“Baldrick, the only way you’d get a wet kiss is in the water closet!”

19429917_1872839233039103_365946916303730842_nToday’s post is from Mike Still, a volunteer at Hazel House. Please rest assured that what happened to him won’t happen again….. and we wish him well in therapy.

My name is Mike Still, and I am an adjunct lecturer Communications. I’m also a nice guy, and a cat lover, so I volunteer at Hazel House.

I made a vital discovery Thursday while doing cat duty at Hazel House. A seven-pound (estimated) cat can move an eight-pound weight with relative ease.

Having filled up one of the large pitchers to top off the inhabitants’ water bowls, I found myself distracted by the charms of resident older kittens Frankie and Licorice. Telling myself that Dido – the usual occupier of the dresser in HH’s Hemingway room – is long on personality but short on body mass, I set the pitcher on top of her dresser and sat down in the floor to romp with the kittens.20258203_1891515134504846_4609540728349224597_nDIDO, pre-deed

After five minutes of play culminating in Licorice in my lap and Frankie on my knee, it happened. The relative humidity jumped without warning to an audible saturation and precipitation point. Frankie leaped and ran, avoiding much of the drastic physical change. Licorice was a bit slow, catching a substantial portion of the gallon of water that flowed onto my left side.

As the pitcher landed on the floor and the air turned rapidly into indigo around my mouth, Licorice sat there in amazement, shock and water. I caught a glimpse of a tannish-gray flash from the dresser to the far side of the room as Dido made her escape.

20246268_1891515204504839_1308763949938646724_n(Incidentally, there’s nothing like drying off a black kitten still in denial of the presence of liquid appearing in mid-air.) Licorice is a good kid, though, and shouldn’t show any signs of shock for some months.

As for Dido, she understands that mass AND velocity overcome mass any day of the week.

After mopping up the water, I headed out to get dry clothes. Stopping at the Valero gas station in Appalachia for a Diet Dr. Pepper, I was helpfully informed by the clerk that I could get a second one for just a dollar.

“No thanks,” I said. “This should just about meet my fluid needs for the day.”

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DIDO, post-deed

Roberta Shares Her Thoughts

19756347_1656566294354428_9082852733039553025_nHello. My name is Roberta and I am senior kitten in residence at the Little Bookstore of Big Stone. I am in charge of four other kittens waiting here with me for Love to find us. They are Wybie and Gaiman, who are brothers that came from the shelter; Mayflower, who was an orphan at three days old; and Tooth.

Nobody knows very much about Tooth. He was here when Foster Mom and Dad got home from their vacation, and none of the humans who work at the bookstore or cafe are admitting anything. Me, I think it best not to tell what I know, so I’m playing dumb.

Not that I am. Dumb, that is. I’ve been reading a lot of the Math books after dark here (they leave a flashlight by the ac unit) and doing the geometry on jingle ball trajectories. I may be smaller than the other kittens here, but I have the advantage of knowing exactly where to push the ball for maximum torque. It makes the rest mad, because they’ve all got like eight ounces on me, but brain over brawn. And I admit, victory is sweet. Silly boys.

I have also worked out how to get the largest share of wet breakfast each morning. Foster Mom divides one can among six of us, so I wait until she’s on about bowl three, and I leap across the counter onto her back. Even though I do this almost every morning, it never fails to startle her, and she drops an extra spoonful into dish three. Then I just eat that, because the boys have already got the first two, and Mayflower and Tooth don’t mind waiting.

See, you just have to apply a little logic, a little book learning, and there’s no problem can’t be solved. I’m looking for a book here about how to get adopted, but so far the closest I’ve found is one called “Finding Forever Love… and Keeping It.” It didn’t really seem to apply. I don’t “dress for success” because I have fur, and I can’t cook because Foster Mom hides the matches because of the staff cat Hadley. Something about her being a pyro. And the second half of the book, it was… well, humans and cats have different ideas about sex, is all. Let’s just leave it there.

But hopefully no one will be leaving me here, because as much as I’m enjoying the bookstore and my long nights of reading, I really want to get started on training my forever humans. I’ve read a lot of the books from Career Building, about how to get people to do what you want, and I feel fully ready. So, c’mon down and let’s get this show started, shall we? I’m waiting.