelito’s 80th bday party, drank way too much, drove to oakland and back at least twice, ate at gordon biersch in SJ… and i think that’s it. I think.

 

Here’s one of those incriminating photos. I think maybe, the least drunken person is on the far right.

anyway. just dropping a line. I think…. I may write about Type O soon, it’s almost halloween and I think I need to creepify the place a bit. And there’s nothing like peter steele’s orger-riffic face to freak out the masses, dah?

deh kittn…Dahlia.

Okay, I’m so impatient. I can’t wait!

Okay. I was saying that After wicket pased, I was gonna get another kitten. For Racecar. Which makes sense.  And in an earlier blog post, I had dropped the line ” the black kitten will be named Cricket.”

Well, it’s Not.

It’s Dahlia.

Dahlia, World. World, Dahlia. Play nice.

She’s literally Racecar’s little sister. Same tom, same queen… the only difference is the 8 weeks of weaning + 15 weeks gestation… 23 weeks… a little less than 6 months.  Pretty damn cool. I hope they can pick up the familial bond. I lovewhen kittioes snuggle together and all that- it makes my heatr melt. and After losing Wicket, I kind of need to melt my heart- so I can remold it.

I can’t wait cause I don’t have her just yet. She’s not fully weaned, and isn’t totally on solid food, and I don’t believe she’s litter trained.  I can’t take her next week cause I have family from Wshington State coming and they’re crazy- a kitten would go bizzonkers with that much action… So I’ll have to wait until… the 7th of October.

A new black kitty for October!

How Exciting!

return.

it’s been a week since I last posted.

things happened, you know.

and- BulletStyleUpdate!- Go!

 * obviously my Cat wicket died. I posted that wednesday morning. I struggled through both jobs that day, being sent home early from the pub becuase I was told I looked distracted- which I responded to by crying. Real mature.

*Thursday I was a bit better. I had a project due on monday so I was battening down the hatches fo sho. We buried my cat that day and went shopping for kitten food and discussed what we should do. We have decided we are going to get another cat, but we are not sure when. Probably in 8 weeks or so. ( see monday…  )

* Friday was a regular day at work, though still the insanity of the getting the project done. We went to dinner at my compadre’s house. I took an oreo pie that was a TOTAL hit. People got drunk, except for me- the wear of the week hit me good and I fell asleep at about midnight. We finally went home at about 2 am.

* Saturday was mostly spent out of the house. We repaired our dented rim and got new tires all round, then went to the Raiders game. My First Raiders Game. My first FOoTBALL game. Cause highschool doesn’t count. They won. *dances*

* Sunday we went to Abuelita’s ranch,  where we had gorditas and taquitos and drank and talked, Cash in tow. He really liked riding on the golf cart. So much he pushed one of the kids off to ride. Silly dog. I then went home and worked like a fiend for 5 hours on that Bedding project. Killed it. fuckin’sweeeeeeet.

*Monday, started the same ol’, same ol’. Till I got to work and saw Stinky in the closet near my station. WITH KITTENS. She dropped her litter on monday. One looks like racecar, one’s a tabby with a blended white mask, and one’s black with a spot on his chest. I’m guessing I’ll have the pickof the litter… but I need to get to know them before I decide who- probably not the tuxedo fellow- looks too much like racecar.

 And that’s that, so far. Sorry for not being controversial or deep. I’m kind of work out due to this bedding project. Maybe later. Tomorrow. Or not. Dunno.

Keeps ya in suspense and shit.

no more wicket.

I wish i had talked about him earlier.

then it could have been a cute story, or a funny anectdote, or anything other than what it is now.

cause now, wicket is just a memory. an image and a sad tale. you folks out there will never know wicket before he was dead.

wicket (black) and racecar (tuxedo)

http://www.mycathatesyou.com/cats/id/3856

Wicket was my OWN first cat. when we moved into this house, he was the first to live in it. He moved in the day we got the keys. I visited every day to feed, pet and take care of him while we moved out of the apartment.

He would walk with me while I took Cash for a walk. He would scratch on the window when he wanted to come in. He took a liking to the hanging storage area in the garage. He liked to be petted and loved to be held, but would never sit on your lap. He came when he was called.

He was my cat and now he’s dead. he’ll never greet me when i come home. I’ll never smell his fur again, he’ll never polarbear for pets. He’ll never beat the crap out of the dog, he’ll never teach Racecar how to hunt. All he’s gonna do now is lay in a hole in my backyard and decompose.

he was only two. some cats go earlier than that, sure. but never my cats. My mom’s cat has now outlived TWO cats. How can a fat, toothless, tumored stinkball outlive the sweetest runt that ever lived and the quintessential Asshole  Black Cat? Rudy says it was his time, but what the hell does anyone in heaven want with MY cat? I wasn’t done with him yet.

We think a passing car knocked him in the head. I always, ALWAYS thought he would be safe since we live on a cul-de-sac – the traffic is near nothing. There are tons of cats on this block, older cats, younger cats… only one other death has happened since i have lived here- and that was a stray kitten, so I didn’t think I had to worry.

But when Jose, Rudy’s Brother  came in last night around 9:30, he asked if wicket was inside, cause there’s a cat laying on the side of the road.

personally, i think jose did it.
because of the parking being limited, jose would have had to come into the cul-de-sac, done a three-point turn and park across the house to park the way he did. Because of his less than stellar driving skills, Im pretty sure he came sweeping into his parking spot and didn’t see wicket trying to cross the street to come home until it was too late.

now, my little antisocial black kitty will never come home.
So, I woke up at about six and have been spending my time on the internet, changing his catster site, informing my MCHY friends of the event, telling my mom. I couldn’t go back to sleep anyway. And I still have to work at the pub tonight. I’m a wreck. 

And now all I have is this whiny little tuxedo guy who i have barely forged a relationship with… and he is gonna spend the next few days looking for his big brother. i feel so terrible for him. all alone.

kind of like me. Rudy would hug me, but didnt cry. Rudy’s mom hugged me but it felt more out of necessity. it really felt as if all they wanted to do was make me stop feeling so crappy- they didn’t miss my cat, so i can’t bond with anyone over the incident.

rudy and i have already discussed that we are gonna get another cat- racecar needs a buddy ASAP. My boss’ cat is having kittens again, so racecar can have a real brother, but 8 or 9 weeks is a far way off. and rudy says he wants an orange one, which isn’t in stinky’s makeup. I’ve given the idea of adopting… we will have to see…

in the meantime.
i’m gonna have to explain to people why i feel so crappy and then have to deal with the “it’s only a cat” thing.

teh story of Racecar

okay. let me tell this little fable cause…

cause I can, I guess.

Okay. This is Racecar.

The Story we told The House:

Rudy:  ” I was driving home from work. And you know that wide curve over near the eucalyptus farm on Tarpey road? I was taking that curve too fast and i ran over something. Since I was in the GTI and it rides low, I pulled over quick and went to check it out. Turns out I hit a cat. I was about to get in the car when I heard “mew! mew!” and there was this kitten by the road- looked just like the one I hit. So I felt obligated to take care of the little guy since i killed his mom. And we named him Racecar to remind us.”

The ACTUAL REAL story:

Racecar’s original name was Gizmo. He was a part of of a litter my boss’s cat had. This litter dropped on my birthday- so I felt that some Higher Power totally said “i want you to have another cat.”

I watched little Gizmo grow up- a shy, timid little guy that rarely came out of hiding, that bloomed into a zipply little spazoid with a penchant for snuggling. I worked on Rudy to have another cat. When he saw gizmo- a black and white Tuxedo kitten with a black nose and black goatee- he fell for him.

He was about 7 weeks old when Paula saod “Kelli, I think I want you to have Gizmo- I don’t think I trust anyone else to have one of these kittens.” I told Rudy, and after that, there was no debate. WE WERE GETTING GIZMO. NO QUESTIONS.

When He was 8 weeks old I brought Gizmo to Rudy when we met for dinner at JJ’s in SJB and we devised a story to make absolutely sure we would have NO issues with keeping the kitten and recieve no flak from Gloria. Rudy came home with the kitten- and the story fabricated is of his own making.