Tag Archives: Pickles

Where’s Pickles?

Got up this morning late for work. Hillary is chasing me around the kitchen … “mew, mew, mew, mew

“OK, ok. Do you want cookies? Yes? Where’s Pickles?” No Pickles. I shake the bag of cookies. No Pickles. Shouting and shaking the cookies, “Pickles … cookies! Pickles?” Still no Pickles.

Now I am getting worried. Each of the cats has been locked in a closet and forgotten at least once. They run in when you aren’t looking and hours later (when I go hunting) I find them. 

Pantry? No Pickles.

Laundry room? No Pickles.

Under-stairway closet? No Pickles.

Bedroom closets? No Pickles.

Has Number 2 son left for class? Walk out the the back door through the laundry room. His car is gone. Did Pickles get out? (He is an indoor cat only). I yell into the back yard, “PICKLES.” 

NO PICKLES

Now I am really worried. I walk back inside. Back through the laundry room. “Pickles???????”

Open the door into the kitchen. Pickles is looking up at me … dazed and confused. “Where were you? Cookies?” “M’yawow” I take that to mean yes. So they get their cookies.

Mrs yells something at me from the bedroom. She had spent the night dozing in the third zero-gravity chair she has in the bedroom (sometimes she sleeps better in her chair). After I had been shouting COOKIES for a while she noticed something stirring under the covers. Pickles finally emerged groggily from a deep sleep.

Then I remembered. Pickles had jumped up on the bed in the middle of the night, damp from playing in the shower. We run the AC cold and he was cold. He crawled down under the covers next to me and passed out. I had forgotten about him. 

 
 

The view from my lap

Foreground to background: Patches, Hillary, Pickles

… minutes later

Foreground to background: Pickles, Hillary

Note the toy mouse in front. It is a poor substitute for the real mouse that Pickles caught hiding under the refrigerator earlier this week. With the colder weather it must have snuck in to get warm. Hillary and Pickles doubled-teamed that poor mouse until it died most likely of cardiac arrest. Sometime later Pickles and Hillary presented their lifeless treasure to the Mrs. as she sat on the potty. They were soooo proud of themselves!

I am a cat condo

First day back to work. Third night home after being gone for two weeks.

The minute I get home from work and sit down Hillary wants to jump up on my lap to smurgle.

Then after dinner Hillary, Pickles, and Patches take turns jumping up on me. Thigh, lap, chest, shoulder. One-, two-, three-at-time. I am a cat condo, a cat toy.

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Fortunately, my need to luv on them is as strong as their need to be luv’d on by me.

Nap Time

Photos can’t do this justice. I tried to take some, but from my vantage point the cats are just furry blobs.

I am sitting on the recliner sofa with Patches asleep on my right thigh.
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Ahead of me Pickles is asleep on the top of the cat condo.

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To my right Mrs is dozing on her half of the reclining sofa with Hillary snuggled down on the space between her knees and feet.

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Life is good.