Updates: Gene mutation, cat urine, and my toddler’s Jersey Shore after hours party.

Some of you have asked for updates on previous posts, like this one on my overwhelming love of cats or this one, that apparently concerned many when its original purpose was just to tell you that hey, God has this stuff covered.  So here we are, me giving you updates on all things exciting in our lives right now…like mutated genes and cat pee.  Curious?  I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE!

Health Stuff…let’s start here, because this isn’t nearly as much fun as talking about cat pee and fist pumping.  My doctor’s appointment went well.  Genetic testing showed that I have a two-copy mutation to my MTHFR gene (yes, that abbreviation makes me think exactly what you’re thinking right this moment…) which can essentially put me at greater risk for strokes or heart disease.  Because it’s a gene mutation, my diet and exercise can help, but won’t be the ultimate preventor (this is now a word) of health issues in the future, if any arise.  I am now on some extra special magic vitamins, and baby aspirin, adding to my current level of prevention.  I might possibly use my yoga pants for more yoga-ing and less pants-ing.  Maybe.  Rest assured that I am absolutely fine, and thankful this testing exists.  To know something like this at a young age (29 forevaaa) is a blessing.  An ounce of prevention, am I right?!

 

Because they're MUTANT lobsters...get it?!

They’re MUTANT lobsters…get it?!

 

Cat Pee…oh yes, this is the update you all have inquired about most frequently.  Remember the two kitty friends that were camping out at the park across the street?  Of course you do, because you re-read the post I linked above, wink wink.  A few days after that post, they disappeared, and I was extremely worried.  We spent a great deal of time on our family walks scoping the park, trees, and neighborhood for the kitty friends that I secretly planned on adopting.  While Fluffy never returned, Kitty Friend, the token name for the more bovine of the two, showed up.  I was ecstatic, and there are not enough spaces for exclamation points to express my happiness at that moment.  We began the process of luring Kitty Friend to our house: feeding, feeding, singing, talking, feeding, bribing and more feeding.  While Kitty Friend would not let us pet him, he did inch his way closer to our home.  I could see victory on the horizon.  You can never have too many cats, people.

Kitty Friend started sleeping under my husband’s work van, then on top of my truck, and sometimes on our front porch.  Kitty Friend was really making himself at home.  We loved Kitty Friend, and we assumed that Kitty Friend loved us and wanted to be our real friend.

Obviously no friend of ours.

Obviously no friend of ours.

One afternoon, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner while Miles was running a marathon around the dining room table squealing “STAW-BUR-AY!” (strawberry)  Typical pre-dinnertime behavior.  Over the sound of dinner prep and toddler songs, I heard a “WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW.”  Of course, being a cat whisperer myself, I recognized that low yowl.  It belong to Mai Tai, my fat old tabby cat who enjoys late afternoons on the front porch away from the ever present hugs from Miles.  I rounded the corner, and found Miles waiting by the front door, an obvious look of concern (or possibly pooping) on his face.  I peeked out the window, and there was Kitty Friend…so where was Mai Tai?!

I opened the door, and my sweet old Pookie (Mai Tai’s most popular nickname) came barreling in the house – quite a feat for a 14 year old overweight tabby cat who spends much of his leisure time licking his butt and soaking up sunbeams.  Immediately, I scooped up Pookie…and he was damp.  Not even damp; Pookie was wet.  Upon further inspection, I realized Pookie smelled like cat urine.  Had he gotten so upset he wet himself?  No, not my Pookie, since he’s neutered he doesn’t have that…odor.

I opened the front door to find Kitty Friend had urinated all over the front door and all over Pookie.  Kitty Friend was obviously no friend of ours.  We cleaned up the mess, bathed Pookie, and decided to take a more guarded approach to afternoon adventuring.

Then, after over a month of cat stalking, we learned that both Fluffy and Kitty Friend are actually our neighbor’s cats.  You know, the new neighbors, the ones I’ve also been quietly stalking, because they’re our age and they have a son who is just six months younger than Miles.

And just like that, I’m on the fence about Kitty Friend and the neighbors.  What kind of cat pees on another cat?!

PS – They also have a black cat who has terrorized our three younger cats previously.  Of course, I didn’t know the Spawn of Satan belonged to them until recently.  I’m revoking my welcome bread basket.

And finally…it’s party time.  Miles goes to bed at 7:30p, and has for quite some time.  We have a good schedule, we’ve stuck to it for many months, and it’s wonderful.  But lately, lately, after we’ve read “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” and “Goodnight Moon”, sung the songs and given the kisses and snuggles, instead of quietly drifting off to sleep, Miles has spent half an hour talking, singing, beating his stuffed animals against the side of the crib, and asking for his ball.  Do you know what all that racket sounds like?  A nightclub brawl, in the nursery.  Do all toddlers do this?  Other than taking longer to drift off, his sleeping habits haven’t changed.  I’d just like to know if he’s talking to JWOWW or Pauly D, and if so, could he possibly convince them to do just one more season of Jersey Shore?  Because I miss my orange skinned Guidettes making fools of themselves at Jenks.

YOU MISS THIS.

YOU MISS THIS.

Yes, I’m aware of my horrible taste in television.

DTF,

K

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