Well, I have a full house now.
Yes, Yes! I can hear you all out in Blogland screaming that it was already full but....
now it truly is.
I have had some of my cats staying at the vet clinic that I work at for a couple of years. It was nice because they got alot of attention from everyone, the employees and some of the visitors.
They were running loose in the cat room. The Doc had OK'd it but now he wants to redo the room into a Water Therapy room complete with a Water Treadmill. So, I brought my cats home.
I spent the last weekend and I mean the WHOLE weekend, cleaning and PURGING out my basement. I've gotten it all organized and then I set it up with industrial carpet squares and a few rugs. I then used some of the CHAIRS that I just HAD to buy and arranged it into a couple of nice "rooms". The basement is painted cement block walls and completely open.
I used one of the DOORS that I got from ReStore and blocked off a section and put the litter boxes behind it (for their privacy).
The cats now have the whole basement to themselves, well... except for the areas stacked with my vintage finds or my "boards" to paint and other odd and ends, but basically the width and length of the house and they have two windows. I've stacked Rubbermaid containers underneath the windows so that they can lay on top and watch the rabbits eat my flowers and the squirrels jumping in the trees taunting my dogs.
So, who did I bring home?
Kanga, my cat with no front legs.
Horton, my fat cat who is scared of dogs.
and Little Bug, my crippled cat that is scared of NOTHING
and chases Ralphie upstairs when he tries to enter the CAT DOMAIN. (None of the other dogs come downstairs because they are frightened of the openback stairs.) well, wait....sometimes my old Griffin comes down
in search of "kitty granola" but Little Bug bats him away too.
I DO let the cats upstairs, but only when I'm home. I have some furniture upstairs that I would rather not have shredded. They are actually pretty good about not doing that. But of course I trim their nails regularly and they have their scratching posts downstairs. Sometimes I don't let them upstairs while I'm home because some things I can not get accomplished if they are upstairs.
Cotton, who is my old white cat that is basically a walking skeleton covered in white fur. She has a hyper-thyroid problem and is on medication that must be given twice day. (which she hates and fights twice a day). She likes to sit on my stovetop. I'm assuming it's warm there and she sits on it until the pilot light gets too hot on her bottom and then runs around the top area of the house JUST out of the dogs reach. The little dogs REALLY want to get her for some reason. I know her days are numbered, so I let her eat all the canned food she wants. She has a ravenous appetite.
And then there's Harry.
The cat love of my life. He is always trying to wrap his front legs around my neck and rub his face on my chin. He loves doing that. Hanging on, purring and rubbing. On the other side of me is usually Ghost,
My white cat that was LOST for a month and 3 days. I did my very FIRST post about him.
He follows me room to room and constantly reaches out for me and demands to be held. So...if I'm really trying to accomplish something, I have to keep them downstairs.
So now you know why I work at the vet clinic and probably can't ever quit unless I win the lottery!