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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.