I wasn't going to post this, but
something about it just made me laugh and smile. Found it at this
site.
Fly-strips are very sticky An e-mail from cat Gina to tomcat Jonas. "Boootiful !!!!!!!!" :o))))))))) Sorry that I take the Mickey, Jonas, but we rarely see such a brush :o)
By the way, you have a partner in the suffering, and that is ME!
Some weeks ago I got stuck with my tummy to a fly- strip which had been attached to the kitchen cupboard. When I tried to get rid of the damn thing I got more and more entangled :o(
My Missus saw this and tried to help by pulling the fly-strip out of my fur - of course it did not work!
After a seemingly never ending time and plenty of the disgusting hot water the terrible thing had disappeared out of my fur, but some of the glue wouldn't come out.
So my Missus got out the scissors, and ...do I have to say more? Absolute disgusting, I looked like a plucked chicken. Meouw !!! But now for the icing of the cake as they say: The girlfriend of my Missus came to visit us, and she greeted me with gusto. She loves me very much, I don't know why. Then she noticed the bare spots on my behind and asked for the reason of my disfigurement. My Missus told her about my mishap, and she wanted to show her friend another spot where some of my fur had been cut off. She lifted me up, so the friend could look under my tummy. She lifted me higher, and higher, and then it happened! She pushed me on to another fly-strip which was hanging from the ceiling, she had overlooked this one, and now I was wrapped up again! Heeeeelp !!!!!!
Once more the scissors came out and I lost my newly grown hair again.
Well, don't YOU talk about embarrassment, I presented a much worse sight.
By now I am as beautiful as ever, yeah.
All my love
--->> GINA <<--- (one of Eki's cats)..
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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