by Rondo, mischief and blogger
Can you believe it? I get to say my piece two weeks running. And so, here goes...
This week has brought another change to Mischief and Mayhem Central. Oh my! It has caused quite a kerfuffle, really and truly. But a good kerfuffle.
As you must know Grammy has been advised to be more careful on her feet. One of the adjustments is to no longer use tripping hazzards like the vacuum. So she hired cleaners to come in monthly to do a thorough clean. She can manage all except said vacuum, dusting the tops of book cases and scrubbing the tub. These things that require using a step ladder or kneeling are as unsafe for her as tripping.
And so, this past week she spent a lot of her knitting time thinking of ways around these limitations. Cleaners only come once a month and the place is usually knee deep (cat knees, that is) in discarded fur and dander despite sweeping floors with a broom. Add to that the expense, especially when Grammy isn't all that satisfied with the service and there had to be another solution.
Well, the thinking has paid off. She hauled out a long-handled scrubber for the tub and will give it a go again. Hopefully she can manage it. Then while doing a search on the computer she saw a couple of other possibilities. A long-handled Swiffer duster for the bookshelf tops - articulated, no less! That should do it.
And then, a SALE of an android to help her learn to balance... a rumba robot. What do you think of that? Eh? Teach her to dance the rumba and she should be able to recover when she trips. Yes, that's the ticket!
What's that, Sweetie? It's not rumba? Well, what is it then?...a Say that again? ...long pause.... OH!
Sorry folks, It's not a rumba dancer. It's a Roomba. Actually, a Roomba Robot. Well, it sounded like Rumba to me. Hmph!
This new dancing partner was on sale so Grammy decide, why not? Let's give it a try. Well, it arrived the next day... yes, the very next day. I was thinking something must be wrong with it if the store wanted rid of it so quickly but Grammy says they are very efficient at delivering purchases.. a consequence of COVID restrictions and a competitive market.
So, back to the story. Grammy set up Roameo Roomba, charged the battery for 3 hours and then they started dancing. Well, that's what it seemed like. He lead and Grammy followed him around watching and dodging his every move.
Alright, she didn't follow him around she just sent him on his way. For an hour and a half he rumbled around bumping into walls and furniture as he learned the layout of the rooms. AND a boot mat got the treatment 6 times and the kitchen 5. They must have been particularly filthy! Shame on you, Grammy! When he was done Roamin' danced a two-step (actually two wheel) back to his docking station to recharge.
Boy, oh boy! Was he dusty and filled with debris! Grammy gave him a good clean, emptied his bin and left him to rest. Second trip a few days later was shorter and there was less bumping and banging into walls. His little computer brain is remembering where to stop and change direction. What a smart wee fellow.
Bottom line? ... The cost of three 'professional' cleaning visits and this wee fellow will have more than paid for himself. And if Grammy wants Mr Roomba to be run every day that's not a problem either... just push the button twice and off he goes. BONUS!
P.S. He's noisy... singing as he dances. We'll let you know what we think about him once we are not so scared of him. Grammy doctored the photo below. So far Sweetie is the only one who's gotten that close to him.
Comments are welcomed. We especially love the funny ones.
by Rondo, the singing poet and mischief maker
Not much to say this week. Grammy has been busy with appointments and knitting. That leaves us free to sleep, and eat and nap and eat and sleep some more. Unfortunately all that sleeping and napping has left us bereft of a topic.
So, Let's introduce you to a few special friends - you know - the significant others. Kind of appropriate since yesterday was St Valentine's Day, don't you think?
Well, we'll start with the girls, then Etude and end with me. How's that for being gentlemanly? Pretty good, I'd say!
If you've read any of our past blogs I'm sure you know Mousie's love is Little Boy Cat. She calls him Cheffy or Cheffy dearest. We call him LBC or anything he wants if he'll cook for us. Oh yes, He's a chef extraordinaire. Unfortunately, he's passed on but our wee Gentle Mousie still dreams about him. We hear her deep sighs in the night. She will love him to the end of time.
Sweetie has a beau named Monty. He's not on Facebook too often and she misses him. Fortunately another friend, Frodo, steps in and is like a big brother if you know what I mean. Just a really good friend. He brought her fresh frozen shrimp for Valentine's day so she wouldn't feel left out. And we helped her eat the shrimpies. *giggles* Glad they were frozen. Those little footsies would have tickled on the way down our throats otherwise. Thank you, Frodo... for that and for escorting my special someone to visit today.
Etude has had a girl for ages. If you remember, I wrote a poem about them a while ago. You can check it out here. RAINA is her name but he calls her his sweet butterfly or hummingbird... whichever fits the occasion. She's a wild thing but has an amazing voice and even more amazing cooking skills. Southern Comfort Picnic Baskets are her specialty and they are sent regularly to supplement our meager diets from Grammy. Good choice, brother. Keep those Picnic Baskets coming.
Sorry, we don't have a link to share RAINA's lovely voice and she doesn't have her own page but, she loves trips in balloons. Etude arranged two heart-shaped balloons to take them (and us) up for a ride yesterday. What a time we had. Young love. Isn't it grand?
Last on the list is my sweet Rosy Posy. She's an island girl... Virgin Islands, that is. She calls me Sweet Cheeks. Isn't that just so sweet?
*Etude shouts "Saccharine! as in sickly sweet."* Oh stop that Etude. You're just as mushy with RAINA, you old dog, you! *Etude blushes* I am not a dog! Then why are you blushing? Ohhh, the mushy part. *giggles*
Back to Rosy. Like RAINA, she's a wild thing... but hey, she loves me. That's all that matters. And a little wildness is good. It keeps me on my toes. She's always up for an adventure and she adores my singing. What more could a debonair young fellow ask!
So, that's all for today. Enjoy the photos.
We hope you, dear friends, have had a great weekend. Hugs.
We enjoy your comments, so keep them coming.
by Mousie, 'giggling all the way' blogger
Good morning, friends. I'm having a great giggle today even though the topic at hand isn't really funny. But my imagination has run wild with this.
Firstly, you all know that Etude has suffered from PTSD since Grammy's accident last August. As we've mentioned before, he clings to his brother or Grammy like Velcro. AND despite the fact the ol' girl rubs topical Gabapentin to the inside of his ear flap to calm him. Still, he chews the fur off his legs when Grammy isn't watching. He looks pretty goofy from behind with his pink 'udder' swaying side to side. It is whitening as fur regrows but still looks ridiculous. *stops typing to roll on the floor laughing* Add to that his bare spindly legs and it is totally hilarious. *stops to giggle again*
SO, like the helpful kitties we are, we decided maybe a onesie would be the answer. Great idea, don't you think? So, we've passed the task to Grammy to find a onesie for a sixteen pounder with long sleeves and legs. Oops, I mean, a onesie with long sleeves and legs for a sixteen pounder.
Well, she went searching and found the greatest onsies. - pink flowers for a pink tummied boy, or covered in llamas or bunnies, or maybe even bumble bees or dragon flies. Oh, no, those are too much. Go for the flowers, Grammy!
Then, the image *giggles uncontrollably* of Grammy trying to dress him in it was too much. Can you see it? Grammy wrestling with a slippery-furred dude with claws like knives and razor sharp teeth? *suddenly sobers up* but then I thought, what if that makes his PTSD even worse? Can't take a chance. KITTEN WHISKERS
Oh, too bad! Thought we had a solution. I guess Grammy and Rondo will just have to put up with velcro-cat clinging to them.
Well, that's it for now, folks.
by Etude, mischief and cuddlecat
Tomorrow may be groundhog day but let me tell you this. We have a more pressing matter than whether the groundhog predicts another 6 weeks of winter or not. Much more pressing. What could be more pressing than that you say? Well, let me tell you.
We have a bed hog in our abode. Yes, someone of the people persuasion, name withheld to protect the guilty, who takes over our sleeping spaces... and at the most inopportune times. And she's sneaky.
Lately, as you all know, she's had a physiotherapist coming in to loosen up the ligaments, tendons and muscles in her shoulder. AND they have taken over our afternoon napping space to do the physio. The physiotherapist has a 'bed' she can bring for this unnamed person to stretch out on but does she? NO!
You ask why? Well, we've asked that too and here's the answer. This bed hog says there is no need to drag and lug and haul this massive thing from her car up the elevator and down the lonnnnnng hall when there is a perfectly good automatic bed to stretch out on... especially when it can be raised and lowered to suit the needs of the physio. And, the exercise must be good for her too, don't you think? Keep her in shape for the therapeutic manipulation?
Can you believe it? No, I agree. It is so selfish of the bed hog person because that means we, sweet loveable and sleep deprived kitties get turfed to the floor. Yes, turfed! Unceremoniously, I might add. And for a full 45 minutes each time she visits.
Do you see how that cuts into our nap time... Major sleep deprivation!
Not only that, she (the bed hog) insists on taking it over every night for 7 - 8 hours. No taking turns, no giving us a break and sleeping on the sofa for a night. No consideration whatsoever.
What's that you're saying, bed hog? No! 16 hours a day of uninterrupted bed time isn't sufficient for our needs. Our internal clock demands 22 hours of sleep, 1 hour of pets and cuddles and 75 minutes for meals. That is more hours than those in a day and so we are 15 minutes sleep deprived to begin with. To be bed deprived too is unconscionable abuse.
Here she comes with another excuse...
Repeat that Grammy? Oops. Ignore that last sentence. Repeat that bed hog?
When the physio is working on your shoulder we hop on the bed and interrupt? Well, of course we do. Someone has to tell her that she's interfering with our well-being. That she's abusing our hospitality. That we are sleep deprived and *whispers so bed hog cannot hear* and starving! Falling down faint starving!
I tell you. Those two... the physiotherapist and the bed hog are cut from the same cloth... both unmerciful abusers of 3 generous, lovable and considerate cow kitties. No, not Mousie. Scamp that she is... she makes a headlong dash to the livingroom to take over the sofa for herself. Says it's the only time she gets uninterrupted and undisturbed by us sleep. The little traitor.
Five Cats, Five Personalities, One Goal - Mischief & Mayhem.