Copped from the Woman's blog from 2 years ago...

'Cause I was asked...

Memorial Day = honoring those who died in service to their country.
Veterans' Day = honoring those who served.
Armed Forces Day = honoring those currently serving.

Have a good one; have fun, enjoy the cookouts and the beer and party on...but take some time to remember what it took to have this holiday, and say a few words of appreciation for the men and women who made the lives we have in the U.S. possible.

Inhale deeply, doods

Inside this super slow hot thingy is some real live fresh dead chicken. And it's not for the people--it's for me! Well, for me and for Buddah.

I don't know why, but the Woman started doing this a couple of weeks ago, and she always has some real live fresh dead chicken all shredded in a bowl, and she's been giving it to us instead of crunchy treats.

Doods, I don't even mind.

CHICKEN ON DEMAND.

Well, almost on demand. I asked for some a little while ago and she said that it was too close to dinner. But tonight I get some for a treat, and tomorrow, and the next day. AND SHE'LL MAKE MORE!

The Man has been building things!

And clearly, he built this one for me.

I think I'm going to take my next nap here. Maybe up a level, where I can use the towels as a squishy, soft bed.

This is awesome!

Humans. Sheesh.

Okay. So this morning I woke the Woman up at 4:30. And then again at 5:30, 5:50, 6:15, 6:30, 6:45, 7:00, and 7:15. Then the Man came home to open a can for Buddah and me, so I ate and enjoyed it, and then went back into the bedroom, jumped up right by the Woman's pillow, curled up, and meowed every 27.492 seconds until she got up at 8:30.

As she got dressed, I curled up in the warm place her body had made on the bed, and she asked me why I wanted so badly for her to get up.

She's not very bright, is she?

I stayed on that spot until 2:15, snoozing and turning over every now and then. I heard people-stuff going on in the kitchen so decided it was time to get up and stretch and check it out, and you know what she did?

She pulled a giant container of real live fresh dead chicken from the fridge--she made a couple pieces in the What A Crock Pot last night without any non-kitty-friendly things in it--and without even asking she shredded some up and gave Buddah and me some fresh chickeny treats! Bonus: she heated mine up in the fast-cook box for 5 seconds so it was warm but not hot and smelled really, really good.

I'm not complaining, mind you. But I am suspicious. I mean, I kinda tossed her out of bed before she wanted to get up and then she turns around and gives me real food as a treat and not crunchy stuff (which would have been fine, you know) and then...THEN she opened the window so I could sniff the fresh air.

Oh yeah. With all the stuff that's been going on here--painting and stacks of boxes of things the Man is putting together (giant closets, I think)--she moved one of my perches right where I can curl up and look out the window.

It's not even my birthday yet.

And. AND. I heard her say there's real live fresh dead shrimp in the fridge, too, and if the Man will chop some up (she doesn't like touching it) I can have some of that later.

I tried to ask her if she was being nice because I'm sick or something but all she did was kiss me on top of the head and tell me I'm a good boy.

Yeah, she didn't think so at 4:30 this morning.

I'll take what I can get.

It was...a day.

I was not really surprised when I got up from my morning nap to find messy things such as this going on. The TV was pushed away from the wall, the chair practically in the kitchen, and the Supreme Commander Kitty Tower was gone.

Buddah came out, and immediately crouched down low and started slinking around, as if the people doing stupid things was something new.

I figured they'd get whatever it was done before dinner, and went back to take another nap. And a little while later I heard the Man bring Buddah to the back of the house, promise him it wouldn't be too long, and then the screen down in the hall squeaked shut.

Again...not a big deal. I'm used to these people.

And I was right; before dinner time the Man opened the screen door and said we could come out. Things were still in disarray, but the Woman was vacuuming the furniture off and the TV was back where it should be, and the Man re-hung the curtains that he washed.

Just before she opened a can for us, everything in the living room (but only there...somehow this required trashing every other room in the house) was in place and it looked all spiffy and bright.

Everything except her feet. Doods...she was wearing shoes and socks while she painted, so I have no idea how this happened.

But Buddah...it's been over 3 hours since we had dinner and the People stopped messing things up, but he's still acting like we're going to be forced into another M-word.

I should tell him he's moving, but the rest of us are staying here.

That would be mean, though, wouldn't it?

Heh.