Anyone who knows me, knows how much I love my 'kids'. Pooka and Cro..i have been such a joy to have, I can't believe it's been six years they're a part of my family. Pooka is the macho-yet-mamma's-boy cat, and Cro..i is just a little-lump-of-love since day one. And then there's Lola...the 10-month pain-in-the-arse-puggle-pup who is so cute you just gotta love her. And they each have their own personalities which are so distinct...I could tell you endless stories until you beg me to stop.

And if you have been following my blog on blogger (which granted I hadn't updated in forever) or read some of my blogs here, you'll know that Pooka and Cro..i love to give the gifts of love that only devouted house kittens could give. You know it.....a mouse-gift. It seems like a lot of time has passed since a field mouse has unfortunatly found its way in to our home, but tonight Pooka and Cro..i showed they've still got what it takes. A lot of people also seem skeptical when we tell them how Pooka and Lola really are best friends. I mean, he lets her chew on his ears, and they play in the back yard together. Well, tonight he solidified it in an amazing act, and I wish I had a camera near by to capture it.

This morning Lola was a bit under the weather, having up-chucked some phlegm and having a case of the snizzles. We're blessed to have a dog with allergies....and Ida had kept a close eye on her during the day to make sure she (Lola) wasn't getting any sicker...which she wasn't. By the time I got home from work, Lola was a bundle of energy and her playful self. Per our nightly ritual...we were all hanging out in the family room watching Grey's Anatonmy, and Lola was curled at Ida's feet snoring not so softly...Pooka overhead dosing as well on the back of the couch. As we watched tv, Cro..i was making a commotion scratching Lola's wee papers (which were clean) and I kept telling her to knock it off. Ahhhhh, how my motherly instincts were not kicking in...but perhaps that had something to do with watching 'McDreamy' and 'McSteamy'.
Pooka eventually hopped off the back of the couch, and then there was no distracting noises of scuffles or papers or anything. Ida and Lola's snores filled the background instead. A little more time passes, and who come strolling around the side of the couch, looking like a little kid wanting to surprise a loved one but my boy Pooka. He looks at my mother, then glances at me with a look on his face like "ssshhhh, don't spoil my surprise." Then he proceeds to take a few steps past us, towards Lola...heading SPECIFICALLY towards Lola, with a clump of gray dust on his chin. I was laughing at his expression, and about to tell my mother to get the clump of dust off his mouth when I noticed that this clump of dust had little ears, and little legs, and a body and head. POOKA CAUGHT A MOUSE AN WAS BRINGING IT TO LOLA!!!

When he realized he was busted for being so darn cute...he high-tailed it back around the couch, and him and his sister began to play with the mouse. A mouse which was not dead! Well, call me cruel...but I wasn't coming between my little mc-kittens and their kill (not that I wanted them to kill the mouse either.) But they were only doing their job. IS this mouse still alive? I dunno, I've come upstairs to report to all of you how cute Pooka (and Cro..i.....and Lola) is. Because once mom and I were gushing over Pooka's gift for Lola, Lola woke up and was hanging over the back of the couch, wanting her gift.

But I also can't help but wonder, as Thanksgiving is almost upon us:
(A) Did Pooka and Cro..i intend to give Lola the mouse as a gift, to make her feel better after feeling icky this morning?
(B) Did Pooka intend to try and scare Lola with a mouse gift as little boys are known to do to little girls?
(C) Did Pooka and Cro..i intend for the mouse to be their Thanksgiving dinner, and was bringing it to us to prepare for them?

Pooka & Lola truly partners in crime!

Once upon a time, there were these two adorable little kittens. They were so loving, and jovial, and not at all cold-blooded killers of things such as mice, or fish, or anything that had blood runnng through their veins.These cute, cuddly kittens used to stalk dust, play with their kitty toys, and eat goodies galore. Just for the sake of it, we'll call these cute, sweet, NICE kitties Pooka and Cro`i. (What a coincodince, huh?)
Well, over the years these two NICE house kitties, Pooka and Cro`i shared with their family, they grew in to unique furballs of love. Cro`i would oogle Derek Jeter whenever he was on the tv...and Pooka became such a mamma's boy. If a pet fish was brought in to the house they never thought to try and HURT the fishy. In fact once Pooka stuck his paw in the water and got skeeved out. But as they grew, it was clear that they wondered what was outside the warm house they cohabitated in. To keep them safe, and give them a sense of adventure these sweet, NICE kitties were allowed to venture in to play in the garage...instead of being allowed in to the open air of the yard.
AND that's where the trouble started. These two kitties who just so happen to have the name Pooka and Cro`i began to change. From time to time, especially in bad weather (winter) they'd find these little furry poachers, who skittered around...looking very much like their toy mice. The kitties morphed themselves in to sleek, swift, fierce hunters. Proud to show off their kill, even though their family (more importantly their mother-who we'll call Rose) would be appalled. But the family understood the nature of cats, and even when these kitties deposited a mutilated mouse in her bed, on Egyptian cotten sheets.
But as if this tale was not getting gruesome enough, the tale gets even darker. A puppy was brough in to this little family...and soon won over the hearts of all who lived under the roof...even the kittens who now had a dark side. And although the puppy, who just to keep consistant, we'll call her Lola was being house broken...and allowed to go outside...the cats were not. And the cats didn't understand why. So over the course of a few months...the cats known as Pooka was allowed to play in the back yard...because (a) he was Lola's best friend and they played together...and (b) because he would try and cry all night to get out if he didn't have his way.
The other day when the family came home...they spooted Pooka outside, looking like he was going to make a mad dash out of the yard. Pooka's mother had a panic and went running towards him. But Pooka was not trying to escape. And he gave his mother a dirty look, as his intended victim...a little finch flew off. Pooka's muscles slowly unbunched and he went in the house. The family laughed it off, glad that the little bird lived to see another day. Estatic to know their darling Pooka's paws were unbloodied.
But oh no, Pooka would not be thwarted. Pooka's need for a hunt was overwhelming. Many times since July...he was foiled when he'd go to innocently 'visit' the new gold fish named Jimmy Buffett. At night he slept so soundly...his mother thought he was a little furry saint. But that was when he was plotting it all out. He waited until no one susspected anything...would never suspect his accomplise.
Pooka mother and grandmother had been out running errands and returned home wondering what they would have for dinner. It was then that they heard Pooka's aunt yelling 'Let me wash your mouth...let me wash your mouth' for some odd reason. When they entered the home...there was Lola...having her face scrubbed clean. The mother and grandmother innocently asked what was going on- and here's where our tale ends in a murder most fowl (intentional mis-spelling.)
Pooka got to go on his hunting expaditon. He hunted in his own back yard...stalking a BIG black bird. He solicited his sister Lola's assistance in the hiding of the body...so no one would be the wiser. However Lola could not resist...so proud to be part of a secret Pooka entrusted her with. Pooka chosing Lola over Cro`i. Lola then brough her trophy in to the house and as she watched tv began to gnaw and chew on her black bird quietly. Due to her own oblivion, and not answering her aunt's calls for her...did she ignite suspission and had Aunt Ida come looking for her. And THAT'S when Ida discovered the horrid truth! Pooka and Lola are now murderers and partners in crime. Pooka did the hunting, and Lola the stashing. And our sweet little kitty will never be the same again.
So those of you who own pets. Wether they be cats or dogs or some of each. Don't put anything past them. Because you never know when your sweet and innocent furball will cross over to the dark side.

Pooka strikes again!

If anyone knows me, they know that I don't sleep alone. No...I'm not blessed to be sharing my bed with someone who will spoon with me, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I sleep with a four-legged, purring bed-hog. Sure it was all fun and games when Pooka and his sister Cro`i were small, and the three of us crammed in to bed together, and my biggest complaint was that Cro`i was sleeping between my knees. No...now it's down to just Pooka and myself because Pooka thinks he is my guardian orsomething.

I've had to start sleeping with a humidifier because of the heat in the house, and the frequent sinus infections I was getting from my sinuses getting dried out. Well, Pooka fell IN LOVE with the humidifier, to the point of that if I shut it of...he's tapping at in because he wants it on. Well last night was the icing on the cake. Last night, it was so bloody hot, I was actually asleep on top of the blanket (mind you it's just my sheet and a crocheted blankie), and had a difficult time falling asleep. (That could be attributed to the fact that the Patriots lost.)

Anyway, I had finally fallen asleep, and was actually facing the hallway, as opposed to the window. The humidifier is on the side of the bed which the window is on. But I was sound asleep....and comfortable. When a SHARP PINCH, on my arse no less woke me up. I mean my cheek was stinging! And I was scared....because as I mentioned before I SLEEP ALONE. (Even on the nights that I slept over squirrel's house, there was no sleep-induced ass-pinching.) So if I sleep alone, and something pinched my ass....was I having a paranormal expierence? Was some entity trying to gain my attention? Well before I screamed bloody murder, waking the house (see I didn't let my imagination get too carried away,) I gingerly reached out to see if my furry sidekick was in bed.

Lo and behold the furry bastard was! Sleeping on the left side of me, closest to the humidifier! AND he felt that I wasn't giving him emough room, because he was pushing...and I don't mean had his legs extended. I MEAN PUSHING with all his might against me, because he didn't have enough room. His toenails were what pinched my tender booty.

Typical male! That's what I say....wanting to hog the bed!

A Murder Most Foul!

Do the above photos look like pictures murdereres?

**Disclaimer: photos attached to this entry are not for the weak stomached. Photos at the end of entry.**

Pooka and Cro`i….my mc-kittens. The loves of my life, the best babies any pet owner could ask for. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them, and evidentially they know that. ALL TOO WELL. Because they gave me a gift last night, that only a cat can give its owner. (Or a psycho gives the object of its affection.) And I love my Pooka and Cro`i, my mc-kittens. I just wish things went down a little differently than they had. I would also like to interject the mocking I received last summer when I feared waking up to finding mangled crickets near or on me. But sit back and read this tail of love or in my case my tail of horror. (Note my attempt to be funny with the wrong use of tail.)

Last night, as usual I was looking forward to sleeping in my nice, soft, Egyptian Cotton sheets. I was tired, and looking forward to getting to bed at a decent hour (like 11pm.) But I had found it odd, that my mckittens, Pooka and Cro`i were no where to be found. Pooka wasn’t on my bed, no one was in the little pink room, nor were they running amuck playing in the hall. I put my ‘jammies on, and were calling them as I walked in to my bedroom. And THERE IT was. Something small and not quite belonging on my bed.

I ventured closer. The item on my bed much more distinguishable. I backed away. “Mooooooom, can you come here please?” I call, as though I was 12 instead of 31.Mom was playing on the computer, “What’s the matter?” she asks, getting up to come see. “I’m not sure if I’m right….but what is that on my bed?” I ask her, pointing at the shape. With that Pooka J. Tubbybutt, aka, my mckitten, aka ½ of the dastardly duo, aka His royal tubbiness comes running from his hiding spot, because (his mommy), me found the gift he left for me. He hops on to the bed, and the corpse shifts slightly. Mom looks at me, AND STARTS LAUGHING. I start laughing too. “Awwwwwww, they brought you a gift.” Mom says and begins to praise Pooka. There he is getting petted, and loved up, praised, and he’s purring away. Like an ass, I doing the same thing (praising him…not purring.)

Mom goes back to the computer, and I’m staring at the DEAD MOUSE on my bed. THE DEAD, GOOEY MOUSE, as I see little blood stains. Blood stains on my EGYPTIAN COTTON SHEETS. My Egyptian Cotton sheets which are brand spankin’ new….now the scene of a mouse murder…with little blood stains! Ever so brave….I call again, “Moooooom, can you take the mouse off my bed?” Pooka looks at me like I suggested something absolutely crazy. Mom cracks up, “No way kiddo…that’s your gift and yours alone. You dispose of the corpse.” And there you have it, Mom, chickening out on me. After I saved her from the chicken breast aside the refrigerator.

So I go to my other savior…Ida. I walk half way down the steps, “Ida….are you awake?” I call. “Yes, why?” I hear from the family room. “Are you comfortable yet?” I ask hoping she says no. “Yes, I am…why?” She asks again. “I have a gift in the middle of my bed, and I need you to remove it for me.” She isn’t budging…”What is it?” She wants to know. “A dead, gooey mouse that the cats gave me as a gift!” Ida was no help at all, “Nu-huh, you’re on your own.” She calls. And much to my surprise and duress, she DIDN’T come to rescue me from the DEAD, GOOEY MOUSE on my bed.

So what did I do next? I’ll tell you. Between fits of laughter, shared between mom and myself, I grabbed two plastic shopping bags and scooped up the disturbingly soft, and squishy mouse off the bed, tied up the bag and threw it in the trash…tying that bag as well. Pooka and Cro`i looked appalled that I would throw a perfectly good, DEAD MOUSE gift away. Next I gave them heaping amounts of treats as a thank-you/reward for the mouse which they gobbled up. I then proceeded to strip off my sheets, and my blankets, and my stuffed animal (Flounder from ‘The Little Mermaid’) and marched down stairs to throw them all in the washing machine. I washed them with loads of soap on cold water, as to not allow the stains to set. Next I went in search of disinfectant to wash down my pillows and mattress (okay, maybe this was a bit overkill- no pun intended.) But I don’t care. Unable to find Lysol, I used the remaining rubbing alcohol I had and washed down the mattress. Today I will Lysol the mattress and pillows before I redress the bed. This morning I washed my sheets and blankets, and Flounder in HOT water, and Ida is now in the process of washing them again in warm water. Hey, I need my sheets MOUSE-GOO free.

I also slept on the couch downstairs, far…far away from the murder scene of my bed. Yes, it is very clear that Pooka and Cro`i love me. And I love them more than anything in the world. But I can’t help and wonder if I was so far fetched last summer to worry about dead or mangled crickets being dropped on me that they caught. Or if maybe having Cro`i on my tummy as I watched a Jack The Ripper documentary not so much a good idea. All I know is this was the second mouse they’ve caught…and my loveable mc-kittens are now serial killer

This is a photo of the DEAD GOOEY MOUSE on my bed last night:

Pooka looking smug after 'the kill'.

If the paw print doesn’t fit…you must acquit!

Murder & Mayham in my garage!

Pooka and Cro`i for some time have been allowed to play both in the basement and garage as it gives them a change of scenery since they are not allowed outside. They also have a bevy of little toy mice: some felt, some rabbit fur covered, which they just adore. We have gone thru quit a bit of toy mice over the course of the years, their most prized one being a pink yarn one with fur tail on a string called Seymour Collin. (Because everyone, ok every red-blooded girl wants to see more Collin Farrell.)

So last night as I sat down to have a cup of tea with mom, the garage door was opened a crack as the cats were in the garage playing. Blaze was sitting near us gnawing on a baby carrot (one of her favorite treats), and we noticed Cro`i running in and out of the garage like a looneytoon. I finish my tea and go to try and get Pooka inside, as it was freezing and I wanted to close up for the night when I stumbled across a strange sight. A few feet in to the garage is Pooka sitting on the floor, looking down at a little gray object. So I start to approach to get him and his toy mouse when I stop. I stop because something about the toy mouse doesn’t site quite right with me. “Pooka…what is that?” I ask, as if he’s really going to answer me. Blaze then comes in to investigate, and Pooka runs out, with Cro`i taking place sitting watch over their ‘toy’. I can’t take my eyes off their mouse, as it seems to look longer than normal. Then I realize the mouse’s tail IS longer than normal!

That isn’t their toy mouse…I’ve stumbled upon a murdered field mice! My cats, after 4 years killed something to my knowledge. “Help! I need help!” I call, as I stare in horror, trying to decide which of my mckittens were the murdered, keep Blaze back from rushing the carcass and using it as a chew toy, and decide how the hell I was going to dispose of this dead, furry little thing. Mom finally comes in, and is asking me if it’s twitching, and if I am sure it’s a real mouse. So GREAT, now I have to somehow get close to examine this. (And a few months back, I was mocked for having a fear of the mckittens catching and putting dead crickets on me.) So as I stood over this dead mouse, start to blow at it, hoping the breeze would somehow revitalize it enough to let me know if it was all the way dead or not. But the poor little mouse victim was a total goner.

Still the question of who was going to remove the mouse remained and my mother went to get a broom and shovel as I went and got a bag and gloves. Double rubber gloves on my hands, (Hell, I don’t need any bubonic plague) on each hand, I use the plastic shopping bag to pick up the murdered mouse, and felt compelled to study him. Upon my visual inspection (‘visual autopsy’ as I wasn’t going to do anything else) note that there were NO teeth or claw marks on the little mousie. THANK GOD! But that still doesn’t exonerate Pooka and Cro`i from the mouse’s death. Because why were they sitting watch over him?

Like the late Johnny Cochran had said, ‘If the glove don’t fit….you must acquit.’ I have to wonder about the murder that took place in my house last night. Did the little mouse venture in to the garage, and die of natural causes or perhaps mouse poison from another house? Did Pooka and Cro`i scare the mouse to death or maybe just bat him to death? Mom thinks that Pooka and Cro`i were giving us the mouse as an ‘I love you’ gift, as cats are wont to do. No matter what, I still feel that my two mckittens are turning in to hunters.