Tag Archives: Banner and Balboa

Banner & Balboa Need Your Help!

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The Choice Is Yours: Which Christmas Design Wins?

Banner and Balboa have been hard at work helping with the Christmas decorating. Well… “helping” might not be the right word when vintage Christmas lights are involved!

As I worked on this year’s Christmas T-shirt design, I ended up with three different versions featuring the boys in Santa hats. Each one has a slightly different look, and now I can’t decide which one I like best.

The Choice Is Yours!

Which design is your favorite?

Leave a comment below and tell me which version you like best:

#1 Classic Christmas Garland

#2 Garland & Vintage Lights

#3 Vintage C7 Lights & Snowflakes

Bonus points if you tell us why you picked your favorite. Banner and Balboa are curious!

I can’t promise the boys will read every comment, but I’m sure they’ll appreciate all the attention.

Thanks for helping choose this year’s Christmas T-shirt design!

 

Another Year Another Trauma

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Banner, a fluffy orange long-haired cat, and Balboa, a sleek black short-haired cat, sit side by side on a wooden table in front of a television while waiting before a veterinary visit. Banner looks slightly downward, while Balboa faces the camera with bright yellow eyes.Another Annual Trauma

Well, we had our annual vet visit today.

Banner and Balboa are both 6 years old now, which makes them 42 in human years according to the cat age chart on Chewy. You’d think by now this would be routine. Well, Banner is okay with it, but not our little black diva, Balboa.

I administered the 2 ml dose of Gabapentin two hours before the vet arrived. I switched to a mobile vet years ago to avoid stressing out the little creatures and, truth be told, myself. Balboa destroys pet carriers and would never tolerate sitting in a waiting room at a vet’s office.

Our mobile vet is awesome. I highly recommend Ross Veterinary House Calls. Dr. Ross has all the patience in the world, and believe me, she needs it with Balboa.

Meet The Drama Queen

Last year, 2 ml was the right dosage. Balboa was mildly stressed but still survived the trauma of getting weighed, poked and prodded, having his teeth checked, getting his shots, and suffering the final indignity of a nail trim.

This year was a different story.

He’s put on a little weight, so we may need to increase his dosage next year.

I gave him his medicine, and while he wasn’t a happy camper, he calmed down fairly quickly. When Dr. Ross arrived, he was asleep on my bed, so I picked him up and confined him to the bathroom. Dr. Ross suggested we do his exam first so he wouldn’t have to stay cooped up for long.

Balboa, appearing sleepy and sedated after medication, is curled up on a stack of folded towels placed on an upholstered ottoman. The black cat is resting indoors under soft lighting, illustrating Balboa's groggy state before leaving for the veterinary visit.

That’s when things went south.

We opened the bathroom door to find Banner standing guard by the tub. I have no idea how he got there. He definitely wasn’t in the bathroom when I put Balboa inside. He must have slipped in as I was closing the door.

So first we had to get Banner out of the bathroom, which is tiny, to give Dr. Ross and her assistant room to work with Balboa. Meanwhile, Balboa was trying to make his escape right over Banner.

Chaos ensued.

Finally, I got Banner out and we quickly closed the door. It started with a few small, pitiful meows but quickly escalated to growls and then full-on cat screaming.

I knew exactly what was happening in there and there was absolutely no reason for the drama.

Banner was beside himself. The louder Balboa screamed, the harder Banner tried to get back into the bathroom to rescue him.

Eventually, Dr. Ross and her assistant emerged, followed by a very annoyed cat. They managed to give him his shots,Balboa's official response to the vet: puffed fur, arched back, unsheathed claws, and a look that says 'absolutely not.'" check his teeth, and complete most of the exam. They did not get a weight, and they only managed to clip the nails on one paw.

Balboa made one circuit through the living room and headed straight for his safe place behind the headboard. Once he’s back there, nobody is getting him out.

Banner’s Turn

But now Banner was all worked up.

Our usually calm and cooperative orange buddy was having his own little meltdown. In his case, it showed up as a racing heart. Dr. Ross said Banner’s heart rate was actually higher than Balboa’s.

I always knew our little drama queen was faking.

Banner, a long-haired orange cat with a thick fluffy coat, sits perched on the edge of a dark wooden surface, staring directly at the camera with alert golden eyes. The softly lit indoor setting and Banner's upright posture create the impression of a patient supervisor waiting for a turn to beginBanner wasn’t especially cooperative about getting his nails trimmed either, but the rest of his exam went well. He had actually lost a little weight. Maybe that’s because Balboa keeps stealing his food.

Unlike his brother, Banner didn’t hold a grudge. As soon as he was freed, he forgave Dr. Ross and stretched out right beside her.

We chatted for a few minutes and I paid the bill. Then I walked Dr. Ross and her assistant to the door.

The Miracle Recovery

When I turned around, there was Balboa.

Friendly. Calm. Completely recovered.

I knew he was faking.

He’s spent the afternoon sleeping off both the medication and his imagined trauma in his kitty condo.

Balboa, a black cat, rests inside a cream-colored carpeted kitty condo after a veterinary visit, lying at the entrance with bright eyes visible in the soft natural light.

So that’s it for another year.

Thank goodness it’s over.

Orange tabby cat and black cat walk side by side down a carpeted hallway, both with tails held high.

Honestly, I think the annual vet visit takes more out of me than it does them.

 

Living With Banner & Balboa: A Cat Household I Still Don’t Understand

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Two cats sit among dozens of bright orange pumpkins in an outdoor pumpkin patch. Banner, a medium‑haired orange cat, sits upright on a pumpkin, while Balboa, a sleek black cat, rests a paw on another pumpkin beside him. Rows of pumpkins fill the background, with trees and distant buildings visible, creating a colorful autumn scene.

Cats I’ve Known… and Still Don’t UnderstandA bald man with a beard and glasses stands against a plain white background. He wears a purple shirt with rolled‑up sleeves, a gray vest, and multiple bracelets. His tattooed arms are crossed as he looks directly at the camera with a confident expression.

I’ve lived with cats my whole life, and I still don’t understand them. I’m no Jackson Galaxy — I’m barely Jackson Cul‑de‑Sac. Every cat I’ve ever had has been their own brand of strange, but Banner and Balboa have taken things to a whole new level.

An orange cat rests on a desk beside a black coffee mug with a “Java Joe’s Coffee” logo. Papers and small electronic items are scattered around the workspace, and the cat appears relaxed, lying close to the mug.Meet Banner: The Chunky Orange Desk Ornament

Banner is my medium‑haired, chunky orange boy who believes my desk is his personal lounge. He stretches across my keyboard like he’s claiming territory.

Pet him too much? He bites. Stop petting him too soon? He bites. Banner believes biting is a love language.

He loves paper bags and the crinkly cat tunnel — but only if it’s placed directly in the middle of the living room like a trip hazard. Move it two inches? It becomes dead to him.

Wet food? Banner tries to bury it like it’s a crime scene. Crunchies only, please.

Meet Balboa: The Black Streak of ChaosA black cat sits comfortably inside a large cardboard box filled with crumpled brown packing paper. The cat looks relaxed, nestled among the paper, with wooden furniture visible in the background.

Balboa is a completely different brand of weird.

Crinkly treat bags? Terrifying. I opened a bag of corn chips and he evaporated — one moment head‑butting me, the next a black streak fleeing the room.

Banner’s beloved tunnel? Balboa pretends it doesn’t exist. He ran through it once last week and immediately regretted it.

But give him a cardboard box and packing paper and he’ll crinkle and rearrange until everything meets his artistic standards. Then he curls up inside like a cozy little gremlin.

A black cat lies on a textured gray surface with one front paw extended, showing small, partially visible claws. The cat rests its head on the fabric and looks relaxed, with soft lighting highlighting its dark fur and the texture of the material.Balboa’s Signature Move: The Needle‑Claw Attention Tap

When Balboa wants attention, he doesn’t bite — he pricks. Tiny, deliberate needle‑claws, just enough to say “Notice me,” but not enough to draw blood. It’s like being tapped by a very small, very demanding sewing machine.

Doorbell Drama: Two Cats, Two Reactions

Doorbell rings? Balboa becomes a ghost, usually hiding behind the headboard. Banner becomes a Walmart greeter, racing me to the door like he’s expecting company.

The WMEO Chaos Crew

They are opposites in every possible way… but they’re my team, my chaos crew, the heart of WMEO.

Two cats sit behind a winter weather news desk. Banner, an orange cat wearing a red scarf with a snowflake charm, sits beside a white mug labeled “WMEO I ❤️ Weather.” Balboa, a black cat, sits next to a small brown suitcase with a “Key West or Bust!!” sticker and a boarding pass sticking out. A microphone sits between them, and a weather map showing snowy conditions appears in the background with text like “Below-Normal Colder” and “El Niño.” The desk displays “WMEO 9” and “WMEO Winter Desk Live.”

Cooperative? Never. Entertaining? Always.

 

The Cardboard Box Wars Have Resumed

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Large Amazon cardboard box on my dining room table, the infamous THE BOX that sparked the cat wars.

🐱 The Cardboard Box Wars: Summer Truce Broken

Banner and Balboa sitting shoulder‑to‑shoulder at the sliding door, peacefully watching the summer yard together.Ah, the living room truce. It was too good to last. The cardboard box war wasn’t over — it was merely suspended, much like certain conflicts in the Middle East. A ceasefire, not a peace treaty.

All summer long, the boys were peaceful. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder at the window, watching squirrels, crows, and humans riding lawn mowers. Once they got over the noise, it became their morning entertainment. A live-action nature documentary.

But summer is ending, and the cats are getting restless. The squirrels are still out there, perpetually hungry and hiding nuts, but apparently that no longer holds their attention. And I — their long-suffering hooman — accidentally reignited hostilities.

📦 The Great Box BreakdownStack of empty cardboard boxes on the living room floor, ready for the Great Box Breakdown.

It started innocently. I noticed the recycle bins were empty — a rare cosmic event. I can never figure out when they get emptied, so there’s never room for anything. My cardboard box supply had become a mountain.

So out came the X-Acto knife. Banner and Balboa watched closely. I swear I saw a tear in Balboa’s eye.

I kept one box to hold the flattened cardboard. The plan was simple: take all but one box to the trash. They’ve been sharing a box in the living room all summer, peacefully coexisting like two diplomats who finally learned to take turns.

🚀 The Orange Missile Strikes

Banner sitting proudly inside THE BOX on the dining room table, claiming it for the first time all summer.I was down to THE BOX — the large box that was the focal point of the spring wars. I reached for it with high hopes of reclaiming my dining room table.

Then it happened.

A furry orange streak launched itself like a ballistic cruise missile. Banner was on the table and inside THE BOX (for the first time all summer) before my hand even got halfway there.

Tail up. Paper crinkling. Banner settling in.

The box had been reclaimed at the last possible moment.

🔄 The Power ShiftBalboa sitting deep inside THE BOX, surrounded by crinkled packing paper, claiming it after the power shift.

Like any good peace negotiator, I let the moment settle. I figured Banner would lose interest, and I could attempt a stealth removal later.

But when I returned from taking the other boxes outside, the situation had changed.

Banner was now in the living room box. Balboa was in THE BOX.

A full personnel swap.

🏳️ The War Resumes

Believe me, I know when I’ve been beaten. The Box Wars have resumed. Someday I may regain the use of my table… but today is not that day.

Banner and Balboa battling over the cardboard box, one inside and one reaching in — the Box Wars fully resumed.

 

WMEO Special Report: It’s National Toasted Marshmallow Day!

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An empty WMEO 9 news desk sits in a brightly lit newsroom. A microphone and two sheets of paper rest on the desk, and multiple blurred screens with news graphics appear in the background along with a city skyline.

This is an WMEO Special report. Our anchors are on location tonight.

We bring you live from the WMEO campground, a full report on the marshmallow celebration for Toasted Marshmallow Day. Our intrepid reporters, Banner and Balboa, are on location tonight, investigating the state of marshmallow toastiness across the region. Early findings suggest high fluff levels, excellent golden‑brown technique, and one missing marshmallow (Balboa continues to deny involvement).

Cartoon versions of two cats sit by a small campfire at night, each holding a stick with a marshmallow over the flames. The orange cat on the left and the black cat on the right are roasting marshmallows in a simple outdoor scene with a dark background and grass at the bottom.

[Live‑Mic Moment] (Audio crackles. The campfire pops.)

Banner: “You burned mine again!”

Balboa: “It’s called caramelization, genius.”

Banner: “It’s called sabotage.”

Balboa: “You’re lucky I didn’t eat yours for evidence.”

(Producer voice off‑screen) “Uh… we’re still live.”

Both: “Oh.” (awkward pause, then cheerful tone)

Banner: “Back to you at the desk!”

Stay tuned for updates as the investigation heats up.

 

Two marshmallows on a wooden stick roast over bright orange flames, with the marshmallows turning golden brown as smoke rises from the fire.