Too Hot!!

It has been so hot and humid that I have not been allowed outside.

I don't mind not getting to go outside, because the British One let me go outside with him over the weekend and it was TOO HOT! I was panting within minutes of going out, and ran back inside to the safety of the air conditioning.

Even in a nice cool house I have been overcome with lethargy. My favorite pasttime this week has been to stretch out on the dining room rug and let the cool air gently blow across my fur.

Ah bliss!

I Don't Wanna Be Sedated

Bright and early this morning I was unceremoniously stuffed into the Pet Taxi and taken to the evil vet. This is the evil vet who is not really quite so evil, and who always wears Birkenstock sandals. This is good to know in case I decide I no longer like him--because I could easily jump from the examination table and bite his toes and ankles.

He looked me over and did some blood work on me. I cannot be quite certain, but he seemed to be speaking to Softie and the British One about possibly sedating me and then having a go at my teeth and nappy dreads.

I don't think I like the idea of someone messing around with my teeth. The last time this happened I ended up missing three teeth and my back and front legs didn't want to cooperate properly for the evening.

A Good Brushing

Over the weekend I took up residence on Softie's lap. She has been feeling poorly and I have been trying to cheer her up and make her feel better.

She paid me back with a good long brushing, which I thoroughly enjoyed until she attacked me with the evil scissors. I let her clip me a little bit, but I drew the line at having my back legs clipped. I don't like anyone touching my legs--and she knows it!

Now I'm being threatened with being taken to a professional groomer, and I don't know what that means.

I'm a Good Helper

Softie has been under the weather for the past week. On Thursday she ended up having to go to a human vet to be checked out. Luckily I did not have to go with her. I stayed at home and helped the British One paint the upstairs hall, stairway and ceiling. I helped by watching as he balanced himself precariously on a plank of wood stretched across the stairs and a ladder. I made sure he didn't fall as he used a paint roller on a long pole to paint the ceiling of the stairway corridor. It's an old house, and the ceilings are very high.

Softie has to take a bunch of evil, vile meds because of an infection in her chest. She coughs a lot, which is not very comfortable when I am dozing on her lap, but I feel it is my catly duty to curl up on her to help her feel better.

I think it is working. She, like the stairway corridor, seems to be a little bit brighter this morning.

Mmmmmmmm...Pork Rinds!

A solitary strange man came to my house today. He is one of the men who comes in and makes a lot of mess and noise, but today he worked fairly quietly, probably because he didn't have his cohorts in crime with him.

I was not relegated to the dining room and kitchen today, as I normally am when the strange, noisy men appear, and I took full advantage of it by watching the strange man from the comfort of the office desk. The best vantage point being, of course, right in front of the British One as he tried to peck furiously at the keyboard.

After a brief struggle, the British One gave up trying to peck furiously and went downstairs for a snack, so I crept upon the strange man and watched as he worked on the wall. It's all very odd--there have been holes knocked into walls to make doors, and doors covered up to make walls. I can't quite wrap my head around it.

The strange man turned and spoke to me, which startled me into dashing back to the office, just as the British One reappeared with a nice plate of pork rinds. The strange man called to the British One, who set the plate on the desk and walked into the hallway.

I saw my chance. How could I resist a heaping plate of pork rinds when they are placed right in front of me?! I sniffed them and decided they smelled quite delicious, so I tentatively licked at one.

Superb! I began to lick all of them at once, savoring each greasy bite. The British One turned and caught sight of my tongue on a pork rind, and he raised his voice a bit, but as I'd already had a taste I decided to continue until he scooped me up and dumped me into the floor.

I licked my lips for a long time afterwards.

Another Trip to the Evil Eye Vet

I enjoy having a routine that makes sense, and one that makes me happy. Therefore, I expect my breakfast to be served at the same time each morning. When this doesn’t happen, I usually suspect the worst.

The worst, of course, being a trip to the evil vet.

Yesterday I did not have my delicious diced chicken served to me at the correct time in the morning. In fact, I didn’t get it served to me AT ALL! I gently reminded Softie of it as she puttered around in the kitchen yesterday morning, but she ignored my pleas and persuasions. I had a bad feeling she and the British One were up to no good, and once again my kitty instincts were correct.

I was scooped up and cuddled by Softie, while the British One got the dreaded Pet Taxi from the Magic Portal. I was stuffed inside against my wishes, and carried out to the metal monster. I made several loud demands to be released, but Softie switched on the iPod, pulled the metal monster from the garage and headed up the highway. Soon I had calmed down and am proud to say that I didn’t drool or pant at all in the metal monster.

We arrived at the evil eye vet, who poked and prodded my eyes again. I tried to use the claw on him, but his assistant held me down rather well, so that I could not stick claw into flesh. Terribly unfortunate really, because I truly wanted to draw blood. I have to admit, however, that the poking and prodding didn’t hurt at all. I just don’t like strangers messing with me. I also don’t like bright lights shined into my eyes. It’s just bad manners.

Dr.K told Softie that I am stable and seem to be doing well. I could have told her that!

For my trouble, I was coddled and given lots of love and attention for the remainder of the day, and the British One shared a pot of strawberry swirl yogurt with me.

Cold Turkey

I don't understand it.

They know my most favorite food in the world is turkey. I have also been on this planet long enough to know that turkey, like my birthday, only comes around once a year.

The British One and Softie keep making comments behind my back. They think I can't hear them, and that I don't understand what they are saying.

They make references to cold turkey.

I wish I had some turkey right now. I think it would make my head feel a little better. I might have overdone it a little on the COSMIC CATNIP over the weekend.

Maybe.

The Cosmic Catnip Caper

Being locked away in the dining room and kitchen this week finally worked out in my favour yesterday.

After a delicious breakfast of diced chicken, the British One closed the pocket doors, shutting me off from the rest of the house. The strange, noisy men turned up at the house shortly afterwards, which I knew meant I was in for another day of being locked away.

I decided to make the most of it by dozing on the Poang ottoman, which has been moved into the dining room so that I may sit and look out the window. After awhile, however, I was bored of napping and decided to see what sort of mischief I could get into in the kitchen. As previously stated in another diary entry, I have found that if I stare at a door long enough, it will open.

Yesterday I sat on the kitchen floor and stared at the door to the Magic Portal, hoping my staring powers would pop open the door. Sorry to say the Magic Portal door remained firmly closed.

The door next to it, however, shuntered ever so slightly to the rhythmic pounding of the strange noisy men upstairs, then creaked open. I was startled by this development, but was not about to let the opportunity pass. I tentatively nosed the door open further, and discovered that this door--the door next to the Magic Portal--was filled with gastronomical delights of the highest order!

Filled to bursting with loads of tins of food and delectable edibles, I realized I had finally located the fabled Magic Cupboard! And I was living every cat's dream--full, unauthorized access to the Magic Cupboard. I could hardly believe my good fortune.

I began to sniff around inside, passing up the unopenable tins, the boring bottles of oil, vinegar, and cooking sherry, the sealed bags of nachos, crisps and the boxes of crackers. I could smell something wonderful, but the smell was faint. I nosed further inside the Magic Cupboard, until I was completely inside. Then I climbed up onto the lowest shelf, which I could easily reach, even with arthritic legs.

The smell was a little stronger on the shelf, so I began to root around until I had located the small, foil packet. It had been opened and sealed shut again with a puzzling plastic clip, which I attempted to figure out but gave up shortly in favour of the tried and true biting-a-hole-in-the-packet way. I gnawed away at the shiny blue and silver packet, eyeing the big smiling cartoon cat on the label with glee. I knew the packet well: COSMIC CATNIP TREATS!!!

After a time I had worked a decent sized hole in the packet and began to shake the packet with my teeth so that the treats fell to the floor. I quickly jumped from the shelf and gobbled them up. Feeling the happy buzz, I batted the foil packet all around the kitchen floor, a trail of cosmic catnip treats behind me. Once I had removed as many treats from the hole as I could manage, I knocked the packet back inside the Magic Cupboard and set about gorging myself.

Later I crept back onto the Poang ottoman and had the most fantastic dreams. When Softie got home that afternoon I couldn't even be bothered to climb down from the ottoman to greet her. I was feeling too fine. She scratched my head a bit, then went upstairs to speak with the British One and to look at the most recent destruction in the mysterious fourth bedroom.

They had quite a bit of cleaning to do upstairs but I couldn't be bothered to help, although I managed to wander from the dining room to the lounge, where I climbed up on the sofa and promptly fell asleep.

The humans eventually went out to dinner with the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) and didn't come back until late. I didn't care.

When they finally returned, Softie discovered the foil packet lying in the floor of the Magic Cupboard. She showed it to the British One and they both laughed quite a lot. I don't like to be laughed at, but I felt so lovely that I didn't care. I merely raised my head and looked at them, then let it flop back down on the ottoman.

Sometime in the night, however, I started not to feel quite so great. With a very violent surge, I jumped from the ottoman just in time to vomit yellowish-tan putty all over the dining room rug. Then I slept some more.

Today I am still very lethargic and my tummy is a bit dicky. I can't imagine why?

Will It Ever End?

The noisy destruction of the mysterious fourth bedroom continues.

I think it is quite rude to be locked in the dining room and kitchen for the entire day. Why won't they let me stay outside? Why do they feel the need to supervise my every move?

I feel like taking a crap on the rug.