Fwends ?

Hrimnir has been happy lately. After having had to accept that the elder Brothers do not play, or rather reluctantly so and -in the case of Zorro- rather prickly, he had to settle for Bean Sidhe as a playmate. But having a playmate who is 3 times bigger than you are, and weighs 4 times more than you do, is not exactly the most interesting of options even for an enterprising and intrepid kitten. Often already have we, simian denizens of the House of Chaos, been regaled by the sight of 1 little kitty frontally assaulting 1 big kitty and getting crushed in response.
One thing you have to admit where it concerns Hrimnir and that is that the tyke has chutzpah by the tons.

Things have changed though. Two kittens have invaded the House of Chaos lately, staying longer and longer every day (no doubt worrying their owners to no end but how can we shut them out without shutting our own cats out ?). And they have taken their time getting used to the feline denizens here, with a lot of hissing and snarling during the first weeks, but now they seem to have settled in, apparently having been accepted by the others, and are slowly thawing to Hrimnir’s frantic overtures for play. Oh yes, in the beginning they snubbed him: he was left forlorn and unhappy, mrewing and chirruping for all he was worth, whilst the tiny twain would bunker and doze in splendid rebuff. His friendly invitations for play were hissed at, snarled at, swiped at. He did not understand why two fellow kitties would not want to play with him. And so he was forced to turn again towards a grinning Bean Sidhe, who lay eagerly awaiting his small playmate with open paws.

But now… now Franky and Frankette are willing. Even seeking Hrimmikins out for a bout or tussle. They are most happy to oblige and slowly and surely Hrimnir is introducing them to the many joys of toys that litter the House of Chaos. Strangely enough the Frank Twain did not know toys. They were afraid of the feathers-on-a-string-on-a-stick, which would touch them unexpectedly. They ran away from the balls with feathers or tinkle bells, who would mercilessly roll after them. They feared the faux rattlesnake, which would drop on their unsuspecting little forms when they were sleeping in the Couch of Chaos.

Not anymore. Oh-ho ! With a vengeance they hunt the stringed feathers, chase the balls, and tap away at the rattlesnake’s rattling tail with all the joy and merriment of 2 kittens happily and fully engaged in the serious business of play. They used to chase each other exclusively, but now -to Hrimnir’s eternal delight- they were chasing him. He is jumped at, ran over, tickled, scratched, tagged and bowled over. Two lovely playmates are now making his life joyous bliss and after the play sessions you can find all three of them happily snoring together in the Couch of Chaos, back to back, tail over tail. Hrimnir has fwends now.

Not so Bean Sidhe. The Bannster is left puzzled at the side. He wants to play with Hrimnir. He does not want to play with two strange upstarts that look too frightfully close like Zorro. (Indeed, Zorro and the Frank Twain are tuxedo’s and their spots look strangely similar. They’re not his get though. Zorro siring these two would have been a miracle of Biblical proportions ever since that ahem-ectomy almost 10 years ago…) Bannikins likes to win the games with the ease of a bull-dozer facing a motorbike. He does not like facing the chance that he might lose from three kitties ganging up on him together. And besides, having to service 3 kittens would take far too much energy, which is a precious commodity that he does not have in ample supply, he thinks.

Yet there is nothing he can do about the matter. Hrimnir is fully enamored by the Frank Twain and knows no longer his previous playmate. Should Bean Sidhe sigh in contentment that he is being left alone in perfect indolence at last ? Or should he mourn the missed chance of losing some of his excess weight by executing a pleasant pass-time ? He does seem to be of two minds about this new situation. But at least, unlike Zorro when confronted with a new situation he doesn’t like, he doesn’t take it out on the wee ones. Franky and Frankette can rest assured that their cat-naps will remain undisturbed by the Bannster. Unlike Zorro, who is fond of the sneak-attack and the swipe-by, Bannikins is wont to let sleeping kitties be.

I did catch Zorro doing a swipe-by against my fur hat yesterday. Apparently he thought it was a kitty dozing on that pile of books. His subsequent look of disappointment and his instant realization of the loss of dignity this caused was … marvellous.

Picture below: “Cant we be fwends ? … Plees ? … ‘Ello ? … Ooh-hooh ? … Hay dere ?! …”

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Lots of furry friends are gathering this festive weekend on the Friday Ark and at the Carnival of the Cats. Enjoy the parties !!!

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Wordless Wednesday

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Tummy Tuesday

First of all the House of Chaos and all of its feline and simian denizens wish to wish you all a Merry Christmas and good feasting !

Next: the tummy. This time Franky does the honours. And ain’t he the happy kitty ?

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No doubt there are other blissful kittie’s tummies to be discovered on LisaViolet’s Dairy.

A clean lure

Recently a new laundry drier has been purchased and installed in the House of Chaos and The Mistress has happily been washing the dirty clothes and bedsheets. But washing them means one has to fold them up afterwards, and because there is a distinct lack of time in the Mistress’ schedule, ever since she resumed work on a part-time basis, said clean laundry has been piling up in the baskets and languishing in the Kitchen of Chaos.
Which attracted feline attention of course.

Bean Sidhe is the King of Clean Laundry. Whenever even the smallest pile of clean clothes can be spotted he’s on it. Literally. Never have I seen clean laundry undisturbed and always have I been forced to pat the clothes clean before folding them. Because kitty paws tend to accumulate dirt where-ever they venture, and Bean Sidhe’s even more so than normal. I have stated before that he is a regular filth-magnet, and doubtless you can now imagine the state of the clean laundry when the Bannster has had the chance to lounge on top of it.

Not content with soiling the top layer of clothes, no not this kitty, he has to “make his bed” repeatedly by turning and tossing the contents of the basket until it has been fuddled to his heart’s desire. With said filthy paws. Would it surprise you when I say that even though the pile of clothes may be 1,5 meters high, I would still find dirt on the bottom of the basket ? He’s a thorough one, Bannikins is.

The other feline denizens of the House of Chaos may want to sneak a quicky-nap whenever the Bannster isn’t hogging the pile but when several baskets are awaiting my tender attention they have a choice. Thus it is not uncommon to find Bean Sidhe proudly residing on top of one laundry basket, Hrimnir dozing with his usual über-cute charisma in another, and Loup-Garou splashed out over a third. The only cat not really interested in laundry naps is Zorro, but that is because he likes to have a nice squirmy human underneath -or rather around- his august self when sleeping. Laundry simply doesn’t… live. Zorro goes for power-naps. The power that allows a 4-kilo feline to force an 100-kilos simian to lie absolutely still lest he loses his toes. (Or worse. And Grumpy Man really really REALLY does NOT want to find out “worse”.)

But what makes clean laundry so irresistible to those of the feline kind ? I mean, it’s not as if the clean laundry still has our personal smells attached to it. Washing is supposed to make those smells go away, isn’t it ? And cats are supposed to like our dirty laundry because of our smell in it. I really don’t think they are that fond of the scent of Marseillean Soap, or whatever chemical concoction the dear laboratory workers of the soap factories have thrown together for our convenience and well-feeling. Chemicals are supposed to turn a cat off. Their sensitive little nosies are supposed to be so incredibly attuned to the cat’s well-being that they instantly scream “scatter” at the faintest chemical whiff. But that’s not what happens with the feline denizens of the House of Chaos !

They like soap. They like it so much they try to lick it of my wet legs when I get out of the shower. I strongly suspect that they would be lining up for a dollop of Marseillean Soap if they ever make the connection between that weird white plastic bottle and the machine that belches out the clean laundry that smells like it. So far they have restricted their furry selves to hopping onto the clean laundry and firmly planting themselves in it. They genuinely like the soft texture of the textiles, that’s for sure. And they would have thanked me for using the fabric softener if they knew what it was for. The only evidence for this is clear whenever I find one of my feline babies luxuriating in the laundry: rolling and squeezing and dabbing and whathaveyounot, before falling asleep with the most beatific expression on their furry little faces I’ve ever had the pleasure to observe.

Should I deprive them of this pleasure ? Is my quest for clean clothes so important as to take away from my furry babies this most sensuous of experiences ? I could merely hamper it… by lying covers of plastic bags on top of the laundry baskets. Cats like stuff that crackles when they move over it. The bags just make their experience more pleasant, and add the intellectual challenge of trying to find out how to remove the bag and install themselves on the good stuff below.
But sometimes they’re just too lazy. And that is when I triumph.

Only to find a cat in the basket where I was laying the folded clothes in.
BAN-BAN !!!!!

Picture below: “See ? mm-mm I’m mm-mm cleanin’ mm-mm m’slf mm-mm k?”

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There’s probably more comfortable environs on the Friday Ark, why not check it out ?

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Wordless Wednesday

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Tummy Tuesday

Hrimnir.

We’re never getting enough of that little jokester, that clown, that jack-in-the-box who continues to delight us with his ever-radiant charm. Behold ! The quiet grace with which he grooms his pelt, the understated elegance, kitty charisma being radiated in the mega-watt range…

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Ah, he was just itchy-scratchy ? K. Happens.

Of course, there’s lovely kitties to be admired over at LisaViolet’s Dairy too !

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