There has been a lot of decision-making going on around here lately. Like what to do with 22 pounds of tomatoes that were sitting in my fridge (they got turned into sauce and frozen) or what to do for vacation this fall (still up in the air, though a trip to Alabaster Caverns State Park, a trip to Branson/Silver Dollar City, and a couple of smaller day trips are all in the running).
Decisions have also been made regarding the kittens. Remember the four kittens that were found under our house? They all have homes now. One of them went to my friend M's house, where her two boys and toddler girl are probably loving it to death. It got named Snuggles, because that particular kitty was indeed very, very snuggly.
Another kitten went to my mother-in-law's house. She didn't neeeeed another cat, but who does? Cats aren't something that you base on need. You simply base it on the ability to clean out another litter box and provide enough food and scratching materials. Its name is, tentatively, Loki.
Then there are the final two kittens. Oz had resigned himself, after the first day or two of having them in the house, to the fact that we'd probably wind up with another kitten. M1 and M2 cried every time the idea of giving them all away was brought up. The point of conflict was that M1 really really wanted one kitty, and Oz had fallen head over heels in love with another (odd, odd thing to see, let me assure you). So I told Oz he was going to have to have it out with his son about which kitty they were keeping...
to which Oz replied, "Let's just keep both!"
I looked at him like snakes were crawling out of his ears and seriously began to question his sanity. This is the man who had told me for about two years now that we have a 'revolving cat door' policy regarding more felines - if one comes in, another has to go out. And he was willing to let us keep TWO??
But when he called the kids in and handed them each a kitten and said, "Here... these are your special kitties," it was my job to shut up, remind him that he'll regret this at Christmastime when the kittens are six months old and there's a shiny tree standing in the corner of the living room that somehow can't manage to stay vertical for more than 20 minutes at a time, and move on.
So let me introduce the newest members of the family:
This is Vixen. Tempest (my only other girl cat who, ironically, is also a gray tabby) still hasn't decided whether to hate her or teach her how to be a proper matriarch. Vixen likes food and has HUGE kittypaws. This is the cat that Oz has fallen hard over, and even he says that her paws are lionesque. She is a sweet girl, though she's got an evil streak. Don't all cats?
She'll be a good cat, though. Really. Even if I will have fur wads all over my carpet from now till kingdom come.
This is Lucifer. He's evil. I now understand why cats are called CATs. CAT is an acronym for Claws And Teeth, and he fits that bill 100%. He is constantly chewing, climbing, and messing with everything. I have claw marks in my knee right now from when he decided he neeeeeded some tuna out of the salad I was fixing for supper. He's also a techno-cat. He likes to type IM messages... and send them..., turn the cordless phones on and off, chew phones/cords, and otherwise mess with technology. For those of you who understand the lolcat world, this is Basement Cat.
I seriously took about 12 photos of Lucifer while trying to get a good snapshot for this blog, and he looked equally batshit crazy in all of them. There's no helping this one. Even though his sister's back there trying to beat some sense into him.
The bathroom is also completed, having made every possible decision I could about this room, up to and including the paint color.
I'm going to shut up now and simply let the pictures tell the story. I couldn't be happier with how it turned out.
Hopefully all this means I'm done with the big decisions for a while.
Time to go finish making a lemon meringue pie.