The Wind Blew; the Stuff Flew - And There Stood Boo!

The wind blew; the stuff flew - And there stood Boo!

I'm pretty sure Boo! thinks the one-eyed critter in the big, glass box is here for her amusement. As is the spiny lizard in the even bigger, glass box. Boo! sits on top of the boxes, on the screen - much heavier screen, since she is capable of peeling back normal mesh like she's opening a sardine can. Learned that lesson.

It's fascinating to watch an Aby doing their thing, which is somewhere between Gremlin and monkey behavior. They are incredibly adept with their hands. Some might call them "paws" but they would be wrong, because both Dash and Boo! use them with the precision of a watch repairman.

And their eyes! They don't need actual words to convey what their eyes say. Boo! can look at me and I know she's thinking, "You're so mean, you won't let us do anything fun." Since her idea of "fun" is much different than mine, and I'm the one who has to clean up after she's had her "fun" then, yes, she's correct.

Despite my best efforts at second guessing her, she manages to sneak in some tricks I could never have anticipated. Like the kid who sticks their finger in a light socket - even though you just told them it would hurt - if Boo! gets something into her head, she will wait until I am otherwise occupied and do it. This has led to some interesting events.

Like the time she got wedged behind the television which hangs high on the wall. Now, she had been caught walking across the top of it, and I made her get down (I'm such a meanie.) But Boo! can't hear the word "no" - it must sound like dolphin speak to her - so she went back up and proceeded to get stuck. I had to get the ladder to climb up and rescue her.

Boo! has been physically removed from many other places. I could not find her the other day, and I looked everywhere. After calmly walking from room to room, using my sweet "here kitty, kitty, kitty" voice, I was having heart palpitations and sweating profusely, so the voice changed as well. It became that frantic voice parents use when their kid is missing in a department store. Now, the parent knows the kid is most likely hiding inside of one of the clothes racks (I am more than a little familiar with this ploy) but there is that moment of doubt. That voice.

I tried once more to see if she was hiding in the laundry room. That's when her little head popped out from inside the rag bin on the top shelf. I nearly had a heart attack! She just looked at me with that, "What?" look. Like the parent whose kid finally pops out from within the clothes hanging on the rack, you're so happy to see that silly little face, you forget how scared you were and just scoop them up and give them a kiss. That scenario is played out over and over again in our house.

Brother Dash doesn't get into as much mischief as his little sister. He is usually the one hovering over her as if he's trying to protect her from herself, or attempting to talk her out of her current plan. He's the one who looks at me with worry in his eyes. If I am looking for her, he usually accompanies me on the quest. Sometimes he finds her for me. If he can't find her either, then the worry look creeps in.

To those who don't know me, it may sound like I'm complaining. Trust me, I'm not. I can't even remember my life before Dash and Boo! I mean, the Ragdolls are so sweet and quiet, and Fancy is my not a cat, but a human in a cat body, who is so grateful to be here he does little to rock the boat cat. Jack and Rooney are big couch potatoes. Truth be told, it was kinda boring pre-Aby. So, give it your best shot, Boo! I'm getting pretty good at being your mom.

I Try - I Really Try

I was in the middle of computer hell. See, the thing is, hackers have no problem doing their hacking. It's the rest of us who can't access anything! I wanted to pay a bill, but no, my whozits and whatzits didn't add up even though I meticulously (well, it's all on a tiny scrap of paper which I've scribbled on since the last century) entered the info. Nothing.  Nada. It did not recognize me. Even the security questions didn't help. C'mon - I know exactly where and when I was first kissed. I remember it well...parking after a high school dance...

Where was I? Oh, yea - so there I was, on the phone with someone named "Jessica" - yea, right - in the middle of the Pacific? - or maybe India - who knows. I was trying not to be "that American" - you know the one who complains about having to deal with someone way smarter, who can speak several languages, while here I am with my mono-lingual self trying valiantly to understand her.

I mean, she can speak English fine, just not with any accent I can understand. And she's trying to get me to "sync up (my) computer with internet time." Are you fracking kidding me? It's a computer and I can type and I have my stuff written down - what more do you want from me?? ALL I WANT TO DO IS PAY MY BILL!!!!

That's when several things happened at once - my phone started to die and I heard a massive crash coming from somewhere in the house. I was left with no choice but to hang up on "Jessica" (who probably has a beautiful, but decidedly un-American name like Prisha or Sanjib but has to go by Jessica, since we Americans can't handle anything outside of our comfort zone) rather rudely. I mean, it sounded like the house was caving in and sinkholes are a real problem here.

I ran around the house trying to take inventory. Jack - asleep on the couch - check. Rooney - same - check. Half of the cats on the dining room table sound asleep - check. Nothing on the floor.

Then I got to the laundry room. It looked like a giant, cosmic hand had picked it up, flipped it upside down then put it back down - leaving the contents of the room exactly where they had landed. And smack dab in the middle of the mess were...Dash, Boo! and Finn.

I was gob smacked. Boo! and I linked eyeballs - hers wide with surprise; mine wide with disbelief. Dash was somewhere in the middle of the mess and Finn just bolted. I didn't have my dying phone with me to take a picture, so let me describe the scene:

Imagine a drone strike. The vacuum cleaner was on its back, with all of its attachments and filter basket strewn about like it had taken a direct hit. The catch-all Lingonberry (whatever) basket, which has been catching-all for years from its place on the top of the dryer, was now a dropped-all. Splattered everywhere were coins, screws, rubber bands, scissors! - various odds and ends, etc.

The bin, in which I deposit nasty kitchen rags, until I can nuke them with bleach, was also on the floor, as were the nasty kitchen rags. The only thing intact on top of the washer was the cricket bin. That figures, since there are only three left in a recently sanitized box and I would gladly sacrifice those stupid bugs to a drone strike. Needless to say, it was an awful mess.

This is how I felt when I discovered the carnage.

Dash and The Boo! ran. Dash knew exactly what to do - and headed for the sanctity of his bedroom/timeout space. Finn was already in there. (He has formed an unholy alliance, for some reason, with those two.) With a little help from the other cats, who are always more than happy to rat out a sibling by "pointing" with their gaze, I located the ringleader  - The Boo! She was attempting to hide, but it's only effective when your whole body is hidden not just your head! I scooped her up and deposited her in the room with her two brothers.

I then turned my attention to the mess in the laundry room. As I'm down on my poor knees picking up coins and crap, I completely forgot about my main problem, which is computer access. I'm sure the folks in payment centers across the globe have heard all the excuses we humans can conjure up. Wonder if anybody's ever used their cats as an excuse for a late payment? I'm about to find out...

Oh, and the kitties didn't stay long in timeout. Why? Because The Boo! has figured out how to open the door. Yes, it's true. I've been puzzled lately when I noticed the bedroom door open and I didn't remember opening it. I chalked it up to diminished capacity (mine.) Well, I guess she figured out if she hangs on the door handle, voila! - the door opens!

As I type, she is focused on the lizard on the outside of the window while standing on top of the hamster cage, while Emily Elizabeth is looking up thinking WTH...

Cats - the Animal Kingdom's Mood Rings

My cats know when I am sad, happy, angry or joyful. They avoid me during the intense highs and most definitely during the intense lows. That's because cats are cool. And they want their humans to be as well.

Girl! You need to get a grip!

Now this isn't to say they have no empathy. Eli is my comforter. He knows that is his job.

But, as much as Fancy adores me, if I start to show any emotion whatsoever - even annoyance at a TV commercial - he's outa there. He can detect even the slightest change in my mood. He will look at me from across the room, perched on his throne AKA the fireplace hearth, and tell me to "Get a grip! And while you're at it, get over yourself." Well, okay then.

Most of the time I adjust my attitude based on the way they respond. If I see all six of them running away in different directions, I know I need to calm down. If I see all six of them sitting in various places studying me, I know they're picking up on my angst. I had heard cats were intuitive, I just had no idea they were so freaking judgmental.

The Abys are probably the most intuitive. They miss nothing. Why, they can be out on the porch and if I so much as drop a fork, they hear it and make a decision as to whether or not there's anything in it for them. They are also sweet and sensitive, but they ration out the sympathy.

Dash will tap me on the shoulder (I still can't get used to that and every time think it's a human intruder or a ghost) and give me a quizzical "Are you okay?" look. He doesn't stay long enough to offer comfort if my answer is no. I guess he just wants to assess the situation.

Boo! comes to me for comfort. She does not seem to care one way or the other if I'm sad or in pain - she just wants me to play Kanga to her Roo. What she may or may not know is that I also get comfort from that role.

Finn and Chance, for the most part, keep their distance. I have to go to them. I will feel somebody staring at me and, sure enough, one or both will be sitting there scrutinizing me. They pass no judgment - just keep a safe distance.

What?

I didn't say a word. I'm just sitting here
minding my own business...

If you're starting to think I'm bipolar or hysterical - trust me, I'm neither. I am passionate and live in my own little world. So, when things happen like the recent massacre in an Orlando club, I cry - a lot - and talk to myself - a lot. Those are the times I catch them giving me the sideways glance.

I seriously don't know how I got through most of my life without a cat. I think everybody should live with one. Narcissists need to because nothing says, "You're no big deal" quite like a cat. Those who suffer from depression need to because watching a cat (especially an Aby) do their thing, can make even the saddest person laugh.

And finally, anyone who takes themselves too seriously (my hand is raised) needs to because, nothing says, "Get over yourself! " quite like a cat.

You think you've got problems -
I'm the one stuck in this thing.

Shadow

"Shadow is Back"

The little feral cat is back. I learned from my neighbor, when I was scouring the block for Fancy a few weeks back, she had trapped the little guy and had him neutered. Since then she has been feeding him but said he stopped eating what she put out. I think he prefers my cuisine. Anyway, he is a beautiful cat - part short hair perhaps and definitely Siamese. Those big, blue, crossed eyes are adorable!

This is almost identical to Shadow.
Hey, its name is Shadow. Did you think I could
get it to pose for the camera?!

I have named him, Shadow, because, like a shadow, if you turn around, it's gone. Unlike Fancy, who used to call to me when I went outside, this guy may never trust me. That's okay. He's well fed and can't make baby cats. I fret over him when there's a storm but my husband was quick to point out there is enough overgrown shrubbery in this neighborhood to offer plenty of shelter.

"Emily Elizabeth the Organizer"

Speaking of clever creatures. Emily Elizabeth is hilarious! She is a little, one-eyed, fuss pot. Her habitat is organized to the tee. And everything is clearly compartmentalized. She reminds me of my best friend when I was a kid. Melinda used to be so organized it put me to shame.

In the far right front corner is her bed. Far right and back is her food. Way across the block, in the back left is where she goes potty. Separating all is the "cave" I put in there. In her mind, it is the barrier between nice and not.

Even the way she goes potty is a riot. She backs herself into the corner, then walks up the sides with her back feet so as not to get her feet dirty! When she's done, she sort of hops away; satisfied she did not get messy. Reminds me of a woman trying to use a port-a-potty!  Pretty cool for a one-eyed hamster nobody wanted.

"Dash, Boo! and the Stink Bug"

We've already pretty much determined Abys are unique. Mine are intrepid little warriors. Nothing gets past them. I forget this. Which is why I paid little attention when they were trying to tell me something was in the fireplace.

All day yesterday, both of them were fussing at the glass doors of the fireplace. They were staring at it like it was the Basilisk from Harry Potter and it was about to emerge into our living room...

I kept getting distracted and never checked. When Andy got home I asked him to look. He couldn't find anything, even with two Abys and Finn trying to help. I walked over and saw it right away - a gray colored stink bug. It was cleverly disguised as ashes from the fireplace. I gave Andy a tissue and asked him to relocate it but not hurt it. Case solved and done.

Well, not quite. When he came back in from either setting the bug free or squashing it and telling me he did, I asked him to help me while I trimmed Jack's nails. It helps to have someone distract him while I'm doing the deed. Anyway, I had no sooner begun, when Jack started to throw a fit! He was squinching up his face and violently shaking his head. Drool started pouring out of him like a crazed sprinkler. We both thought he was having a seizure.

I managed to get him outside - I mean we're talking major drool here and it was flying everywhere - and he seemed to recover. That was when Andy realized what had happened. He had not tossed the tissue in which the bug had been, and had it in his hand while he was holding Jack's face. He asked me if that could be it. I said, "Andy, it was a stink bug! Stink. Bug." They are named as such because - they stink!

While I was washing Jack's face, Andy retrieved the tissue from the trash and, sure enough, there was a telltale stain of bug juice. He got on the computer and found out Stink Bugs emit a nasty substance when threatened which, while not toxic, can be very irritating. The symptoms are excessive drooling, eye irritation and coughing. Well, there you have it.

The upshot is, Jack will never let me near his nails again.

"One More Aby Story"

Dash has been begging to go outside for a week. It has been raining and they've been housebound. Unless you count the times Dash slipped between my legs as we were letting the dogs out, only to halt in his tracks upon seeing the deluge and decided he didn't really want to be outside after all.  So, this morning was pleasant and I let them go out to the screened in pool area.

I always make a perimeter scan before letting them out, so I can catch lizards or toads before they do. Dash and Finn were too quick and they caught the big, black lizard I've been keeping an eye on. It was feisty and Finn couldn't hold on to it. That's when it made its getaway, and even I couldn't grab it. I did not see anything else, so I came in to write.

As I sat at my computer, with my back to the rest of the house, something told me to turn around. You know that thing moms and teachers have where they can sense trouble from behind. As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Dash running into the front bedroom with his head at a funny angle. I knew right away what was happening. Sure enough, there he was, crouched over, with a poor, hapless creature in his jaws. This was a smaller lizard; not the giant black one.

The look I get when I stop them from
destroying things having fun

I've learned the best technique with cats (and my husband) is to praise the effort first then lower the boom. I told Dash he was the best hunter and I would like to see what he caught. He dropped it to show me. That's when I made my move. I scooped up Dash (I've learned to not go for their prey or my fingers will pay the price) and plopped their empty food dish on top of the poor lizard. Dash looked at me with the same expression Caesar gave Brutus. Et tu, Mommy?

That's when Little Bit popped her head out from under the bed! She had been under there, watching, the whole time. She knew her brother's lizard was under there and it was fair game. That's when I had to act quickly. I grabbed the first thing I could find - an old coupon - and gently slid it under the bowl. Bowl, coupon and lizard went out front with me to the "recuperation glider." This is where I place all things caught so they can recover in peace.

Hey, I have literally nothing else to do - so I figure if I can save a life - even a teeny, tiny one - that's a good thing.


P.S. Oh, for the love of cats! I had just finished typing when I heard a low growl coming from the family room. When I went to check, there was Dash with the large black lizard in his jaws! He caught it after all!! It was mad, too! I could see its neck thing fanning out and its mouth was open, ready to chomp down. I picked up Dash and went out to the porch. The lizard was too strong for him so he had to drop it. That's when lizard and tail parted ways. I hate that. There was the poor tail, thinking it was still attached to its body - flapping around like a demented snake.

Yes, that's about right. Only picture the tail
flopping around like it's alive!
Cringe worthy, right?

My first order of business was to capture the tailless lizard and get it to safety. Upon inspection, I saw it is also missing one eye. I put him on top of the rabbit's cage and hopefully he will recover. What I'm afraid will happen is, we now have a one-eyed, tailless lizard out there, hell-bent on revenge. That would make a great movie - "Revenge of the Pirate Lizard!"

I need to get a life.....

No, You Cannot Get a Cat

I have recently joined a group whose focus is Abyssinian cats. Folks who love the breed share funny Aby stories, pictures and even solace when one of their beloved babies is sick or passes on. I have learned so much in the short time I've been a member. Why I didn't seek it out sooner is a mystery. That the group has already enlightened me is a fact.

I am relatively new to the joys and pitfalls of living with felines. Of all the creatures I dragged home as a kid (dogs, chickens, ducks, rabbits, turtles, birds) and was allowed to keep, a cat was never one of them. My parents did not like or trust cats. They never explained the reason for their disdain; just that I was never to bring a cat home.

Tried it once. Walked into the house with the kitten a boyfriend thought I needed. Our dog went ballistic, causing the kitten to fly through the air and land on the drapes. That was all my mother needed to see. A cat was bad enough, but one that flew and dug its claws into her precious window treatments was doomed from the get-go. Kitty lasted less than twenty four hours. It lived out its life as a barn cat at the home of my soon to be ex-boyfriend.

I went fifty five years cat-less, then one day decided I must have a cat. I researched the breeds first, then settled on my very first kitty -  a Ragdoll. I selected the breed as a newbie since they were described as great first-time cats.

My Eli arrived around the time my world fell apart. Strangely enough, a friend had told me about a year prior I would get a cat around the following Valentine's Day and it would come when I really needed it. 



I have to be honest here. I fretted for a year over what might be in the cards. Was I going to get sick? Would I lose a loved one? Would my favorite show get canceled? So, when the process to get my first-ever kitten began, I went into the whole thing with very mixed feelings.

That the first kitten I chose (have since learned we silly humans do not "choose" a cat - they pick us) died, after receiving a vaccine, I was thrown for a loop. Then my next choice succumbed to the same fate. I was devastated. Maybe I really wasn't supposed to get a cat.

Then the breeder, who has come to be a friend, said this to me, "You know, I never said anything but there was a kitten in the litter who watched you every time you were here. I noticed him sitting quietly on a perch watching you the whole time. Maybe you should check him out." I was speechless.

Afraid to get my hopes up, I made one more trip to the breeder's. When I scooped up Eli, he settled into my arms and we chose each other. That was February 12, 2009!

One month later, March 10, 2009, my world fell apart. A family member had so thoroughly betrayed our family I wasn't sure I would make it. As I held that tiny kitten and sobbed bitter tears, my friend's words rang out loud and clear. This was the time I "would really need the comfort."

2010
The years may pass, and other kitties have joined us,
but Eli loves me to pieces...

still...(2016)

I have since acquired several more kitties. Some whose arrival coincided with a heartbreak - like the feral, Fancy, who came into my life around the time my father passed away in 2010. He has stunning good looks - black fur and green eyes. A lot like my black haired, green eyed father. No, silly, he isn't my dad in cat form but he is a constant reminder of the dapper guy who was my father.  

Look closely at this picture and see if you can find the
subtle (unintended) clue as to what this guy represents.
I swear it was not intentional!

I suppose the Universe knew I needed a break from heartache and the symbols of it. Enter the Abys. I cannot be sad with them around. Even my husband, the not-so-crazy-about-cats, dog lover, thinks the Abys are something else. He laughs at them constantly, even when they've created chaos like knocking his freshly made sandwich onto the floor. I hear him talking to them when he thinks I'm not paying attention. And they are the only cats, out of six, he will hold. There is nothing like an Aby for melting even the toughest heart.

This is Boo!'s favorite hiding place...

Aby See, Aby Do

It was a mighty crash. There are few things as thorough in their crash-worthiness as a glass plate meeting a tile floor. Add to that the plate had held a carefully crafted (my husband does not know how to make anything less) club sandwich and the results were devastating though spectacular.

Shards of pretty blue glass rested on white tile, amid pieces of turkey, ham, lettuce, and mayo on toasted Chicago Italian bread. Being a Vegan, I thought only of the turkey and pig who died in vain. My husband saw his much anticipated snack laid waste on the dirty floor. The three second rule goes out the window when the food is covered in broken glass.

It would have been plain to a blind person who the culprits were. That would be the two Abyssinian cats crashing into each other in a cartoon-like haste to flee the scene. Left to take the blame was Fancy, the feral-turned-housecat, who is so grateful to have a home, he does little in the form of mischief. Fortunately for him, I saw the whole thing, and quickly came to his defense.

I didn't do it - I swear!

Now, here's the funny part - if it had been any of the others but the Abys, my husband would have thrown a major fit. The thing is, mishaps with the Abys have become part of our regular routine. No longer do we jump and exclaim, "What the hell was that!!??" upon hearing a crash, bang, swoosh or splat. Nowadays we just stop what we're doing, look for blood or shards of glass, then go get the dust pan or vacuum. Hazmat is no longer on speed dial.

Life is good.

Dash protecting his baby sister.

It didn't take long after Dash's arrival to realize Abys aren't your average cat. I watched Dash desperately try to engage my other cats - three Ragdolls and the aforementioned feral-turned-housecat Tuxedo - in his kind of play. They were not interested, or perhaps never quite caught on. I mean, Abys are serious about play. Thinking my poor Aby boy, Dash, needed a buddy, got me searching for another Abyssinian.

When another litter was born, I had hopes there would be a girl so I could get Dash a companion, not a competitor. Sadly, there were two boys - Mike and Sully. I really wanted a girl so I thought I'd just wait until another litter came along.

Well, about a month later, I got a call from the breeder saying "Mike" was actually a "Mike-ette" - or not a boy. She was renamed Boo, after the little girl in Monsters, Inc., and the name stuck. The exclamation point was added after her personality dictated it.

I immediately said, "Yes! I'll take her!" Life hasn't been the same since. Dash and Boo! formed an alliance the moment she arrived. I knew they would. What I didn't anticipate was this did not mean simply cuddling together or playing Aby Tag. No, this would mean my sweet Dash had a partner in crime. Well, she's more like the Crime Boss. Boo! thinks up the mischief and Dash helps her carry out the deed.

I was told a lot of things about Abys before getting one. Things like:

Abys like to jump high. Okay. So that's not a big deal. I mean, we have vaulted ceilings and several of those useless bulkheads, so popular in homes built in the 80's. We learned with our Ragdolls, who not only figured out how to access them by jumping from counter to fridge then shelf, but also fell when their abilities didn't match their intentions, the spaces needed to free of any clutter. Back in the day, people filled those spaces with all forms of dust catchers - plants, artwork, collectibles, etc. Here and now they function as race tracks and high perches upon which a kitty can look down upon his/her realm..

 

 

 

What I did not anticipate was the Abys' ability to reach never before explored heights. Like the shelves near the (vaulted) ceiling where nothing but dust has existed since the house was built in 1989. Imagine our surprise when we caught Boo! calmly strolling across the top of the flat screen TV which hangs on the wall above the raised fireplace. No Ragdoll would attempt such a feat. To Miss Boo! it was a walk in the park.

Those new cats wear me out!

They may or may not seek human attention. HA! Both of them are obsessed with us. More so me because I am here all of the time. When Dash was a kitten, I wanted to ease his transition by keeping him safe in a bedroom at night. I slept in there with him. He used this time to "get to know me" as in, poking me in the eyes, nose and mouth with his paw while I slept. I was dreaming I had been abducted by aliens and they were probing my facial orifices - only to wake suddenly and realize it was Dash playing an alien invader with his "probe" (paw) up my nose. I fell back to sleep imagining where that paw had been...

Miss Boo! spends a good part of her day curled up inside my shirt. I have even answered the door with her tucked in there, only to have the visitor look shocked when a cat springs forth from my shirt. I don't mind it one bit. Family members think it's weird.

I don't think this is weird at all...

Abys will eat just about anything. Having experience with finicky cats who like something one day then bury the same stuff when offered another day, did not prepare me for the Aby Appetite. They eat non-stop, yet barely gain an ounce. Dash weighs about seven pounds and Boo! is only four. They have the metabolism of humming birds! And there is nothing at which an Aby will turn up their nose. Boo! even steals various greens as I'm chopping them for my Bearded Dragon.

Mom! Dash took my treat!

There are many more Aby-isms - almost as many as there are Abys. One thing is definitely shared by all who live with them - they are unique and will steal your heart.

Welcome to the Family, Emily Elizabeth

I wasn't planning on getting another hamster. We recently lost our last one, Petey, who was arguably the greatest hamster ever. But there she was - all alone in a cage - missing an eye.

Emily Elizabeth

My grandkids were with me last week when we stopped at a pet store for - well - pet stuff. Now this is the same pet store from which I got Petey, our beloved hamster, who passed away a few months ago. Petey came to live with us in a similar fashion, only his problem was his size - large. So large, in fact, the smaller male hamsters considered him a threat to their "hamsterness" and picked on him.

The pet store was giving him away. Of course I took him. After getting all of the required items a hamster must have (remember, they are rodents whose relatives live happily in sewers) my "free" hamster set me back $200.

No more bullies in Petey's life. Unless you consider sticky toddler hands a threat. Petey lived a good life until one day he was just gone. No symptoms - just gone. We all attended a memorial for him and he was buried in the family burial plot AKA the front yard under the oak trees.

Darling Petey - RIP

I kept all of his stuff hoping, someday, my grands would get a hamster of their own. So, when we all walked into the pet store and there was a lone hamster in its own cage, it was deja vu all over again. The answer to my question, "why?" was that she had lost an eye in a skirmish. Yikes. I looked at my husband who was watching the whole thing, slowly shaking his head, no. I had already formed a plan to come back later without him.

So, I had to go back to the pet store yesterday. I had decided, if the hamster was still there, she would come home with me. Of course she was still there. I told them I would take her and there was much rejoicing because I'm pretty sure the pet store folks figured one of them would end up with her. I mean, even though it would be a great lesson for a child, most people want their kid's hamster to have two eyes and all of its appendages.

Well, their loss. Emily Elizabeth (Emmy) does not miss her right eye one bit. She cracks me up because, sometimes she keeps the good one shut, and just putters around her luxury digs like she's testing herself. And energy? She has a joie de vivre that puts even Boo! to shame. Petey was laid back - even lazy - but she is a tiny dynamo! I love her already.

Emmy is so energetic, in fact, the car ride home rivaled something out of a Fast and Furious movie. She was furiously chewing her way out the cheap cardboard box as I was driving home as fast as I could, using my cell phone as a barrier to keep her in the box and not loose in the car!

When I peeled into the driveway (reminding myself to keep my mouth shut the next time I see a neighbor speeding up the street, because one never knows if they also have a hamster threatening to jump to freedom in their car) and ran into the garage to unearth Petey's old aquarium, I encountered some challenges.

First of all, I have the upper body strength of cooked pasta and the back of a - well - my back is shot. Second, we are pack rats who have accumulated 30 years of junk; most of it stacked, like something out of the Cat in the Hat, in the garage. As my car was idling in the driveway, I was sweating buckets trying to solve my problem. I finally said, "screw it" and gave one good tug on the 50 gallon aquarium; freeing it from its place on the garage floor in between the a/c unit and my kids' old, red wagon. I mentally planned on taking an extra strength Ibuprofen when the dust settled.

I quickly set the aquarium down and plunked little Emmy, box and all, into it. Ironically, once she had freedom (or the illusion of it,) she would not leave the box. For someone in such a hurry to get out of the damn thing, there she was, peeking her nose out then popping back in to the safety of the box. I knew then and there Emmy was perfect for our family. She joins the ranks of those who live to drive me completely insane.

Boo! giving me her classic,
"You never let me do anything!" look.
Oh, yes, I won't let her terrorize Emmy.

Speaking of which, while I was setting Emmy up in her new digs, on top of my desk in the living room, I kept Dash and Boo! behind closed doors. I did not need their "help." It was bad enough moving curious Rags out of the way, but they are less intrepid. Far, far, less intrepid.

What did she bring home now?

I don't care. Hamsters smell.

 

Baby Dash stalking Petey

When the time came to introduce them to Emmy, I knew the routine from when Petey was with us. Boo! took her place on the screen top of the tank and sat there staring at the poor creature; looking like a menacing sphinx.  The upside of this new adventure - they have finally decided the lizard is old news and this new creature is way more entertaining.