Disappointed L'il Me

This is my disappointed look:

I am expressing my extreme disappointment in Mummy's decision-making criteria.

There I was, silently observing bugs in the lamplight with a view to catching one (and no real idea what I would after that), when Mummy whips out the One-Eyed Creature and starts snapping. So I gave her the stare. You know - the one that says, "I was getting along just fine without having my picture taken, and now you have ruined everything."

I was completely unable to resume my bug-hunting after all that milieu.

So there it is.

Life is unfair.

The good news is that she did not get the picture she wanted - the one of me looking quite dashing, teeth showing and all, gazing upward into the light. 

There is some justice after all!

I T’awt I Taw a…Dog???

I am a civilized cat.

I live in a house.

Since I never, ever venture across the threshold into the Room-Where-Dad-Can’t-Get-The-Air-Conditioning-Adjusted-Properly (commonly referred to by my parents as The Great Outdoors), I see very few strangers. [Unless you count relatives, which are strange indeed. But that is another matter.]

I mention this to drive home a point. 

That point is I was in my own chair by my own window minding my own business this morning when a whacking great creature stepped right up and shoved his nose against the glass. This Creature had big eyes, big ears and very big teeth. I thought to myself, “Self, what big eyes he has! Self, what big ears he has! Self, what big teeth he has!” 

Yipes!

And I have never seen such a snoot!

This creature gave what amounted to a goofy grin, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth like Dad’s socks dangling over the hamper’s edge.

I was horror stricken and turned immediately for Mummy.

Bless her, Mummy is the bestest – she spied the infernal Creature, referring to it as a Dog (whatever that is), without hesitation opening the door and, with flailing arms and much shouting, scared the bajeezies out of him…er, It. The Beast ran off!

I pondered for a moment the meaning of it all. 

As I was hard pressed to figure it out, I resumed my slumped stance in the chair and promptly fell asleep.

Mummy saved the day.

I am very relieved - another victory for Catkind.

ZZzzzzzzz……

I’ve Been Shot…!

…in the line of duty! 

This morning I was demonstrating to young Mosby, one of the urchin kittens who has apparently decided to stick around the house instead of going out and getting a job or something, what you are NOT supposed to be doing – viz. getting on the kitchen table. 

I am, naturally, of the school of thought that actions speak louder than words, and what better way to demonstrate a no-no than by actively pursuing it? So, making sure he was watching, I squatted down, waggled my rear and made a flying leap at the kitchen table, landing ever so neatly (if not softly) in the middle. I turned to be sure Mosby was still observing – young kids these days are so easily distracted – then proceeded to stroll leisurely along the edge, stopping here and there to sniff for possible food fragments. Nothing, as usual – you’d think just once Mummy would leave some crumbs for me but no. 

Again checking to be sure my young protégé was agog with wonder (naturally he was), I sat down, lifted my back leg over my head and began a nice leisurely bath when I suddenly felt a zap in my hindquarters. 

Oh the pain – the agony! 

They got me this time….oooooooh; 

I‘m dying….this is it……..uuungh….

What is that terrible smell?? 

Death, it is Death come for me!

*sigh*

I should point out here that Mummy has been using certain...er, disciplinary measures of late to keep the urchins Mosby and Morgan off the aforementioned dining table, including a gun (cleverly disguised as a water bottle), to which ammunition (hereby known as water) she adds a certain measure of vinegar.  

Yes – VINEGAR, and boy is it pungent! 

It is this deadly weapon with which I have been shot.

It is insufficient to say that I was surprised, and now I am going to croak just because I was trying [honest!] to teach that rug rat how to behave himself. Well, that’s it – my teaching days are over! 

Mosby can just fend for himself. Call me a coward but I simply do not think teaching someone manners is worth getting shot over. I am off to live my last few minutes in bed where hopefully I can get a good last nap.

And Mummy is most assuredly out of the will. 

If I can just locate the number of my lawyer….

Mummy’s Murderous Mind

Some have labeled me a bit paranoid – 

Dad, Mummy, Aspen, Poppet, Nutmeg, Princess, Tippy, and Nobbie,  to name but a few foul blisters. However, I have much reason to believe Mummy is out to get me at times so I am ever prepared to make a break for it, often dashing off just in the nick of time when my suspicions are aroused by her unseemly behavior. Outlined below are some examples of the obvious attempts she makes on my life, and one can readily see on reflection the evil intentions of one Mummy:

Ex.1 - Mummy walks across the floor in my direction sometimes, very fast.

Ex.2 - Mummy picks up a dish towel and pretends to dry dishes (like no one can see through that one!)

Ex. 3 - Mummy polishes the furniture with *gulp* a rag - while I am in the same room!

Ex. 4 - Mummy tries to kiss me on my noggin. Oh, dear!

Ex. 5 - Mummy tries to “pet” me [code for “Murder”].

Ex. 6 - Mummy opens the pantry door when I am sitting nearby, very fast. [Does she think I am blind?]

Ex. 7 – Mummy walks up the stairs when I am lounging on them (she thinks I don’t notice but do I ever see through her subterfuges!).

This is to name but a few of the varied ways in which Mummy Dearest is whittling away at my 9 lives. When I see any of these not-so-well-hidden activities occur I head for the hills. Of course, sometimes these are genuine maneuvers to accomplish some other goal (Mummy does indeed polish the furniture sometimes, for example, and she sometimes pets me just to be nice (as much as a serial cat killer can be nice, I should say…) but it takes a discerning mind to note the difference and be prepared for action. 

Whichever it turns out to be on a given day, Mummy is not going to pull a fast one on me – not if I have anything to say about it!

I will be ready!

Hmmph.

Mummy, Nobbled!

Poor little Mummy is hopping about on one foot today, 

all that is left of her after a vicious attack by a brute of a kitten named Mosby!

There she was in the living room, minding her own business while reading a nice book, her feet dangling over the back of the sofa [which sits conveniently - for a certain kitten - about 6 inches from the wall…], when from nowhere (or rather, from behind the sofa) came terrific sounds of scuffling – irrefutable evidence of the presence of fuzzy little blighters in pursuit of a brawl. 

I happened to be resting along the back of said sofa, thinking of this and that, so got a bird’s eye view of the proceedings. After much tornado-like activity between Morgan and Mosby, the latter decided the sofa needed a lesson in manners as well and began snatching and scratching at the slipcover.

It appeared, from my vantage point, that Mosby mistook Mummy’s foot for an appendage of the sofa (an arm, perhaps, or a pillow?) so gave it a triple-clawed swipe for good measure then went on his merry way.

Mummy yowled not a little, Mosby giving her a questioning glance as he passed from view ‘round the corner. The vile wretch hadn’t a clue about the destruction left in his wake!

So now Mummy is wounded and may not last the night, and we will starve because I am sure Dad does not know how to feed us properly – all because Mosby can’t tell the difference between a sofa arm and Mummy's toes!

Tip Of The Day

cCcRaSsH!

*scamper, scamper, scamper*

Never [wheeze],

ever [wheeze, wheeze]…

tip-toe through the tulips [wheeze]…

if they are in a vase!

*SiGh*

Earth-ShAtTeriNg News

You’re Doing What???

Are you mad?

Kittens? Living here?

We can’t have kittens - they turn into cats!

We already have cats.

When Mummy broke the news that two young blisters of the deck variety were coming to live with us, I rued the day I ever spotted her playing with them out there. I might have known she would pull a sneaky like this. In broad daylight, too!

And Dad had the audacity to be at work at a time like this, the Hound. I tried to warn him that Mummy was up to something but he seems blissfully unaware of her schemes. One might say willfully…

Well, that is it then.

All my hopes of having a quiet future are dashed. And now I must settle into the task of training these little urchins and teaching them the house rules. What a chore.

I think I need a nap.