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.

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.

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!

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...

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!

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.

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.