Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall

For many years, Softie has held me up to a sheet of glass and told me what a pretty boy I am.

I know I am incredibly handsome, but I had no idea why she needed to hold me in front of the glass to tell me.

Until last night.

She was carrying me around in her arms (which I adore!) and as she passed by the sheet of glass in the upstairs hall she turned and said "Look at that pretty boy! Isn't he handsome?"I glanced around and sure enough, there was a cat staring at me! I panicked a little bit, realizing there was another cat in the house--one that I hadn't even seen come in. To top it all off, he WAS incredibly handsome.

I felt a surge of overwhelming jealousy toward the cat, and then I realized that there was another Softie in the glass, and she was holding the incredibly handsome cat. It took me a few seconds (well, possibly even minutes) to come to the realization that the glass was reflecting her image, which also meant that it was reflecting MY image!

That was ME inside the glass! I kept looking back and forth from the image of Softie to her, and then at myself.

I wonder why I could never see myself before now? I used to have two good eyes to see myself, but I never did. Now I only have one good eye, but that one good eye saw a VERY handsome fellow in the glass, and that very handsome fellow was ME!

A Happy Chappy

I got plenty of lap time over the weekend, and a very nice, long brushing. On top of that, I had many helpings of delicious diced chicken.

As if that wasn't enough, the British One finally switched on those radiator thingies, and it got toasty in the house, which made me quite a happy kitty.

What more could I ask for?

I'm sure I will think of something!

Monkey Business

The British One has returned with more suitcases than he left with, and inside the suitcases are new and unusual items. Items I have had to investigate, sniff and occasionally bat around or treat with utter distain.

One item in particular bothers me. He watches me all the time, and is able to hang around in places that I can no longer reach because of my stiffening legs. I had a good sniff around on him when he was first unpacked, but now he has been placed out of my reach, and he taunts me from upon high.

I overheard the humans talking about him, and apparently he is quite elderly--as he is older even than the British One (!), and has a mate who sustained a wee injury during his travels. The British One is attempting to work out a way to fix him.

I hope he doesn't get fixed. One Teak Monkey hanging around out of my reach is more than enough.

The Return of The British One

At last!

The British One has returned.

Things can get back to normal around here. It's been WEEKS since I had an extra helping of delicious diced chicken and a nice warm lap during the day.

Truely Wicked People

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Softie just read something to me which had greatly distressed me.

There are some truely wicked people in the world.

Incredibly Handsome

I got a wonderously good brushing last night while Softie watched something silly on the Animal Planet channel. After the brush I was combed and then brushed some more.

It might be hard to believe, but my coat is shinier, glossier and softer than ever. When I strut around the house my tail is magnificently fluffy and fanned out like a peacock.

All modesty aside, I am incredibly handsome today.

There's a Moon Out Tonight

I had the overwhelming urge to sing in the dead of night.

It was quite dark in the bedroom, but a glint of moonlight streaming in compelled me to yowl quite boisterously. I then leapt from the bed and onto the chilly hardwood floor, where I yowled some more. No meek little cries for me! I really bellowed them out, and sounded quite good if I do say so myself.

My singing roused Softie from sleep and she groggily asked what was wrong. Nothing was "wrong" at all! I just felt like singing at 2:25 a.m. Is that so wrong?

I leapt back upon the bed and walked all over her, trilling and chirping and generally letting her know that I was happy and trying to share the love. She poked an arm out from beneath the duvet and gave me a half-hearted couple of strokes, and scratched under my chin.

We then fell back asleep.

Nightmares

I awoke with a start from a very frightening dream involving a large slobbering dog and no place to hide. Even when I realized I was safe inside my house, on a blankie-covered Poang in the lounge, I was still fearful.

I did what I had to do, which was wake up Softie to tell her about it.

I don't think she enjoyed being rudely awakened with my incessant yowls at 4 a.m., but someone needed to be told about this dream, and reassurances were needed that it would never happen to me.

She climbed out of bed, located me in the hallway and stroked me until I was calm. Then she fell back into bed.

I decided it was best, since I was already upstairs, to sleep there too. I climbed all over her looking for a good spot, and finally decided on the foot of the bed.

I don't like nightmares!

If Only...

If only I wasn't spooked by the boiler.

If only I could figure out a way to switch on the spooky boiler to heat up those radiator things.

If only I could figure out how to get inside the Magic Portal, I could switch on the spooky boiler to heat up those radiator things.

If only I could warm myself up enough to leave the comfort of my blankie, I could maybe figure out a way to get inside the Magic Portal, so that I could switch on the spooky boiler to heat up those radiator things.

Hasn't anyone else noticed the cold?

A Bleak Day Alone

The weather has taken a turn for the chilly and bleak, and this house is cold and lonely.

I miss the British One. If he was here I could curl up in his lap and have a nice, warm nap.

Softie brought out my favorite warm blankie and put it on the Poang chair, but it's a poor substitute for a good lap.

Take a Look at My Life

Softie received some documents in the post the other day and has confirmed that I am actually older than we thought. I am almost 19 years old, instead of almost 18. How rude!

I don't like this at all.

Zen Kitty vs The Evil Eye Vet

Another break in the routine.

Softie slept in this morning, which gave me pause for concern, and then when I was not fed at my normal time this morning I suspected the worst.

Sure enough, I was stuffed into the dreaded Pet Taxi and driven to see the evil eye vet Dr. K. I took the high road and didn't create a fuss on the drive up there (I am quite pleased with myself about that), nor did I create a scene in the doctor's surgery. Dr. K was away on holiday, so a lady eye vet checked me out, and I have to say, I liked her much moreso than Dr. K, because she was gentle with me and didn't scare me. I was ever so glad to get back into the dreaded Taxi though. I do not like lights shined into my eyes, nor do I like having them poked and prodded with implements of destruction.

I became Zen Kitty on the ride home, making myself calm and at one with the world. Then I tore into a lovely extra large helping of delicious diced chicken when I got home.

Softie went off to where ever it is she goes during the day, and I sat on the back of the sofa and watched a man do some landscaping in our front garden.

Sometimes I miss my old garden, where I could go out onto the deck and doze in the sun. I wonder what happened to that garden? I wonder if another cat has taken up residence there, and I wonder if he catches as many mice and shrews as I did when it was my home.

I could really rip into a juicy little grey mouse. I really could.

Of Dog Parks and Starving

I nearly starved yesterday!

I only had two helpings of delicious diced chicken, because Softie goes somewhere during the day and doesn't come home for my mid-afternoon feeding. Very rude.

I decided my best form of complaint would be to ignore her all evening, which is what I did. Unfortunately, she got a call from Jennifer, the human of my dog friend Buster, and the two of them took Buster to something called a Dog Park.

I'm unsure what a Dog Park is, but it doesn't sound very appealing.

Soy Means Starving

My diary has been chosen as a "Daily Pick" by the fine folks at Catster and I am quite pleased about it.

I feel like celebrating with a pot of strawberry swirl yogurt!

Oh. But I can't, because the stupid suitcase escaped from the closet and convinced the British One to take it away, so he isn't here to open the yogurt pot and eat half of it before I get some.

It is no use asking Softie to open it. She doesn't eat that sort of yogurt. In fact, she has found the perfect way to keep me from ever wanting to eat ANYTHING that she eats. Everything she eats is fake. Fake meat, fake milk, fake yogurt.

Soy--blech!

I miss the British One. Not only does he normally keep me company during the day, but he eats lots of delicious foods that get shared with me. He is my afternoon feeder-person, and now that he is away it means I will not get an extra helping of delicious diced chicken, which I have become accustomed to.

I may starve before he returns.

A Case Of You

A suitcase has escaped from the closet.

The British One has been filling it with bits and pieces when he thinks I am not looking.

I have a bad feeling this means a change in my normal routine. I have a bad feeling this means I will not see the British One for a few weeks.

I do not like this turn of events.

Stupid suitcase!

The Not-Quite-Evil Hippie Vet

Well now. I may have to rethink this whole "evil vet" thing.

My evil vet is something of a hippie. He wears Birkenstocks (even in winter!) and is incredibly laid back about things. I had already decided he wasn't such a bad guy when he told Softie and the British One to ply me with delicious diced chicken way back in the winter, but now I think I might even like him a little bit.

The British One took me to visit the evil vet yesterday, and aside from having things put up my bum (which is not very pleasant, let me tell you) the evil vet seems to have set my tummy to rights and made me feel better. I was given some sort of injection, and he tried to give me a pill--which I'm pleased to say he did not suceed in doing--and then some vile meds were squirted into my mouth. But the vile meds didn't taste the same as the vile meds my old vet Dr.R used to prescribe. These tasted...not so bad. Not good, by any stretch, but not bad. I didn't foam and make a scene like I usually do when meds are squirted down my gullet, so I won't complain too much about the fact that I have to have the meds twice a day for the next week.

I am much brighter today, and feel so good that I have jumped into the large upstairs windows and watched the world go by. And I have watched the neighbors with the big deck. From this vantage point I can also see over the big wooden fence of the next door neighbors garden. Which means I can also see the evil Mooch pacing around like the crazed dog he is. He has no idea I am sitting there, so he has no idea that I can watch him sniff flowers and scratch at fleas. It's quite entertaining.

Yes, I'm beginning to suspect that my evil vet isn't really all that evil. I think he actually understands me.

I think I also understand him.

I think we are going to get along just fine.

Still Ill

Still not hungry.

There are rumors of an evil vet visit soon.

Farewell to the Tree

I have not had any more "episodes" overnight, nor have I had any so far today. My tummy is still a little iffy, and as a result I am wary about eating any of the delicious diced chicken that was placed before me this morning.

Softie also gave me some dry kibble, which she must be crazy to think I would actually want.

The British One and I have been watching a noisy event going on in the garden behind ours. There are a lot of humans in the garden, and they have been climbing the gigantic tree and tying ropes to it. Then they began to make a lot of noise and the limbs began to fall.

It is a sad day for me whenever a tree gets cut down, because it is one less that I can use to hide from dogs, and it means one less scratching post. I suspect the other kitties in the neighborhood are not very happy about it, and I am fairly certain that the squirrels are in an uproar over it.

I have always enjoyed watching the squirrels in that tree, and greatly enjoy watching them balance their way on the overhead wires that crisscross through the tree.

I wonder what they will do now that their home is gone?

Tummy Troubles

Oh dear. I'm not doing too well again. I guess I must have overdone it at the wedding, because I have a very dicky tummy and am struggling with my litterbox duties.

The British One took me outside, which I thought was going to be quite nice, but then Softie came outside too, and she had a wet cloth with her and he held me down while she cleaned me off. I really do not like for anyone to mess with my hind legs--or my hind end! I wiggled around and growled at them, and pulled my very fluffy tail underneath me so that they could not mess with it.

I have wandered from litterbox to litterbox, trying to make myself go so that the evilness in my tummy can be purged. I even lost my senses a little bit and tried to poop on Softie's shoulderbag, which got me into a spot of trouble.

I am not hungry for my delicious diced chicken, and I don't want any strawberry swirl yogurt. I just want my tummy to feel better, and I want to stop smelling funny.

Is that too much to ask?

Hazel Lucy & Buddy Get Married

My Catster friends Hazel Lucy and Buddie are getting married today!

I must say, the "dreaded bachelor party" was quite good fun, although there were times it got out of hand a little. Is there ever a time when one can have too much catnip? I might have had one of those times...

But I know I must put on a brave face to help escort the throngs of wedding attendees to their seats, even though my head is pounding and all I want to do is curl up in a warm lap.

Cheers to Hazel Lucy and Buddie--I wish them all the love in the world.

Get Lost, Lost

I have received another lovely blue ribbon rosette from the ever interesting and lovely Keiser. I am glad to have such wonderful friends. I am a very lucky boy indeed.

Sometimes I wonder if I am so lucky to live with my two humans, however. Don’t get me wrong, I love them quite a bit, and I am fairly certain that they adore me to the point of obsession.

That said, last night began the new series of that strange TV show called “Lost,” and in their extreme glee and utter geekiness, they completely forgot about me! As soon as Softie got home from wherever it is she goes each day, she began preparing a wondrous feast. I sat in the kitchen and hinted about some diced chicken, but apparently the British One had clued her into the fact that I had been fed a late afternoon snack, so I got nothing.

This cooking business went on for quite a while, and the smells in the kitchen made me swoon. Then Chris & Michelle (humans of my friends Jackson & Gabby) arrived bearing a very delicious looking cake which Michelle had decorated to look like the island on Lost. Dinner was served and no one gave me a single tidbit! I tried my “poor starving kitty” look, but no one was looking at me—they were all deeply engaged in conversation, and never looked my way.

So I decided to use the “sad little boy” look, but again no one seemed to notice. I do not like giving up my coveted spot as the center of attention! I slunk into the lounge and sulked on the sofa.

Softie snapped out of her Lost stupor long enough to remember to give me eye drops (which I would have been happy to miss, thank you very much), but afterwards I was again forgotten.

The worst was yet to come, however, because as soon as the program began I was moved from the sofa so the humans could sit down. Softie took over my Poang and I had no where to go! How rude!

I tried out each lap and ended up ensconcing myself upon the British One, who wasn’t quite as fidgety as the others. Even he was excitable though, and at the end of the show they had to immediately rewatch certain segments with something called a DVR. They did this for quite a while, and chattered constantly. After Chris & Michelle left for the night, Softie got on the phone with my late friend The Baron’s human and they discussed the show. The British One went upstairs to the glowing box and began to peck furiously at the keyboard, and it was a long time before anyone in the household went to bed.

I do not like disturbances in my routine. I think I may have to figure out a way to break the TV before next week.

I'll Strut Right By With My Tail In The Air

The very sweet and pretty Scooter has given me another blue ribbon rosette because she thinks I am handsome and debonair!

This alone makes me feel much better, and must certainly be why I have regained my appetite for delicious diced chicken and strawberry swirl yogurt.

I feel it is in my best interest to strut around the house with my tail in the air!

Under the Weather

I felt a bit under the weather this weekend. I didn’t even feel much like tearing into my delicious diced chicken! My tummy was bothering me too much.

In fact, I felt so horrible that I had an accident on the upstairs landing, and had to have my bum wiped a little, which I found incredibly embarrassing. Softie cleaned me up as best she could, and then set about cleaning up the landing. The British One coddled me and carried me downstairs.

Then, as if to further add to my dilemma, as soon as the British One set me down, my tummy rumbled and I started to dry heave in the dining room. He grabbed some newspaper to put in front of me, but I couldn’t hold it and ended up retching up all over his hand. He wasn’t very happy about that, but I didn’t get scolded because they both knew I was not myself.

My humans fussed over me for the remainder of the evening, and I was spoiled for choice on whose lap to nap on. They watched a new sci-fi program called “Threshold” and I didn’t like the noise made by the strange, alien ship, so I went into the dining room and dozed on the rug until it was time for bed. Then I slept at the foot of their bed.

For the rest of the weekend, I curled up on the sofa with whichever of my humans was sitting down, and napped soundly on a nice, warm lap.

Distinguished?

Sometimes I look old, like in my most recently added picture.

I don't feel that old. Except sometimes when I use the stairs.

Softie and the British One say I look "distinguished."

I'd rather be debonair.

Take Me To The River

Yesterday Softie and the British One let lots of people into my house, and they all seemed to be there to laugh and joke with our current UK visitors Rafe and Karen. Rafe and Karen are the humans of my Canterbury Cat friends Bella and Alfie.

Early yesterday morning Chris and Michelle (humans of my friends Jackson and Gabby) came over and Softie fixed a very delicious smelling breakfast for everyone. Michelle had brought homemade scones and fruit salad, and Chris made something called Bloody Marys for everyone except me.

As the morning progressed, more friends showed up, and more food was prepared and put out onto tables. Chris even brought over a grill, and I watched from the comfort of the sofa as he stood outside, preparing delicious smelling sausages, burgers and bratts. I was very chuffed to see our friend Lauren again, and to curl up on her lap to let her know that I, too, miss The Baron. She stroked me for a long time.

Neighbors stopped by to visit, and I took note that other area homes also seemed to have little parties happening. The neighbors behind my house have a multi-level deck (which I would LOVE to climb upon to doze in the sun) which was filled with laughing humans all day and well into the night. The neighborhood buzzed with people, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.

I, however, was stuck inside the house, but actually it suited me just fine. There were humans walking around outside with big barkers, and the streets teemed with noisy metal monsters. I was quite content to nap gloriously on the sofa, Poang and the occasional warm lap. I even got an extra helping of diced chicken!

Later in the evening it seemed to me that the entire world had a mass exodus toward the big river a few blocks away. I sat up in the window and watched the humans walking up the street, some carrying lawnchairs and blankets, some with coolers, some pushing tiny humans in little carts. I could not figure out why everyone was walking to the river. Personally I do not like water, so I was glad not to be taken along.

Then the big booms began. I do not like big booms. I also do not like bright flashes of light, and the sky was filled with them. Usually when there are bright flashes of light and big booms, it is raining very heavily, but yesterday was a beautiful day, and the night was as mild and nice as could be.

When the humans returned, they sat outside on the front porch and talked about something called "fire works." Could that be what caused all the big booms and bright lights?

Walking on Sunshine?

Yesterday a small black suitcase escaped from the closet and convinced our houseguest Sally to stuff it with personal belongings and take it away.

I was very sad to see Sal leave, because she has a spectacular lap to sleep on, and was quite happy to sit very still and read whenever I flopped on her for a bit of kip.

I think the humans realized that I was unhappy to see her leave, because they gave me a lot of attention last night, which I think I deserved. The British One fed me a pot of strawberry swirl yogurt, and Softie gave me an extra long brushing and then used the comb under my chinny-chin chin.

We took delivery of another TWO large scratching mats over the weekend. One of them has been put into the dining room and I don't like it one little bit. I've decided that I do not like the way it feels underpaw, and am very unhappy that the humans have removed my soft rug in favour of this one. I can no longer sleep in one of my favorite spots as a result. It's very rude. The other scratching mat is still rolled up and wrapped in plastic, and it better stay that way because the only rug left to replace is the other soft one, in the lounge. Softie and the British One keep making noises about how much they hate these rugs, which were here when we moved in, but I quite like them. They are comfy, soft, and worn just enough to be cozy. The humans call them "horrible."

In other news, the humans have been rather excitable today due to someone called Katrina. I sat and watched a bit of the Weather Channel with them but I never did see Katrina. All I could see was a lot of churning water, which did not interest me in the least.

My good friend Hayden has two humans on vacation right now, and are holidaying somewhere near this Katrina person. The British One received a message from them, saying that they had only been inside their rented beachhouse for ninety minutes when they were evacuated! Now they are sheltering elsewhere and not having a very nice time.

Katrina certainly has been making waves.

A House With Guests and All The Rest

The British One and Softie's houseguest Sally has taken up residence in my bedroom, and she shuts the door at night so that I cannot go in and pad around on her. I cannot sleep on the end of her bed. I cannot go in and test out the gigantic new scratching mat that smells so lovely.

I'd be angry about it, but she has such a wonderful lap and lets me nest on her lap whenever she sits down on the sofa. When she reclines the sofa I am able to climb right up onto her chest and put my paws on her shoulders and nuzzle my nose under her chin and she doesn't mind! I like that!

I might even be annoyed that they leave me early in the morning and go outside and explore and do things, while I am cooped up inside the house while the weather is so nice, but it gives me a chance to nap gloriously on the Poang.

Perhaps I am a little bit annoyed that sometimes my afternoon delicious diced chicken is late, but I'm being good about it and not leaving any gifts on the carpets or hardwood.

More Goodies for Me!

The British One and I took delivery of a very large something or another several days ago. It smelled very interesting, but was wrapped in a heavy plastic that was difficult for my nose to penetrate.

Yesterday I finally found out what it is: a massive kitty scratching pad! I was dozing on the bed when the British One hauled it upstairs and began to unwrap it. I had to find out what was going on, so I ventured into my other room (the humans refer to it as the "spare") and helped him with his task. After it was unwrapped the mat smelled very good indeed--not catnip good, but good nonetheless. The British One said it is a rug made of sea grass, which is why it smells so wonderful. Softie says it smells like the green tea she used to drink as an exchange student in someplace called Japan.

We rolled out the mat and moved the bed on top of it, and then put a few weights down on the edges, apparently to keep them from curling. I was very interested to inspect my new mat, but the British One carried me out of the room and shut the door behind him.

I didn't even get to try it out!

Blue Ribbons Galore

I have received a shiny blue ribbon rosette from the very lovely and clever Keiser!

Thank you so much, my good friend!

I always enjoy reading Keiser's journal entries and looking at her pictures. She is a very fine kitty indeed, and I am pleased to know her.

The British One and Softie are helping me celebrate my fourth ribbon with a pot of strawberry swirl yogurt and a good brushing. I think I might even be able to persuade them to take me outside to flop around in the grass later today.

Just Call Me Paddy

I seem to have laid quite a guilt trip onto my humans regarding the misappropriation of my Kitty Adventure Room, because yesterday they took delivery of a brand new bedroom suite and installed it into one of my bedrooms.

I know the bedroom suite is mine because a small, padded kitty bench arrived with the shipment. They put the padded kitty bench at the foot of the bed so that I may climb upon the new bed without struggling. The bench is very soft and much easier to climb on than the small blue Pottery Barn stepstool I have been using until now.

The small blue stepstool has been left in my other bedroom, so that I can still climb up on that bed, should I choose to. I’ve learned that their friend Sally is visiting soon from the UK, so I may use that stepstool to climb into Sally’s bed and pad around on her.

The last time she visited, when we lived in my old house, she nicknamed me Paddy. I can hardly wait to pad on her again!

A Deception to The Rule

I have been deceived and am not very pleased about it.

There has been much ado regarding the mysterious fourth bedroom, which I had been led to believe was going to be my very own kitty room. It was relatively small to be a human bedroom, and I was quite chuffed when I discovered that the strange, noisy men had ripped out the floorboards. I took this to mean the room would become my very own Kitty Adventure Room. There was a large window with which to oversee my domain, and lots of interesting tunnels in the walls and floor for me to explore.

Not that I was ever allowed to venture into the room unsupervised! The British One and Softie always seemed to be right there whenever I tried to get in. It was my very own Kitty Adventure Room, and I wasn’t allowed in. How rude!

I thought it odd when items for this room began to turn up and they were NOT kitty related, but I took it all in stride. I was never going to use a human sink, toilet, radiator or cabinetry, but if they insisted these items go into my Kitty Adventure Room, who was I to complain? I could live with the clutter of human stuff, because the radiator would keep me warm in the winter, and the other items would be good to climb upon for a better vantage point out the window.

Then the strange, noisy men covered up all the interesting tunnels in the walls and floor with very slick, shiny tile. New lighting was installed, doors were put into place, mirrors were hung and the whole room began to take on the appearance of a human litterbox. They already have a litterbox! It’s a perfectly good one too, which Softie gushes about to her friends because it was built by someone named Art Deco. I have no idea why they feel the need to have another, newer one, where my Kitty Adventure Room is supposed to be.

I’ve suffered all this upheaval; all those long days locked away in the kitchen and dining room, listening to the strange, noisy men clamber around upstairs making a big mess, and for what? A human litterbox?!

It’s very unfair.

A Bittersweet Anniversary

Today marks my one year anniversary of being on Catster.

I have had a lot of fun so far, and have met loads of lovely kitties whom I am pleased to call my friends. I have especially enjoyed trading emails.

Today also marks the first day I am without my good friend Baron von Stinkerton. The Baron took leave for the Summerland yesterday, and I miss him terribly. He was such a good pal, and a good natured guy as well. If my humans tried to put jester collars or Dumbledore hats on me, I'd use the claw on them! The Baron, however, took it all in stride and actually enjoyed playing dress-up with his human.

Even though my friend The Baron is no longer with us, he lives on at Catster, and for that I am ever so grateful.

Until We Meet Again

My good friend The Baron has had a good life, living with a human who adores him. The Baron has been ill for a little while, and although he does not want to have to leave his home and his human, he hears the Summerland calling to him.

May his journey over the Rainbow Bridge be peaceful and painless.

He has been a wonderful friend and companion to all who have known him. He will be sadly missed.

Wedding Bells

I have been asked to be a GKM (Grooms Kitty Man) for the upcoming wedding of Hazel Lucy and Buddy, which will be held in September.

Of course I accepted! It is not every day a friend gets married, afterall. Plus I already have a nice tuxedo handy, so she will not have to worry her pretty furry head about scheduling a fitting or rental for me.

I do hope white shoes will be acceptable.

Anonymous Revealed

I would like to thank the lovely Scooter for my second blue ribbon rosette! I am indebted to the Scootster for clueing me in to Anonymous too--who has been revealed as the very pretty Kazumi Joy.

Thank you both for the ribbons. I have had a wonderful time batting at them and fraying the ends with my newly cleaned teeth. The humans continue to carry me up and down the stairs, and continue to ply me with delicious diced chicken.

It's a wonderful life!

A Blue Ribbon Rosette

I have received a blue ribbon Rosette from another kitty on Catster.

I do not know who Anonymous is, but I would like to thank them. It fills my fluffy white bib with great pride.

Softie and the British One have helped me celebrate my achievement by serving an extra helping of delicious diced chicken and giving me a good, long brush last night. Then, instead of having to walk up and down the stairs between the floors, I have been carried by the humans.

I could get used to this!

Thank you Anonymous!!

Have My Instincts Failed Me?

All day yesterday I suspected the humans were up to no good. At the top of the list of making me suspicious was that they slept in late. I awakened Softie by walking all over her, but she didn't get up! Instead, she picked up a book and began reading. So I decided to wake up the British One by walking all over him, but it didn't work.

Whenever I am not fed my delicious diced chicken at the appointed time each morning, it usually means I am in for a dreadful time at the evil vet. I decided to try to go back to sleep, or at least to feign sleep. I curled up into a furry little ball at the foot of the bed and closed my eyes--although I made sure my ears were up and very alert.

Eventually Softie got out of bed and went downstairs, but I was afraid to follow her for fear of the dreaded Pet Taxi. So I stayed in bed with the British One. Momentarily, however, he too got out of bed. He switched on the glowing box in the office and commenced pecking away at the keyboard. I continued to feign sleep.

I heard Softie calling to me, and I heard the beeping box in the kitchen, but still I worried that it was a ruse to get me downstairs, where I was sure to be stuffed into the Pet Taxi and whisked away to the evil vet.

Presently Softie also called to the British One, who went downstairs. I could hear them having a nice breakfast by the clink of cutlery on dishes, but I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to be stuffed inside the Pet Taxi. I stayed put.

It was mid-morning by the time Softie came upstairs and asked if I was hungry. Of course I was--but I still suspected they were up to no good, and I told her as much from my warm duvet. She scooped me up and carried me downstairs, and so sure was I of the Pet Taxi that I immediately began scanning the floors while still in her arms. Oddly, I didn't see it.

She placed me in the kitchen, where a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken awaited. I thought this was very strange, as normally they do not feed me before I visit the evil vet, because I tend to be very sick inside the metal monster if I have eaten. I tentatively began to eat, but kept stopping to watch Softie and the British One because I was SURE one of them would appear with the dreaded Pet Taxi at any moment. But soon the British One was dressed in his painting clothes and had disappeared upstairs to paint a bedroom, and Softie had put on a floppy hat and her Chuck Taylor's and gone outside to fire up the grass-eating noisemaker.

I stayed alert all day, in between naps on the bed, sofa and Poang chair. Nothing bad ever happened and I was not taken away to the evil vet.

Have my instincts failed me?

A Tale of Suitcases

Softie managed to let one of the suitcases escape from the closet, and it has convinced her to fill it with clothing and personal effects. Luckily it appears to be one of the small suitcases, which hopefully means she will not be away too long.

This morning she said her goodbyes to the British One and me, and left with the suitcase, saying something about a business trip. What business could the small suitcase have?

The next few days will be Lads Only at my house. I suspect that the British One and I will be doing a lot of painting, a lot of listening to BBC Radio, a lot of eating delicious diced chicken, and a lot of telly viewing. I might also find time to nap during our busy schedule.

The Kitty Salon Adventure

I know something happened to me yesterday, but I’m not quite sure what it was.

I KNEW the humans were up to no good when I wasn’t presented a dish of delicious diced chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. They tip-toed around, pretending that they had simply “forgotten” to feed me, but I knew better. I knew something was up.

Sure enough, I was swept up into Softie’s arms and stuffed unceremoniously into the Pet Taxi. I didn’t even struggle this time, deciding to take the high road and face my fate with head and tail held high.

Softie packed me into the metal monster and took me to the evil hippie vet, where she left me alone. I looked at her through the bars of the Pet Taxi and made a feeble little meow, which I knew melted her heart and made her feel extra guilty for leaving me alone.

I don’t remember a whole lot after that point. I was taken into a room and given a shot, which made me very sleepy. I wanted to fight and struggle, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted my beddie-bye basket.

Next thing I remember was waking up, quite woozy, inside a metal cage. There were other cats in other cages around me. Some were quite angrily upset about their predicament, others cried and fretted. I laid there and watched the comings and goings of the office staff. I took note of the fact that my nappy dreads were all gone, my claws had been clipped, and my teeth felt so wonderfully smooth and clean. The evil hippie vet checked in on me a couple of times, and then I heard a voice I recognized: The British One had come to rescue me!

I was so happy to hear his voice—and even happier to see him standing at the doorway to carry me home. As soon as we were home I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep as he stroked me and told me what a good and handsome boy I am.

I was still drowsy and a little uncoordinated by the time Softie came home, but I was ever so glad to see her! I climbed into her lap and dozed while she brushed me and used the comb on my chin and bib. I’m not sure what the evil hippie vet did to me, but he certainly has made me more handsome and adorable than ever.

Nurse Nickie

The British One awoke sometime in the night and was very sick. He came downstairs into the lounge to avoid waking up Softie, so I sat on top of him and tried to make him feel better.

When he went back to bed, some hours later, I followed and slept at his feet, safe in the knowledge that if he needed me, I'd be right there.

He's still got a dicky tummy this morning, but I am certain that I have made him feel better by lying directly on top of him as he lies in bed watching the entire Stingray DVD boxset.

He and Softie have dubbed me "Nurse Nickie."

A Purge on the Magic Portal

A very curious event happened yesterday, which I watched unfold with great disinterest.

All last week I followed the humans into the Magic Portal and helped them sort through various boxes and containers. The boxes and containers were then carried up into the lounge, where the contents were again taken out and stickered, then put back into the boxes. I believe there was way too much energy exerted into this odd practice. I got bored with it and situated myself on the sofa where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and where I could doze undisturbed.

Yesterday morning, bright and early, the British One and Softie hauled all the boxes and containers out onto the front lawn. I made noises about going outside with them, but they rudely shut the door in my face. My humans simply have no manners.

I watched from the front window as tables were set up and the contents of the boxes taken out and placed upon them. I noticed that the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) had also hauled items out onto their lawn. Glancing on up the street, I saw other humans doing the same.

The strangest bit about the whole exercise is that out of nowhere strangers began to descend upon the front lawn. They picked items from the tables, handed paper and coins to the humans, and then carried the items away. It was all very odd, and I was glad to be inside the house, safe from the strangers and their grabbing hands.

I overheard the owners of the evil Mooch (whom was also locked away indoors, but never seemed to cease his big barks) conversing with Softie and the British One, and from what I can understand, this practice of hauling items onto the lawn is called the East Row Historic District Community Yard Sale.

As far as I know, our yard was not sold, but nearly everything else was! Softie got sunburned, the British One complained a lot about the heat and humidity, and I napped gloriously on the sofa, in the comfort of the cool house.

More Sad Times

My friend The Baron von Stinkerton has been given some very sad news. He has lymphoma and may not be with us much longer.

He is such a good kitty, and very sweet.

Softie, the British One and I will continue to send good vibes to him and his human Lauren. Please check out his site on Catster.

Of Barons and Bombings

Today has been filled with bad news. First I got the sad news that the Baron is very ill indeed. I am worried that he may be incurable--but I don't want to think about that. I am going to continue to focus my kitty energy toward helping him get better.

Then I found out about the terrible bombings in London. I have never been to London, but Softie and the British One go quite a lot. I sat on the office desk and listened as the British One rang his friends and family to make sure they were safe. Normally at this time of year the British One is over there, but this year he didn't go because they are doing so many renovations to our house. He and Softie still have a home in England, but it is not in London. I have never been and don't want to go, even though the next door neighbors have a very beautiful female kitty named Poppy. I have seen pictures of her and she makes my heart do a happy dance.

I am ready for this bad day to end.

More Bad News

I have received more bad news regarding my friend The Baron. He is very, very ill and it makes his human cry, which makes me, Softie, and the British One cry too.

He is a good cat, and a good friend. I am so depressed by his sorrowful news that I haven't even felt much like eating my delicious diced chicken. I'd much rather curl up on the dining room rug and mope.

My heart is breaking for my friend.

My Dear Friend The Baron

I am worried about my friend The Baron. He has been a very good friend, and his human Lauren has a wonderful lap.

The Baron has been ill recently, and had to visit the evil vet. Lots of bloodwork was done and we are all very worried.

Please send get well messages to Baron Von Stinkerton. I am worried for my friend.

Still Too Hot

Over the course of the past several weeks there has been a lot of what the humans refer to as "bad weather."

It has been very, very hot indeed--so much so that I have not yearned to go outdoors. I much prefer the comfort of the cool, air-conditioned house.

Yesterday we finally got a reprieve, but unfortunately it came in the form of severe thunderstorms. I do not like thunderstorms. I do not like loud noises in general, but coupled with bright flashes of light and balls of ice falling from the sky--it's a recipe that produces one very worried, stressed kitty.

I sought solace on top of the British One, who sat on the sofa speaking on the phone to his cousin in Australia. Apparently he was having great difficulty hearing her because of the noise from the rain and balls of ice hitting the windows and roof. It sounded to me as if the roof was falling in!The British One and I also feared for Softie's safety, because she was late coming home from work. Eventually she made it home, but I was very worried about her and could not eat any of my delicious diced chicken until I knew she was safe.

Today is bright and sunny. There is no rain, no loud booms, no bright flashes of light and no balls of ice falling from the sky. There is also no sticky humidity.

I believe it is time to inform them that I would like to go outside.

Too Hot!!

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

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

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

Ah bliss!

I Don't Wanna Be Sedated

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

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

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

A Good Brushing

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

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

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

I'm a Good Helper

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

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

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

Mmmmmmmm...Pork Rinds!

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

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

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

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

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

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

I licked my lips for a long time afterwards.

Another Trip to the Evil Eye Vet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cold Turkey

I don't understand it.

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

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

They make references to cold turkey.

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

Maybe.

The Cosmic Catnip Caper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will It Ever End?

The noisy destruction of the mysterious fourth bedroom continues.

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

I feel like taking a crap on the rug.

Confusion!

As if last weekend wasn’t chaotic enough, all this week I have had to deal with strange, noisy men in my house. They have taken a great interest in the mysterious fourth bedroom. They have done things which I cannot believe Softie and the British One would be happy about. My humans must not realize that the strange men have knocked a hole through their bedroom wall, and they must not realize that the strange men have ripped out the walls and floor of the mysterious fourth bedroom.

Naturally I have been relegated to the dining room and kitchen during the day, so I can only inspect their work after they have gone. When I saw what the men had done I felt it my duty to inform the British One all about it. He didn’t seem too surprised by what I told him, nor did Softie. In fact, I think they must have known something about the strange men because on Sunday evening the two of them busied themselves with moving all their belongings from THEIR bedroom into MY bedroom, which I had been helping the British One paint.

They are sleeping in MY bed, with MY duvet and pillows. Of course I sleep with them, usually at the foot of the bed between Softie’s ankles. It’s quite disorienting to me, however, and I can never seem to remember which way the door swings open because it is different from their bedroom door. One swings to the left, the other to the right.

This morning I stood at the door trying to nudge it open, only to have the British One laugh at me and open the other side. It was an honest mistake, and one that could have been easily avoided if my humans had doorknobs on that door. The knobs were removed so that the doors could be painted, and the have not yet been replaced. How am I supposed to know which side of the door opens without a doorknob to guide me?

The Feline Ambassador

Saturday morning, bright and early, strange men came into my house and made a lot of noise and dust. I was banished to the kitchen and dining room again while they worked. The strange men worked in the stairway this time, and made a big hole in the wall. It has been covered over so I cannot explore it, but I will try to find a way around this small setback.

After the strange men left, Softie and the British One cleaned and tidied the house. I helped by meowing loudly at them to let them know where the dust and dirt were. I also meowed loudly to go outside, and finally Softie went out with me to the back garden. She clipped grass around the fence and I chewed it.

Softie and I went back inside and I took a short nap on the dining room rug while she prepared a lot of really delicious smelling food. The British One continued to clean the upstairs of the house, and the vile vacuum he was using woke me up. So I helped Softie out in the kitchen by discussing my diced chicken fantasies with her. She obliged and I had a nice meal.

Then the phone began to ring, and people began showing up. Some of them I knew, like Doug (the human of Maya and Inca), Christian and Michelle (humans of Jackson and Gabby), Lauren (human of my good friend The Baron) and Laura (human of Crackers). A lot of them I did NOT know, however, and it made me mildly distressed. Plus everyone was coming into the kitchen and dining room to fill their plates high with delicious smelling food, none of which I could reach.

To make matters worse, everyone went outside and enjoyed the back garden, and I was stuck inside the house! UNFAIR! As more people turned up some sat inside on the sofa with me, and I got a really good scratching from a guy named Brian. I ended up lying on his head for a time. I also took a nap in Jess's lap, and got carried around by Softie, Michelle and Laura.

It was a long day, and the shindig went on well into the night. It was very tiring to be the official ambassador and keep everyone happy and entertained.

This morning I slept in until 10am!

Lost

I have still not been allowed back outside in the front of the house. I went outside with the British One, but it was the back garden and at the moment I am much more interested in the front. I enjoy the shade of the front porch, and there are no fences to keep me away from exploring the neighbors’ front gardens.

Softie was inside preparing dinner when their friends Christian and Michelle turned up. They are the humans of my kitty friends Jackson and Gabby. A lovely meal was served up, of which I got exactly nothing, but it was okay because the British One served up a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken for me.

The humans are hooked on a television program called Lost. The humans take turns visiting each other to have dinner and watch the program. I always enjoy seeing Chris and Michelle because Michelle spreads my blankie out on her lap and lets me nest.

I personally do not see the fascination with this program. For starters, there is a big barker that lives with the survivors. I don’t like him. Second of all, they have a massive litterbox right at their feet and don’t even realize it. Thirdly, they have all those wonderful trees to climb, but no one ever does. Also, the caves seem like a great place to explore, but all they ever seem to do is sleep in them. And all those bare toes and ankles! They are just ripe for biting. I salivate at the thought.

Instead, the survivors of the plane crash are all preoccupied with building a raft (which is just silly because it involves WATER) and that thing in the ground called a hatch. I admit that my curiosity is piqued by the hatch, but I’d be able to sniff around on it and decide whether or not it was worth the trouble.

I've Got the Bad Cat Blues

Since my little dash for freedom last week I have not been allowed to venture out the front door. I realize that I might have overstepped my boundaries a bit, and I realize that I am being punished.

It doesn’t, however, mean that I necessarily agree with it. And it certainly doesn’t mean that I haven’t made my wishes known to both Softie and the British One whenever they go anywhere near the front door.

The British One took me outside with him, but it was in the back garden, which has a fence. After racing around in the sunlight and teasing the big barker next door, I tried to squeeze through the gate railings to get into the front garden, where I could see Softie planting flowers and mulching.

Oddly, I couldn’t fit between the gate railings. Try as I might, I just couldn’t get my body to go through. I got my head between the rails, but realized very quickly that I was going to become stuck if I went any further. This is quite puzzling, because I am a very svelte boy…or at least I thought I was.

The abundance of delicious diced chicken, coupled with the glorious spoonfuls of strawberry swirl yogurt, are obviously having an effect on my usually petite size. Therein is the dilemma:

Do I continue to enjoy delicious diced chicken and spoonfuls of strawberry swirl yogurt, or do I shun food in the hopes that I will drop down to a size that will squeeze through the gate to freedom?

No question about it really. It took too long for me to teach my humans to feed me the foods I love and deserve. I’m not going to abandon all that hard work! I shall continue to eat my delicious diced chicken and strawberry swirl yogurt.

I suppose I will begin training my humans to let me go outside in the front of the house whenever I wish. It will be a long and difficult battle, because my humans are not very clever.

I just hope it doesn’t take another seventeen years!

I Smell T-R-O-U-B-L-E

So I got myself into a spot of trouble over the weekend.

Saturday morning Softie went outside to work in the front garden. I watched from the front window, and each time she would come up to the porch I’d run to the door and yowl to let her know that she needed my help. I’ll never know how she managed any of it without my assistance.

I put on my best “poor kitty” look and made sure she could see me in the window. I went upstairs to swindle the British One into letting me go out, but he was too busy yelling at the glowing box as his team sunk closer to relegation, and he told me to stop whinging.

After a time Softie came back inside to get some bottled water, and I made sure to let her know that she couldn’t possibly finish the project without my expert advice. Finally she relented and told me if I “could be good” she would let me outside to help. I readily agreed.

And I bounded out the door and down the steps of the porch as fast as my legs could carry me! I rushed my way next door to make sure the horrible barker Mooch could see me, with Softie hot on my heels. She scooped me up and put me back into our garden.

So I scooted off in the other direction and had made it all the way down two gardens when she caught up with me. She told me I was a bad kitty and put me back on the porch. She had just sat down to enjoy her bottled water when I made another break for it, this time legging it into a neighbors back garden via their open gate.

I could hear Softie yelling at me, which made me run even faster. I raced around this strange garden, and Softie would have never ever caught up with me had I not stopped to sniff a flower near the neighbor’s back patio.

Banishment to the inside of the house ensued, but it was worth every second of freedom.

I must do it again sometime.

What's New Pussycat?

I quite enjoy helping Softie and the British One with their various little projects. It gives me a wonderful sense of well-being.

Yesterday the British One decided to tackle painting the second bedroom. I’m pleased he’s decided to rid the world of the vile colour in that room, as it was putting me right off of napping in there. It’s a very good napping room otherwise, because the bed and duvet are quite comfy. The massive window in the room is an excellent vantage point for watching birds, squirrels and humans walking their dreadful little yapper-dogs.

He donned his old sweats and commenced moving bits of furniture out of the room, while I helped by sitting on the bed, watching. He moved the bed to one side, brought in a ladder and buckets of white primer, and marked off the floor and window with wide blue tape. And then he did a very wonderous thing:

He opened the massive window.

I was up and in the window in no time. It was the perfect place for me to orchestrate the goings on inside the room, while being able to keep a watchful eye on the goings on outside in the garden and on the street. The British One switched iTunes on and began a long, sweaty day of priming the walls, doors and skirting boards. I helped out by lying in the window for most of the day, keeping him company and listening to him alternate between ranting at the state of the walls and singing along to Tom Jones.

I’m already geared up for helping with the second coat today. My massive window awaits!

Pretty Purrsuasion

Sometimes it is so incredibly easy to persuade my humans. I’ve discovered one of the best ways of persuasion is to look as handsome and fluffy as I possibly can. They simply cannot resist me when I strike a pose.

Yesterday I wanted to go outside, so I decided to try a different tactic on the British One. Normally, when I wish to go outside, I demand quite loudly to go out. The British One just says “stop whinging” and doesn’t even look my way as he shoots down my demands. He also gets very angry with me when I use the claw on him.

So yesterday I tried something different. As he sat in the office pecking away at his keyboard, I pawed softly at his elbow and then sat looking at him quietly. This didn’t work. So I pawed again, ever so gently, and again sat on the floor. He turned to look at me and I cocked my head to one side and gave a whisper meow. Oh he was eating right out of my paw! He simply could not resist me! Next thing I knew we were outside and I was rolling in the grass with the glorious sunlight on my fur.

Later on, after I'd scampered inside to escape the dreaded grass-chopping noisemaker, Softie came home. I decided to use a bit of pretty persuasion on her as well, just to assure myself that I hadn’t lost my touch. I located her in the office, looking over the British One’s shoulder at the glowing box, as he explained something to her.

First I perfectly aligned my front paws, and then I puffed out my chest to make my white bib very fluffy. I shook my tail a couple of times so that it would be big and bushy, then I curled it on the floor in a semi-circle and gave a playful meow. Softie turned to look at me and couldn’t resist my handsome self. She scooped me up and carried me all over the house for a long time, telling me what a handsome boy I am.

It’s good to be the king.

The Eyes Have It

Last night, as I napped on Softie’s lap, I heard a voice on the television say “Please don’t stare, it’s not nice.”

I’ve been pondering this odd phrase, and have decided that the voice on the television is dead wrong. Staring can be incredibly rewarding.

When I stare at a door long enough, it magically opens.

Staring at sleeping humans causes them to wake up and feed me.

The power of my stare compels the British One to give me spoonfuls of strawberry swirl yogurt.

If I stare long enough at dining humans, morsels magically fall onto the floor.

Staring at birds makes them stagger drunkenly, which makes them easy to catch.

Yes, staring is very underrated.

Who is Doctor Who?

The British One always refers to buildings that are larger inside than they appear from the outside as a “Tardis.” I’m beginning to believe that I live inside such a building.

There’s the Magic Portal, for instance. It looks like an average door in the kitchen, but it leads to an entire new world under the house. From the Magic Portal I am able to go through another ordinary looking door by the washer and dryer and end up out in the back garden.

This weekend I have discovered yet another door that leads to someplace I’ve never seen before. I had never noticed the door behind my litterbox on the second floor. As far as I could tell, my box was up against the wall in a tiny, dim alcove near the humans’ bedroom. Not so!

That gloomy little alcove actually houses a door, and on the other side of that door there is another entire room!! It’s much larger than a closet and it’s larger than the second floor bathroom. It’s not as large as the bedrooms or the office, but it’s a really good sized room for a cat. I’m guessing the British One and Softie are going to fix it up into a proper kitty bedroom for me, even though they should realize by now that every room in this house is already mine.

The British One and Softie have had strange men in to look at the new room, and I’ve had great fun pouncing on the metal measuring tapes used to get the room dimensions. Already part of the hardwood floor has been removed and there appear to be some excellent hiding places beneath the remaining boards, which I am sure they will keep for me to explore.

It will be a fantastic kitty room when they get it finished. I’m just puzzled as to why they have insisted on purchasing strange, non-kitty type items for this room.

Stuff like faucets, sinks and tile.

Lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely

All day today I have been left by myself. Softie got up earlier than usual this morning, and when she left the house the British One went with her.

Oh, and they KNEW they would be away all day. They fed me a huge amount of delicious diced chicken this morning, and also piled a heap of organic kibble into a second dish. In the event that I got desperate, I suppose.

I have no idea where they went, nor do I care. What matters is that I have been left by myself ALL DAY, while they cavort elsewhere. I don't like it.

I suppose I will have to shun them when they return.

They'd better return soon! The delicious diced chicken is gone and the dreaded kibble beckons.

Of Claws and Clippings

It's hard work taking care of two humans. They must constantly be reminded of the simplest things, such as making sure my food dish is kept full and my box emptied. They never seem to understand the easiest of phrases either. Like "OUT" for instance. No matter how plainly I speak the word, nor how often I demand it, they feign ignorance.

Just yesterday afternoon I had to use a bit of claw on the British One so that he would be reminded to heat up some delicious diced chicken for me. He was busy staring intently into the glowing box in the office, and pecking furiously at the keyboard. He wasn't pleased with the claw, but it worked.

Later in the evening I had to sprawl myself across Softie's lap to remind her that I needed a good brushing. After several circles in her lap, she finally got the hint and got out the brush, comb and scissors.

Normally I don't enjoy being attacked with the evil scissors, and I especially loathe for anyone to touch my belly, but even I had to admit that the nappy dreads on my tummy were getting a little out of control. I lay quietly on her lap and let her gently cut out the dreads on my belly, and now I am a very handsome cat indeed.

Stormy Weather

I don't like bright flashes of light in the middle of the night.

I also don't like the loud booms that follow the flashes.

But I am NOT a "fraidy-cat."

I just don't like thunderstorms.

Glorious Sunny Days!

The weather has been very gorgeous indeed, and I have done my best to take full advantage of it.

I helped the British One hang curtains in the bedroom yesterday, and then, because of the great effort I exerted, I took a nice nap on the bed.

When Softie came home I legged it down the stairs as fast as I could and told her that I needed to go outside. She and the British One debated about it because apparently they were planning to go somewhere, but I won and they went outside in the back garden with me. I did some exploring and they ate popcicles.

I realized that the sun was very hot, and there isn't much shade in the back garden. When we lived in the other house there was plenty of shade underneath the shrubbery and I used to hide there quite a bit and watch the world go by. Now I don't have any place to hide from the sun or the world. My black fur got hot very quickly.

I decided to go inside, which I think surprised my humans. From now on, I am going to demand to hang out on the front porch, which has plenty of shade.

Gloomy Days Inside the House

I wish the weather would cheer up, because it is starting to depress me. I want to go outside but the British One and Softie won't let me because they think it is too wet.

Instead, I have been locked inside the kitchen and dining room while the strange men continue making a lot of racket and dust in the rest of the house. I hope they will be finished soon, because I don't enjoy being closed off inside my own house.

The British One was kind enough to pull a dining chair over to a window so I could sit comfortably and look outside, but there wasn't anything interesting going on. It was too wet for the birds to be hopping around in the grass, and the squirrels must have been hiding from the rain as well.

After the strange, noisy men left for the day I was freed from my dining room prison and allowed to wander the house, so I decided to let the British One know how upset I was at being locked up all day. I left him a nice, stinky gift on one of the rugs. He wasn't very pleased and informed Softie about it as soon as she came home. They both told me I was a "bad kitty" but they have it all wrong. THEY are the bad ones! THEY had me cooped up all day and I couldn't visit with the British One in his office, nor could I nap on the Poang, nor on the bed, and I couldn't even sit on the arm of the sofa and look out the large front window.

I'm not a bad kitty. I just have BAD HUMANS!

A Day of Surprises

Yesterday was perfect. Softie and I went outside and potted some flowers into containers, and then I raced all around the garden in the sunlight. The big ugly dog next door (whose name I have discovered is "Mooch") barked and snarled at me through the privacy fence but I'm no longer too worried about him. I've discovered that he cannot jump the fence, and can only see me a tiny bit through one slat. I couldn't help but to tease him a little by walking over to the fence and flopping around on the lawn in front of his drooling muzzle.

I must admit that my little kitty mind was blown when the British One emerged from a wooden door in the ground. I've seen this door before, and in fact have walked all over it on occasion, but I had no idea that it actually OPENED! It was too much for me. I had to find out where the door led. I trotted gingerly down the steps and discovered that this door is the Magic Portal2! Upon arriving at the bottom of the steps, I was standing next to the washer and dryer! Amazing!

If my powers of deduction are correct (and I am sure they are because I am such a clever kitty) this means that when I venture into the Magic Portal in the kitchen, I can exit via the Magic Portal2 into the back garden. Brilliant!

The British One got out the grass-chopping noisemaker, so I decided to beat a hasty retreat back inside the house for a little while. Softie went around to the front of the house and continued with her planting and weed pulling, and then after all the work was finished I had yet another surprise: I got to go outside in the front of the house!

The British One and Softie sat on the front porch admiring their handiwork, and I got to wander around the porch, the perimeter of the house and even (briefly) to the next door neighbor's front garden. I rolled around on the sidewalk and helped Softie water all the containers of flowers.

I never wanted it to end, but honestly I began to grow a bit weary from all the excitement of new places and surprises, and so was secretly glad when they brought me back inside. A bit later they left to go curtain shopping and I sacked out in the Poang. I slept until they returned several h0urs later, laden with shopping bags.

I took note of the two pots of strawberry swirl yogurt that were put into the big, cold foodbox...

I love yogurt!

Last night the British One and Softie sat down to watch a bit of television, and the British One decided to attempt eating a pot of yogurt.

I was dozing on Softie's lap when I heard the lid being peeled back. Naturally I had to climb onto the British One's lap to inspect the goods. He scooped a huge spoonful of the delicious yogurt and then put it into HIS month. Sorry, but this is not how it is supposed to be. The yogurt is supposed to go into MY mouth.

I tugged on his sleeve and gave my best "pleading kitty" look. He managed a few more spoonfuls into his mouth as I edged closer to the hand holding the pot.

Finally he gave up and held the spoon out for me. It smelled different and I was momentarily apprehensive, but I tentatively rolled out my tongue and tried a wee taste. That was all it took.

I lapped up every delicious spoonful of peach flavoured yogurt, and then tried to stick my head inside the pot. The British One wouldn't let me though and held the pot up over his head very high.

I love yogurt.

Disruption in my schedule

The past few days have been very disruptive for me, and I don't like it.

First the British One and Softie left me alone all day long on Monday while they went out and played.

Then a new batch of strange men have come into my house and are making a lot of noise. They have been carrying lots of stuff into my house, and have been making it disappear into the ceiling of the second floor. The worst thing about these strange men isn't the noise--but believe me when I say it is very LOUD. No, the worst thing is that because they are working on the second floor and inside the ceiling, I have been relegated to the kitchen and dining room. The British One put me inside the kitchen and then pulled out the pocket doors, shutting me off from the lounge (and my sofa!), and the second floor (my bed!). It's very rude.

There is much talk about something called central air, and much discussion about a state-of-the-art system that is sympathetic to older homes.

We live in an old house alright. I thought with old homes came mice to catch, but so far I haven't seen any. It's quite disappointing. I used to catch mice at my other house. I'd go outside in the autumn and if I sat real still in the garden I could usually catch myself a mouse to present to Softie.

I do rather enjoy watching her scream and jump around.

Opening Day

Today was something called Opening Day. I don't have the slightest idea what it means, but Softie took the day off work and she and the British One fed me early and left me home alone all day. I didn't want to go with them anyway. I much preferred to stay here and answer my Catster catmail. I'd like to say a warm hello to my newest friends: Mercedes, Milo, Sofie, Riley, Pebbles, Dracula, Amber Rose, Celeste, Korah Bell and Midnight Sunset. I'm pleased to know you and to call you friends.

I heard the British One and Softie say something about a parade in downtown Cincinnati, and something about a baseball game. I don't know what a parade is, but I know what a ball is, and I know that a ball is fun to chase. Until it gets stuck behind a sofa, that is.

The two of them were gone for a long time too. They must have walked for miles because they both came back to the house and complained to me about their sore feet. I didn't care about their sore feet and told them as much. I was more interested in going outside! The sun has been shining all day and temperatures are mild and lovely. I'm going to go outside right now and let the sun warm my fur.

Relinquishing my Cat of the Week Crown

I've had a wonderful time as Cat of the Week and I wish it didn't have to end. I realize, however, that there are lots of other fantastic felines that deserve a chance at Cat of the Week, so I do not mind relinquishing my crown.

I've gained a lot of friendships this week, and would like to say hello to my newest friends: Joey, Skippy, Sharon, Krispie, Muffin, Tailer, Simpson, Bobbie and June. I am honoured to be your friend.

The weekend started out quite ugly, with cold rain and high winds. As much as I demanded to go outside, neither the British One nor Softie would open the door. If only I could work the doorknobs myself--it would sure save me a lot of hassle. The ugly weather left overnight and we awoke this morning to sunshine and warmth. I went outside with the British One as he read the paper, and then I tried to assist Softie with trimming the hedges. I quickly decided that I didn't like the noise though, and scampered back toward the kitchen door.

I've been outside so much today that all I want now is a warm lap and a bowl of delicious diced chicken.

Feline Casanova

Wow! The celebrations continue in honour of being named Cat of the Week on Catster.

The British One and I went outside yesterday for a long time. I got to enjoy lots of fresh air and sunshine on my fur. I also got a good brushing!

Softie fed me an extra large helping of delicious diced chicken too. I'm quite pleased with myself.

Best of all, I have loads of new friends! I'd like to say hello to my newest friends:

Mugsy, Taffy, BlueSage Daniel Beau Buffett, Little Miss Molly, Teddybear Tuxedo, DejaBlue Micah W. Downey Jr, Leo, Archibald, Muddy, Sport, Tempest (aka Poopie), Tigger, Prince, Kody, Manny, Pudgie, Scrappy, Corky, Munchie, Misty, Leo, Pie, Big Bit, Little Bit, Kallie, Nicky, Snowball, Cooper, Licorice, Scampie and Fifi.

Wow! I have a whole lot more friends than the British One and Softie.

But then, I'm a lot better looking than either of those two.

Cat of the Week!

I just found out that I have been chosen as Cat of the Week!

I am greatly honoured to be named Cat of the Week. I do hereby resolve to:

1. Do my best to behave in the appropriate Gentleman Cat way
2. Eat lots of delicious diced chicken
3. Nap joyously
4. Groom myself heartily
5. Eat lots of delicious diced chicken
6. Strut around the house looking very regal and handsome
7. Answer all my Catster mail
8. Eat lots of delicious diced chicken

I'd also like to say a warm hello to my newest friends Emmy, Dexter, Lexie, Paris, Hal, Noelle, Gazelle, Cecelia, Mary Magdalena and Annie. I am honoured to call you friends. Also I'd like to give a shout-out to Keiser and Milo, who emailed me with fond congratulations. I am honoured and humbled. Well, as humble as such a handsome lad such as myself can be.

Now if I can just get the British One and Softie to celebrate this glorious occasion with me by plying me with delicious diced chicken and strawberry yogurt, and letting me go outside to sun myself whenever I demand it.

Soggy Gray Days

I'm getting depressed.

It rains and rains and rains, which means I cannot go outside. I want more than anything to go outside and roll in the grass and race around the garden in the sunlight. I want it even more than I want entry into the Magic Portal.

I demanded to go outside yesterday, but both the British One and Softie told me "NO!" I demanded it again, and again was told "NO!"

So I demanded it again. I didn't care that it was raining. And I went into the kitchen and pawed at the doorknob, to make myself very clear. In between laughs, both of them again told me "NO!"

I don't like being laughed at. And I don't like being told "NO!"

So I left them a little gift on the stairs, for which they were not happy. I think it got my point across though. Softie cleaned up the mess and said "Nick Outside NO!" to me several times. I think she got her point across too.

So instead of getting to go outside, I spent most of the day napping on the bed.

Delicious Desserts

I got a delicious new treat yesterday--it is called Strawberry Swirl Yogurt. The British One was attempting to eat a small pot of it yesterday but I smelled the strawberries and knew I MUST have some of it.

Softie and the British One have treated me to strawberry frozen yogurt before, but this was different. It was very smooth and creamy, and not as cold as the frozen stuff. As soon as I saw the little plastic pot in his hands, I knew the British One would have to share. He knew it too. In fact, I didn't let him forget to share, because with each bite he took I climbed all over him, trying to get to the spoon.

Eventually he gave up and fed the rest of it to me. I licked each delicious spoonful until the yogurt pot was empty. I cleaned the spoon and even tried to get my head inside the pot, but it wouldn't fit.

I hope there is more in the big cold foodbox, because strawberry swirl yogurt is my new favorite treat.

Oh Happy Day!

Today was even better than yesterday! The British One took me outside for awhile and I got to sniff the fresh, clean air while flopping around in the grass.

Then Softie came home early and they both went outside with me. I explored the entire back garden, minus the narrow pathway between the garage and fence, which the British One has somehow walled off. I tried to suss out a way to climb over the barrier, but I'll have to ponder it a bit more before attempting anything.

The garage has been off limits to me for some reason, and I decided to try to find out why. I attempted to climb the garage wall to peer inside the windows, but the walls aren't as easy to maneuver as I thought. The pair of them realized that I wanted to see inside the garage though, because Softie went inside the house and came back with a set of keys. I gingerly stepped into the darkened garage and had myself a good nose around. Softie has a new metal monster, which I had to jump up on--just to prove I still could. Then I had to sniff around on her scooter, which smelled of other cats. I hadn't seen the scooter in a long time, so I think she had it stored somewhere besides our old house. It smelled very similar to the workbench in the magic portal, which is to say they both smell a lot like the old lady's barn where I was born.

I soon tired of the garage--it was just too pretty to be stuck inside a building! So I raced back outside and zoomed around the perimeter of the back garden several times, then took a running jump to the garage window. Unfortunately I failed and fell into a flowerbed. The British One and Softie laughed quite a lot. My pride was injured until the British One scooped me up and placed me onto the garage window sill. From there I could peer inside to see the view, and had a good vantage point for the garden. I think this may become one of my favorite places to sit when I am outside. I just need to figure out how to climb up there without help.

All too soon it was over. Softie asked me if I was hungry, and if I wanted some delicious diced chicken. Naturally I had to come back inside and have a nice feast--but not before I chewed a bit of grass and raced around the garden in the sunlight once more.

Spring is in the air

Today has been quite glorious. The British One and I went outside and enjoyed the sun and fresh air.

All was well until I saw a strange man several houses away. He was carrying lots of cartons from the house to his garage. I don't know him, so he worried me. I didn't want the British One to know I was afraid, but somehow I think he knew when I scurried back up the steps and into the kitchen door.

He sat on the back porch steps and beckoned me back outside, telling me the neighbor wouldn't hurt me. How did he know that?! The man might have wanted to steal me away--I'm very handsome, afterall.

I stuck my head outside the kitchen door and sniffed the air, watching the strange man walk from house to garage and back again. He took no notice of me, but it could have been a ploy to strip me of my guard. I warily ventured back down the steps and into the back garden, but by then the British One had decided that it was time to go back inside.

How rude! I'd only just gotten my courage up.

So when the British One scooped me up to bring me back indoors, I struggled a little and let him know I wasn't happy. I wanted to stay outside.

But only if he was outside with me.

And only if he kept the kitchen door propped open.

Just in case.

Sunny Morning

I am reminded this morning of the first time I saw a hummingbird. It was at our old house, many years ago.

It was a gorgeous sunny morning, just like today. Softie had kept the bedroom window open overnight (she called it "good sleeping weather") and I spent most of the night and early morning dozing against the windowscreen.

Softie was still asleep and I had been gazing at her from above, trying intently to wake her up with my staring powers. It was nearly breakfast time, afterall. As I sat staring I heard a strange buzzing noise. It was a noise I had never heard before. I peered out the screen to see a tiny, odd looking bird hovering outside the window. It had a very long beak, and had taken a shine to the windowbox flowers. I couldn't take my eyes from it. Such a strange looking creature! The buzzing sound it made seemed to be from it's wings, which flapped so rapidly that they were merely a blur.

As quickly as it had appeared, it darted away. I looked round at Softie, who was now laying there with her eyes open, looking at me. I gave her a questioning look--wide eyes and whiskers pointing straight downward. She laughed at me!

She really laughed too--big belly laughs. She said, between giggles, "That was a hummingbird, kittyboy. Oh you should see the look on your face!" and then she laughed some more.

My pride was injured. I do not like to be laughed at. I leapt from the windowsill and landed squarely on Softie's tummy, which made her utter "ooof!" and then I raced out the bedroom door and down the hall to the lounge. I ignored her for the rest of the day.

I wonder when the good sleeping weather will return? I want to doze in open windows and look for hummingbirds again.

Congrats to my Friends

Two of my kitty friends are Catster Daily Diary Picks today!

Congratulations and large purrs to Keiser and Explorer Neil Kitty.

I'm a Happy Boy!

The British One was home with me all day yesterday!

First I helped him unpack the rest of the suitcases. He opened it up on the floor and began removing clothing, DVDs, magazines and smelly things from Lush for Softie. I jumped inside the case and walked around, then sat down and watched him.

After that I got a second helping of delicious diced chicken. He went into the office and began to peck away on the keyboard while staring intently into the glowing box. I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep.

Later, Softie came home and they had dinner. I got a third helping of delicious diced chicken, but the British One was having Cod and that smelled much more delicious to me. He wouldn't let me have any though, no matter how close I sat to him, staring.

Their friends Christian and Michelle turned up after dinner and they sat around talking, so I tested out Christian's lap, then Michelle's. I like them both, but when Michelle picked me up and carried me around I fell in love with her. She also gave me such a good chin scratching that it made my whiskers curl up in front of my nose.

After they left we went to the beddie-bye basket, and I fell asleep between Softie and the British One, very happy and content.

A Very Fine Day Indeed

Yesterday was a very fine day indeed.

First, I found out I was again chosen as a Catster Diary Daily Pick! It is quite an honour to be chosen. I was very pleased with myself and strutted all over the house with my tail in the air and my head held high.

Adding to the celebrations, the British One came home as well! I was chuffed to see him hauling his suitcase up the sidewalk. I wanted to run out and greet him, but Softie held me firmly away from the door. He came in and made a fuss over me, which of course meant that I should pretend to be indifferent to him for a little while. Which I did. For about ten minutes.

He scooped me up and carried me around (which I love), telling me how much he had missed me. I noticed, however, that there were no treats for me in the suitcase. He gave goodies to Softie, and pulled out other things for other humans, but nothing for me. I guess it's okay though, because now I will again have an extra helping of delicious diced chicken during the day, which is better than any treat from a suitcase.

The British One was very tired from his journey, so everyone went to the beddie-bye basket early. I was so content that I fell asleep, sprawled out across Softie's legs.

This morning Softie told the me I had been snoring, but I don't believe it.

A Day of Adventures

Yesterday was adventure day. Softie slept past her normal waking time, so I sat up on the bed and stared at her until she opened her eyes. Once she was awake I told her about my breakfast fantasies and she obliged by preparing some delicious diced chicken for me. Of course, she had to ruin everything by putting those drops in my eyes, but they really don’t bother me that much. I only pretended to struggle.

The day was warm and sunny, so Softie took me outside and let me roam around the garden while she cleaned the windows. She kept a keen eye on me, but I still managed to sneak away long enough to discover a narrow path between the fence and garage. I hadn’t been in there very long when Softie came looking for me, and from the tone of her voice she wasn’t very happy. She kept telling me to come out, but I was enjoying myself too much. There were new smells to sniff and places to explore. I ignored her.

She continued to order me to come out, but that just made me want to do more exploring. If a place is that much off limits, it must be interesting.

Then I heard a noise. It sounded like large sniffs and snorts. Next thing I knew, there were big barks coming from the other side of the fence. I couldn’t see it, but I didn’t need to. It sounded big and ugly. I panicked a little and Softie scooped me up as I made a dash for the house. She carried me back to the house, telling me “bad kitties don’t get to go outside” as she cleaned the dirt from my feet. I don’t like to have my feet touched, so I growled a little.

I was unceremoniously dumped back inside the house, where I had to stay for the rest of the day. The joke was on Softie though, because I’d had enough adventure for the day.

All I wanted was a good nap in the Poang.

Contentment is Mine

After the depressing week of being alone all day and only getting to curl up in Softie's lap for an hour or so at night, yesterday took a turn for the better. Softie stayed home and made a fuss over me all day!

She donned all her ugly clothes again and put more of that orange, vile smelling goop on the door. I kept trying to help her with it, but she shooed me away--which I have to admit did not set well with me. To show my disapproval, I raced all around the dining room and lounge, then collapsed in the foyer to groom myself heartily.

A bit later the British One phoned and Softie let me listen to his voice. I purred and rubbed my face all over the phone. I hope he comes home soon.

In between phonecalls and coats of vile orange goo, Softie sat on the sofa reading, and I climbed into her lap for a bit of kip. She also fed me extra helpings of delicious diced chicken.

It was as close to bliss as a kitty can get.

More on The Great Outdoors

Sometimes I suspect Softie and the British One can read my thoughts.

Take yesterday, for instance. I was bored out of my furry head yesterday. It was so pretty outside, and I was stuck inside the house, alone.

But when Softie came home yesterday she let me go outside with her! How did she know I was longing to go outdoors?!

It was glorious too! I ventured outside the kitchen door and down some steps to the grass, where I stopped to sniff the air. Then I trotted down the path to the garage and fence, with Softie following behind me. I didn't want her to snatch me up and bring me back inside, so I trotted a little faster to the end of the garden. Suddenly I heard something. I don't know what it was. It might have been a metal monster, or someone shutting a door, or possibly it was the wind whistling through tree branches. But it was a NOISE-- a noise I was unfamiliar with!

I had to dash back to the steps and wait for Softie to catch up with me and let me back inside the house.

Bored

It's very sunny outside today, and I am getting restless.

I want to go outside!

Instead, I am stuck inside this big old house, all by myself. I've spent a good part of today sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching the world through the front window.

In Like a Lion

This house makes lots of strange noises when it is windy. I felt it was my catly duty to protect Softie from the strange noises, so when we went to the beddie-bye basket last night, I curled up in the crook of her arm and made sure she was safe.

Of course she still left me alone this morning. Left me to listen to all the strange sounds and spooky noises. I decided to combat it by popping in some music. I found a mix that Softie had made for her friends Haz & Paulie, when they adopted their kitties Vic & Bob. This is the track listing:

1000 Clowns - "Kitty Kat Max"
Presidents of the USA - "Kitty"
King Kong - "Bad Cat Blues"
Danielle Dax - "Cat House"
Paul 'Wine' Jones - "Kittycat"
Brian Setzer Orchestra - "This Cat's On a Hot Tin Roof"
King Missile - "How To Remember Your Dreams"
The Cramps - "Can Your Pussy Do The Dog?"
The Jazz Butcher - "Domestic Animal"
The Shoes - "Curiosity"
Norma Tanga - "Walkin' My Cat Named Dog"
Squeeze - "Cool For Cats"
The Ass Ponys - "Kitten"
The Cure - "Love Cats"
Dee-Lite - "Pussycat Meow"
Tom Jones - "What's New Pussycat?"
The Stray Cats - "Stray Cat Strut"

Hopefully it is enough to drown out the blustery day.