They're fricking huge, in the refrigerator, and I want them!
I mean, these things are beautiful. They must have 20 of them, all bigger than one of my forepaws. All pink and pretty, and surely very juicy. They have to be for me. Right? Right???
I've been asking for at least one since 7:30 this morning, but will anyone bother?
Something unusual. The People stayed home all day yesterday. That never happens; someone always disappears for a little while, but they were there all day yesterday, and spent a decent amount of time entertaining me. And food! The Woman cooked for me again, just like she did about a month ago.
They started early in the morning (well, early for them, it was kind of late for me.) The Woman got up and fed me (perfectly stinky stuff, very gratifying) and read the paper for a little while, and then the Man came home from where ever it is he goes most days and some nights. Once he was there the Younger Humans came downstairs and they started digging around in these freakishly huge socks that have been hanging on the wall—the dang things were stuffed with goodies, even new toys for me. While they did that the Woman had stuff in the oven for their breakfast—of which I got nothing, and it smelled pretty good, too.
Then the fun started. They’ve had all these shiny boxes under the tree I am not allowed to climb for a couple of weeks now. It was pretty and all, but they were getting in my way…well, yesterday morning they started handing the shiny boxes to each other and ripped the coverings off. That was wicked awesome—they balled up the coverings and threw them across the room for me, so I could chase them and leap over the chairs and stuff.
And then there were boxes! Most of them were too small for me to climb in, but I at least gave it a shot. At one point I think they had six boxes on the floor for me. The last box was really big; the Younger Human, the one with all the hair all over his head and face, opened it up and took its innards out for me, and that was a blast to climb in. It was still had some balled up newspaper in it, all the better to dig around in.
It was quiet for a while after that, but then the aroma started settling in the air. She was doing it, she was making me another turkey! And those slimy noodles! Really, the only thing missing was something fishy, but I’ve heard her say she doesn’t “do” fish. Phfft. I like her, but she does have a serious personality defect. Who doesn’t want fish???
It was a busy day all around, what with all the paper and boxes I had to play with, and later on the hairy Younger One and his Better Smelling Friend helped me play with my new toys. I was so tired I forgot to get up at 3:30 this morning to sing to them. I think I slept in until almost 8 o’clock, and the Woman was very happy to see me jump up on the bed to remind her I needed breakfast. I mean, she actually got out of bed and went downstairs to get me food before she made her bed or changed her clothes. That, like, never happens.
I think it was my birthday or something. It should happen more often.
Every cat needs a high perch like this to oversee all his People.
Make sure your People get you one.
They’re screwing with my mind.
A few days ago they leave—at night—and come back hours later with two people. I wasn’t too sure about them at first, but I realized underneath all that hair that one of them was the Younger Human. The one who first brought me home. I recognized his smell, but I didn’t recognize the other person. I’ll tell you what, she smells better than he does, that’s for sure.
These younger people, they know how to treat me. He plays with me the right way—he knows how to swing my toy through the air so I can jump up to attack it (nothing personal to my Other People, but chasing things along the floor is, well, boring.) And she doesn’t grab me and hold me in her lap when I don’t want to be held. She lets me sniff her hand and decide if I’m in the mood to be petted.
It occurs to me…maybe my People are just too old for me.
In any case, I like the young people. They can stay.
What’s the point of having a tree in the house if you’re not allowed to climb it? I mean, come on.
And what’s with the white stuff falling out of the sky and covering the ground? It’s kind of pretty, but it sure didn’t make the Woman very happy. In fact, she even said a few choice words about it, grumbling a whole heck of a lot until she peeked out the window. Someone, she says, shoveled the driveway for her. Whatever the hell that means. But it made her happy, happy enough that she sat down to watch TV and let me stretch out across her lap for a long nap.
She’s warm when I need her to be. It would be nice if she’d get up in the morning when I want her to.
Can you believe it! They brought a tree into the house! It’s fricking huge, too, going all the way up to the ceiling. It’s like my own personal wet dream. A tree of my own!
I’ve spent my whole life looking out the window at trees, and they’ve always appealed to me. I know birds spend quite a bit of time sitting in trees, so my hopes are pretty high that sooner or later one will pop out—snack time!
What I don’t get is why they put all these shiny things on it. They’re fun to play with (even though I get yelled at) but the tree would have been awesome without them. The Man put lots of bright lights on it, and the Woman put the shiny dangling things…I had loads of fun playing last night while they were asleep (a good time to play, because they can’t yell at you then.)
And I haven’t tried it yet, but they put the little sofa close to the tree, so I can make a leap from it to the top of the tree—just in case that bird shows up.
The only problem, as I see it…that tree tastes nothing like I expected it to.
You are never going to believe it. I mean, I still don’t. After all the crap this week, all the noise and strange people and getting locked in the bathroom for hours on end, what happens?
She locked me in the freaking closet!
Not just for a minute or two, but for over two hours. In the fricking dark.
Really, what did I do that was so awful? Why am I being punished every single day? I’m sweet, I’m personable, and I’m pretty. Why am I being treated so horribly???
They locked me in the bathroom! Not once, not twice, but just about every freaking day this week. I didn’t do anything wrong; I was just minding my own business, curled up on the chair, when the Woman grabbed me and shoved me into the little downstairs bathroom.
And she obviously had been planning on this, as there was food and water and a bed already waiting for me in there. But why? I didn’t poop on her pillow. I didn’t bring some dead thing into her bed. I bit her, sure, but only on the top of her head, and only by accident (I was licking her hair, it smelled really good, and I just wanted to see if it also tasted good.) I didn’t mean for it to hurt.
She muttered things about Strange People and Ceiling Fans and Loud Noises, but what does that have to do with punishing me?
The food and the bed are still in the bathroom. Not a good sign. I need to hide for the rest of the day, just in case…