the best part about Oregon

Every time the Mr. & I go to Oregon, we get to visit The Kitty People. No, that's not their actual name, but a) I'm doing my best to protect anonymity here on the interwebs, and b) that's what I call them. Not because they have an uncannny sense of balance & can see in the dark -- at least, not to the best of my knowledge. Those topics have actually never come up in conversation. I call them that because they have 7 cats. And 2 dogs.

The night before our most recent trip to Oregon, my back did something peculiar. I coughed while wearing too-high heels and it spasmed. (Are those details germane to the injury? I don't know. But that's what stood out in my mind as it occurred.) So I was very concerned. Partially with being in massive amounts of pain for the duration of the getting-there, partially with being a giant-ass drag on the planned 4th of July festivities. But mostly because, as I said to Mr. UB, "I can't bend down ... you're going to have to hand me kitties!"

When we got to His Parents' house, I retreated to bed old-lady style: with heating pad and Tiger Balm. Fortunately* this proved to be just what I needed, as my back snapped back into its intended alignment with a quiet pop that left me gasping for air & crying. But hey -- at least I was, once again, ambulatory.

So while everyone else was enjoying barbecued salmon & local microbrews, I was on a mission: Drag Mr. UB away from his dinner every time I located another family member with four feet & fur.
This is Dit -- who always lets me slurp him up first.

Houston -- guess where they found him?

Mo -- you can't tell in this photo, but he's actually part whale. Mo = a lot of cat.

Mo's best friend, Prissy -- the only cat in the world larger than Mo.

Princess knows she's beautiful.

Molly likes to hide under the dining room table. But I find her.

Seemore had to be retrieved from his hiding place in the garage ... amateur.

No, I don't think this is a cat. This is Simon, the dog who may as well be a cat -- he's kind of high strung. As in he hates it when people leave. He used to snarl & bark while blocking the door as soon as the good-bye hugs began. This time he bolted outside when the front door opened, then shook so hard I thought he was going to shatter while his mom held him. I think he's awesome.

I need to get the photo of Barry, aka Doggie #2, from Mr. UB. He's a great big slobbery St. Bernard. (Barry. Not Mr. UB.) I only patted him on the head, and somehow still came away covered in slime. Unfortunately, the bachelor party started 45 minutes ago, so I won't have access to it, or the Mr., until sometime after 5 p.m. tomorrow.**

*Kinda. And lest you think I'm some sort of huge weenie (especially if you knew me when I was a whiny kid) I'm pretty stoic. But that shit hurt.
** Of course the fact that his bachelor party is today has nothing to do with why I'm posting pictures of cats on the internet. I'm above needing such distraction. How dare you!