Been having a massive garage sale. There are dozens more across our little town. This week has been Carnival Week. They call it, "City Days". We've attended none of the festivities. Too exhausted.
It's been a good week for Firestar. He's been outside a lot. True, he has been outside in his kennel cab, but he's happy with the compromise.
(He would like to roam free.)When he is in the garage with us he is frequently the center of attention. People who come with no intention of buying anything
(why are they here?) will fuss over him. Several have offered to buy him. Spouse always says he's not for sale. I take a different approach. I tell them,
"He's quiet now. That means it will cost you $5,000 to buy him. When he starts meowing the price starts to drop."A man with two young boys came by, making sarcastic comments about all of the things he could buy. He ended with,
"and a free cat". I corrected him with my $5,000 price tag. The boys knelt by the cat and wanted to know if I was serious. I said I was. They rushed to their dad, impressed that they had just seen a $5,000 cat. Firestar turned to me and began meowing in his annoyed voice. I told him to hush up. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money. No one is going to pay that for me. He went quiet.
(I may have told you this before. Told it to someone. My old brain just can't remember who.)Yesterday we did some rearranging and Firestar got the premiere position in the center of the garage doorway. He got to see everyone who came, most before we did. He was quiet all day. Son taught him that when he meows too much he goes back into the house. So he saves his cries for those times when he wants to eat, drink, use the facilities, or just stretch his legs. Then he rushes back to his kennel cab and waits inside for one of us to see he's ready to come back out.
He's probably going to be all upset with us when we quit going out to the garage to sit.
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Music to Make the Cats go Wild
Tara - Nick name 'ity-bit' because she's so tiny - just over 6 pounds. She's the most skittish of all my babies and even when being petted has the 'pet me, no don't pet me' look
Amelia - Nickname 'Bratelia' since she gets into every draw, cabinet that she can put her paws in.
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“She’s got tuna. I know she’s got tuna.”
“Shut up, Sethra. Stay on mission.”
“What’s the mission? I thought the mission was to get tuna.”
“No, you stupid fluffbrain—it’s to escape and become outdoor cats, walking by ourselves, on our wild lone, waving our tails.”
“Oh, yeah? And isn’t it you, my dear stripy sister Aliera, who keeps pushing the FEED button on the printer and waiting for tuna to come out?”
“That was when I was much younger. Anyway, she’s at the computer—yes, eating tuna casserole—so we can go into the bedroom and see if we can knock the window screen out.”
“You do it, Aliera. I’d rather mess with her stuff.”
“Will you GET OVER that fixation on her wristwatch?”
“I like the feel of the Velcro on my paws. Hey! That reminds me. We’ve been declawed. How are we going to survive as outdoor cats?”
“New plan coming up….”
“What’s the big deal about being outside cats? Even StalkerCat, who used to hang around and chat us up, is a house cat now and loving it. We’ve got it made—food, petting, toys, valet service for the litter box, and we get to sleep on her bed twenty hours a day. And we can stick our noses up to the window and smell anything interesting going on outside. Why ruin a perfect situation?”
“Sethra, have you no sense of adventure? No curiosity? No cattitude? We were meant to live wild and free, to stalk and slay our prey, to be mistresses of the night!”
“Look, we’re cats. We were meant to rule the world, but that doesn’t mean we have to WORK at it. You can if you want, but I don’t need to. After all, I’M beautiful!
“Did I mention she’s got tuna?”
At 8, you'd think Mikey would understand that he's a carnivore. But, no, he's rather fond of the shrubbery! At 20+ pounds, the veggie-enhanced diet is likely mitigated by a love for long naps on a warm comforter, wet cat food, begging at the table, and a nice lap to drape himself upon in the evening. And he drools when he's happy, which may or may not mean there's a Siamese ancestor lurking in the old dna.
What? Green teeth attract mice!
Who needs a wickerwork basket when you can hop on a cushion and bask?
Rufus is clearly a cat to be reckoned with.
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Firestar is a tough cat. He has to be, living in Minnesota. He takes care of his family: wife, husband and their son. This was recently proven by his daring capture of yet another mouse in the house. Foolish rodents. They never learn. When not engaged in derring do, Firestar naps, looks out the window and sleeps. Firestar was born in April of 2006.
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3 comments:
I'm glad the garage sale is being good for Firestar. He seems like he's enjoying it much more than you are!
Oh how cute! I'm about to have a big garage sale. I can't wait--NOT! I'm thinking of moving to a place with a screened-in front balcony. They would be in HEAVEN!
It's over! And (I think) we survived. We made enough for Son to get a saxophone anyway. And once again Firestar was the hit of the day. The price tag has gone up to $10,000.
(It did drop a bit when he became noisy. But once the people came and fussed over him he was fine.)
We're done now - for the next ten days anyway.
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