Hello. It's Sunday
(I'm told). First or last day of the week, depending on your perspective. For myself - I don't care. My days are all pretty similar.
Let me demonstrate.
5:00 a.m. Sleeping on rocking chair. Bevie gets up and turns on light. How rude.5:30 a.m. Spouse gets up and wanders around making noise.5:45 a.m. Spouse leaves apartment. I now wander around meowing loudly. This is to get Bevie's attention.6:00 a.m. Sitting on chair beside Bevie. Every time Bevie's arm moves close I bite it. Not hard. Just enough to entice play.6:15 a.m. No play. Just back scratches. Not bad, but not what I wanted. Go to bedroom and sleep on Bevie's bed.8:00 a.m. Return to main room. Sleep on rocker.9:00 a.m. Son is up. Son comes to rocker and gets bit.10:00 a.m. In Son's room sleeping on Son's bed.11:00 a.m. Back in master bedroom sleeping on Bevie's bed.12:15 p.m. Fill out blog entry and return to bedroom. Sleeping on Bevie's bed.These busy days just wear me out.
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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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6 comments:
Fred knows me as daughter of brush lady or more commonly known as poor substitute for brush lady. I am also a convenient place to lie down when Fred is feeling sick. Other times, he plays musical beds and loves to take over the dogs' bed or favorite place to sleep until they find a new one and then he takes over that one.
It's a tough life.
Yes. I'm the one who cats come to in this house when they're feeling poorly.
He's here now. Staring at me and purring.
what about from 12:15 to midnight?
Humans don't understand just how hard our lives are.
You're going to have to bite harder if they don't do as they're told.
Looks like Firestar gave us his diary up to the minute. But I can account for the rest of his day. Just look at 10 a.m. and 11 a.m. and keep alternating them. Oh, with one break when he climbed up on the boxes in the corner and fell off next to the wall where we couldn't get him. He managed to get out on his own.
Rufus, don't you be giving him any ideas. He bites hard enough as it is.
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