Chris has been fighting what now appears to be a succession of bugs for the last several weeks, and last night she—who never gets fevers—had a pretty significant fever. She’s going to the doctor this afternoon.

This is Mickie looming down over me as I sit at my computer desk. She arrives way up there via the shelf on top of my CRT monitor, where the speakers are.  Generally, said speakers go flying.  The shelf is supposed to be secured with adhesive tape, but it also gets knocked askew.

Well, it’s a huge sacrifice to make, but what else can I do? {sigh}

Gots to get me a flat-panel monitor with speakers built in.

...nor is it Photoshopped. Mickie is actually sitting on Taz. It seems to have begun as one of her regular pre-wrestling-match pounces, but something in the quality of Taz’s growls this time caused her to have belated second thoughts.  She actually stayed there for more than a minute, probably afraid to let go of the proverbial tiger’s tail. Taz made extremely rude noises the whole time. I think Mickie deserves a belt buckle.

Oh boy. Mickie has discovered the computer monitor. So now when I waste time playing Freecell or Spider Solitaire, at least I can say I’m entertaining the cat. She has also attempted to fax herself somewhere this evening. But her main contribution of the day was “helping” me with a final exam.

I am enrolled in a certificate program, Linux/UNIX System Administrator, at a local technical college. It’s all online, thankfully. So I was halfway through with my final exam today and fending off Mickie, when all of a sudden a window pops up that says “Your attempt to save this exam is already being processed.“ *CUE PANIC MODE* Fortunately, as it turned out, “save” was not the same as “submit”... Is “the cat landed on my keyboard” a common version of “dog ate homework” these days?

Life can hand you some sweet surprises at times. One of those is “helping” me type right now. Her name is Mickie, and she’s the newest addition to our family.

Kevin and I were just minding our own business the Monday before Halloween, heading into Wal-Mart for a few things. There was a lady standing by the door, seeking donations for a local church project, and she was holding a tiny gray kitten. Now, I want you to know, I have had to resist the charms of many a kitten over the years, but there was something special about this one. The lady said someone else had been there giving away a litter of kittens, and this was the last of five. They’d asked her to watch this one while they went into the store, and they never came back.

I was completely smitten. Kevin rolled his eyes but gave in, and the kitten came home with us. A visit to the vet the next day revealed her to be six weeks old and in excellent health, so we began introducing her to the rest of the crew. She was not the least bit shy about going up to the other critters and attempting to sack them like Carthage. Lucy the honorary cat was a bit of a challenge, but Mickie solved that by wrapping herself around one of Lucy’s legs and trying to chomp it like a drumstick.  Lucy was amazingly tolerant of this (evidence suggests she’s had at least one batch of puppies in the past, so she may have that maternal patience-of-Job thing going). Now, six weeks later, the other cats are still trying to teach Mickie manners, but she and Lucy are best buds and wrestling partners. Scares me to death sometimes, but they both seem to be having quite a lot of fun. Mickie is generally the instigator, and even when things get a little rough, she always jumps right back in.

Six weeks seems awfully early for a kitten to be taken from its mother; it’s probably no surprise that Mickie likes to pretend to nurse on her people.  It starts with a sudden, huge outbreak of purring, then she roots around on your shirt for a suitable spot, and settles in for a good suckle session. Sometimes she takes a break and just lies there, purring. Sometimes there are kitty belches (well, she must be taking in a lot of air!) I don’t know if she’ll grow out of this, but if it still makes her happy when she’s 18, I’m all for it.