Well, just another day at the office . . . sort of . . . I guess . . . if you work at an insane asylum for crazy cat ladies . . .
Livvie (who's due on Thursday) has been lonely for the past ten days, since Cha had her kittens, and has been crated with them, so Livvie's been alone in the kitten room, atho' Cha is just across the room in her crate . . . of course, as with most new mommies, Cha has eyes only for her three little ones, so poor Liv was alone to all intents and purposes. So - I went ahead and put Froggie (who's due in mid-April) in the kitten room to keep Livvie company, since she's an extremely social girl, and was very unhappy being sequestered alone. Froggie's a little bitchy, but she's OK and Livvie likes everyone, so I figured they'd be happy enough together.
Well, today was my day to answer phones out at the shelter this week, so I went ahead and crated Livvie before I left this morning. She wasn't real happy about it, but better safe than sorry. Froggie's not due for a month, so I figured . . . what kind of trouble can she really get into? That'll teach me to think.
So, I did my day at the shelter, and got home and went to check on my girls. All three of Cha's little sweeties were lined up at the milkbar. No one took any notice of me.
Froggie gave me an ankle rub, and then trotted back to her perch on the window sill, intent on giving hell to the mockingbirds in the back yard.
Livvie, still as round as a tick, let me know she wasn't happy about being crated - of course, I know that'll change as soon as her babies arrive, but for now, she's intent on voicing her displeasure. So I popped the top on more cat food (I'm convinced they love me for my opposable thumbs) and went on to take care of other stuff.
Nine o'clock comes, and I'm so sleepy I can't see straight, so time to put everyone to bed for the night . . . tomorrow night will start the sleeping with Livvie/hourly checks on her, but planned on a good night's snoozing tonight. That'll teach me to plan . . .
All three of Cha's littles have miraculously reached the creeper stage in the three hours since I got home. Cha is having a conniption fit, since they've crept under the bed in her crate. Bed out of crate, rug in. Cha is happy again, babies are motivating around rug, all good.
Livvie, still round and unhappy, scarfs down her two cans of food, and looks at me like she's waiting for me to explain this awful insult I've done her by crating her already. I know, I know, sweetie, but you'll forgive me when your babies are here safe and sound!
Froggie . . . Froggie . . . where the hell is Froggie? This is a small room, only so many places she can hide, right? Wrong. No Froggie to be found. Well, maybe she got by me at the door when I came in - happens all the time, altho' the traffic is usually moving the other way, with all the other cats wanting to get IN to eat the yummy baby food.
OK, time to search the house. Thirty minutes later, I've torn my very small house apart, checked the screens on all the windows, popped the top on two cans of food, including a can of AD (what one vet labeled "Almost Dead" food to me years ago, presumably because it smells so foul to humans that you want to die when you smell it), and shaken three different types of cat teases until my brain is rattling. The rest of the herd is looking at me like a.) they want more AD and/or b.) I've lost what had been left of my tiny little mind. In the meantime, Froggie is still MIA.
Back to the drawing board. I go back inthe kitten room. "Froggie . . . Froggie . . . here kitty-kitty-kitty." Livvie yells at me, still PO'd about the crating, Cha just looks bewildered that her kids are suddenly standing in her food bowl, and the three babies just mewl a little. I manuever my fat duff onto the floor and look under the end table and TV stand again. I open the drawer in the TV stand to make sure she can't have squeezed her fluffy little butt into the drawer from the back side . . . nope, no Froggie. Or is there? "Froggie?" "Mwrrr" "Where's mama's little Froggie-frog?" "Mwrrrrrrrrrr!"
Hhmmmmm. Seems to be coming from . . . behind me? The only thing behind me is the couch . . . the one that is FAR too flush to the wall for fat little Froggie to be behind. So . . . well, crap . . . there's apparently a fat furry little frog IN our couch. (At some point, I should explain that the couch has a nice little slit up the inside of the back, hidden behind cushions, left over from where Jaimye had to rescue a particularly adventurous kitten a couple of years ago, when she was baby-sitting, so Steve & I could go to the 2008 TICA Annual in Dallas . . . neatly stuffed with a pillow and tucked behind a throw, so no one can get in it. Or so I thought . . .)
At this point let me also note that Steve is out of town on business this week, so I'm the only one here . . . yep, just me and my bad back, myself and I. Shit. Well, here goes nothin'. (Remember the "hey, watch this" rule here, lol.)
I wrestle the couch away from the wall, tipping it forward. (Never mind that ominous 'thunk' that I figure is part of the frame giving way . . .) Yep, there's a Frog on the floor UNDER the couch. As I'm awkwardly holding the now cattywompus couch, she just sits there. "Well, come on out of there, goofy girl" . . . "Here kitty-kitty" . . . "Froggie, move your fat, fluffy ass" . . . SIGH . . . I give up . . . I prop the couch up and climb MY fat ass over the end table to pick her up. All this, and all I get is an indignant 'Mew' on her way to the food bowl.
It's now 10:30 and I'm wide awake. Hell's bells. (Which is what I'll be hearing in a few hours when the alarm goes off.) Foiled again.
Stay tuned for details on cat proofing the couch . . . that should be interesting . . .
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