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Ginger, the Cleptocat attacks again

Yeah, I know, I know, I should have known she’d do that. I know that. But I was hoping she wouldn’t…

So I had an allergic reaction and my lips blew up to the size of a house. Okay, maybe not that much, but they were (and still are a little) huge! Okay, maybe not huge, but bigger than normal. The first day it seemed like a lip procedure done wrong. You know when people inject fat (or whatever it is that they do inject) and their lips get huge and they look like three times bigger than they should be? Yeah, not that bad, but close. To be honest my boss didn’t even notice it. She said it looked like my lipstick was not right and it was a little smeared on the edges. I’m still trying to decide what’s worst, for people to think I have something contagious or for them to doubt my ability to properly apply lip gloss.

Anyway, my lips needed some sort of lip balm to keep them moisture. My biggest problem was that I don’t really buy those things because I never remember to put them on. Sure, it’s a little complicated during winter months, but I never had a big problem with my lips, so I never bothered about them. So when this happened, I had to find a lip balm. By sheer luck I had one. A Burt’s Bees one, which does sting a lot when you apply (another reason why I don’t like to apply them).

By now you are wondering, “What does the cat have to do with any of that?” And I assure you, this is needed background information. Of course I could have just said, “I needed a lip balm and only had one,” but what’s the fun on summarizing it like that?

Anyway, so I apply the Burt’s Bees thing and put it next to my bed, on my nightstand, so I could easily reach for it in the morning (or in the middle of the night, if necessary) to reapply the thing. Big mistake. Huge mistake, actually.

Ginger, as you already know, thinks that anything that is small enough to be carried around the house by her is a toy. The fact that she took the lip balm shouldn’t surprise me. However, the fact that it’s been 3 days and I have yet to find the thing does surprise me. I’m curious to know where she hid it.

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This is not my cat (or even my lip balm) but you get the idea.

But the worst part was her poker face when I inquired her about the lip balm in the morning. She didn’t even get up, just stared at me from her spot on the covers as if I was the crazy one. I swear I’m not. I know I had a lip balm. And one day I will find it.

In the mean time I ended up having to buy a new lip balm. Okay, Ginger, you win this time. But mark my words: I will find my Burt’s Bees. Yes, I will!

 

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Cat Café

Have you heard of cat cafés? What’s your first reaction to it? Something like this?

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Or maybe this?

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But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about cafés where you can go and watch and/or interact with cats. Apparently cat cafés are a thing now. I couldn’t find any in the US, though.

But the big news is, if you live in London (and like cats, of course) you’ll get a chance to go to one! It’s the Lady Dinah’s Cat Emporium. Lauren Pears is the responsible for this project and plan on opening LDCE by May 2013.

If you want to know more, you can read this article about Cafe Neko (‘neko’ means ‘cat’ in Japanese) in Austria. Or this one from The Independent talking about the one in London. Or this one about a cat café in Tokyo.

So what do you think? Would you go to one?

 

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Ginger, the Cleptocat

I have a cleptocat. Seriously, this is a first for me. I’ve had cats stealing the pens I was using or something before, but never one using its mouth to carry things to another room. Well, that’s what Ginger does. She grabs whatever she thinks is a good toy for her and carries it to her bedroom. The good thing is, her bedroom is the one that used to be mine. Well, I still sleep in there, but let’s face it, it’s her bedroom now. And she let’s me know by meowing at me when I go in there and turn the lights on when she’s asleep. Also, her toys are usually on top of the bed (on my side of the bed, mind you) or scattered around the bed on the floor.

Here are the toys she collected so far:

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The only ones that were hers were the cat toy ball with feathers (at least it had feathers when I got it for her) and the paper ball. She loves to throw both of them up in the air and chase them around the house. It’s adorable.

The pen and the tag she got from my bedside table (I was using that tag as a bookmark). The red leaf is from a potpourri I have on my coffee table in the living room. The wine stoppers (blue and green) she got from the kitchen sink. Yes, she did carry every single one of them to the bed. Sometimes she puts those things on top of where my toes are in the middle of the night. I think she does it on purpose because she knows I’m going to move around and the noise of them falling on the hardwood floor will wake me up. That’s what she wants, because then I’ll get up to see what it is and she can meow and try to take me to the kitchen to give her tuna for breakfast.

Oh, and here’s a picture of her stealing her toy back because she didn’t like that I was taking pictures to use as evidence of her crimes.

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Have you ever had a cat (or any other pet) stealing your things like this?

 

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Noisy toys in the middle of the night

Ginger is feeling completely at home by now. Did I tell you about her favorite toy? By the way, whoever said “buy your cat a toy that makes noise so you’ll know when he’s playing with it” does not have a cat. Either that or he locks his cat out of the house at night.

Well, Ginger has a few toys that make noise. I have to admit when I bought them I had that advice in mind and really thought it would be a good idea. How cute would it be to be doing something and all of a sudden hear her playing with her toy? Adorable right? I could see myself doing dishes or working on something on my computer and hearing her playing. Adorable.

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It has feathers. And a bell inside. And she throws it in the air to play with it. Adorable.

Now imagine that the thing you’re doing is sleeping, and that it’s anywhere between 3 and 5 in the morning. How cute does it sound now? Still cute?

Then imagine that she is grabbing the toy with her paw or with mouth and throwing it up in the air, only to hit hardwood floor. Still cute?

Now imagine she’s doing that under your bed, right under where your head is resting on a pillow, making the toy hit the metal part under your bed before hitting the hardwood floor.

And do you know what’s more frustrating? Every single night when I wake up to try to fetch the toy for her and hide it, I promise myself I’ll remember to hide it the next night before going to bed. But do I do that? No, of course not.

Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.

 

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Of name changes and refrigerators.

I woke up this morning and I just knew her name was Ginger. I tried to name her Phoebe yesterday, but who was I kidding, I can’t name her, she names herself. And that’s how I woke up thinking “Ginger. Ginger is her name.”

Maybe she was whispering that in my ear during the night. Who knows? I just know that that’s her name, just like I know that she picked me when I went there to adopt a cat. She adopt me, and not the other way around.

So after I woke up this morning I went looking for my mini purring machine. She saw me passing in front of the kitchen and gave me a meow. She was on top of the fridge, hiding behind the cereal boxes.

I went on with my morning routine, got some coffee, took a shower, got dressed, etc. When I was brushing my teeth I heard a noise. “Great. Did she drop my cereal box behind the fridge?” Just imagine the mess. Plus, if it was one of the opened boxes, I’d have cereal under the fridge and that would be a mess I didn’t want to clean up. But no, all the cereal boxes were still there. Weird.

It only took me a few seconds.

I started pulling the fridge away from the wall, yelling her name (the right one, mind you) and nothing! Not even a tiny meow. When I pulled enough I looked and there she was, not moving. I know the poor thing was scared to death, but couldn’t she at least let me know she was alive?

When she finally summoned the courage to jump out of there I hugged her tight and didn’t want to let her go. Then I pushed the fridge against the wall as best as I could.

She hasn’t been there since then. We’ll see.

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Look at me. Do I look like anything other than Ginger? Of course not.

 

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E as in ‘Ello there, mate!

Everyone, meet Phoebe!

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Phoebe. That’s P as in Phoebe, H as in hoebe, O as in oebe, E as in ebe, B as in bebe, and E as in… ‘ello there, mate!

She’s the most adorable little thing ever! She’s been walking around the house, making sure everything meets her expectations, I guess. But the place she chose to spend her time was under the couch. Sure, because who doesn’t like to take a nap on a hard, cold floor during winter?

Anywho, she’s adorable! Did I say that already? She is! She lets me grab her even when she doesn’t want me to, and she doesn’t even try to jump from my arms all that much. And when I talk to her she comes from under the couch for some snuggles. And she purrs! A lot. And they are loud. Love it!

P.S.: If you don’t get the title, click here.

P.P.S.: You can also click on the link if you get it but want to relive the moment. Seriously. Go on. Don’t be shy.

P.P.P.S.: Name change: Phoebe is now Ginger. I don’t really know why, but I woke up and somehow I knew her name was Ginger. I guess most of this post won’t really work now… Oh well.

 

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Reading, cooking and playing pranks, that’s what vacations are all about.

Right now I’m enjoying some vacation time, and that means visiting my home country, my family, my friends, and my cats. My days are filled with reading some new stories and re-reading old ones, cooking with mom a few of my favorite dishes, and obeying my cats wishes of when and for how long to pet them.

But that’s another story. Let’s go back to cooking. The other day we were able to verify my grandma’s been senile for a very long time. We were using a handwritten recipe book my grandma wrote for me a few years ago. It’s full of dead people’s recipes. Well, my grandma wouldn’t say it like that, but let’s face it, most of our ancestors are no longer breathing.

Anyway, although I love my grandma’s effort in putting all the recipes together for me, I do have to question her at times. I think she forgets I’m not really that used to being in the kitchen and am not sure how to caramelize a pan with no ingredients listed or steps to follow (I do know now and I have to say it’s easier than it sounds).

But some of her recipes are also missing a few basic steps, probably because they were too obvious for her. She doesn’t tell you to bake things, for instance. How long and at what temperature to bake something? Oh, please, of course she doesn’t tell you that! How dare you ask!

Now, the best part was to throw away a whole batch of cream because it was not thickening, just to realize soon afterwards that we were supposed to add the egg yolks before, not after cooking the cream as specified in my grandma’s recipe.

Another important lesson I learned that day: do not try to be funny when your mother asks you if you know how to do something. She starts getting upset, you can’t stop laughing, then you try to make another joke and end up laughing and crying uncontrollably in front of the freezer.

Good times. Good times indeed.

Do you think that’s why she decided to wake me up from a nap using a spray bottle? Nah, of course not. She wouldn’t be seeking revenge, right? Right?

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