Kitty Memories

Friday. Best day of the week. Made even better by a rather humorous and unexpected memory this morning about little Roland and his shenanigans. Now when I say 'little Roland' I of course mean Big Roland. He's not so small anymore but the name has stuck.

I was standing in the shower, waiting for my conditioner to sink in and do its magical work. I like to follow the recommended 2-3 minutes of conditioner application for optimal results, as I enjoy silky shiny hair. Much like a shampoo commercial, yeah that's my hair. So as I'm waiting I hear this crash. I peek out the shower curtain and here is Roland, on my bathroom counter, inspecting the recently knocked over flower candle holder and Pantene frizz reducing, silk enhancing hair goop (as I said, shampoo commercial hair). And this reminds me....hey...I remember when....

It was a day not unlike today. I was in the shower with my boyfriend enjoying the water while he had to wait in the cold air for his turn. We heard a crinkle and the soft thud of kitty feet hitting the floor in the bathroom and running off down the hall. Now, as anyone who knows Roland will attest, he never does that unless he's up to trouble. Actually, now that I think about it, when is he ever NOT up to trouble? Anyway, I peek out the shower curtain, and what is he enjoying in the hall? Nothing but the most delicious tampon he's ever laid eyes on! A new tampon (in wrapper). A Tampax super tampon to be specific. This tampon seems to be the  most exciting object he'd played with in days. The look on his face was one of pure satisfaction knowing that he was able to sneak my tampon away right under my very nose. Needless to say, I removed the tampon from his possession. After all, I'm pretty sure I needed that tampon more than him.

I had forgotten all about this until this morning. But looking back, I remember just how hilarious this is. Roland running down the hall with a tampon in his mouth! How unexpectedly, delightfully funny.

Life's never boring when you have a Bengal.

What goes down must come up.

It is reputed that Bengals have sensitive stomachs and Roland is certainly amongst those who do. Getting dry food he will actually be able to digest has been a struggle. Yesterday, however, was the Mt. St. Helens of pukes. He not only puked once, but twice - or so I thought. All in a short period of time, poor boy. Big ones too, like puddles. Not the fun kind you want to splash in either. But the kicker is the one I didn't see.

I woke up this morning a tad late, but that's not completely unusual. The bed and I have a love - love relationship which makes it hard to break up with in the morning. Once I could bear the heartache of leaving it's warm softness I showered, and then brushed my teeth. I like to brush my teeth sitting on the edge of my bed in the mornings, unlike a normal human being who does it in the bathroom. The question of me being normal, however, has never really been posed since I'm not, strictly speaking, normal. Anywho, I'm sitting there, brushing my teeth, and my eye happens to wander into the corner of my room beside the door. There, in that very corner, is puke. But not just a nice little puddle of puke, oh no. This puke is splattered up the wall and molding, into all its little crevices and hollows, into the very corner of the walls, and down onto the floor. And it's dry. And crunchy. It must have been there overnight and I just didn't see it when cleaning up the barf from yesterday. I really wish I'd taken a picture of this puke. I had to laugh, since in order for the puke to get there Roland would've had to have been sitting, facing into the middle of the corner. Why would he sit like that? And what made that the optimal place to puke? I suppose it will remian a mystery.

So I cleaned up this crunchy puke (which took some time, as I said it was right into all the cracks) and continued on with my morning ritual. Nothing as exciting as the brushing teeth on bed part though. And now, 3.5 hours later, I'm still thinking about it. And laughing.

Life's never boring when you have a Bengal.

The First of Many

Well hello there,

This will be, I'm sure, the first of many posts I write. I decided to begin this blog to write about my life, and the crazy shenanigans that my wonderful, off the wall, and sometimes rather aggravatingly cute Bengal cat Roland gets up to.

Roland and I came to know each other on a rather terrifying day (for him) back in May. I came to pick him up at the cattery and, much to his dismay, remove him from the only home he'd ever known. He cried and cried the whole 5 hour car ride home. That was when I first got a taste of Roland's skills as a vocalist. He was so tiny I could pick him up with one hand whenever he got into trouble. This, as I have come to think, was a rather wonderful thing. Roland is now 10 months old, and about 13lbs of pure muscly man cat. Long gone are the days of "bad kitty!" followed by a quick scoop up with one hand. A 13lb cat is not easy to lift with one hand, I can tell you that.

But Roland's skills as a vocalist are the very beginning of his talents. He loves to play with turkey feathers, climb his cat tree and cat shelves, shred toilet paper, break plates, create self inflicted kitty burritos with blankets, go wild and make funny noises when playing with the laser pointer, do running jump/spin attacks at unsuspecting ankles, and most recently, climb doors and sit on top of them. I have attached a picture for your viewing pleasure.

I know I will have some rather entertaining stories to tell in the future about the adventures of Casey and Roland. Life's never boring if you have a Bengal.