I have received a blue ribbon Rosette from another kitty on Catster.
I do not know who Anonymous is, but I would like to thank them. It fills my fluffy white bib with great pride.
Softie and the British One have helped me celebrate my achievement by serving an extra helping of delicious diced chicken and giving me a good, long brush last night. Then, instead of having to walk up and down the stairs between the floors, I have been carried by the humans.
I could get used to this!
Thank you Anonymous!!
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Monday, July 25, 2005
Have My Instincts Failed Me?
All day yesterday I suspected the humans were up to no good. At the top of the list of making me suspicious was that they slept in late. I awakened Softie by walking all over her, but she didn't get up! Instead, she picked up a book and began reading. So I decided to wake up the British One by walking all over him, but it didn't work.
Whenever I am not fed my delicious diced chicken at the appointed time each morning, it usually means I am in for a dreadful time at the evil vet. I decided to try to go back to sleep, or at least to feign sleep. I curled up into a furry little ball at the foot of the bed and closed my eyes--although I made sure my ears were up and very alert.
Eventually Softie got out of bed and went downstairs, but I was afraid to follow her for fear of the dreaded Pet Taxi. So I stayed in bed with the British One. Momentarily, however, he too got out of bed. He switched on the glowing box in the office and commenced pecking away at the keyboard. I continued to feign sleep.
I heard Softie calling to me, and I heard the beeping box in the kitchen, but still I worried that it was a ruse to get me downstairs, where I was sure to be stuffed into the Pet Taxi and whisked away to the evil vet.
Presently Softie also called to the British One, who went downstairs. I could hear them having a nice breakfast by the clink of cutlery on dishes, but I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to be stuffed inside the Pet Taxi. I stayed put.
It was mid-morning by the time Softie came upstairs and asked if I was hungry. Of course I was--but I still suspected they were up to no good, and I told her as much from my warm duvet. She scooped me up and carried me downstairs, and so sure was I of the Pet Taxi that I immediately began scanning the floors while still in her arms. Oddly, I didn't see it.
She placed me in the kitchen, where a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken awaited. I thought this was very strange, as normally they do not feed me before I visit the evil vet, because I tend to be very sick inside the metal monster if I have eaten. I tentatively began to eat, but kept stopping to watch Softie and the British One because I was SURE one of them would appear with the dreaded Pet Taxi at any moment. But soon the British One was dressed in his painting clothes and had disappeared upstairs to paint a bedroom, and Softie had put on a floppy hat and her Chuck Taylor's and gone outside to fire up the grass-eating noisemaker.
I stayed alert all day, in between naps on the bed, sofa and Poang chair. Nothing bad ever happened and I was not taken away to the evil vet.
Have my instincts failed me?
Whenever I am not fed my delicious diced chicken at the appointed time each morning, it usually means I am in for a dreadful time at the evil vet. I decided to try to go back to sleep, or at least to feign sleep. I curled up into a furry little ball at the foot of the bed and closed my eyes--although I made sure my ears were up and very alert.
Eventually Softie got out of bed and went downstairs, but I was afraid to follow her for fear of the dreaded Pet Taxi. So I stayed in bed with the British One. Momentarily, however, he too got out of bed. He switched on the glowing box in the office and commenced pecking away at the keyboard. I continued to feign sleep.
I heard Softie calling to me, and I heard the beeping box in the kitchen, but still I worried that it was a ruse to get me downstairs, where I was sure to be stuffed into the Pet Taxi and whisked away to the evil vet.
Presently Softie also called to the British One, who went downstairs. I could hear them having a nice breakfast by the clink of cutlery on dishes, but I wasn't going to be lulled into a false sense of security, only to be stuffed inside the Pet Taxi. I stayed put.
It was mid-morning by the time Softie came upstairs and asked if I was hungry. Of course I was--but I still suspected they were up to no good, and I told her as much from my warm duvet. She scooped me up and carried me downstairs, and so sure was I of the Pet Taxi that I immediately began scanning the floors while still in her arms. Oddly, I didn't see it.
She placed me in the kitchen, where a heaping helping of delicious diced chicken awaited. I thought this was very strange, as normally they do not feed me before I visit the evil vet, because I tend to be very sick inside the metal monster if I have eaten. I tentatively began to eat, but kept stopping to watch Softie and the British One because I was SURE one of them would appear with the dreaded Pet Taxi at any moment. But soon the British One was dressed in his painting clothes and had disappeared upstairs to paint a bedroom, and Softie had put on a floppy hat and her Chuck Taylor's and gone outside to fire up the grass-eating noisemaker.
I stayed alert all day, in between naps on the bed, sofa and Poang chair. Nothing bad ever happened and I was not taken away to the evil vet.
Have my instincts failed me?
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
A Tale of Suitcases
Softie managed to let one of the suitcases escape from the closet, and it has convinced her to fill it with clothing and personal effects. Luckily it appears to be one of the small suitcases, which hopefully means she will not be away too long.
This morning she said her goodbyes to the British One and me, and left with the suitcase, saying something about a business trip. What business could the small suitcase have?
The next few days will be Lads Only at my house. I suspect that the British One and I will be doing a lot of painting, a lot of listening to BBC Radio, a lot of eating delicious diced chicken, and a lot of telly viewing. I might also find time to nap during our busy schedule.
This morning she said her goodbyes to the British One and me, and left with the suitcase, saying something about a business trip. What business could the small suitcase have?
The next few days will be Lads Only at my house. I suspect that the British One and I will be doing a lot of painting, a lot of listening to BBC Radio, a lot of eating delicious diced chicken, and a lot of telly viewing. I might also find time to nap during our busy schedule.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The Kitty Salon Adventure
I know something happened to me yesterday, but I’m not quite sure what it was.
I KNEW the humans were up to no good when I wasn’t presented a dish of delicious diced chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. They tip-toed around, pretending that they had simply “forgotten” to feed me, but I knew better. I knew something was up.
Sure enough, I was swept up into Softie’s arms and stuffed unceremoniously into the Pet Taxi. I didn’t even struggle this time, deciding to take the high road and face my fate with head and tail held high.
Softie packed me into the metal monster and took me to the evil hippie vet, where she left me alone. I looked at her through the bars of the Pet Taxi and made a feeble little meow, which I knew melted her heart and made her feel extra guilty for leaving me alone.
I don’t remember a whole lot after that point. I was taken into a room and given a shot, which made me very sleepy. I wanted to fight and struggle, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted my beddie-bye basket.
Next thing I remember was waking up, quite woozy, inside a metal cage. There were other cats in other cages around me. Some were quite angrily upset about their predicament, others cried and fretted. I laid there and watched the comings and goings of the office staff. I took note of the fact that my nappy dreads were all gone, my claws had been clipped, and my teeth felt so wonderfully smooth and clean. The evil hippie vet checked in on me a couple of times, and then I heard a voice I recognized: The British One had come to rescue me!
I was so happy to hear his voice—and even happier to see him standing at the doorway to carry me home. As soon as we were home I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep as he stroked me and told me what a good and handsome boy I am.
I was still drowsy and a little uncoordinated by the time Softie came home, but I was ever so glad to see her! I climbed into her lap and dozed while she brushed me and used the comb on my chin and bib. I’m not sure what the evil hippie vet did to me, but he certainly has made me more handsome and adorable than ever.
I KNEW the humans were up to no good when I wasn’t presented a dish of delicious diced chicken for breakfast yesterday morning. They tip-toed around, pretending that they had simply “forgotten” to feed me, but I knew better. I knew something was up.
Sure enough, I was swept up into Softie’s arms and stuffed unceremoniously into the Pet Taxi. I didn’t even struggle this time, deciding to take the high road and face my fate with head and tail held high.
Softie packed me into the metal monster and took me to the evil hippie vet, where she left me alone. I looked at her through the bars of the Pet Taxi and made a feeble little meow, which I knew melted her heart and made her feel extra guilty for leaving me alone.
I don’t remember a whole lot after that point. I was taken into a room and given a shot, which made me very sleepy. I wanted to fight and struggle, but I couldn’t be bothered. I just wanted my beddie-bye basket.
Next thing I remember was waking up, quite woozy, inside a metal cage. There were other cats in other cages around me. Some were quite angrily upset about their predicament, others cried and fretted. I laid there and watched the comings and goings of the office staff. I took note of the fact that my nappy dreads were all gone, my claws had been clipped, and my teeth felt so wonderfully smooth and clean. The evil hippie vet checked in on me a couple of times, and then I heard a voice I recognized: The British One had come to rescue me!
I was so happy to hear his voice—and even happier to see him standing at the doorway to carry me home. As soon as we were home I climbed up into his lap and fell asleep as he stroked me and told me what a good and handsome boy I am.
I was still drowsy and a little uncoordinated by the time Softie came home, but I was ever so glad to see her! I climbed into her lap and dozed while she brushed me and used the comb on my chin and bib. I’m not sure what the evil hippie vet did to me, but he certainly has made me more handsome and adorable than ever.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Nurse Nickie
The British One awoke sometime in the night and was very sick. He came downstairs into the lounge to avoid waking up Softie, so I sat on top of him and tried to make him feel better.
When he went back to bed, some hours later, I followed and slept at his feet, safe in the knowledge that if he needed me, I'd be right there.
He's still got a dicky tummy this morning, but I am certain that I have made him feel better by lying directly on top of him as he lies in bed watching the entire Stingray DVD boxset.
He and Softie have dubbed me "Nurse Nickie."
When he went back to bed, some hours later, I followed and slept at his feet, safe in the knowledge that if he needed me, I'd be right there.
He's still got a dicky tummy this morning, but I am certain that I have made him feel better by lying directly on top of him as he lies in bed watching the entire Stingray DVD boxset.
He and Softie have dubbed me "Nurse Nickie."
Sunday, July 10, 2005
A Purge on the Magic Portal
A very curious event happened yesterday, which I watched unfold with great disinterest.
All last week I followed the humans into the Magic Portal and helped them sort through various boxes and containers. The boxes and containers were then carried up into the lounge, where the contents were again taken out and stickered, then put back into the boxes. I believe there was way too much energy exerted into this odd practice. I got bored with it and situated myself on the sofa where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and where I could doze undisturbed.
Yesterday morning, bright and early, the British One and Softie hauled all the boxes and containers out onto the front lawn. I made noises about going outside with them, but they rudely shut the door in my face. My humans simply have no manners.
I watched from the front window as tables were set up and the contents of the boxes taken out and placed upon them. I noticed that the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) had also hauled items out onto their lawn. Glancing on up the street, I saw other humans doing the same.
The strangest bit about the whole exercise is that out of nowhere strangers began to descend upon the front lawn. They picked items from the tables, handed paper and coins to the humans, and then carried the items away. It was all very odd, and I was glad to be inside the house, safe from the strangers and their grabbing hands.
I overheard the owners of the evil Mooch (whom was also locked away indoors, but never seemed to cease his big barks) conversing with Softie and the British One, and from what I can understand, this practice of hauling items onto the lawn is called the East Row Historic District Community Yard Sale.
As far as I know, our yard was not sold, but nearly everything else was! Softie got sunburned, the British One complained a lot about the heat and humidity, and I napped gloriously on the sofa, in the comfort of the cool house.
All last week I followed the humans into the Magic Portal and helped them sort through various boxes and containers. The boxes and containers were then carried up into the lounge, where the contents were again taken out and stickered, then put back into the boxes. I believe there was way too much energy exerted into this odd practice. I got bored with it and situated myself on the sofa where I could keep a watchful eye on them, and where I could doze undisturbed.
Yesterday morning, bright and early, the British One and Softie hauled all the boxes and containers out onto the front lawn. I made noises about going outside with them, but they rudely shut the door in my face. My humans simply have no manners.
I watched from the front window as tables were set up and the contents of the boxes taken out and placed upon them. I noticed that the next door neighbors (owners of the evil Mooch) had also hauled items out onto their lawn. Glancing on up the street, I saw other humans doing the same.
The strangest bit about the whole exercise is that out of nowhere strangers began to descend upon the front lawn. They picked items from the tables, handed paper and coins to the humans, and then carried the items away. It was all very odd, and I was glad to be inside the house, safe from the strangers and their grabbing hands.
I overheard the owners of the evil Mooch (whom was also locked away indoors, but never seemed to cease his big barks) conversing with Softie and the British One, and from what I can understand, this practice of hauling items onto the lawn is called the East Row Historic District Community Yard Sale.
As far as I know, our yard was not sold, but nearly everything else was! Softie got sunburned, the British One complained a lot about the heat and humidity, and I napped gloriously on the sofa, in the comfort of the cool house.
Friday, July 08, 2005
More Sad Times
My friend The Baron von Stinkerton has been given some very sad news. He has lymphoma and may not be with us much longer.
He is such a good kitty, and very sweet.
Softie, the British One and I will continue to send good vibes to him and his human Lauren. Please check out his site on Catster.
He is such a good kitty, and very sweet.
Softie, the British One and I will continue to send good vibes to him and his human Lauren. Please check out his site on Catster.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Of Barons and Bombings
Today has been filled with bad news. First I got the sad news that the Baron is very ill indeed. I am worried that he may be incurable--but I don't want to think about that. I am going to continue to focus my kitty energy toward helping him get better.
Then I found out about the terrible bombings in London. I have never been to London, but Softie and the British One go quite a lot. I sat on the office desk and listened as the British One rang his friends and family to make sure they were safe. Normally at this time of year the British One is over there, but this year he didn't go because they are doing so many renovations to our house. He and Softie still have a home in England, but it is not in London. I have never been and don't want to go, even though the next door neighbors have a very beautiful female kitty named Poppy. I have seen pictures of her and she makes my heart do a happy dance.
I am ready for this bad day to end.
Then I found out about the terrible bombings in London. I have never been to London, but Softie and the British One go quite a lot. I sat on the office desk and listened as the British One rang his friends and family to make sure they were safe. Normally at this time of year the British One is over there, but this year he didn't go because they are doing so many renovations to our house. He and Softie still have a home in England, but it is not in London. I have never been and don't want to go, even though the next door neighbors have a very beautiful female kitty named Poppy. I have seen pictures of her and she makes my heart do a happy dance.
I am ready for this bad day to end.
More Bad News
I have received more bad news regarding my friend The Baron. He is very, very ill and it makes his human cry, which makes me, Softie, and the British One cry too.
He is a good cat, and a good friend. I am so depressed by his sorrowful news that I haven't even felt much like eating my delicious diced chicken. I'd much rather curl up on the dining room rug and mope.
My heart is breaking for my friend.
He is a good cat, and a good friend. I am so depressed by his sorrowful news that I haven't even felt much like eating my delicious diced chicken. I'd much rather curl up on the dining room rug and mope.
My heart is breaking for my friend.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
My Dear Friend The Baron
I am worried about my friend The Baron. He has been a very good friend, and his human Lauren has a wonderful lap.
The Baron has been ill recently, and had to visit the evil vet. Lots of bloodwork was done and we are all very worried.
Please send get well messages to Baron Von Stinkerton. I am worried for my friend.
The Baron has been ill recently, and had to visit the evil vet. Lots of bloodwork was done and we are all very worried.
Please send get well messages to Baron Von Stinkerton. I am worried for my friend.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Still Too Hot
Over the course of the past several weeks there has been a lot of what the humans refer to as "bad weather."
It has been very, very hot indeed--so much so that I have not yearned to go outdoors. I much prefer the comfort of the cool, air-conditioned house.
Yesterday we finally got a reprieve, but unfortunately it came in the form of severe thunderstorms. I do not like thunderstorms. I do not like loud noises in general, but coupled with bright flashes of light and balls of ice falling from the sky--it's a recipe that produces one very worried, stressed kitty.
I sought solace on top of the British One, who sat on the sofa speaking on the phone to his cousin in Australia. Apparently he was having great difficulty hearing her because of the noise from the rain and balls of ice hitting the windows and roof. It sounded to me as if the roof was falling in!The British One and I also feared for Softie's safety, because she was late coming home from work. Eventually she made it home, but I was very worried about her and could not eat any of my delicious diced chicken until I knew she was safe.
Today is bright and sunny. There is no rain, no loud booms, no bright flashes of light and no balls of ice falling from the sky. There is also no sticky humidity.
I believe it is time to inform them that I would like to go outside.
It has been very, very hot indeed--so much so that I have not yearned to go outdoors. I much prefer the comfort of the cool, air-conditioned house.
Yesterday we finally got a reprieve, but unfortunately it came in the form of severe thunderstorms. I do not like thunderstorms. I do not like loud noises in general, but coupled with bright flashes of light and balls of ice falling from the sky--it's a recipe that produces one very worried, stressed kitty.
I sought solace on top of the British One, who sat on the sofa speaking on the phone to his cousin in Australia. Apparently he was having great difficulty hearing her because of the noise from the rain and balls of ice hitting the windows and roof. It sounded to me as if the roof was falling in!The British One and I also feared for Softie's safety, because she was late coming home from work. Eventually she made it home, but I was very worried about her and could not eat any of my delicious diced chicken until I knew she was safe.
Today is bright and sunny. There is no rain, no loud booms, no bright flashes of light and no balls of ice falling from the sky. There is also no sticky humidity.
I believe it is time to inform them that I would like to go outside.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
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 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!
Saturday, June 25, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, June 20, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
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.
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.
Friday, June 10, 2005
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.
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.
Monday, June 06, 2005
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.
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.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
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?
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?
Thursday, June 02, 2005
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.
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.
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