I have received a blue ribbon Rosette from another kitty on Catster.
I do not know who Anonymous is, but I would like to thank them. It fills my fluffy white bib with great pride.
Softie and the British One have helped me celebrate my achievement by serving an extra helping of delicious diced chicken and giving me a good, long brush last night. Then, instead of having to walk up and down the stairs between the floors, I have been carried by the humans.
I could get used to this!
Thank you Anonymous!!
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Have My Instincts Failed Me?
All day yesterday I suspected the humans were up to no good. At the top of the list of making me suspicious was that they slept in late. I awakened Softie by walking all over her, but she didn't get up! Instead, she picked up a book and began reading. So I decided to wake up the British One by walking all over him, but it didn't work.
Whenever I am not fed my delicious diced chicken at the appointed time each morning, it usually means I am in for a dreadful time at the evil vet. I decided to try to go back to sleep, or at least to feign sleep. I curled up into a furry little ball at the foot of the bed and closed my eyes--although I made sure my ears were up and very alert.
Eventually Softie got out of bed and went downstairs, but I was afraid to follow her for fear of the dreaded Pet Taxi. So I stayed in bed with the British One. Momentarily, however, he too got out of bed. He switched on the glowing box in the office and commenced pecking away at the keyboard. I continued to feign sleep.
I heard Softie calling to me, and I heard the beeping box in the kitchen, but still I worried that it was a ruse to get me downstairs, where I was sure to be stuffed into the Pet Taxi and whisked away to the evil vet.
Presently Softie also called to the British One, who went downstairs. I could hear them having a nice breakfast by the clink of cutlery on dishes, but I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to be stuffed inside the Pet Taxi. I stayed put.
It was mid-morning by the time Softie came upstairs and asked if I was hungry. Of course I was--but I still suspected they were up to no good, and I told her as much from my warm duvet. She scooped me up and carried me downstairs, and so sure was I of the Pet Taxi that I immediately began scanning the floors while still in her arms. Oddly, I didn't see it.
She placed me in the kitchen, where a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken awaited. I thought this was very strange, as normally they do not feed me before I visit the evil vet, because I tend to be very sick inside the metal monster if I have eaten. I tentatively began to eat, but kept stopping to watch Softie and the British One because I was SURE one of them would appear with the dreaded Pet Taxi at any moment. But soon the British One was dressed in his painting clothes and had disappeared upstairs to paint a bedroom, and Softie had put on a floppy hat and her Chuck Taylor's and gone outside to fire up the grass-eating noisemaker.
I stayed alert all day, in between naps on the bed, sofa and Poang chair. Nothing bad ever happened and I was not taken away to the evil vet.
Have my instincts failed me?
Whenever I am not fed my delicious diced chicken at the appointed time each morning, it usually means I am in for a dreadful time at the evil vet. I decided to try to go back to sleep, or at least to feign sleep. I curled up into a furry little ball at the foot of the bed and closed my eyes--although I made sure my ears were up and very alert.
Eventually Softie got out of bed and went downstairs, but I was afraid to follow her for fear of the dreaded Pet Taxi. So I stayed in bed with the British One. Momentarily, however, he too got out of bed. He switched on the glowing box in the office and commenced pecking away at the keyboard. I continued to feign sleep.
I heard Softie calling to me, and I heard the beeping box in the kitchen, but still I worried that it was a ruse to get me downstairs, where I was sure to be stuffed into the Pet Taxi and whisked away to the evil vet.
Presently Softie also called to the British One, who went downstairs. I could hear them having a nice breakfast by the clink of cutlery on dishes, but I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to be stuffed inside the Pet Taxi. I stayed put.
It was mid-morning by the time Softie came upstairs and asked if I was hungry. Of course I was--but I still suspected they were up to no good, and I told her as much from my warm duvet. She scooped me up and carried me downstairs, and so sure was I of the Pet Taxi that I immediately began scanning the floors while still in her arms. Oddly, I didn't see it.
She placed me in the kitchen, where a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken awaited. I thought this was very strange, as normally they do not feed me before I visit the evil vet, because I tend to be very sick inside the metal monster if I have eaten. I tentatively began to eat, but kept stopping to watch Softie and the British One because I was SURE one of them would appear with the dreaded Pet Taxi at any moment. But soon the British One was dressed in his painting clothes and had disappeared upstairs to paint a bedroom, and Softie had put on a floppy hat and her Chuck Taylor's and gone outside to fire up the grass-eating noisemaker.
I stayed alert all day, in between naps on the bed, sofa and Poang chair. Nothing bad ever happened and I was not taken away to the evil vet.
Have my instincts failed me?
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
A Tale of Suitcases
Softie managed to let one of the suitcases escape from the closet, and it has convinced her to fill it with clothing and personal effects. Luckily it appears to be one of the small suitcases, which hopefully means she will not be away too long.
This morning she said her goodbyes to the British One and me, and left with the suitcase, saying something about a business trip. What business could the small suitcase have?
The next few days will be Lads Only at my house. I suspect that the British One and I will be doing a lot of painting, a lot of listening to BBC Radio, a lot of eating delicious diced chicken, and a lot of telly viewing. I might also find time to nap during our busy schedule.
This morning she said her goodbyes to the British One and me, and left with the suitcase, saying something about a business trip. What business could the small suitcase have?
The next few days will be Lads Only at my house. I suspect that the British One and I will be doing a lot of painting, a lot of listening to BBC Radio, a lot of eating delicious diced chicken, and a lot of telly viewing. I might also find time to nap during our busy schedule.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The Kitty Salon Adventure
I know something happened to me yesterday, but I’m not quite sure what it was.
I KNEW the humans were up to no good when I wasn’t presented a dish of delicious diced chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. They tip-toed around, pretending that they had simply “forgotten” to feed me, but I knew better. I knew something was up.
Sure enough, I was swept up into Softie’s arms and stuffed unceremoniously into the Pet Taxi. I didn’t even struggle this time, deciding to take the high road and face my fate with head and tail held high.
Softie packed me into the metal monster and took me to the evil hippie vet, where she left me alone. I looked at her through the bars of the Pet Taxi and made a feeble little meow, which I knew melted her heart and made her feel extra guilty for leaving me alone.
I don’t remember a whole lot after that point. I was taken into a room and given a shot, which made me very sleepy. I wanted to fight and struggle, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted my beddie-bye basket.
Next thing I remember was waking up, quite woozy, inside a metal cage. There were other cats in other cages around me. Some were quite angrily upset about their predicament, others cried and fretted. I laid there and watched the comings and goings of the office staff. I took note of the fact that my nappy dreads were all gone, my claws had been clipped, and my teeth felt so wonderfully smooth and clean. The evil hippie vet checked in on me a couple of times, and then I heard a voice I recognized: The British One had come to rescue me!
I was so happy to hear his voice—and even happier to see him standing at the doorway to carry me home. As soon as we were home I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep as he stroked me and told me what a good and handsome boy I am.
I was still drowsy and a little uncoordinated by the time Softie came home, but I was ever so glad to see her! I climbed into her lap and dozed while she brushed me and used the comb on my chin and bib. I’m not sure what the evil hippie vet did to me, but he certainly has made me more handsome and adorable than ever.
I KNEW the humans were up to no good when I wasn’t presented a dish of delicious diced chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. They tip-toed around, pretending that they had simply “forgotten” to feed me, but I knew better. I knew something was up.
Sure enough, I was swept up into Softie’s arms and stuffed unceremoniously into the Pet Taxi. I didn’t even struggle this time, deciding to take the high road and face my fate with head and tail held high.
Softie packed me into the metal monster and took me to the evil hippie vet, where she left me alone. I looked at her through the bars of the Pet Taxi and made a feeble little meow, which I knew melted her heart and made her feel extra guilty for leaving me alone.
I don’t remember a whole lot after that point. I was taken into a room and given a shot, which made me very sleepy. I wanted to fight and struggle, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted my beddie-bye basket.
Next thing I remember was waking up, quite woozy, inside a metal cage. There were other cats in other cages around me. Some were quite angrily upset about their predicament, others cried and fretted. I laid there and watched the comings and goings of the office staff. I took note of the fact that my nappy dreads were all gone, my claws had been clipped, and my teeth felt so wonderfully smooth and clean. The evil hippie vet checked in on me a couple of times, and then I heard a voice I recognized: The British One had come to rescue me!
I was so happy to hear his voice—and even happier to see him standing at the doorway to carry me home. As soon as we were home I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep as he stroked me and told me what a good and handsome boy I am.
I was still drowsy and a little uncoordinated by the time Softie came home, but I was ever so glad to see her! I climbed into her lap and dozed while she brushed me and used the comb on my chin and bib. I’m not sure what the evil hippie vet did to me, but he certainly has made me more handsome and adorable than ever.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Nurse Nickie
The British One awoke sometime in the night and was very sick. He came downstairs into the lounge to avoid waking up Softie, so I sat on top of him and tried to make him feel better.
When he went back to bed, some hours later, I followed and slept at his feet, safe in the knowledge that if he needed me, I'd be right there.
He's still got a dicky tummy this morning, but I am certain that I have made him feel better by lying directly on top of him as he lies in bed watching the entire Stingray DVD boxset.
He and Softie have dubbed me "Nurse Nickie."
When he went back to bed, some hours later, I followed and slept at his feet, safe in the knowledge that if he needed me, I'd be right there.
He's still got a dicky tummy this morning, but I am certain that I have made him feel better by lying directly on top of him as he lies in bed watching the entire Stingray DVD boxset.
He and Softie have dubbed me "Nurse Nickie."
Sunday, July 10, 2005
A Purge on the Magic Portal
A very curious event happened yesterday, which I watched unfold with great disinterest.
All last week I followed the humans into the Magic Portal and helped them sort through various boxes and containers. The boxes and containers were then carried up into the lounge, where the contents were again taken out and stickered, then put back into the boxes. I believe there was way too much energy exerted into this odd practice. I got bored with it and situated myself on the sofa where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and where I could doze undisturbed.
Yesterday morning, bright and early, the British One and Softie hauled all the boxes and containers out onto the front lawn. I made noises about going outside with them, but they rudely shut the door in my face. My humans simply have no manners.
I watched from the front window as tables were set up and the contents of the boxes taken out and placed upon them. I noticed that the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) had also hauled items out onto their lawn. Glancing on up the street, I saw other humans doing the same.
The strangest bit about the whole exercise is that out of nowhere strangers began to descend upon the front lawn. They picked items from the tables, handed paper and coins to the humans, and then carried the items away. It was all very odd, and I was glad to be inside the house, safe from the strangers and their grabbing hands.
I overheard the owners of the evil Mooch (whom was also locked away indoors, but never seemed to cease his big barks) conversing with Softie and the British One, and from what I can understand, this practice of hauling items onto the lawn is called the East Row Historic District Community Yard Sale.
As far as I know, our yard was not sold, but nearly everything else was! Softie got sunburned, the British One complained a lot about the heat and humidity, and I napped gloriously on the sofa, in the comfort of the cool house.
All last week I followed the humans into the Magic Portal and helped them sort through various boxes and containers. The boxes and containers were then carried up into the lounge, where the contents were again taken out and stickered, then put back into the boxes. I believe there was way too much energy exerted into this odd practice. I got bored with it and situated myself on the sofa where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and where I could doze undisturbed.
Yesterday morning, bright and early, the British One and Softie hauled all the boxes and containers out onto the front lawn. I made noises about going outside with them, but they rudely shut the door in my face. My humans simply have no manners.
I watched from the front window as tables were set up and the contents of the boxes taken out and placed upon them. I noticed that the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) had also hauled items out onto their lawn. Glancing on up the street, I saw other humans doing the same.
The strangest bit about the whole exercise is that out of nowhere strangers began to descend upon the front lawn. They picked items from the tables, handed paper and coins to the humans, and then carried the items away. It was all very odd, and I was glad to be inside the house, safe from the strangers and their grabbing hands.
I overheard the owners of the evil Mooch (whom was also locked away indoors, but never seemed to cease his big barks) conversing with Softie and the British One, and from what I can understand, this practice of hauling items onto the lawn is called the East Row Historic District Community Yard Sale.
As far as I know, our yard was not sold, but nearly everything else was! Softie got sunburned, the British One complained a lot about the heat and humidity, and I napped gloriously on the sofa, in the comfort of the cool house.
Friday, July 08, 2005
More Sad Times
My friend The Baron von Stinkerton has been given some very sad news. He has lymphoma and may not be with us much longer.
He is such a good kitty, and very sweet.
Softie, the British One and I will continue to send good vibes to him and his human Lauren. Please check out his site on Catster.
He is such a good kitty, and very sweet.
Softie, the British One and I will continue to send good vibes to him and his human Lauren. Please check out his site on Catster.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Of Barons and Bombings
Today has been filled with bad news. First I got the sad news that the Baron is very ill indeed. I am worried that he may be incurable--but I don't want to think about that. I am going to continue to focus my kitty energy toward helping him get better.
Then I found out about the terrible bombings in London. I have never been to London, but Softie and the British One go quite a lot. I sat on the office desk and listened as the British One rang his friends and family to make sure they were safe. Normally at this time of year the British One is over there, but this year he didn't go because they are doing so many renovations to our house. He and Softie still have a home in England, but it is not in London. I have never been and don't want to go, even though the next door neighbors have a very beautiful female kitty named Poppy. I have seen pictures of her and she makes my heart do a happy dance.
I am ready for this bad day to end.
Then I found out about the terrible bombings in London. I have never been to London, but Softie and the British One go quite a lot. I sat on the office desk and listened as the British One rang his friends and family to make sure they were safe. Normally at this time of year the British One is over there, but this year he didn't go because they are doing so many renovations to our house. He and Softie still have a home in England, but it is not in London. I have never been and don't want to go, even though the next door neighbors have a very beautiful female kitty named Poppy. I have seen pictures of her and she makes my heart do a happy dance.
I am ready for this bad day to end.
More Bad News
I have received more bad news regarding my friend The Baron. He is very, very ill and it makes his human cry, which makes me, Softie, and the British One cry too.
He is a good cat, and a good friend. I am so depressed by his sorrowful news that I haven't even felt much like eating my delicious diced chicken. I'd much rather curl up on the dining room rug and mope.
My heart is breaking for my friend.
He is a good cat, and a good friend. I am so depressed by his sorrowful news that I haven't even felt much like eating my delicious diced chicken. I'd much rather curl up on the dining room rug and mope.
My heart is breaking for my friend.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
My Dear Friend The Baron
I am worried about my friend The Baron. He has been a very good friend, and his human Lauren has a wonderful lap.
The Baron has been ill recently, and had to visit the evil vet. Lots of bloodwork was done and we are all very worried.
Please send get well messages to Baron Von Stinkerton. I am worried for my friend.
The Baron has been ill recently, and had to visit the evil vet. Lots of bloodwork was done and we are all very worried.
Please send get well messages to Baron Von Stinkerton. I am worried for my friend.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Still Too Hot
Over the course of the past several weeks there has been a lot of what the humans refer to as "bad weather."
It has been very, very hot indeed--so much so that I have not yearned to go outdoors. I much prefer the comfort of the cool, air-conditioned house.
Yesterday we finally got a reprieve, but unfortunately it came in the form of severe thunderstorms. I do not like thunderstorms. I do not like loud noises in general, but coupled with bright flashes of light and balls of ice falling from the sky--it's a recipe that produces one very worried, stressed kitty.
I sought solace on top of the British One, who sat on the sofa speaking on the phone to his cousin in Australia. Apparently he was having great difficulty hearing her because of the noise from the rain and balls of ice hitting the windows and roof. It sounded to me as if the roof was falling in!The British One and I also feared for Softie's safety, because she was late coming home from work. Eventually she made it home, but I was very worried about her and could not eat any of my delicious diced chicken until I knew she was safe.
Today is bright and sunny. There is no rain, no loud booms, no bright flashes of light and no balls of ice falling from the sky. There is also no sticky humidity.
I believe it is time to inform them that I would like to go outside.
It has been very, very hot indeed--so much so that I have not yearned to go outdoors. I much prefer the comfort of the cool, air-conditioned house.
Yesterday we finally got a reprieve, but unfortunately it came in the form of severe thunderstorms. I do not like thunderstorms. I do not like loud noises in general, but coupled with bright flashes of light and balls of ice falling from the sky--it's a recipe that produces one very worried, stressed kitty.
I sought solace on top of the British One, who sat on the sofa speaking on the phone to his cousin in Australia. Apparently he was having great difficulty hearing her because of the noise from the rain and balls of ice hitting the windows and roof. It sounded to me as if the roof was falling in!The British One and I also feared for Softie's safety, because she was late coming home from work. Eventually she made it home, but I was very worried about her and could not eat any of my delicious diced chicken until I knew she was safe.
Today is bright and sunny. There is no rain, no loud booms, no bright flashes of light and no balls of ice falling from the sky. There is also no sticky humidity.
I believe it is time to inform them that I would like to go outside.
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