Sir Higson Nick, Earl of Fluffytail, departed this life for the Summerland at 1 a.m., July 31, 2006.
Thank you for the days,
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I'm thinking of the days,
I won't forget a single day, believe me.
I bless the light,
I bless the light that lights on you believe me.
And though you're gone,
You're with me every single day, believe me.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
The Summerland
Once again I feel the magnetic pull of the Summerland.
Last night I edged closer to the foot of the bridge and had myself a look. It doesn't seem nearly as long as it did two months ago. It would not take very much energy for me to cross the bridge, and I find myself fighting to resist the urge to inspect it a bit more closely.
I wonder if it would be ok to put a paw on it to test out the sturdiness?
Last night I edged closer to the foot of the bridge and had myself a look. It doesn't seem nearly as long as it did two months ago. It would not take very much energy for me to cross the bridge, and I find myself fighting to resist the urge to inspect it a bit more closely.
I wonder if it would be ok to put a paw on it to test out the sturdiness?
Thursday, July 13, 2006
A Proper Chippy
It has been nearly a whole week since I last had a taste of succulent, juicy cod, and I must figure a way to persuade the humans to go out and get some for me.
Last Friday, my humans apparently discovered what the British One called "a proper chippy" and although I am not sure what a "proper chippy" is, it appears that it is a place to get delicious battered cod and vinegar-doused, thick fried potatoes.
As soon as they carried in the bag I smelled it, and knew I had to have some. Naturally I was not interested in whatever Softie was having, because it wasn't cod, but the British One certainly had some, and I knew I must make some of it mine.
I tried the subtle approach first, which was to stand under his feet in the kitchen whilst he dished it up. I stuck closely to him with my tail held high, and when he sat down I made sure he knew I was there with a few taps of my paw on his leg. He thwarted me every time I tried to reach a paw onto the plate, and a few times he even had to raise his voice to me. Which didn't matter in the least. I wanted some cod, and I would have some cod!
He made the mistake of putting a tiny morsel on the tip of his finger, which he offered to me. I was ever so eager for a taste that I momentarily forgot my dignity. Yes, I bit him!
He decided a better tactic was to cut away the batter, slice up the fish into small, kitty-bite sized pieces and serve it to me on a clean dish. Hey diddle diddle, I was over the moon!
But it's been AGES since last Friday. I must have more fish! I must locate this "proper chippy" and move in.
Last Friday, my humans apparently discovered what the British One called "a proper chippy" and although I am not sure what a "proper chippy" is, it appears that it is a place to get delicious battered cod and vinegar-doused, thick fried potatoes.
As soon as they carried in the bag I smelled it, and knew I had to have some. Naturally I was not interested in whatever Softie was having, because it wasn't cod, but the British One certainly had some, and I knew I must make some of it mine.
I tried the subtle approach first, which was to stand under his feet in the kitchen whilst he dished it up. I stuck closely to him with my tail held high, and when he sat down I made sure he knew I was there with a few taps of my paw on his leg. He thwarted me every time I tried to reach a paw onto the plate, and a few times he even had to raise his voice to me. Which didn't matter in the least. I wanted some cod, and I would have some cod!
He made the mistake of putting a tiny morsel on the tip of his finger, which he offered to me. I was ever so eager for a taste that I momentarily forgot my dignity. Yes, I bit him!
He decided a better tactic was to cut away the batter, slice up the fish into small, kitty-bite sized pieces and serve it to me on a clean dish. Hey diddle diddle, I was over the moon!
But it's been AGES since last Friday. I must have more fish! I must locate this "proper chippy" and move in.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
A Neighborhood Showdown
I may be getting up there in years, but I can still put a good scare into uppity young cats who think they can waltz into my garden any time they feel the urge.
Case in point: yesterday I persuaded the humans to let me venture outside (in the front!!) before they took their evening walk. The weather was so lovely that I took umbrage with the fact that they had left me cooped up indoors all day, so I parked myself right in front of the big entry doors and wouldn't budge. They had no choice but to let me outside to sniff the cool evening breeze. Softie took the opportunity to mess with her plants and flowers, and the British One sat on the porch reading the newspaper while I surveyed my domain.
And it was a good thing I inspected it too, because who should wander over to the edge of my property but Gordon, the young ginger cat who sometimes escorts Softie to the bus in the mornings!
Immediately I was on guard. I crouched down low and hid behind a large flowerpot on the porch, keeping my eyes trained on him. He couldn't see me, and continued sniffing the neighbor's flowers as he edged closer to my front garden. My tail swished with anticipation—I couldn't wait to jump on him the minute he stepped a paw onto my lawn!
Of course Softie had to open her big mouth and warn Gordon that I was watching him, and when he saw me he flipped his tail a few times and then flopped over on his side, rubbing his head all over the neighbor's sidewalk while trying to look as harmless as possible.
I continued to give him the evil eye, and positioned myself into a Sphinx-like pose on the top step of the porch. Gordon rolled over on his back, still watching me coyly with big golden eyes, and stretched out his paws. Oh how I wanted to leap from the porch and give him a good whack across that smug face! I think he realized that I meant business too, because he stood up, tucked in his tail, and scooted a bit further away, turning twice to see if I was following. When he saw that I wasn't, he flopped over on his side again and rolled around.
All too soon it was over, and I was scooped up into the arms of the British One and put back inside the house, where I could not inflict damage on Gordon's insolent arrogance.
I showed him who is Boss around here. He'd be wise not to overstep his boundries, because the next time I might not let him get away so easily.
Case in point: yesterday I persuaded the humans to let me venture outside (in the front!!) before they took their evening walk. The weather was so lovely that I took umbrage with the fact that they had left me cooped up indoors all day, so I parked myself right in front of the big entry doors and wouldn't budge. They had no choice but to let me outside to sniff the cool evening breeze. Softie took the opportunity to mess with her plants and flowers, and the British One sat on the porch reading the newspaper while I surveyed my domain.
And it was a good thing I inspected it too, because who should wander over to the edge of my property but Gordon, the young ginger cat who sometimes escorts Softie to the bus in the mornings!
Immediately I was on guard. I crouched down low and hid behind a large flowerpot on the porch, keeping my eyes trained on him. He couldn't see me, and continued sniffing the neighbor's flowers as he edged closer to my front garden. My tail swished with anticipation—I couldn't wait to jump on him the minute he stepped a paw onto my lawn!
Of course Softie had to open her big mouth and warn Gordon that I was watching him, and when he saw me he flipped his tail a few times and then flopped over on his side, rubbing his head all over the neighbor's sidewalk while trying to look as harmless as possible.
I continued to give him the evil eye, and positioned myself into a Sphinx-like pose on the top step of the porch. Gordon rolled over on his back, still watching me coyly with big golden eyes, and stretched out his paws. Oh how I wanted to leap from the porch and give him a good whack across that smug face! I think he realized that I meant business too, because he stood up, tucked in his tail, and scooted a bit further away, turning twice to see if I was following. When he saw that I wasn't, he flopped over on his side again and rolled around.
All too soon it was over, and I was scooped up into the arms of the British One and put back inside the house, where I could not inflict damage on Gordon's insolent arrogance.
I showed him who is Boss around here. He'd be wise not to overstep his boundries, because the next time I might not let him get away so easily.
Monday, July 03, 2006
The Legend of Stinkfoot
So I accidentally stepped into my own poo the other morning as I was exiting my litterbox, which made my humans very excitable when they woke up and discovered little smelly paw prints tracked all over the kitchen floor.
You'd have thought the end of the world was nigh, the way they over reacted. There was a little too much dramatic wailing, cursing and gnashing of teeth for my liking. I sat and watched as they hauled out the buckets, mops and disinfectants, and although I wore my best innocent face, they somehow knew it was my doing (or pooing, if you will). I decided it might be in my best interest to hide.
Mysteriously, they were able to track my whereabouts with great ease, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried outside by Softie while the British One filled up a bucket of hot, soapy water. Obviously they had something wicked on their minds, and I wriggled and struggled to break free, to no avail.
Softie passed me over to the British One, who held me in his arms like a squirming baby. Just as I was beginning to calm down and enjoy the attention, Softie began wiping my back paws with a rough, wet cloth.
I kicked, I struggled, I cried. In an effort to keep my paws away from the damp rag, I even tried to burrow myself into the British One's shirtsleeve, which was quite impossible since I was lying flat out on my back. But Softie was very determined, and I concluded that it might be a good time to go into Zen-kitty mode. So I did. I let her wash my back paw, and then she rubbed the cloth on my other paw, evidently in an effort to add to the injustice already being served.
And just when I thought the humiliation was finally over, she brought out the dreaded scissors and clipped the fur from between my paw pads! I didn't enjoy it in the slightest, and Zen-kitty morphed into Thrashabout-kitty. Although she managed to clip a few small clumps from between my toes, I'm pleased to note that Thrashabout-kitty prevailed and I was set free. I shall file that little nugget away for future use.
Annoyingly, I now suffer the ignominy of being called "Stinkfoot" by my humans. How rude!
You'd have thought the end of the world was nigh, the way they over reacted. There was a little too much dramatic wailing, cursing and gnashing of teeth for my liking. I sat and watched as they hauled out the buckets, mops and disinfectants, and although I wore my best innocent face, they somehow knew it was my doing (or pooing, if you will). I decided it might be in my best interest to hide.
Mysteriously, they were able to track my whereabouts with great ease, and the next thing I knew, I was being carried outside by Softie while the British One filled up a bucket of hot, soapy water. Obviously they had something wicked on their minds, and I wriggled and struggled to break free, to no avail.
Softie passed me over to the British One, who held me in his arms like a squirming baby. Just as I was beginning to calm down and enjoy the attention, Softie began wiping my back paws with a rough, wet cloth.
I kicked, I struggled, I cried. In an effort to keep my paws away from the damp rag, I even tried to burrow myself into the British One's shirtsleeve, which was quite impossible since I was lying flat out on my back. But Softie was very determined, and I concluded that it might be a good time to go into Zen-kitty mode. So I did. I let her wash my back paw, and then she rubbed the cloth on my other paw, evidently in an effort to add to the injustice already being served.
And just when I thought the humiliation was finally over, she brought out the dreaded scissors and clipped the fur from between my paw pads! I didn't enjoy it in the slightest, and Zen-kitty morphed into Thrashabout-kitty. Although she managed to clip a few small clumps from between my toes, I'm pleased to note that Thrashabout-kitty prevailed and I was set free. I shall file that little nugget away for future use.
Annoyingly, I now suffer the ignominy of being called "Stinkfoot" by my humans. How rude!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Safe?
Oh dear oh dear oh dear.
Animal Mutilations worry me very much, and even more so when cats are being mysteriously mutilated.
I am glad I live indoors.
Animal Mutilations worry me very much, and even more so when cats are being mysteriously mutilated.
I am glad I live indoors.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Cool Claws Treats sounds wonderfully delicious, and I believe that it should be a MUST on my humans next shopping excursion.
Ice cream + chicken?
Yes please!
Ice cream + chicken?
Yes please!
Monday, June 26, 2006
Food! Glorious Food!
Nearly a month has passed since I was coaxed away from the shores of the Summerland, and I am pleased to report that since that day I have been presented with a vast array of gastronomical delights each and every time I enter the wonderful world of the kitchen.
Salmon, tuna, cod, lamb, even succulent turkey! As if that wasn’t enough, the humans have gifted me a new ceramic food dish, which is blue and groovy and I like it very much. Eating is such a pleasure that I have found a way to comfortably situate myself within viewing distance of the kitchen door, so that I never miss the chance to discuss food fantasies with whomever may be passing by.
Sometimes I stretch out on the seagrass rug in the dining room, and sometimes I lounge on a chair, but most often I like to sit on the kitchen mat near the back door, so that I don’t miss out on any food-related activity.
I even have newfound energy to climb the stairs and hop onto the humans’ bed on weekend mornings when they oversleep. Once they are awake --it usually only takes a couple of minutes of walking around on top of them-- they are easily led down the stairs and into the kitchen.
It is gratifying to know that my journey back from the brink has been well worth the effort.
Salmon, tuna, cod, lamb, even succulent turkey! As if that wasn’t enough, the humans have gifted me a new ceramic food dish, which is blue and groovy and I like it very much. Eating is such a pleasure that I have found a way to comfortably situate myself within viewing distance of the kitchen door, so that I never miss the chance to discuss food fantasies with whomever may be passing by.
Sometimes I stretch out on the seagrass rug in the dining room, and sometimes I lounge on a chair, but most often I like to sit on the kitchen mat near the back door, so that I don’t miss out on any food-related activity.
I even have newfound energy to climb the stairs and hop onto the humans’ bed on weekend mornings when they oversleep. Once they are awake --it usually only takes a couple of minutes of walking around on top of them-- they are easily led down the stairs and into the kitchen.
It is gratifying to know that my journey back from the brink has been well worth the effort.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Goodbye, dear friend
My dear, gallant friend Crackers passed away yesterday, from pancreatic complications following his surgery last week.He was a most excellent cat, and was well loved by his human. He is greatly missed.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
A Slight Detour
My departure to the Summerland has taken a detour, as I have been coaxed away from the foot of Rainbow Bridge by a steady diet of sumptuous foods, compassion, and antibiotics.
My humans suspected that the dreaded eardrops I was being given were making me lose my appetite, and they were partially right—the eardrops were making me very depressed, but the underlying reason my ears were bothering me was because I had a very bad kitty sinus infection. My ears were clogged so that I couldn’t hear very well, and my nose was clogged so I couldn’t smell anything.
There is nothing worse than a broken smeller!
My humans began feeding me very pungent smelling (and delicious) foodstuff like tuna and salmon, and then the British One took me to the not-quite-evil hippy vet, who prescribed some antibiotics to clear up the infection.
I can’t say I’m as good as new, because that would be a lie. But I’m as good as I was before, only a little bit lighter. Now that my appetite is back I am hopeful that my weight will increase, and with all the delicious, fattening foods I’m being served I should be back to normal in no time.
I want to thank all my kitty friends who have had me in their prayers, and who have been so kind as to email me and mention me in their diaries. It is very humbling to know so many care about my welfare.
I know I do not have a lot of time left on this side of the Bridge, but I’m hoping to stick around a little while longer.
It’s good to be back.
My humans suspected that the dreaded eardrops I was being given were making me lose my appetite, and they were partially right—the eardrops were making me very depressed, but the underlying reason my ears were bothering me was because I had a very bad kitty sinus infection. My ears were clogged so that I couldn’t hear very well, and my nose was clogged so I couldn’t smell anything.
There is nothing worse than a broken smeller!
My humans began feeding me very pungent smelling (and delicious) foodstuff like tuna and salmon, and then the British One took me to the not-quite-evil hippy vet, who prescribed some antibiotics to clear up the infection.
I can’t say I’m as good as new, because that would be a lie. But I’m as good as I was before, only a little bit lighter. Now that my appetite is back I am hopeful that my weight will increase, and with all the delicious, fattening foods I’m being served I should be back to normal in no time.
I want to thank all my kitty friends who have had me in their prayers, and who have been so kind as to email me and mention me in their diaries. It is very humbling to know so many care about my welfare.
I know I do not have a lot of time left on this side of the Bridge, but I’m hoping to stick around a little while longer.
It’s good to be back.
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Best Christmas Present Ever
This past weekend was simply the best.
The strange men showed up early Saturday morning to refit our front entry doors, and I wasn’t even banished to the dining room! I got to lie on the sofa, on Softie’s lap, and watch them work, which was incredibly interesting. They removed the particle board from the entry and hung the doors, which took several hours, because the doors are very large and heavy. Those old doors look brand new now, and I am amazed at how something so obviously deteriorated could be rejuvenated. I wish someone could do the same for me.
When the strange men took a lunch break, Softie and I went outside in the back garden and I noticed that the gate on the side of the house was open—so I wandered over to it and paused, waiting for Softie to either shut it or scoop me up and away from it, but she didn’t! Instead, she simply shadowed me as I passed through the gate and walked along the side of the house. I am so happy that I have finally been allowed to put this last piece of the house puzzle together. Now I know the perimeter of my home, and I know how to link the front and back on the house.
I was overjoyed, and with quickened steps I explored the area, and walked onto Mooch’s front garden to sniff the flowers, and then back to my front porch.
I even found the strength to briefly chase a butterfly and although I didn't catch him, I'm quite sure I put a good scare into him.
My humans have also served up some foods that I never thought I’d taste again. I don’t have much appetite, but I was able to eat a few bites of the delicious tuna I was given. It makes my heart sing to know that my humans love me enough to let me have forbidden foods like tuna again, even though they know that I sometimes cannot make it to my box after I’ve had the forbidden goodies.
My humans kindly stayed home with me nearly all weekend, and whenever I wanted a lap they were right there, ready and willing. I was so happy and thankful that I purred, which is something I don’t do very often.
I know my time is short, and the pull of the Summerland increases ever stronger, and so I have been reflecting on my good fortune and all I have to be thankful for.
I am thankful for my house and the shelter it provides. I was born in a barn, and had fate not intervened, I might have remained there, exposed to the elements and fighting other cats for scraps of food. Instead I have lived a pampered life inside a lovely, warm home with three meals a day.
I am thankful for all the toys and presents bestowed upon me over the years.
I am thankful for never going hungry. I have never wanted for anything, and have been safe in the knowledge that there would always be food in my dish and fresh water too, whenever I wanted it.
I am thankful for clean litterboxes.
I am thankful for all the kitties I have met on Catster, especially the lovely Keiser, Cooper and Camilla.
I am thankful for all the blue ribbon rosettes I have been awarded over the past two years since I joined, and for all the times I was chosen as a Daily Diary Pick.
I am thankful too, for being chosen as "Cat of the Week" on Catster. It was a great honour, and I am pleased I had the opportunity.
Even though I do not like vets, I am thankful for being well cared for. I am thankful that my humans have kept me current on my vaccinations, and went above and beyond with regards to my many medications over the years. I know the British One has a phobia about eyes, so I know it has been an act of great love for him to administer my eye drops each day.
Most of all I am thankful for my humans, Softie and the British One. They have provided me with shelter, love, and affection, and have always treated me as an equal member of the family. They have no children, so I have been spoiled thoroughly and completely for all of my nineteen years. I could not ask for a better pair of humans.
Although Softie and I celebrate our birthdays together in November, I would like to take this chance to say that I personally celebrate my birthday as the day I came to live with Softie on Christmas Eve, 1986.
Living with my humans these past nineteen years has been the best Christmas present a cat could ever have.
The strange men showed up early Saturday morning to refit our front entry doors, and I wasn’t even banished to the dining room! I got to lie on the sofa, on Softie’s lap, and watch them work, which was incredibly interesting. They removed the particle board from the entry and hung the doors, which took several hours, because the doors are very large and heavy. Those old doors look brand new now, and I am amazed at how something so obviously deteriorated could be rejuvenated. I wish someone could do the same for me.
When the strange men took a lunch break, Softie and I went outside in the back garden and I noticed that the gate on the side of the house was open—so I wandered over to it and paused, waiting for Softie to either shut it or scoop me up and away from it, but she didn’t! Instead, she simply shadowed me as I passed through the gate and walked along the side of the house. I am so happy that I have finally been allowed to put this last piece of the house puzzle together. Now I know the perimeter of my home, and I know how to link the front and back on the house.
I was overjoyed, and with quickened steps I explored the area, and walked onto Mooch’s front garden to sniff the flowers, and then back to my front porch.
I even found the strength to briefly chase a butterfly and although I didn't catch him, I'm quite sure I put a good scare into him.
My humans have also served up some foods that I never thought I’d taste again. I don’t have much appetite, but I was able to eat a few bites of the delicious tuna I was given. It makes my heart sing to know that my humans love me enough to let me have forbidden foods like tuna again, even though they know that I sometimes cannot make it to my box after I’ve had the forbidden goodies.
My humans kindly stayed home with me nearly all weekend, and whenever I wanted a lap they were right there, ready and willing. I was so happy and thankful that I purred, which is something I don’t do very often.
I know my time is short, and the pull of the Summerland increases ever stronger, and so I have been reflecting on my good fortune and all I have to be thankful for.
I am thankful for my house and the shelter it provides. I was born in a barn, and had fate not intervened, I might have remained there, exposed to the elements and fighting other cats for scraps of food. Instead I have lived a pampered life inside a lovely, warm home with three meals a day.
I am thankful for all the toys and presents bestowed upon me over the years.
I am thankful for never going hungry. I have never wanted for anything, and have been safe in the knowledge that there would always be food in my dish and fresh water too, whenever I wanted it.
I am thankful for clean litterboxes.
I am thankful for all the kitties I have met on Catster, especially the lovely Keiser, Cooper and Camilla.
I am thankful for all the blue ribbon rosettes I have been awarded over the past two years since I joined, and for all the times I was chosen as a Daily Diary Pick.
I am thankful too, for being chosen as "Cat of the Week" on Catster. It was a great honour, and I am pleased I had the opportunity.
Even though I do not like vets, I am thankful for being well cared for. I am thankful that my humans have kept me current on my vaccinations, and went above and beyond with regards to my many medications over the years. I know the British One has a phobia about eyes, so I know it has been an act of great love for him to administer my eye drops each day.
Most of all I am thankful for my humans, Softie and the British One. They have provided me with shelter, love, and affection, and have always treated me as an equal member of the family. They have no children, so I have been spoiled thoroughly and completely for all of my nineteen years. I could not ask for a better pair of humans.
Although Softie and I celebrate our birthdays together in November, I would like to take this chance to say that I personally celebrate my birthday as the day I came to live with Softie on Christmas Eve, 1986.
Living with my humans these past nineteen years has been the best Christmas present a cat could ever have.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Atonement: The Sequel
My humans attempt to make me as comfortable as they can in the short time I have left.
The British One took me outside yesterday, and I greatly enjoyed sniffing the warm breeze. When we came back indoors, he enticed me to eat a little bit by serving up a helping of delicious turkey baby food. I plowed into it with great gusto, and even licked the spoon, but all that eating made me very tired and I had to have a nap on the sofa.
He seemed to sense that I wanted a nice lap, and sat on the sofa with me for a long time. When Softie got home she prepared for me a lovely feast of sumptuous buttered cod, and it smelled heavenly. I am just so tired though, and only managed to eat a few small nibbles. It made Softie cry to know I no longer pine for my favorite foods. The pull of the Summerland continues to grow stronger, and it has taken away my hunger.
I continue to atone for my past.
I am sorry that I scratched a hole in the Oriental rug. I had to scratch it surreptitiously because Softie had put it on my list of no-no’s, and I was scolded whenever she caught me ripping into it. So I simply waited until she had left the house for the day, and then I tore into it to my heart’s delight. She thought she was being clever when she moved it into a room with a closed door, but I was able to get most doors open if I worked at them long enough. And so she would come home at night to discover the door ajar, and I would be sitting on the kitchen table, wearing my innocent face.
I am sorry for all those times I got lonely and decided to ring up people at random. I discovered early on that if I knocked the receiver off the cradle, I would hear a lady's voice on the phone, telling me “If you'd like to place a call, please hang up and try again.” After a short time, a loud noise beeped through the phone, and then it would go silent. I never mastered putting the phone back on the hook, but it was a cinch to knock it off. And I did—every single day.
Softie would come home every evening to a dead phone. After several weeks of this, she tried to thwart me by putting large rubber bands around the phone to keep me from knocking off the receiver. But I’m a very brainy boy, and I quickly figured out that the phone was equipped with a “speakerphone” button that, if pushed, would give me the same result as knocking the receiver from the cradle. So I continued to listen to the nice phone lady tell me to hang up and try my call again.
But after awhile that got boring, so I sat on the back of the sofa and watched Softie closely whenever she placed a call, and soon I had learned how to place calls too. I just pushed something called "the speed dial button!" Sometimes I would ring the old lady, and sometimes it was Softie’s friend Leigh Ann. One time I even phoned up The British One, all the way in England! Softie certainly was surprised to see that phone bill. And for that, I’m sorry.
I have to admit that I am also sorry my humans invested in a cordless phone, because I never learned how to use it.
I am also sorry for all those nights I woke up my humans by sitting in a pool of moonlight, singing songs of woe to my stuffed sheep-pig. I am especially sorry for the nights I couldn’t locate the sheep-pig, and howled and cried until Softie stumbled out of bed to find it for me, so that I would be able to sing my songs again.
I’m sorry I ripped the innards out of countless sheep-pigs and left the stuffing strewn all over the house. Each time I would gut one of them, it would disappear for a few days, then reappear looking and smelling brand new. It was my arch nemesis for a very long time. I’m pleased to say that I finally won the war, because I haven’t seen the sheep-pig in many a year.
I’m sorry, too, that I can’t make this old body stick around a little longer. I don’t know who will keep a watchful eye on my humans after I am gone. And goodness knows, they need constant supervision.
The British One took me outside yesterday, and I greatly enjoyed sniffing the warm breeze. When we came back indoors, he enticed me to eat a little bit by serving up a helping of delicious turkey baby food. I plowed into it with great gusto, and even licked the spoon, but all that eating made me very tired and I had to have a nap on the sofa.
He seemed to sense that I wanted a nice lap, and sat on the sofa with me for a long time. When Softie got home she prepared for me a lovely feast of sumptuous buttered cod, and it smelled heavenly. I am just so tired though, and only managed to eat a few small nibbles. It made Softie cry to know I no longer pine for my favorite foods. The pull of the Summerland continues to grow stronger, and it has taken away my hunger.
I continue to atone for my past.
I am sorry that I scratched a hole in the Oriental rug. I had to scratch it surreptitiously because Softie had put it on my list of no-no’s, and I was scolded whenever she caught me ripping into it. So I simply waited until she had left the house for the day, and then I tore into it to my heart’s delight. She thought she was being clever when she moved it into a room with a closed door, but I was able to get most doors open if I worked at them long enough. And so she would come home at night to discover the door ajar, and I would be sitting on the kitchen table, wearing my innocent face.
I am sorry for all those times I got lonely and decided to ring up people at random. I discovered early on that if I knocked the receiver off the cradle, I would hear a lady's voice on the phone, telling me “If you'd like to place a call, please hang up and try again.” After a short time, a loud noise beeped through the phone, and then it would go silent. I never mastered putting the phone back on the hook, but it was a cinch to knock it off. And I did—every single day.
Softie would come home every evening to a dead phone. After several weeks of this, she tried to thwart me by putting large rubber bands around the phone to keep me from knocking off the receiver. But I’m a very brainy boy, and I quickly figured out that the phone was equipped with a “speakerphone” button that, if pushed, would give me the same result as knocking the receiver from the cradle. So I continued to listen to the nice phone lady tell me to hang up and try my call again.
But after awhile that got boring, so I sat on the back of the sofa and watched Softie closely whenever she placed a call, and soon I had learned how to place calls too. I just pushed something called "the speed dial button!" Sometimes I would ring the old lady, and sometimes it was Softie’s friend Leigh Ann. One time I even phoned up The British One, all the way in England! Softie certainly was surprised to see that phone bill. And for that, I’m sorry.
I have to admit that I am also sorry my humans invested in a cordless phone, because I never learned how to use it.
I am also sorry for all those nights I woke up my humans by sitting in a pool of moonlight, singing songs of woe to my stuffed sheep-pig. I am especially sorry for the nights I couldn’t locate the sheep-pig, and howled and cried until Softie stumbled out of bed to find it for me, so that I would be able to sing my songs again.
I’m sorry I ripped the innards out of countless sheep-pigs and left the stuffing strewn all over the house. Each time I would gut one of them, it would disappear for a few days, then reappear looking and smelling brand new. It was my arch nemesis for a very long time. I’m pleased to say that I finally won the war, because I haven’t seen the sheep-pig in many a year.
I’m sorry, too, that I can’t make this old body stick around a little longer. I don’t know who will keep a watchful eye on my humans after I am gone. And goodness knows, they need constant supervision.
Crackers Needs Good Vibes
Please send good thoughts and wishes to my friend Crackers, as he is undergoing surgery today for the removal of an accidentally swallowed sewing needle.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Atonement
I have not felt very well in the past few days and as such have done a lot of dozing on the sofa. I have also been doing a lot of thinking, and have decided that it might be a good time for me to atone for some of the transgressions done over the past 19 years.
I am sorry for pooing on the tree skirt when Softie brought me home for the first time, many years ago. In my defense, I honestly did not know any better.
I am sorry for climbing that big tree in the back garden of my old house. Oh I was young and thought I knew it all, but in all honesty I had no idea until I was way up in the top of the tree that I did not know how to climb back down. The tree was very big, and Softie stood beneath looking very small. Way into the night she stood under the tree, her soothing voice trying to comfort a crying, frightened kitty. Eventually I summoned the nerve to work my way down, little by little. Softie held out her arms and I leapt into them, and she carried me into the safety of the house.
I admit that I am really not very sorry for chewing a 14kt gold rope chain necklace in half. The necklace was a gift from Softie to a friend, and that friend had the audacity to wiggle the chain in front of me, and laughed with delight when I batted it around. As far as I was concerned, it was a nice, shiny plaything, so it serves him right for leaving it lying, unattended, on the coffee table in the lounge. When the two of them came home from a concert later that night, I had already done the damage. Oh but what a time I had chasing it across the shiny surface of the table, and gnawing it in half when I caught it!
I am sorry for shredding the wicker laundry hamper, but really, Softie needed to get a new one anyway because that one was UGLY. I only helped her along in the decision to do away with the ratty old thing.
I am sorry for poking all those holes in the waterbed when I was a kitten. The lure of her bare toes poking out from under the blanket was simply too tempting. I had to attack them, and the waterbed mattress was simply a casualty of those varied assaults. Each midnight attack resulted in morning repairs. Eventually she was persuaded to get rid of the waterbed in exchange for a proper mattress. I am pleased to have helped her with that decision.
I am sorry for pooing inside her favorite slippers one morning. She had laughed at me for some inconsequential thing, but I was in a foul mood that morning and took offense, so while she busied herself fixing my breakfast in the kitchen, I stalked off to the bedroom and had myself a nice, steaming poo right inside those suede slippers! I felt vindicated at the time, but now I feel rather ashamed of myself. With age comes wisdom.
And speaking of pooing, I am sorry for all those times the British One has had to clean up my accidents over the past few years. I know he has not liked cleaning up after me, and I am truly sorry for all those times I could not, or did not, make it to my box.
I am sorry for dunking my head into that glass of milk after having my teeth cleaned. In my defense, I was still fairly woozy from the anesthesia and my behavior could be excused. My humans laughed and laughed, and they did excuse the behavior. I will now admit to being well aware of my actions. I just wanted to do it, because it looked delicious and inviting.
I am sorry for destroying the spider plant that hung in the spare bedroom. Softie thought it was out of my reach, but NOTHING was out of my reach if I wanted to get to it. The spider plant taunted me every time I walked past the doorway, and eventually I could take no more abuse from the pestering, teasing thing. I must say, it was delicious and I thoroughly enjoyed rolling in the dirt that spilled onto the hardwood floor.
I am sorry for all the times I escaped from the house to dash across the back garden and roll in the fresh catnip which Softie planted around the garden shed. Wait a minute. No I'm not.
I am sorry for being jealous of the British One when he first entered our lives. I felt threatened by him, selfishly wanting to keep Softie all to myself. I had, after all, successfully chased away other suitors, and I tried to do the same to him. To his credit, he persevered and I have come to love him as much, maybe even more than, Softie. He has a great lap and always has time for me.
I am sorry for making my humans feel guilty whenever it was time to visit the vet. It took many years for me to realize that no amount of crying, struggling and fighting was going to change the situation. I am glad I learned how to become Zen Kitty during the journeys in the metal monster.
Most of all, I am sorry that I am no longer able to comfort my humans when they cry.
I am sorry for pooing on the tree skirt when Softie brought me home for the first time, many years ago. In my defense, I honestly did not know any better.
I am sorry for climbing that big tree in the back garden of my old house. Oh I was young and thought I knew it all, but in all honesty I had no idea until I was way up in the top of the tree that I did not know how to climb back down. The tree was very big, and Softie stood beneath looking very small. Way into the night she stood under the tree, her soothing voice trying to comfort a crying, frightened kitty. Eventually I summoned the nerve to work my way down, little by little. Softie held out her arms and I leapt into them, and she carried me into the safety of the house.
I admit that I am really not very sorry for chewing a 14kt gold rope chain necklace in half. The necklace was a gift from Softie to a friend, and that friend had the audacity to wiggle the chain in front of me, and laughed with delight when I batted it around. As far as I was concerned, it was a nice, shiny plaything, so it serves him right for leaving it lying, unattended, on the coffee table in the lounge. When the two of them came home from a concert later that night, I had already done the damage. Oh but what a time I had chasing it across the shiny surface of the table, and gnawing it in half when I caught it!
I am sorry for shredding the wicker laundry hamper, but really, Softie needed to get a new one anyway because that one was UGLY. I only helped her along in the decision to do away with the ratty old thing.
I am sorry for poking all those holes in the waterbed when I was a kitten. The lure of her bare toes poking out from under the blanket was simply too tempting. I had to attack them, and the waterbed mattress was simply a casualty of those varied assaults. Each midnight attack resulted in morning repairs. Eventually she was persuaded to get rid of the waterbed in exchange for a proper mattress. I am pleased to have helped her with that decision.
I am sorry for pooing inside her favorite slippers one morning. She had laughed at me for some inconsequential thing, but I was in a foul mood that morning and took offense, so while she busied herself fixing my breakfast in the kitchen, I stalked off to the bedroom and had myself a nice, steaming poo right inside those suede slippers! I felt vindicated at the time, but now I feel rather ashamed of myself. With age comes wisdom.
And speaking of pooing, I am sorry for all those times the British One has had to clean up my accidents over the past few years. I know he has not liked cleaning up after me, and I am truly sorry for all those times I could not, or did not, make it to my box.
I am sorry for dunking my head into that glass of milk after having my teeth cleaned. In my defense, I was still fairly woozy from the anesthesia and my behavior could be excused. My humans laughed and laughed, and they did excuse the behavior. I will now admit to being well aware of my actions. I just wanted to do it, because it looked delicious and inviting.
I am sorry for destroying the spider plant that hung in the spare bedroom. Softie thought it was out of my reach, but NOTHING was out of my reach if I wanted to get to it. The spider plant taunted me every time I walked past the doorway, and eventually I could take no more abuse from the pestering, teasing thing. I must say, it was delicious and I thoroughly enjoyed rolling in the dirt that spilled onto the hardwood floor.
I am sorry for all the times I escaped from the house to dash across the back garden and roll in the fresh catnip which Softie planted around the garden shed. Wait a minute. No I'm not.
I am sorry for being jealous of the British One when he first entered our lives. I felt threatened by him, selfishly wanting to keep Softie all to myself. I had, after all, successfully chased away other suitors, and I tried to do the same to him. To his credit, he persevered and I have come to love him as much, maybe even more than, Softie. He has a great lap and always has time for me.
I am sorry for making my humans feel guilty whenever it was time to visit the vet. It took many years for me to realize that no amount of crying, struggling and fighting was going to change the situation. I am glad I learned how to become Zen Kitty during the journeys in the metal monster.
Most of all, I am sorry that I am no longer able to comfort my humans when they cry.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Undignified and Depressed
The British One took me to the not-quite-evil hippie vet the other day. I've decided to elevate his status to evil hippie vet now, because when I was there he put nasty drops in my ears and then attempted to stick things into them! Oh, he said it was to "clean them" but I know better—I know what he really wanted to do was make me uncomfortable and agitated.
Well he certainly succeeded. Had I not been held down by the British One and an assistant, I would have leapt from the examination table and bit him right on the ankles! Instead, I morphed into melt-down kitty and yowled, cried, resisted mightily and panted with my tongue hanging out—like a common dog. It was very undignified and embarrassing.
Since returning home my humans have taken turns trying to put drops in my ears, and I don't like it one little bit. It's a good thing I have very strong ear muscles, because whenever I think they are up to no good, I close my ears up tight and they struggle to get the drops in. But the whole episode has made me a very unhappy boy indeed, and I no longer want to delve into my delicious diced chicken, and I don't want to go outside to enjoy the warm sunshine and gentle breezes. I only want to mope on the sofa.
I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. The Summerland calls to me a little louder each day. One day soon, the pull will be too strong for me to resist.
Well he certainly succeeded. Had I not been held down by the British One and an assistant, I would have leapt from the examination table and bit him right on the ankles! Instead, I morphed into melt-down kitty and yowled, cried, resisted mightily and panted with my tongue hanging out—like a common dog. It was very undignified and embarrassing.
Since returning home my humans have taken turns trying to put drops in my ears, and I don't like it one little bit. It's a good thing I have very strong ear muscles, because whenever I think they are up to no good, I close my ears up tight and they struggle to get the drops in. But the whole episode has made me a very unhappy boy indeed, and I no longer want to delve into my delicious diced chicken, and I don't want to go outside to enjoy the warm sunshine and gentle breezes. I only want to mope on the sofa.
I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. The Summerland calls to me a little louder each day. One day soon, the pull will be too strong for me to resist.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Riding the Storm Out
What began as a lovely, sunny day morphed into a scary nightmare of bright flashing light, high winds, heavy rains and rolling big booms.
I had helped the British One with his painting tasks, and then after we’d rinsed the brushes and cleaned up a bit the pair of us settled onto the sofa to await Softie’s arrival home. I could feel the weather changing, even though it looked deceptively warm and sunny out the big front window. The British One switched on the tv and discovered news of impending bad storms. I’m clever enough not to need a tv for such things.
Softie eschews the bus when the weather is nice, and obviously she hadn’t gotten the memo that there were bad storms on the horizon, because she came strolling in with the iPod in her ears, oblivious to the loud, scary sirens blaring out warnings of storms and tornados. I was very happy to see her, and leapt from the sofa to greet her and get my daily fete’n’pet. She scooped me up into her arms and carried me around, but when she asked me if I wanted to go outside I had to decline. I knew the weather would be turning ugly very soon, and I didn’t want to be caught outdoors. Instead demanded some dinner.
Soon afterwards the wind picked up, and I hopped upon the back of the sofa to watch the trees sway and the squirrels scatter. I noticed The Don still sitting outside, gaily rocking in her porch swing and chatting merrily with two visitors, and wondered why she hadn’t yet gone inside where she would be safe.
I felt it in my best interest to climb into Softie’s lap to ride out the storm, but no sooner did I get settled that a very bright flash startled her off the sofa and away from the window. I scurried back to the sofa to see what was happening out the window, but the rain came bucketing down so heavily that I could barely see. I did, however, see The Don huddled in her rain coat, trying desperately to reach her front door, but the wind was so strong that she couldn’t take a step without fear of falling. Her visitors had already made a dash into her home, seemingly forgetting that The Don was there!
Her son came running to her aid from a nearby house, and scooped her up into his arms, just as Softie did the same to me.
She carried me into the kitchen, where the British One stood peering out the door to the back garden. Softie and I did the same, and I was amazed by the bending trees and sailing debris. I hoped The Don was now safely watching the storm from her kitchen, like I was in mine.
I had helped the British One with his painting tasks, and then after we’d rinsed the brushes and cleaned up a bit the pair of us settled onto the sofa to await Softie’s arrival home. I could feel the weather changing, even though it looked deceptively warm and sunny out the big front window. The British One switched on the tv and discovered news of impending bad storms. I’m clever enough not to need a tv for such things.
Softie eschews the bus when the weather is nice, and obviously she hadn’t gotten the memo that there were bad storms on the horizon, because she came strolling in with the iPod in her ears, oblivious to the loud, scary sirens blaring out warnings of storms and tornados. I was very happy to see her, and leapt from the sofa to greet her and get my daily fete’n’pet. She scooped me up into her arms and carried me around, but when she asked me if I wanted to go outside I had to decline. I knew the weather would be turning ugly very soon, and I didn’t want to be caught outdoors. Instead demanded some dinner.
Soon afterwards the wind picked up, and I hopped upon the back of the sofa to watch the trees sway and the squirrels scatter. I noticed The Don still sitting outside, gaily rocking in her porch swing and chatting merrily with two visitors, and wondered why she hadn’t yet gone inside where she would be safe.
I felt it in my best interest to climb into Softie’s lap to ride out the storm, but no sooner did I get settled that a very bright flash startled her off the sofa and away from the window. I scurried back to the sofa to see what was happening out the window, but the rain came bucketing down so heavily that I could barely see. I did, however, see The Don huddled in her rain coat, trying desperately to reach her front door, but the wind was so strong that she couldn’t take a step without fear of falling. Her visitors had already made a dash into her home, seemingly forgetting that The Don was there!
Her son came running to her aid from a nearby house, and scooped her up into his arms, just as Softie did the same to me.
She carried me into the kitchen, where the British One stood peering out the door to the back garden. Softie and I did the same, and I was amazed by the bending trees and sailing debris. I hoped The Don was now safely watching the storm from her kitchen, like I was in mine.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Carry Me
This old body just doesn't get around as well as it used to, which is all the more reason why I love for Softie to carry me around.
The British One continues to paint the foyer--he is taking forever to undercoat the trim and moldings, but in his defense there is quite a lot of woodwork to prep. I helped him by sitting on the back of the sofa and watching as he climbed up and down the ladder. Then I helped some more by watching The Don handfeeding peanuts to several excitable grey squirrels across the street.
When Softie got home I told her all about my day, and insisted that I be let outside for awhile, since it was a rather gloriously sunny day. She promised that we would go out, but then she went upstairs and I began to fret that she would forget about me! So I did what I had to do, which was to climb the stairs with my stiff little legs, and locate her in the office, talking with the British One. I demanded quite boisterously that she cease her incessant chatter and get down to the business of taking me outdoors.
She's not always as dim as she looks, because she understood my petulant yowls and obliged by carrying me downstairs and through the kitchen to the back garden.
We had an enjoyable time outside, but it was cut short by my insistance on gnawing a bit of grass. What's wrong with a few blades of grass? I need my greens, don't I? She didn't see things my way, however, and scooped me up, chiding that if I was just going to eat grass, I could stay inside. How rude!
But a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken followed my return indoors, so I quickly forgave her for bringing me back inside earlier than I would have liked.
The evening was spent alternating between my humans' laps, and then Softie carried me upstairs to bed.
I do love to be carried.
The British One continues to paint the foyer--he is taking forever to undercoat the trim and moldings, but in his defense there is quite a lot of woodwork to prep. I helped him by sitting on the back of the sofa and watching as he climbed up and down the ladder. Then I helped some more by watching The Don handfeeding peanuts to several excitable grey squirrels across the street.
When Softie got home I told her all about my day, and insisted that I be let outside for awhile, since it was a rather gloriously sunny day. She promised that we would go out, but then she went upstairs and I began to fret that she would forget about me! So I did what I had to do, which was to climb the stairs with my stiff little legs, and locate her in the office, talking with the British One. I demanded quite boisterously that she cease her incessant chatter and get down to the business of taking me outdoors.
She's not always as dim as she looks, because she understood my petulant yowls and obliged by carrying me downstairs and through the kitchen to the back garden.
We had an enjoyable time outside, but it was cut short by my insistance on gnawing a bit of grass. What's wrong with a few blades of grass? I need my greens, don't I? She didn't see things my way, however, and scooped me up, chiding that if I was just going to eat grass, I could stay inside. How rude!
But a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken followed my return indoors, so I quickly forgave her for bringing me back inside earlier than I would have liked.
The evening was spent alternating between my humans' laps, and then Softie carried me upstairs to bed.
I do love to be carried.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Sunny Days
Yesterday was simply glorious.
After being left to my own devices for most of the day on Saturday, my humans stayed home with me almost all day yesterday.
I was fed a very delectable breakfast of delicious diced chicken, after which I retired to the back of leather sofa #2 to enjoy the warm sun streaming in on my fur.
Softie went outside to do some yardwork, so I kept a watchful eye on her, and when I saw that she was becoming sunburned I did my best to attract her attention by pawing at the large front window, but she had an iPod in her ears and did not hear my scratchings. As a result, she is very red indeed. It serves her right for ignoring my attempts to entice her out of the sun.
While she was busy outside, the British One was busy inside the house, sweeping and polishing the hardwood floors, and then moving bits of furniture into the dining room. It is not very aesthetically pleasing, and I'm quite sure there will be disruption in my daily schedule as a result, because I suspect the British One is up to no good. He has been rubbing down the woodwork and walls, as well as taping paper all over the newly cleaned floors. I have become familiar with this ritual, and know that the next thing on the list will be painting a foul-smelling primer all over the walls.
This, of course, means I will be banished to the dining room and kitchen--locked away from my big front window and the enjoyment it brings. But I will not dwell on that. Perhaps he will let me continue to nap on the sofa while he works. I hope so.
After the humans had finished their work for the afternoon, we all went outside together and I greatly enjoyed the cool breeze and warm sun on my fur. I stretched out very long on the sidewalk, like the Great Sphinx of Giza, and surveyed my domain. I also walked around the back garden, sniffing the plants and flowers, all the while hoping I could infuriate the evil Mooch next door. Sadly, Mooch was not outside so my efforts went unnoticed.
Once back inside, I was served another heaping helping of delicious diced chicken. After my meal I noticed the warm sunlight streaming in on my favorite rug, and it was so inviting that I curled up on the rug and had myself a lovely, long nap while my humans went out for a neighborhood stroll.
The evening was spent alternating between Softie and the British One's laps, as they had both been so good to me that I didn't want to play favorites.
After being left to my own devices for most of the day on Saturday, my humans stayed home with me almost all day yesterday.
I was fed a very delectable breakfast of delicious diced chicken, after which I retired to the back of leather sofa #2 to enjoy the warm sun streaming in on my fur.
Softie went outside to do some yardwork, so I kept a watchful eye on her, and when I saw that she was becoming sunburned I did my best to attract her attention by pawing at the large front window, but she had an iPod in her ears and did not hear my scratchings. As a result, she is very red indeed. It serves her right for ignoring my attempts to entice her out of the sun.
While she was busy outside, the British One was busy inside the house, sweeping and polishing the hardwood floors, and then moving bits of furniture into the dining room. It is not very aesthetically pleasing, and I'm quite sure there will be disruption in my daily schedule as a result, because I suspect the British One is up to no good. He has been rubbing down the woodwork and walls, as well as taping paper all over the newly cleaned floors. I have become familiar with this ritual, and know that the next thing on the list will be painting a foul-smelling primer all over the walls.
This, of course, means I will be banished to the dining room and kitchen--locked away from my big front window and the enjoyment it brings. But I will not dwell on that. Perhaps he will let me continue to nap on the sofa while he works. I hope so.
After the humans had finished their work for the afternoon, we all went outside together and I greatly enjoyed the cool breeze and warm sun on my fur. I stretched out very long on the sidewalk, like the Great Sphinx of Giza, and surveyed my domain. I also walked around the back garden, sniffing the plants and flowers, all the while hoping I could infuriate the evil Mooch next door. Sadly, Mooch was not outside so my efforts went unnoticed.
Once back inside, I was served another heaping helping of delicious diced chicken. After my meal I noticed the warm sunlight streaming in on my favorite rug, and it was so inviting that I curled up on the rug and had myself a lovely, long nap while my humans went out for a neighborhood stroll.
The evening was spent alternating between Softie and the British One's laps, as they had both been so good to me that I didn't want to play favorites.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Behind Closed Doors
Strange men came to my house yesterday when I was happily napping on the sofa, and the British One banished me to the dining room and shut the pocket doors in my face. How rude!
I yowled and scratched at the closed door, all to no avail. I could hear the strange men making a lot of noise, and could only imagine what they were up to. Were they tearing down a wall? Were they ripping out the floor? Did they fall down the stairs?
After a very long time, the pocket doors were opened and the British One led the strange men through the dining room and out the kitchen door to the back garden. I was momentarily torn as to which way to go--should I follow the British One outside, or should I investigate the source of the earlier ruckus?
My curiousity got the better of me, and I slipped into the lounge and followed my nose to a very fragrant smelling wall of particle board--which has been afixed to the place where the front doors used to be!
It is very dark in the foyer now, because those big, old doors are gone, and with them the bright light that spilled through the glass panels.
I wonder how long this new development will last?
I yowled and scratched at the closed door, all to no avail. I could hear the strange men making a lot of noise, and could only imagine what they were up to. Were they tearing down a wall? Were they ripping out the floor? Did they fall down the stairs?
After a very long time, the pocket doors were opened and the British One led the strange men through the dining room and out the kitchen door to the back garden. I was momentarily torn as to which way to go--should I follow the British One outside, or should I investigate the source of the earlier ruckus?
My curiousity got the better of me, and I slipped into the lounge and followed my nose to a very fragrant smelling wall of particle board--which has been afixed to the place where the front doors used to be!
It is very dark in the foyer now, because those big, old doors are gone, and with them the bright light that spilled through the glass panels.
I wonder how long this new development will last?
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Is It Really May?
The weather has turned very chilly indeed.
It has been in my best interest to wedge myself between the sleeping humans in an effort to keep warm.
It has been in my best interest to wedge myself between the sleeping humans in an effort to keep warm.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Speaking of Sneaking
I believe my humans are up to no good.
Why else would they feel the need to sneak up on me?
Take yesterday, for instance. They went out for a walk in the afternoon, and I busied myself with watching the world from the comfort of the sofa. After a time I climbed down and took a nice nap on the blankie, and when I awoke they were still not home, so I checked my food dish—which was empty—and then I went back to the lounge and sat on the seagrass rug to meditate a bit.
The next thing I knew, the front door was hanging open and the British One and Softie were both standing over me. Where did they come from, and how did they manage to get into the house without my hearing the front door open? Very curious, indeed.
They didn’t stay indoors too long, however, because it was such a lovely day. They took the newspaper outside and sat on the front porch, reading. I could scarcely believe they would come home and not immediately feed me, so I went back to the kitchen to check my food dish again.
As I was looking at my empty dish, Softie sneaked up behind me and gave me a fright when she reached over me to get the dish and fill it with delicious diced chicken. I hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen, nor had I heard her open the big cold foodbox and retrieve the chicken. She must have been extra quiet as she did these things.
And yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve noticed them sneaking up on me. There are times I am napping and they rudely awaken me by switching on lights or opening blinds. Sometimes they talk extra low too, and I have to struggle to hear what they say.
I wish they’d just speak up, instead of sneak up.
Why else would they feel the need to sneak up on me?
Take yesterday, for instance. They went out for a walk in the afternoon, and I busied myself with watching the world from the comfort of the sofa. After a time I climbed down and took a nice nap on the blankie, and when I awoke they were still not home, so I checked my food dish—which was empty—and then I went back to the lounge and sat on the seagrass rug to meditate a bit.
The next thing I knew, the front door was hanging open and the British One and Softie were both standing over me. Where did they come from, and how did they manage to get into the house without my hearing the front door open? Very curious, indeed.
They didn’t stay indoors too long, however, because it was such a lovely day. They took the newspaper outside and sat on the front porch, reading. I could scarcely believe they would come home and not immediately feed me, so I went back to the kitchen to check my food dish again.
As I was looking at my empty dish, Softie sneaked up behind me and gave me a fright when she reached over me to get the dish and fill it with delicious diced chicken. I hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen, nor had I heard her open the big cold foodbox and retrieve the chicken. She must have been extra quiet as she did these things.
And yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve noticed them sneaking up on me. There are times I am napping and they rudely awaken me by switching on lights or opening blinds. Sometimes they talk extra low too, and I have to struggle to hear what they say.
I wish they’d just speak up, instead of sneak up.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
No Time to Wait
Each afternoon I watch for Softie’s bus from my vantage point on the back of the sofa. When I see her making her way up the sidewalk, I leap down and sit by the front door to await the shower of praise and kind words she gives me when she walks through the door and scoops me up into her arms.
Yesterday, my normal routine was thrown into disarray because the British One was sitting on the front porch when she came home, and as a result I sat and waited by the front door for a very long time.
I could hear their voices through the door, and it sounded as though they might be out there for awhile. I don’t like to wait. At my age, I should not have to wait—I don’t have that kind of time! So I did what I had to do, which was yowl very loudly to remind them that I was inside, waiting to be feted and petted.
And something quite remarkable happened. Softie let me outside in the FRONT of the house! Oh it was joyous! I wandered the porch, sniffing the flowers and critiquing her planting skills, then I hopped down the steps and enjoyed chewing a few blades of grass. Briefly I even went next door to see how much I could rile and stir-up the evil Mooch. Much to my dismay, he was locked away and had no idea that I was walking around on his grass. Too bad.
It was quite enjoyable to sit outside on the porch with my humans. I hope we do it again sometime soon.
Yesterday, my normal routine was thrown into disarray because the British One was sitting on the front porch when she came home, and as a result I sat and waited by the front door for a very long time.
I could hear their voices through the door, and it sounded as though they might be out there for awhile. I don’t like to wait. At my age, I should not have to wait—I don’t have that kind of time! So I did what I had to do, which was yowl very loudly to remind them that I was inside, waiting to be feted and petted.
And something quite remarkable happened. Softie let me outside in the FRONT of the house! Oh it was joyous! I wandered the porch, sniffing the flowers and critiquing her planting skills, then I hopped down the steps and enjoyed chewing a few blades of grass. Briefly I even went next door to see how much I could rile and stir-up the evil Mooch. Much to my dismay, he was locked away and had no idea that I was walking around on his grass. Too bad.
It was quite enjoyable to sit outside on the porch with my humans. I hope we do it again sometime soon.
Monday, May 01, 2006
A Good Lap, A Good Blankie, & A Good Nap
I've not been feeling well the last few days.
All I want is a good lap, my blankie, and sleep.
All I want is a good lap, my blankie, and sleep.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Spot the Mistake
I haven't felt like doing much of anything except nap and eat for the past week. There have been fewer demands to go outside, although I've forced the British One to go out with me once or twice, just to keep him on his toes.
Mostly I have just wanted to nap on the sofa, which has caused the British One a spot of trouble in the evenings, because I insist on napping in what he mistakenly believes to be "his spot." Well obviously this is faulty thinking, because it is MY spot.
He should know by now that EVERY spot in the house is MY spot, to be relinquished whenever required. As I am usually ensconced in the spot well before he decides to sit down, I think he has no humanly right to forcibly remove me-- and I have told him so on several recent occasions. Whenever I make my displeasure known, however, I am called "Grumble Butt."
HOW RUDE!
There are two other sofas on which to sit in the lounge, so why is it that he should always want the very spot where I am happily napping? Why can I not voice my opinion on the matter without the situation deteriorating to name-calling?
It seems my sleep is always being disrupted. It's no wonder I am so tired!
Mostly I have just wanted to nap on the sofa, which has caused the British One a spot of trouble in the evenings, because I insist on napping in what he mistakenly believes to be "his spot." Well obviously this is faulty thinking, because it is MY spot.
He should know by now that EVERY spot in the house is MY spot, to be relinquished whenever required. As I am usually ensconced in the spot well before he decides to sit down, I think he has no humanly right to forcibly remove me-- and I have told him so on several recent occasions. Whenever I make my displeasure known, however, I am called "Grumble Butt."
HOW RUDE!
There are two other sofas on which to sit in the lounge, so why is it that he should always want the very spot where I am happily napping? Why can I not voice my opinion on the matter without the situation deteriorating to name-calling?
It seems my sleep is always being disrupted. It's no wonder I am so tired!
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Back to Normal?
After a several week absence, the British One turned up yesterday. I have been looking forward to his return, as it means I will not be lonely during the day, and more importantly, I will be fed an extra helping of delicious diced chicken for lunch!
As pleased as I was to see him, I played it cool and acted as if I had no earthly idea who he was when he came through the door laden with smug looking suitcases. Oh he made quite a fuss over me and told me how much he had missed me (as well he should!) but I just gave him a blank stare as if to say "Who are you?"
I couldn't keep up the pretense for long, however, and soon I was ensconced on his lap, purring mightily.
As pleased as I was to see him, I played it cool and acted as if I had no earthly idea who he was when he came through the door laden with smug looking suitcases. Oh he made quite a fuss over me and told me how much he had missed me (as well he should!) but I just gave him a blank stare as if to say "Who are you?"
I couldn't keep up the pretense for long, however, and soon I was ensconced on his lap, purring mightily.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
A Day In The Life
Softie and I have fallen into a nice little routine, which gives me great pleasure. I do love a routine, as it helps me to schedule my day between eating and napping.
Each morning Softie prepares for me a delicious dish of diced chicken, opens the blinds on the front window, and give me the first set of eye drops. By the time she walks out the front door I have finished my morning meal (leaving a bit for later, of course) and have situated myself on the back of leather sofa #2, where I watch her walk to the bus stop at the end of our street.
After she has climbed into the belly of the bus, I turn my attention to the next door neighbor, who leaves in a little metal monster parked at the curb. Each morning when he opens the front door, I can hear the evil Mooch begging him not to leave. He carries on, yelping and pleading, until the metal monster is out of sight. One would think he would understand the routine by now, but then again, he IS a dog.
I next turn my attention to the humans across the street from our neighbors. Their morning routine includes letting outside their huge, fluffy Burmese, who sniffs the house perimeter and then lounges on the front porch, and taking their Pug-ly little dog, Elvis, for a walk. As far as barkers go, I don’t mind Elvis too much, as I rarely hear a peep out of him. He seems genuinely chuffed to be allowed out in public with a face like that.
After Elvis passes my house, I nap until being rudely awakened by the postman throwing piles of magazines through our door. This is my signal to go and have a mid-morning snack and prepare myself for the arrival outdoors of The Don. If it is cold outside The Don doesn’t appear (bit like a groundhog, that little old lady) and I go upstairs and nap on the duvet until well into the afternoon. If the weather is nice I, along with the squirrels and the rest of the neighborhood, await the arrival of The Don.
Softie comes home in the afternoon, waves to The Don, gives me eye drop #2, and together we venture out into the back garden to enjoy the sunshine. When I have had my fill of the great outdoors I insist on being let back inside the house, which prompts her to prepare for me a lovely dinner of delicious diced chicken in the kitchen.
The evening is spent dozing on her lap, regardless of whether she is on the sofa, or sitting in the office. I am given the last set of eye drops of the day, and have myself an evening snack while she reads in bed. The bedside light being switched off is my cue to climb into bed and curl up next to her, and the whole routine begins anew the following morning.
As much as I enjoy this routine, I miss the routine I had with the British One. I hope he returns soon.
Each morning Softie prepares for me a delicious dish of diced chicken, opens the blinds on the front window, and give me the first set of eye drops. By the time she walks out the front door I have finished my morning meal (leaving a bit for later, of course) and have situated myself on the back of leather sofa #2, where I watch her walk to the bus stop at the end of our street.
After she has climbed into the belly of the bus, I turn my attention to the next door neighbor, who leaves in a little metal monster parked at the curb. Each morning when he opens the front door, I can hear the evil Mooch begging him not to leave. He carries on, yelping and pleading, until the metal monster is out of sight. One would think he would understand the routine by now, but then again, he IS a dog.
I next turn my attention to the humans across the street from our neighbors. Their morning routine includes letting outside their huge, fluffy Burmese, who sniffs the house perimeter and then lounges on the front porch, and taking their Pug-ly little dog, Elvis, for a walk. As far as barkers go, I don’t mind Elvis too much, as I rarely hear a peep out of him. He seems genuinely chuffed to be allowed out in public with a face like that.
After Elvis passes my house, I nap until being rudely awakened by the postman throwing piles of magazines through our door. This is my signal to go and have a mid-morning snack and prepare myself for the arrival outdoors of The Don. If it is cold outside The Don doesn’t appear (bit like a groundhog, that little old lady) and I go upstairs and nap on the duvet until well into the afternoon. If the weather is nice I, along with the squirrels and the rest of the neighborhood, await the arrival of The Don.
Softie comes home in the afternoon, waves to The Don, gives me eye drop #2, and together we venture out into the back garden to enjoy the sunshine. When I have had my fill of the great outdoors I insist on being let back inside the house, which prompts her to prepare for me a lovely dinner of delicious diced chicken in the kitchen.
The evening is spent dozing on her lap, regardless of whether she is on the sofa, or sitting in the office. I am given the last set of eye drops of the day, and have myself an evening snack while she reads in bed. The bedside light being switched off is my cue to climb into bed and curl up next to her, and the whole routine begins anew the following morning.
As much as I enjoy this routine, I miss the routine I had with the British One. I hope he returns soon.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Of Dons & Doctors
One of my favorite pastimes is sitting on the back of leather sofa #2, watching the world go by. I suppose it’s akin to the human habit of watching the evening news, or reading the morning newspaper. I like to stay informed on neighborhood events, and keep tabs on the comings and goings of all and sundry, and window watching is my best news source.
There is a tiny little white-haired lady who lives across the street. When the weather is nice, she likes to sit outside in a rocking chair, and if it rains she puts a rain slicker over her gown and stands on the porch with a walker. I suspect she is about as old as me.
I’m always pleased whenever I see her venture outdoors because I can count on stuff happening. Within minutes of her arrival in the rocker, a steady stream of neighbors gravitate over for a visit. She’s quite popular, and it gives me lots to watch.
My humans refer to the little white-haired lady as “The Don,” apparently because she garners a certain respect from much of the community. She is also incredibly well-liked by the squirrel population. Each day when she is outside, I watch as she delights in pitching peanuts to the hungry multitudes. They scramble around her sidewalk and steps, and even with my bad eye I can see how she laughs when one becomes brave enough to remove a nut from her quivering fingers.
After the squirrels have gotten their fill of peanuts, they disperse to their respective homes--except for the three-legged squirrel, who dashes over to my porch to stash his hoard. I don’t think Softie even realizes that there are peanut shells littering her empty flowerpots, but I know they are there.
Today the squirrel visited my porch again, and this time he hopped right up onto the outside window sill, stuck his face close to mine, and we had a little chat. Seems his name is Dr. Southpaw—he said his name used to be Dr. Bright, but after he got his right arm severed in a trap, he said he "had to change my name on account of I wasn’t quite as bright as my mama had hoped."
He also confirmed my suspicion that all squirrels use the title “Doctor” because they think they are rather clever. I suggested that perhaps he should have simply dropped "Doctor" from his title and gone with "Mister" Bright, but that seemed to upset him immensely and he raged about how he was much more intelligent than me, my humans, and then he threw in the evil Mooch from next door, for good measure.
He railed on and on about the British One plugging the entry to his home (he referred to it as "putting a lock on the door"), and got so fired up that he lost his balance, and tumbled from the window ledge.
It would have been very amusing, but I am smart enough to know that it is quite unwise to laugh in the face of an angry squirrel, three-legged or no.
There is a tiny little white-haired lady who lives across the street. When the weather is nice, she likes to sit outside in a rocking chair, and if it rains she puts a rain slicker over her gown and stands on the porch with a walker. I suspect she is about as old as me.
I’m always pleased whenever I see her venture outdoors because I can count on stuff happening. Within minutes of her arrival in the rocker, a steady stream of neighbors gravitate over for a visit. She’s quite popular, and it gives me lots to watch.
My humans refer to the little white-haired lady as “The Don,” apparently because she garners a certain respect from much of the community. She is also incredibly well-liked by the squirrel population. Each day when she is outside, I watch as she delights in pitching peanuts to the hungry multitudes. They scramble around her sidewalk and steps, and even with my bad eye I can see how she laughs when one becomes brave enough to remove a nut from her quivering fingers.
After the squirrels have gotten their fill of peanuts, they disperse to their respective homes--except for the three-legged squirrel, who dashes over to my porch to stash his hoard. I don’t think Softie even realizes that there are peanut shells littering her empty flowerpots, but I know they are there.
Today the squirrel visited my porch again, and this time he hopped right up onto the outside window sill, stuck his face close to mine, and we had a little chat. Seems his name is Dr. Southpaw—he said his name used to be Dr. Bright, but after he got his right arm severed in a trap, he said he "had to change my name on account of I wasn’t quite as bright as my mama had hoped."
He also confirmed my suspicion that all squirrels use the title “Doctor” because they think they are rather clever. I suggested that perhaps he should have simply dropped "Doctor" from his title and gone with "Mister" Bright, but that seemed to upset him immensely and he raged about how he was much more intelligent than me, my humans, and then he threw in the evil Mooch from next door, for good measure.
He railed on and on about the British One plugging the entry to his home (he referred to it as "putting a lock on the door"), and got so fired up that he lost his balance, and tumbled from the window ledge.
It would have been very amusing, but I am smart enough to know that it is quite unwise to laugh in the face of an angry squirrel, three-legged or no.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Cat's and Curses
I am over the moon about a wonderful story detailing how a little black cat put a curse on the 1969 Chicago Cubs baseball team.
"The talented 1969 team built a large lead over the rest of the National League (East) by August - over 10 games at one point - but went into a tailspin in the final month of the season," Feldmann said. "In September, the Cubs' slide began while playing the Mets in Shea Stadium in New York. Early in one of the games, a black cat ran onto the field ... and went right over in front of the Cubs dugout where he stared manager Leo Durocher right in the face."The Cubs lost that night, and the downfall had begun."
I wish I had been able to get into the Cincinnati Reds Opening Day game on Monday to put a curse on the Cubs. Perhaps then they would not have stomped the Reds 16-7?
You can read more about the book "Miracle Collapse: The 1969 Chicago Cubs" HERE .
"The talented 1969 team built a large lead over the rest of the National League (East) by August - over 10 games at one point - but went into a tailspin in the final month of the season," Feldmann said. "In September, the Cubs' slide began while playing the Mets in Shea Stadium in New York. Early in one of the games, a black cat ran onto the field ... and went right over in front of the Cubs dugout where he stared manager Leo Durocher right in the face."The Cubs lost that night, and the downfall had begun."
I wish I had been able to get into the Cincinnati Reds Opening Day game on Monday to put a curse on the Cubs. Perhaps then they would not have stomped the Reds 16-7?
You can read more about the book "Miracle Collapse: The 1969 Chicago Cubs" HERE .
My Daytime Buddy is Missing
Gloriously sunny and warm weather meant that the British One was easily manipulated into taking me out into the back garden for a nice stroll.
I quite enjoyed the sunshine and light breeze, which was made even better by a devious teasing of the big barker down the block. A flick of my very fluffy tail incited a barrage of brutal barks, snarls and much leaping about at the chainlink fence. It's very amusing to watch him go absolutely bonkers, then get scolded by his human.
A very delectable meal of delicious diced chicken followed, and all seemed right with my world.
I should have known, however, that my good fortune would not last. I am sad to report that the escaped suitcase managed to convince the British One to run away with it yesterday. He left me in the afternoon, just as I had settled in for a nice afternoon of window watching from the back of the sofa.
Oh, he tried to soothe me with kind words and a good scratching behind the ears, but I did my best to ignore him and let him know I was most displeased with the situation. Who will feed me during the day?! Who will listen to my daily rants?
When Softie came home later I guilted her into taking me outside again, to help ease the pain of separation with the British One. Plus I managed to get into trouble a tiny little yapping dustmop across the alleyway, which was nice.
I got a good, long brushing from Softie later in the evening, and when we went to the beddie-bye basket I snuggled right on top of her, lest she think of escaping with a suitcase as well.
I quite enjoyed the sunshine and light breeze, which was made even better by a devious teasing of the big barker down the block. A flick of my very fluffy tail incited a barrage of brutal barks, snarls and much leaping about at the chainlink fence. It's very amusing to watch him go absolutely bonkers, then get scolded by his human.
A very delectable meal of delicious diced chicken followed, and all seemed right with my world.
I should have known, however, that my good fortune would not last. I am sad to report that the escaped suitcase managed to convince the British One to run away with it yesterday. He left me in the afternoon, just as I had settled in for a nice afternoon of window watching from the back of the sofa.
Oh, he tried to soothe me with kind words and a good scratching behind the ears, but I did my best to ignore him and let him know I was most displeased with the situation. Who will feed me during the day?! Who will listen to my daily rants?
When Softie came home later I guilted her into taking me outside again, to help ease the pain of separation with the British One. Plus I managed to get into trouble a tiny little yapping dustmop across the alleyway, which was nice.
I got a good, long brushing from Softie later in the evening, and when we went to the beddie-bye basket I snuggled right on top of her, lest she think of escaping with a suitcase as well.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
The Dreaded Suitcase
A suitcase has escaped from the closet, and the British One has been stuffing things into it.
I do not like this turn of events at all.
I do not like this turn of events at all.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Softie's Root Canal
Yesterday was a beautiful day, and because the sun was shining I decided it was high time to let the British One know about it.
He was in the office, staring intently into the glowing box whilst pecking furiously on the keyboard, and I strolled in and demanded to go outdoors. Naturally he ignored me.
I told him again that it was time to stop pecking and start enjoying the sunshine. I tapped on his elbow and increased the volume of my demands. Eventually he got the hint.
We went out into the back garden, where I romped in the grass and chewed on some plants. The sunshine felt so lovely on my fur, and there was just enough breeze to make it a perfect day. I flopped and rolled in the grass, and then wandered the entire perimeter of the back garden, sniffing all the interesting smells along the way.
After a time, I became hungry and voiced my lunch fantasies, to which the British One obliged and served up a dish of delicious diced chicken.
The British One took Softie out for the afternoon--something about visiting a root canal, whatever that is--and while they were gone I sat on the back of the sofa and watched the three-legged grey squirrel forage around on the front porch. The squirrel is still intent on reopening the entry into his former home, but so far he hasn't had very good luck. I am loathe to admit that perhaps the British One has won the battle with the squirrel, because I know that squirrels are incredibly clever.
The evening came and the humans got back from the root canal. Softie didn't seem to feel very well and dozed on the sofa with the blankie. As tempting as the blankie was, I pledged my alliegence to the British One and napped on his lap instead, because it was he who took me outside today.
He was in the office, staring intently into the glowing box whilst pecking furiously on the keyboard, and I strolled in and demanded to go outdoors. Naturally he ignored me.
I told him again that it was time to stop pecking and start enjoying the sunshine. I tapped on his elbow and increased the volume of my demands. Eventually he got the hint.
We went out into the back garden, where I romped in the grass and chewed on some plants. The sunshine felt so lovely on my fur, and there was just enough breeze to make it a perfect day. I flopped and rolled in the grass, and then wandered the entire perimeter of the back garden, sniffing all the interesting smells along the way.
After a time, I became hungry and voiced my lunch fantasies, to which the British One obliged and served up a dish of delicious diced chicken.
The British One took Softie out for the afternoon--something about visiting a root canal, whatever that is--and while they were gone I sat on the back of the sofa and watched the three-legged grey squirrel forage around on the front porch. The squirrel is still intent on reopening the entry into his former home, but so far he hasn't had very good luck. I am loathe to admit that perhaps the British One has won the battle with the squirrel, because I know that squirrels are incredibly clever.
The evening came and the humans got back from the root canal. Softie didn't seem to feel very well and dozed on the sofa with the blankie. As tempting as the blankie was, I pledged my alliegence to the British One and napped on his lap instead, because it was he who took me outside today.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
A Daily Diary Pick
It is always an honor to be chosen as a Catster Diary Daily Pick, but it is even better to be able to share the honor with my friend, the lovely and talented Camilla.
I believe my humans should now reward me with a dish of delicious buttered cod.
I believe my humans should now reward me with a dish of delicious buttered cod.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Distinct Lack of Fish
There has been a distinct lack of fish in my life for the past week.
This must change.
This must change.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Piper Lives Up To Her Name, Soars to Safety
Oh dear!
A family cat in South Carolina that was stuck in a tree for eight days fell 80 feet to the ground, landed on its feet and then ran away uninjured.
Owners of Piper the cat said their pet scampered up the giant tree outside their Summerville home on March 13 and all efforts to coax it down were unsuccessful.
Monday, the cat jumped from an 80-foot branch.
Home video of the fall showed the cat clipping a few branches and then landing on its feet and running away.
Local 6 News reported that Scottie Colvin was visibly shaken after the fall but was then thrilled her pet survived."I am scared to death, but at least she's down and she's running, so she's alive," Colvin said. "Thank you all for coming out."A reporter asked, "When you saw her in the air what did you think?""I just wanted to catch her," Colvin said. "I know that's stupid because I probably would have gotten killed but I just wanted to catch her."
Piper was later found under a car after the 80-foot fall.
Colvin said the cat was checked out by a vet and has no injuries.
You can watch the video HERE.
A family cat in South Carolina that was stuck in a tree for eight days fell 80 feet to the ground, landed on its feet and then ran away uninjured.
Owners of Piper the cat said their pet scampered up the giant tree outside their Summerville home on March 13 and all efforts to coax it down were unsuccessful.
Monday, the cat jumped from an 80-foot branch.
Home video of the fall showed the cat clipping a few branches and then landing on its feet and running away.
Local 6 News reported that Scottie Colvin was visibly shaken after the fall but was then thrilled her pet survived."I am scared to death, but at least she's down and she's running, so she's alive," Colvin said. "Thank you all for coming out."A reporter asked, "When you saw her in the air what did you think?""I just wanted to catch her," Colvin said. "I know that's stupid because I probably would have gotten killed but I just wanted to catch her."
Piper was later found under a car after the 80-foot fall.
Colvin said the cat was checked out by a vet and has no injuries.
You can watch the video HERE.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Thanks For All The Fish!
Sometimes being a bit undignified pays off.
I couldn’t help myself. The smells emanating from the kitchen made me swoon. As soon as Softie opened the oven door, the succulent scents surrounded and seduced me. I knew I had found the Restaurant At The End of The Universe.
(As an aside, I am well aware that Softie never eats anything that smells good. She also never eats anything that tastes good. It’s all soy-this and soy-that, and I know from personal experience that it is rubbish.)
Immediately I honed in on the British One. I rubbed all around his ankles. I puffed out my white bib and tried to look as handsome and irresistable as possible. I tried nudging his elbow with my nose, tried jumping into his lap, tried to climb on top of him. I was scolded but didn't care.
I focused unwaveringly on the abundance of buttered cod teasing me from the British One's plate, and my persistance paid off.
The British One fed a forkful of fish to me, and one taste was all it took. I demanded more--lots more. I dashed around the lounge with big eyes, crying and sniffing the aromatic air. I put on quite a show. Eventually they got the hint and served up the remaining fish to me, and I plunged in, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.
I couldn’t help myself. The smells emanating from the kitchen made me swoon. As soon as Softie opened the oven door, the succulent scents surrounded and seduced me. I knew I had found the Restaurant At The End of The Universe.
(As an aside, I am well aware that Softie never eats anything that smells good. She also never eats anything that tastes good. It’s all soy-this and soy-that, and I know from personal experience that it is rubbish.)
Immediately I honed in on the British One. I rubbed all around his ankles. I puffed out my white bib and tried to look as handsome and irresistable as possible. I tried nudging his elbow with my nose, tried jumping into his lap, tried to climb on top of him. I was scolded but didn't care.
I focused unwaveringly on the abundance of buttered cod teasing me from the British One's plate, and my persistance paid off.
The British One fed a forkful of fish to me, and one taste was all it took. I demanded more--lots more. I dashed around the lounge with big eyes, crying and sniffing the aromatic air. I put on quite a show. Eventually they got the hint and served up the remaining fish to me, and I plunged in, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.
Friday, March 17, 2006
More Sleep Disturbances
Another strange man was in my house today, speaking to the British One about repairing our front entry way. I'm glad my humans have finally noticed that there seems to be a lot of cold air seeping under the door--I've certainly known it for quite some time!
This strange man took lots of photos of the doors, plus he looked at the windows too. I have a bad feeling this means more disruption in my life, and more disturbances to my sleep patterns, so I hope it will be worth the trouble they are going to put me through.
This strange man took lots of photos of the doors, plus he looked at the windows too. I have a bad feeling this means more disruption in my life, and more disturbances to my sleep patterns, so I hope it will be worth the trouble they are going to put me through.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Nights on the Round Table
I would like to thank my many kitty friends for their emailed well wishes and the lovely blue ribbon rosettes I've been given. They have made me very happy, and aside from the odd accident on the floor, I'm doing much better.
Last night I was feeling rather ignored. Softie was busy in the kitchen, fixing something very delicious smelling, and she ignored my many dinner suggestions. I made sure to situate myself right in the middle of the kitchen, so that no matter where Softie was - sink, Magic Cupboard, oven, Big Cold Foodbox - she'd be sure to see me, and quite possibly trip over me if she was not careful. After maneuvering around me for quite some time, she finally got the hint that I was angling for more dinner, and served up a tin of hospital food. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it was fairly tasty (only because I was hungry though).
Then the British One came downstairs to help set the table, and he ignored me too. I sulked off to the lounge and curled up on the sofa. Oh but the aroma of good smelling food would not let me sleep, and soon their conversation and the clinking of cutlery on dishes was just too much for me to bear. How dare they enjoy themselves without my help!
I hopped down from the sofa and ventured into the dining room, and because they didn't seem to notice me sitting on the floor next to the table, I decided to climb up into one of the spare chairs.
And from there I raised my head above table height to survey the leftovers. As I am never allowed to eat leftovers, I merely sniffed the air rapturously.
But then I realized that they STILL seemed to ignore me, so I broke the rules and stretched myself out just enough to lick the mashed potatoes. Oh and were they ever delicious! Once I'd had a taste there was no stopping me, and I hopped right up onto the table--much to the surprise of my humans--and stuck my face right into the potatoes and had myself a good munch.
Of course I was scolded, and of course I was scooped up and placed back into the floor, but oh was it ever worth the trouble!
Now if only I could figure out how to use that gravy boat.
Last night I was feeling rather ignored. Softie was busy in the kitchen, fixing something very delicious smelling, and she ignored my many dinner suggestions. I made sure to situate myself right in the middle of the kitchen, so that no matter where Softie was - sink, Magic Cupboard, oven, Big Cold Foodbox - she'd be sure to see me, and quite possibly trip over me if she was not careful. After maneuvering around me for quite some time, she finally got the hint that I was angling for more dinner, and served up a tin of hospital food. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it was fairly tasty (only because I was hungry though).
Then the British One came downstairs to help set the table, and he ignored me too. I sulked off to the lounge and curled up on the sofa. Oh but the aroma of good smelling food would not let me sleep, and soon their conversation and the clinking of cutlery on dishes was just too much for me to bear. How dare they enjoy themselves without my help!
I hopped down from the sofa and ventured into the dining room, and because they didn't seem to notice me sitting on the floor next to the table, I decided to climb up into one of the spare chairs.
And from there I raised my head above table height to survey the leftovers. As I am never allowed to eat leftovers, I merely sniffed the air rapturously.
But then I realized that they STILL seemed to ignore me, so I broke the rules and stretched myself out just enough to lick the mashed potatoes. Oh and were they ever delicious! Once I'd had a taste there was no stopping me, and I hopped right up onto the table--much to the surprise of my humans--and stuck my face right into the potatoes and had myself a good munch.
Of course I was scolded, and of course I was scooped up and placed back into the floor, but oh was it ever worth the trouble!
Now if only I could figure out how to use that gravy boat.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Squirrel Wars
I have been under the weather for the past few days. I am lethargic and not very hungry. I also had a small upchuck on the duvet in the bedroom. Oops.
Softie always seems to know how to make me feel a bit brighter, as evidenced by the return of an extra long brushing session. She brushed me with the soft brush, then with the bristly brush, then used the comb on me, then went back to the soft brush. It was lovely.
I was so content that I even offered up my hind legs for a brush and didn't fight her when she used the dreaded scissors on me. I must say that I am even more handsome than before, and looking good has made me feel a little better.
My humans have been at war with a small, three-legged grey squirrel for the past several days. The squirrel took up residence recently inside a hollow brick pillar on the front porch, and it has made my humans very excitable.
I sat on the back of leather sofa #2 and watched out the large front window as the two of them asessed the situation. It was quite humorous. The British One got up on the ladder and instructed Softie to find a suitable brick. He then blocked up the entry point with the brick, and they came back inside the house quite pleased with themselves.
As they fixed dinner, I sat on the sofa and watched the squirrel working the brick. By the time dinner was ready, the squirrel had managed to heave the brick onto the porch below!
Next the British One disappeared into the Magic Portal. I could hear him sawing and knocking around and creating a racket, then he emerged victorious with several wedge-shaped bits of wood and a mallet. Back outside and up the ladder, he pounded the wedges into the entry point, then they gathered a bizarre mixture of my used kittylitter and ground cayenne pepper, and sprinkled it around the entry point. Then they moved their dragonfly-shaped windchime next to the pillar so that the squirrel would knock into it, it would make a noise, and the squirrel would be scared off. Again they seemed mightily pleased with themselves.
Which made it all the funnier to me the next morning when Softie discovered curled bits of shaved wood and kittylitter scattered all over the front porch!
I've got to hand it to this squirrel. Not only did it manage to get the entry point unplugged, it pulled out one of the wedges of wood and set it on top of the dragonfly's wings, just to rub salt into the wound! Crafty lil squirrel, I must say.
I spent most of yesterday dozing on the duvet in the upstairs bedroom, but every so often I would hear the British One inside the Magic Portal, making more noise. When I heard him go outside, I finally came downstairs and watched out the window as he took a mirror and looked inside the pillar--he said it was to make sure the squirrel wasn't inside--and then he pounded a bit of wood wrapped in metal screening into the gap.
Yesterday evening the squirrel was back, tugging and gnawing on the metal screen. He hasn't been able to get back inside yet, but I'm betting he will. Squirrels, afterall, are more clever than my humans.
What Softie and the British One don't realize, however, is that the squirrel has a vendetta against them for having it's big, dangerously hollow tree removed last year. If someone knocked down my house without permission, I'd be upset too!
Softie always seems to know how to make me feel a bit brighter, as evidenced by the return of an extra long brushing session. She brushed me with the soft brush, then with the bristly brush, then used the comb on me, then went back to the soft brush. It was lovely.
I was so content that I even offered up my hind legs for a brush and didn't fight her when she used the dreaded scissors on me. I must say that I am even more handsome than before, and looking good has made me feel a little better.
My humans have been at war with a small, three-legged grey squirrel for the past several days. The squirrel took up residence recently inside a hollow brick pillar on the front porch, and it has made my humans very excitable.
I sat on the back of leather sofa #2 and watched out the large front window as the two of them asessed the situation. It was quite humorous. The British One got up on the ladder and instructed Softie to find a suitable brick. He then blocked up the entry point with the brick, and they came back inside the house quite pleased with themselves.
As they fixed dinner, I sat on the sofa and watched the squirrel working the brick. By the time dinner was ready, the squirrel had managed to heave the brick onto the porch below!
Next the British One disappeared into the Magic Portal. I could hear him sawing and knocking around and creating a racket, then he emerged victorious with several wedge-shaped bits of wood and a mallet. Back outside and up the ladder, he pounded the wedges into the entry point, then they gathered a bizarre mixture of my used kittylitter and ground cayenne pepper, and sprinkled it around the entry point. Then they moved their dragonfly-shaped windchime next to the pillar so that the squirrel would knock into it, it would make a noise, and the squirrel would be scared off. Again they seemed mightily pleased with themselves.
Which made it all the funnier to me the next morning when Softie discovered curled bits of shaved wood and kittylitter scattered all over the front porch!
I've got to hand it to this squirrel. Not only did it manage to get the entry point unplugged, it pulled out one of the wedges of wood and set it on top of the dragonfly's wings, just to rub salt into the wound! Crafty lil squirrel, I must say.
I spent most of yesterday dozing on the duvet in the upstairs bedroom, but every so often I would hear the British One inside the Magic Portal, making more noise. When I heard him go outside, I finally came downstairs and watched out the window as he took a mirror and looked inside the pillar--he said it was to make sure the squirrel wasn't inside--and then he pounded a bit of wood wrapped in metal screening into the gap.
Yesterday evening the squirrel was back, tugging and gnawing on the metal screen. He hasn't been able to get back inside yet, but I'm betting he will. Squirrels, afterall, are more clever than my humans.
What Softie and the British One don't realize, however, is that the squirrel has a vendetta against them for having it's big, dangerously hollow tree removed last year. If someone knocked down my house without permission, I'd be upset too!
Monday, March 06, 2006
Squirrels, Thrills and Belly-achers
Aside from another visit to the not-quite-evil hippie vet on Saturday morning, I had a very enjoyable weekend. My humans have both been feeling under the weather, so they stayed in all weekend and I was spoiled for choice in the lap department. It was a beautiful weekend, and as such I felt it only necessary for my humans to go outside with me so that they could get a bit of sunshine. I yowled and demanded to go outdoors until Softie could not bear to listen to me anymore. She's very pliable when she's ill.
I do love how the sun warms my fur, and it was made even better by the lovely breeze in the air. Softie and I sat on the back porch and watched a young, striped cat attempt to catch a very harassed and chatter-y squirrel. I could have told him it was a waste of time, as the squirrel had the Treetop Advantage, but why should he listen? Just because I did the same when I was his age doesn’t mean he’s going to take advice from an oldster like me.
Naturally, he did not even come close to Squirrelville, and it amused me greatly to watch Dr. Chatters chuck a crabapple down on the youngster’s head.
On Sunday I persuaded Softie to take me out again, but alas the morning’s entertainment was not as good as the previous day. A very discordant and vile woman several houses away saw me sitting on the sidewalk in the back garden and began yelling at Softie. She accused me of killing a kitten in the alley way! HOW RUDE! I turned my back to her.
Softie tried several times to calm the woman and let her know that I had done no such thing, but the woman continued to berate Softie, badmouthing me all the while. She said she was certain that I was “the big black cat who killed that kitten.” I could take no more insults and turned to give her and her ugly, yapping dog a piece of my mind! I am certainly not a killer--unless you count mice, that is.
She caught sight of my very fluffy white bib and her diatribe came to an abrupt halt when she realized that she had the wrong cat! She apologized profusely to a still upset and smarting Softie, and scolded the ugly dog for barking at us. I was a bit miffed at Softie for grudgingly accepting her apology, but I suppose it was worth the effort because Softie ended up gleaning useful information out of the nasty woman. Apparently she, her evil children and barking dogs will soon be moving away.
It cannot be soon enough!
I do love how the sun warms my fur, and it was made even better by the lovely breeze in the air. Softie and I sat on the back porch and watched a young, striped cat attempt to catch a very harassed and chatter-y squirrel. I could have told him it was a waste of time, as the squirrel had the Treetop Advantage, but why should he listen? Just because I did the same when I was his age doesn’t mean he’s going to take advice from an oldster like me.
Naturally, he did not even come close to Squirrelville, and it amused me greatly to watch Dr. Chatters chuck a crabapple down on the youngster’s head.
On Sunday I persuaded Softie to take me out again, but alas the morning’s entertainment was not as good as the previous day. A very discordant and vile woman several houses away saw me sitting on the sidewalk in the back garden and began yelling at Softie. She accused me of killing a kitten in the alley way! HOW RUDE! I turned my back to her.
Softie tried several times to calm the woman and let her know that I had done no such thing, but the woman continued to berate Softie, badmouthing me all the while. She said she was certain that I was “the big black cat who killed that kitten.” I could take no more insults and turned to give her and her ugly, yapping dog a piece of my mind! I am certainly not a killer--unless you count mice, that is.
She caught sight of my very fluffy white bib and her diatribe came to an abrupt halt when she realized that she had the wrong cat! She apologized profusely to a still upset and smarting Softie, and scolded the ugly dog for barking at us. I was a bit miffed at Softie for grudgingly accepting her apology, but I suppose it was worth the effort because Softie ended up gleaning useful information out of the nasty woman. Apparently she, her evil children and barking dogs will soon be moving away.
It cannot be soon enough!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
I Would Like Just One Glass Of Water
Strange men have been inside my house again. They have been tinkering around with the air con, climbing up into the ceiling, replacing wires and generally creating a lot of noise and dust. I decided the best course of action would be to curl up into a tight little furry ball and nap on the duvet until it ceased.
Unbeknownst to me, the British One removed my upstairs water dish during the course of their noisemaking, ostensibly to keep the dish dust-free. That's all well and good, but what about later, after the noisy men have gone and a certain kitty wakes up, thirsty, and cannot locate his water dish?
I yowled loudly, of course. I demanded that my water dish be replaced.
Naturally, the British One was too busy pecking furiously at his keyboard whilst staring intently into the glowing box, and paid me no mind. Sometimes it is like yowling at a wall.
I decided to take action. I ventured into the office and stated my plight, a bit louder than before. Again, I was ignored. Now I suppose I could have wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where another water dish awaited, but I didn't want to exert the extra energy required for such a task. Besides, I don't like being ignored.
So I jumped upon a cardboard box marked "eBay" next to the British One, and from there climbed onto the desk. And, just as I suspected, there was a short, wide drinking glass half-filled with water sitting there.
So I simply stuck my head right inside the glass and had myself a good drink, while the British One made excitable noises in my direction.
Needlesstosay, my water dish was reinstated promptly.
Unbeknownst to me, the British One removed my upstairs water dish during the course of their noisemaking, ostensibly to keep the dish dust-free. That's all well and good, but what about later, after the noisy men have gone and a certain kitty wakes up, thirsty, and cannot locate his water dish?
I yowled loudly, of course. I demanded that my water dish be replaced.
Naturally, the British One was too busy pecking furiously at his keyboard whilst staring intently into the glowing box, and paid me no mind. Sometimes it is like yowling at a wall.
I decided to take action. I ventured into the office and stated my plight, a bit louder than before. Again, I was ignored. Now I suppose I could have wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where another water dish awaited, but I didn't want to exert the extra energy required for such a task. Besides, I don't like being ignored.
So I jumped upon a cardboard box marked "eBay" next to the British One, and from there climbed onto the desk. And, just as I suspected, there was a short, wide drinking glass half-filled with water sitting there.
So I simply stuck my head right inside the glass and had myself a good drink, while the British One made excitable noises in my direction.
Needlesstosay, my water dish was reinstated promptly.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Age Ain't Nuthin' But A Number
I do not like getting older.
Sometimes I like to have a good scratch behind my ears, and normally this involves using my hind legs. Recently I have discovered that I'm not so good at balancing myself anymore, and sometimes I fall over when I try to have a good scratch.
Softie noticed my feeble scratching attempts--followed by tipping over, and came to my rescue. She came over and gave me a really good scratching behind the ears, using her fingerclaws. They aren't nearly as nice and sharp as mine, but they got the job done and I was ever so grateful. After she finished I jumped up into her lap and purred very loudly to let her know I was pleased with her attempts.
Nice, sharp claws are another bother for me as I age.
The other day, the British One was sitting in a chair in the office, pecking furiously at the keyboard and staring intently at the glowing box. Sometimes I like to nap in this chair, because it is leather and retains a lot of warmth. Try as I might, I could not persuade the British One to budge. I noticed, however, that there was a new chair in the office. It is one of the many things that came to live with us when the boxes arrived last week. I decided to check it out for napability, but when I tried to jump onto it my claws got stuck in the strange fabric.
I tried to tug my claws out, but the harder I tugged the more my weak hind legs slipped out from under me. To add insult to injury, I also discovered that this new chair has wheels, and in the process of my struggle I managed to pull the chair all the way across the room and next to the British One, who had stopped pecking furiously at the keyboard and turned his attention to staring at me!
I do not like to embarrass myself, so I simply pretended that my intent all along was to move the chair across the room. He helped remove my claws from the evil fabric chair and helped me up onto it, but by then I had decided that I hated the chair and didn't want any more to do with it. I jumped down, stalked off to the bedroom and curled up on the duvet.
A few minutes later I overheard the British One on the phone to Softie, chuckling about my mishap. How rude!
I got him back a bit later by having a nice poo on the seagrass rug.
Sometimes I like to have a good scratch behind my ears, and normally this involves using my hind legs. Recently I have discovered that I'm not so good at balancing myself anymore, and sometimes I fall over when I try to have a good scratch.
Softie noticed my feeble scratching attempts--followed by tipping over, and came to my rescue. She came over and gave me a really good scratching behind the ears, using her fingerclaws. They aren't nearly as nice and sharp as mine, but they got the job done and I was ever so grateful. After she finished I jumped up into her lap and purred very loudly to let her know I was pleased with her attempts.
Nice, sharp claws are another bother for me as I age.
The other day, the British One was sitting in a chair in the office, pecking furiously at the keyboard and staring intently at the glowing box. Sometimes I like to nap in this chair, because it is leather and retains a lot of warmth. Try as I might, I could not persuade the British One to budge. I noticed, however, that there was a new chair in the office. It is one of the many things that came to live with us when the boxes arrived last week. I decided to check it out for napability, but when I tried to jump onto it my claws got stuck in the strange fabric.
I tried to tug my claws out, but the harder I tugged the more my weak hind legs slipped out from under me. To add insult to injury, I also discovered that this new chair has wheels, and in the process of my struggle I managed to pull the chair all the way across the room and next to the British One, who had stopped pecking furiously at the keyboard and turned his attention to staring at me!
I do not like to embarrass myself, so I simply pretended that my intent all along was to move the chair across the room. He helped remove my claws from the evil fabric chair and helped me up onto it, but by then I had decided that I hated the chair and didn't want any more to do with it. I jumped down, stalked off to the bedroom and curled up on the duvet.
A few minutes later I overheard the British One on the phone to Softie, chuckling about my mishap. How rude!
I got him back a bit later by having a nice poo on the seagrass rug.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Be Careful What You Wish For
My wish for boxes has come back to me ten fold. You'd think I'd be over the moon with the result. Unfortunately, the FairyFeline who granted my wish wasn't clued into the SIZE box I had in mind.
It's my own fault for not specifying, I know. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
However, the boxes came to me in a very strange and mysterious way...
Softie and the British One stayed home all day the other day, which caused me some concern because whenever they are both home during the week it either means they are ill (in which case I take care of them) or they are going to put me into the dreaded Pet Taxi and take me to the evil vet (in which case I take a crap on them).
Thursday however, was neither. After a morning of fret and worry, I realized that the dreaded Pet Taxi was not going to appear from the Magic Portal, and so I relaxed and had myself a nice doze on the blankie in the Poang. The British One had other plans for the Poang, and I and my blankie were removed and placed on the sofa. The Poang was taken upstairs. I pondered the logic for a few moments, realized that humans are rarely logical, and went back to sleep.
In the early afternoon I was awakened by a very large metal monster pulling up outside of my house. I tried to ignore it, but the engine and the beeping noise drove me to distraction. Soon my humans were awash in activity, and I was scooped up--blankie and all--and dumped into the kitchen. Softie then had the audacity to shut the door so that I could not leave! How rude!
I could hear strange men and strange noises in my house, and I didn't like it one little bit. How dare interesting activity go on in my own house without me there to supervise! I yowled quite a lot, and I scratched at the closed door. I crouched down to peer under the Magic Portal, but I couldn't see anything. I could only hear the strange men stomping and romping up and down the Magic Portal stairs. I could also hear them in the dining room and lounge, shuffling boxes and talking to my humans. I could hear things being unwrapped--rustling paper always excites me--and I was locked away where I could not revel in the crunchiness of paper.
After an eternity, the strange men left and Softie opened the kitchen door. By that time I had decided that I didn't care about the crisp paper and interesting smells, but I let myself be coaxed from the blankie.
There were boxes everywhere! Oddly, there were also a lot more sofas and tables than when I had woke up that morning. A LOT more. And they smelled very interesting!
Despite my best efforts to appear unimpressed and uninterested, my curiosity got the best of me and in no time I was climbing all over the new sofas and having myself a good sniff. I got so excited that I dashed all over the lounge and foyer, back and forth jumping from sofa to sofa to sofa. I then scampered into the dining room and circled the big boxes, then raced back into the lounge for another hop on the sofas. The humans began to open the boxes, and I supervised until I saw the contents--which seemed to be all boring human stuff.
All the excitement got to me and I collapsed onto one of the leather pillows on sofa #3, and slept soundly well into the night.
Now I am left with dozens of huge empty boxes, and not a single one will fit on the radiator.
It's my own fault for not specifying, I know. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.
However, the boxes came to me in a very strange and mysterious way...
Softie and the British One stayed home all day the other day, which caused me some concern because whenever they are both home during the week it either means they are ill (in which case I take care of them) or they are going to put me into the dreaded Pet Taxi and take me to the evil vet (in which case I take a crap on them).
Thursday however, was neither. After a morning of fret and worry, I realized that the dreaded Pet Taxi was not going to appear from the Magic Portal, and so I relaxed and had myself a nice doze on the blankie in the Poang. The British One had other plans for the Poang, and I and my blankie were removed and placed on the sofa. The Poang was taken upstairs. I pondered the logic for a few moments, realized that humans are rarely logical, and went back to sleep.
In the early afternoon I was awakened by a very large metal monster pulling up outside of my house. I tried to ignore it, but the engine and the beeping noise drove me to distraction. Soon my humans were awash in activity, and I was scooped up--blankie and all--and dumped into the kitchen. Softie then had the audacity to shut the door so that I could not leave! How rude!
I could hear strange men and strange noises in my house, and I didn't like it one little bit. How dare interesting activity go on in my own house without me there to supervise! I yowled quite a lot, and I scratched at the closed door. I crouched down to peer under the Magic Portal, but I couldn't see anything. I could only hear the strange men stomping and romping up and down the Magic Portal stairs. I could also hear them in the dining room and lounge, shuffling boxes and talking to my humans. I could hear things being unwrapped--rustling paper always excites me--and I was locked away where I could not revel in the crunchiness of paper.
After an eternity, the strange men left and Softie opened the kitchen door. By that time I had decided that I didn't care about the crisp paper and interesting smells, but I let myself be coaxed from the blankie.
There were boxes everywhere! Oddly, there were also a lot more sofas and tables than when I had woke up that morning. A LOT more. And they smelled very interesting!
Despite my best efforts to appear unimpressed and uninterested, my curiosity got the best of me and in no time I was climbing all over the new sofas and having myself a good sniff. I got so excited that I dashed all over the lounge and foyer, back and forth jumping from sofa to sofa to sofa. I then scampered into the dining room and circled the big boxes, then raced back into the lounge for another hop on the sofas. The humans began to open the boxes, and I supervised until I saw the contents--which seemed to be all boring human stuff.
All the excitement got to me and I collapsed onto one of the leather pillows on sofa #3, and slept soundly well into the night.
Now I am left with dozens of huge empty boxes, and not a single one will fit on the radiator.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Guilty Pleasures
Everyone has their guilty pleasures.
My humans, although they are loathe to admit it, enjoy watching the very silly "American Idol." Personally I could care less, although I will say that even the worst of the Idol hopefuls are better than Softie. I only speaketh the truth.
So anyway I have discovered my own wee guilty pleasure: KITTEN IDOL!
My humans, although they are loathe to admit it, enjoy watching the very silly "American Idol." Personally I could care less, although I will say that even the worst of the Idol hopefuls are better than Softie. I only speaketh the truth.
So anyway I have discovered my own wee guilty pleasure: KITTEN IDOL!
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Too Cold!
This house is too cold!
I can feel a draft under the big entry doors, and the hardwood floor feels icy under paw. It was even worse overnight, but I managed to wedge myself between the humans for maximum warmth and snuggability.
I'm beginning to suspect my humans have as much an idea of how to work the scary boiler as I do. Surely they can't want the house to be this cold?!
I am going to follow the suggestions of my friends Jackson and Gabby, who recommend putting a stiff cardboard box on top of those radiator thingies, and then climbing in.
Now if only I could find a suitable cardboard box...
I can feel a draft under the big entry doors, and the hardwood floor feels icy under paw. It was even worse overnight, but I managed to wedge myself between the humans for maximum warmth and snuggability.
I'm beginning to suspect my humans have as much an idea of how to work the scary boiler as I do. Surely they can't want the house to be this cold?!
I am going to follow the suggestions of my friends Jackson and Gabby, who recommend putting a stiff cardboard box on top of those radiator thingies, and then climbing in.
Now if only I could find a suitable cardboard box...
Friday, February 03, 2006
Grumble Bum
You’d think after the atrocious ordeal I suffered yesterday at the hands of the evil eye-vet, that I would be coddled and fussed over for the rest of the day.
Well, ok, so I was. But the adoration ended last night when my humans went to their beddie-bye basket. I was already on the bed, snuggled up and dreaming, when they came upstairs, and Softie curtly forced me to leave the comfort and warmth of her pillow.
I grouched a little and climbed onto the British One’s pillow, and had just settled in and gotten nice and cozy when he came into the bedroom and lifted me away. HOW RUDE!
He moved me to the foot of their bed and told me that I wasn’t allowed to sleep on his pillow. I growled and grumbled to air my grievances to them, and instead of lying at the foot of the bed like they wanted, I climbed off the bed and stalked off down the stairs, still grouching, to sleep on my blankie in the Poang chair.
They didn’t even thank me for warming the bed for them. Instead, they called me "grumble-bum!"
Selfish humans!
Well, ok, so I was. But the adoration ended last night when my humans went to their beddie-bye basket. I was already on the bed, snuggled up and dreaming, when they came upstairs, and Softie curtly forced me to leave the comfort and warmth of her pillow.
I grouched a little and climbed onto the British One’s pillow, and had just settled in and gotten nice and cozy when he came into the bedroom and lifted me away. HOW RUDE!
He moved me to the foot of their bed and told me that I wasn’t allowed to sleep on his pillow. I growled and grumbled to air my grievances to them, and instead of lying at the foot of the bed like they wanted, I climbed off the bed and stalked off down the stairs, still grouching, to sleep on my blankie in the Poang chair.
They didn’t even thank me for warming the bed for them. Instead, they called me "grumble-bum!"
Selfish humans!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Another Visit to the Eye Doctor
I should have suspected that my humans were up to no good when they stayed in bed past their normal getting up time. When Softie finally did arise, I should have remained curled up on the duvet, but my hunger and curiosity got the better of me.
I followed Softie into the kitchen to discuss my breakfast fantasies with her, but instead of doing as I requested, she disappeared into the Magic Portal and returned with the dreaded Pet Taxi.
Needless to say, I was NOT amused. I took the high road, however, and didn't cry or fight as she stuffed me into the evil carrier. Nor did I make a fuss in the metal monster. I watched Softie fiddle around with her iPod, then the two of us sang along to it as we careened up the interstate.
And then I had myself a nice poo in the Pet Taxi as soon as we stopped in the parking lot of the evil eye-vet. Nothing like stinking up the inside of the metal monster to let my opinion be known!
Dr. K poked around on my eye again, and if I hadn't been held down, I would have definitely used the claw on him. To add insult to injury, he put a very bright light into my eyes and looked at them with a thick piece of glass. I was ever so glad when it was over, and was pleased to hear that my bad eye is still in the "safe range," whatever that means. Dr. K said something to Softie and me about the possibility of having my eye removed (!) if my "numbers spike." I don't pretend to understand the things that I have to deal with, but I certainly did not like hearing the words "remove" and "eye" in the same sentence. No way.
We got back into the metal monster and Softie hooked the iPod up again and away we went. But my goodness the next song that came on was such a cacophony of screeching guitars that it hurt my ears. I stuck a paw out of the Taxi and tugged on the iPod until I got it up next to me where I read "The Stumble" by Love Sculpture. It was the most offensive, horrible racket I have ever heard (and believe me, I've heard Softie sing, so this racket had to be pretty bad).
Softie pulled the iPod away from me, but I hooked a claw into one of the attached wires and tugged as hard as I could. It worked too, because a wire came loose and the racket instantly vanished!
I was well pleased with myself.
I followed Softie into the kitchen to discuss my breakfast fantasies with her, but instead of doing as I requested, she disappeared into the Magic Portal and returned with the dreaded Pet Taxi.
Needless to say, I was NOT amused. I took the high road, however, and didn't cry or fight as she stuffed me into the evil carrier. Nor did I make a fuss in the metal monster. I watched Softie fiddle around with her iPod, then the two of us sang along to it as we careened up the interstate.
And then I had myself a nice poo in the Pet Taxi as soon as we stopped in the parking lot of the evil eye-vet. Nothing like stinking up the inside of the metal monster to let my opinion be known!
Dr. K poked around on my eye again, and if I hadn't been held down, I would have definitely used the claw on him. To add insult to injury, he put a very bright light into my eyes and looked at them with a thick piece of glass. I was ever so glad when it was over, and was pleased to hear that my bad eye is still in the "safe range," whatever that means. Dr. K said something to Softie and me about the possibility of having my eye removed (!) if my "numbers spike." I don't pretend to understand the things that I have to deal with, but I certainly did not like hearing the words "remove" and "eye" in the same sentence. No way.
We got back into the metal monster and Softie hooked the iPod up again and away we went. But my goodness the next song that came on was such a cacophony of screeching guitars that it hurt my ears. I stuck a paw out of the Taxi and tugged on the iPod until I got it up next to me where I read "The Stumble" by Love Sculpture. It was the most offensive, horrible racket I have ever heard (and believe me, I've heard Softie sing, so this racket had to be pretty bad).
Softie pulled the iPod away from me, but I hooked a claw into one of the attached wires and tugged as hard as I could. It worked too, because a wire came loose and the racket instantly vanished!
I was well pleased with myself.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Hospital Food
I have been coaxed into updating my diary by the lovely and clever Keiser, although I haven't much to impart.
I've been a very tired kitty recently, and want nothing more than to nap on my blankie in the Poang chair.
Or on a good, warm lap.
Or on the duvet.
Or a dining room chair.
I would also like to eat delicious meals several times a day, but those are not forthcoming, as I am still being fed the dreaded hospital food. I am also being served a different type of dry food, which is surprisingly tasty, mainly because ANYthing is better than Eukanuba hospital food.
I would be perfectly happy if my humans would switch the vile hospital food for Eukanuba lamb & barley, like I used to eat at my old house. It's the same brand, but a world of difference on my palate.
It's a sorry state of affairs each time I am served a meal.
I've been a very tired kitty recently, and want nothing more than to nap on my blankie in the Poang chair.
Or on a good, warm lap.
Or on the duvet.
Or a dining room chair.
I would also like to eat delicious meals several times a day, but those are not forthcoming, as I am still being fed the dreaded hospital food. I am also being served a different type of dry food, which is surprisingly tasty, mainly because ANYthing is better than Eukanuba hospital food.
I would be perfectly happy if my humans would switch the vile hospital food for Eukanuba lamb & barley, like I used to eat at my old house. It's the same brand, but a world of difference on my palate.
It's a sorry state of affairs each time I am served a meal.
Monday, January 23, 2006
A Tisket, A Tasket, A Stinker in the Basket
I had a truely wonderful weekend. The weather was lovely and I convinced my humans that it was in their best interest to let me venture outdoors for awhile.
The British One went outside with me and together we managed to make the evil Mooch next door go mental. He barked and barked at me, alternately trying to dig under or jump over the privacy fence. I felt it necessary to wander right up to the fence, flop over on my side, and swish my tail. He barked so much that his humans came outside and told him to shut up, and then he had to go indoors. Obviously I will make a habit of getting him into trouble. I do enjoy it ever so much.
Later in the weekend the humans decided to do some work in the Magic Portal, so I followed down the steps to help out. After loading the washer, Softie began rooting through dozens of large boxes filled with those shiny round music makers. It seemed such a boring task that I decided not to help her, and concentrated instead on helping the British One, who was sorting through more interesting boxes.
When they were not looking, I jumped upon a tall workbench and had myself a good sniff of the area. My humans were very surprised to see me up there, and made quite a fuss over me. I may be elderly but I can still jump when I want to.
The only downside to my weekend is that I am still being fed Eukanuba hospital food, which tastes vile. On the upside, however, I have noticed that my tummy doesn't cramp so much, and I am able to make it to my box.
Unless, of course, there is not a box available and I need to improvise with whatever looks most like a litterbox to me. I think my humans should take solace in the fact that the laundry basket was empty at the time.
The British One went outside with me and together we managed to make the evil Mooch next door go mental. He barked and barked at me, alternately trying to dig under or jump over the privacy fence. I felt it necessary to wander right up to the fence, flop over on my side, and swish my tail. He barked so much that his humans came outside and told him to shut up, and then he had to go indoors. Obviously I will make a habit of getting him into trouble. I do enjoy it ever so much.
Later in the weekend the humans decided to do some work in the Magic Portal, so I followed down the steps to help out. After loading the washer, Softie began rooting through dozens of large boxes filled with those shiny round music makers. It seemed such a boring task that I decided not to help her, and concentrated instead on helping the British One, who was sorting through more interesting boxes.
When they were not looking, I jumped upon a tall workbench and had myself a good sniff of the area. My humans were very surprised to see me up there, and made quite a fuss over me. I may be elderly but I can still jump when I want to.
The only downside to my weekend is that I am still being fed Eukanuba hospital food, which tastes vile. On the upside, however, I have noticed that my tummy doesn't cramp so much, and I am able to make it to my box.
Unless, of course, there is not a box available and I need to improvise with whatever looks most like a litterbox to me. I think my humans should take solace in the fact that the laundry basket was empty at the time.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Accidents Will Happen
I was a bad little boy overnight.
I had an accident on the rug in the lounge, and I had another accident just outside of my litterbox.
As a result, the British One has chosen to serve me disgusting Eukanuba hospital food. This is not a good start to my morning.
I had an accident on the rug in the lounge, and I had another accident just outside of my litterbox.
As a result, the British One has chosen to serve me disgusting Eukanuba hospital food. This is not a good start to my morning.
Monday, January 16, 2006
An Exciting Weekend
What an exciting weekend I had!
On Saturday, I helped Softie and the British One clean house. Softie was in charge of cleaning the downstairs area, so she began in the kitchen--which is one of my favorite places in the whole house!
I was fed a lovely meal of flaked tuna, and afterwards had a nice nap on the sofa. Softie woke me in the afternoon to ask if I would like to accompany her outside, which of course I did and it was glorious! I love feeling the sunlight on my fur, and the breeze brought interesting and exotic scents for me to sniff.
I stayed outdoors for a long time, wandering in the back garden and chewing the occasional blade of grass.
The British One had been cleaning the upstairs area, so after my excursion outdoors I climbed the stairs to see how he was getting on, and to help where I could. I decided the best place to help would be on the duvet in the second bedroom, and so I napped contentedly until The British One woke me for dinner, where I was served a lovely meal of sliced beef and gravy for dinner. What a life!
On Sunday, I coaxed the pair of them into letting me go outside again, because the sun was out and the weather agreeable. They sat outside on the back porch and watched me roam and roll around in the sunlight. To add to the wonderful day, I was given a nice dose of catnip! It pleased me greatly--so greatly, in fact, that I rolled around in it until I was covered from head to tail. Softie tried to brush some of it off but I was feeling too fine, and attacked the brush with great gusto.
The biggest surprise of the day came when the doorbell rang in the afternoon and in walked the old lady! I hadn't seen her in ages and it was good to be fussed over. She is somehow related to my humans, as were the other humans who accompanied the old lady. There were also two tiny humans--a little boy whom I have met before, and a very tiny girl who cried a lot. I was glad when she left.
My evening was capped off with a warm blankie and a good lap. Does life get any better than this?
On Saturday, I helped Softie and the British One clean house. Softie was in charge of cleaning the downstairs area, so she began in the kitchen--which is one of my favorite places in the whole house!
I was fed a lovely meal of flaked tuna, and afterwards had a nice nap on the sofa. Softie woke me in the afternoon to ask if I would like to accompany her outside, which of course I did and it was glorious! I love feeling the sunlight on my fur, and the breeze brought interesting and exotic scents for me to sniff.
I stayed outdoors for a long time, wandering in the back garden and chewing the occasional blade of grass.
The British One had been cleaning the upstairs area, so after my excursion outdoors I climbed the stairs to see how he was getting on, and to help where I could. I decided the best place to help would be on the duvet in the second bedroom, and so I napped contentedly until The British One woke me for dinner, where I was served a lovely meal of sliced beef and gravy for dinner. What a life!
On Sunday, I coaxed the pair of them into letting me go outside again, because the sun was out and the weather agreeable. They sat outside on the back porch and watched me roam and roll around in the sunlight. To add to the wonderful day, I was given a nice dose of catnip! It pleased me greatly--so greatly, in fact, that I rolled around in it until I was covered from head to tail. Softie tried to brush some of it off but I was feeling too fine, and attacked the brush with great gusto.
The biggest surprise of the day came when the doorbell rang in the afternoon and in walked the old lady! I hadn't seen her in ages and it was good to be fussed over. She is somehow related to my humans, as were the other humans who accompanied the old lady. There were also two tiny humans--a little boy whom I have met before, and a very tiny girl who cried a lot. I was glad when she left.
My evening was capped off with a warm blankie and a good lap. Does life get any better than this?
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Of Sinks and Wars
My humans are forever finding on-line time wasters. I think it helps them to procrastinate against any work they might have to do.
Currently, my personal favorite time wasters are:
CATS IN SINKS
and
KITTEN WAR
The British One used to play an on-line game a lot, and ended up getting quite good. I mentioned it a long time ago in my diary, because every time he plays it he and Softie imitate the sounds and sayings, while laughing out loud. I think it is a horrible game.
CAT STACKING is wrong!!!
Currently, my personal favorite time wasters are:
CATS IN SINKS
and
KITTEN WAR
The British One used to play an on-line game a lot, and ended up getting quite good. I mentioned it a long time ago in my diary, because every time he plays it he and Softie imitate the sounds and sayings, while laughing out loud. I think it is a horrible game.
CAT STACKING is wrong!!!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
The Trauma & The Triumph
It seems like forever that I have been away from my house, my comfortable Poang chair and my familiar food dishes and litter boxes. It seems ages since I sat on the back of the sofa and watched the world go by out of the big front window, or aggravated the evil Mooch next door by rolling around in the grass in my back garden.
I was beginning to think I'd never see my home or my humans again!
The trauma of living in a small room at the not-quite-evil hippy vet's office is over. I must admit that the staff and Dr. M took good care of me, and it was interesting to chat with other cats to compare stories, experiences and living arrangements. I discovered that my lifestyle is considered to be "incredibly pampered." How is a gentleman cat to live any other way?!
The cats who boarded at the vet's office with me were very jealous when told of my living situation. At first they didn't believe me, especially that troublemaker called Powder, who considered me to be an arrogant liar. Oh but when they discovered that my humans would ring the office every other day to check on me, and saw that I was served delicious foods (including the joyous turkey baby food) they realized that I was not making it all up. Even Powder had to admit that I am something special.
Laughably, they tried endlessly to trick me into revealing the secrets to my successful human training, but information like that is too valuable to share to just any ole cat who comes along, isn't it?
One day I might reveal some of my secrets. I might even hold Kitty Seminars to teach others the "Sir Higson Nick Guide to Human EduCATion." I can almost smell the catnip I would earn from it!
But for now, I am happily ensconced in getting the household affairs back in order. Human ankles need to be rubbed on, sofas need to be climbed on, and laps need to be napped on. I shall conquer the world another day.
I was beginning to think I'd never see my home or my humans again!
The trauma of living in a small room at the not-quite-evil hippy vet's office is over. I must admit that the staff and Dr. M took good care of me, and it was interesting to chat with other cats to compare stories, experiences and living arrangements. I discovered that my lifestyle is considered to be "incredibly pampered." How is a gentleman cat to live any other way?!
The cats who boarded at the vet's office with me were very jealous when told of my living situation. At first they didn't believe me, especially that troublemaker called Powder, who considered me to be an arrogant liar. Oh but when they discovered that my humans would ring the office every other day to check on me, and saw that I was served delicious foods (including the joyous turkey baby food) they realized that I was not making it all up. Even Powder had to admit that I am something special.
Laughably, they tried endlessly to trick me into revealing the secrets to my successful human training, but information like that is too valuable to share to just any ole cat who comes along, isn't it?
One day I might reveal some of my secrets. I might even hold Kitty Seminars to teach others the "Sir Higson Nick Guide to Human EduCATion." I can almost smell the catnip I would earn from it!
But for now, I am happily ensconced in getting the household affairs back in order. Human ankles need to be rubbed on, sofas need to be climbed on, and laps need to be napped on. I shall conquer the world another day.
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