The People bought me some tasty new dry food about a week ago. Not that I’ll admit it to them (because then the perfect wet Stinky Goodness might disappear), but I like it. It does a much better job of making my tummy feel full, so I don’t feel like I have to launch the Woman out of bed in the morning. I’m being very patient, letting her sleep until she wakes up on her own, just curled up on her tummy.

She doesn’t sleep as late as I figured she would, and she’s much nicer when I don’t do a body slam into the middle of her stomach or stick something up her nose. She wakes up, stretches, tells me I’m a good kitty and scratches behind my ears and under my collar (ohgod, that is too good…but I won’t tell her how much I like that), and gets up.

Now, granted, once in a while I’m still going to stick my nose up hers, or send her glasses flying across the room, but that’s just for fun. And I think it’s in my contract somewhere. You know, the primary Kitty Rule: Thou Shalt Be An Occasional PITA. Something I’m very good at.

Strange thing, though. It’s not cold anymore; all the white stuff is gone and the birds and sticky little people are outside in droves, but she still shivers, keeps the heat up, and curls up under the bright red and blue blanket. She swears she’s cold, but I think she’s just looking for sympathy. And for me to curl up in her lap. Selfish thing.

See how comfy the towels right out of the dryer look? All fluffy and warm and smelling good, like sunshine right there on the love seat (ok, yeah, that’s a stretch. Shuddup.)

But even better:



The Woman’s warm sweatshirts right out of the dryer. They’re softer and warmer, and all that cat hair I’m rubbing off onto them really pisses her off. So don’t tell her it was me. Tell her the Man did it.

Ahhhhh
Know what's really nice? When the People take a load of towels out of the dryer, dump it on the love seat, and don't get mad when you curl up in the pile.
Soooooo nice...

Ok.
No matter what she claims, I did not stick my tongue up the Woman's nose this afternoon.
Not intentionally, anyway.

One of the things I have fun with most mornings is knocking the Woman’s glasses off the nightstand. It’s not that I want to play with them, but she hates it, and that amuses me.

I also like crawling onto her lap, and stretching up like I’m going to give her a kitty kiss. If I time it just right, I can smear my nose across her glasses while they’re on her face, and she really hates that. And that amuses me.

But lately, she’s not wearing them. Most of the time they’re next to the bathroom sink, where it’s not nearly as much fun to whack at them or drag my nose across them. Come to think of it, the Man isn’t wearing his either, not at all. If he lost them, he’s going to be in a lot of trouble. And I want to be there when he is. That will amuse me, too.

It’s just not as much fun trying to run boogers onto the Woman’s face without those glasses—she usually stops me. And that doesn’t amuse me one bit.

Not that I’m nosy or anything, but I overheard the Woman talking to that thing she holds to her ear tonight, and she was talking about me.

Now, over time I’ve come to the conclusion that somewhere there’s another Human with another thing held to the ear, and they can hear each other. It just makes sense, in an odd sort of way. Why she can’t just talk to the Man, or even me, instead of someone with another thing pressed against the ear escapes me, but what the hell. They don’t consult me in matters of logic.

Anyway.

She was talking about me. And laughing. Making fun of how I approach my water dish. As if there’s something abnormal about it.

Look, no matter what she says I don’t actually stalk my water. Yeah, sure, sometimes when I’m across the room I crouch down and watch it carefully, and yeah, sure, sometimes my butt wiggles, and yeah, sure sometimes after that I race across the room towards it. But I’m not stalking it. I’m just making sure that there’s no one else around it.

Besides, for all you know there is a good reason to attack the water dish. For all you People can know, there’s things near the dish that have to be dispelled before I can safely take a drink. Remember, I have much better eyesight than you People do. I have a better sense of smell, too, and let’s just say some of you need to lick yourself more thoroughly.

And even if I did stalk my water dish, that’s not really the point. The point is that it’s rude to talk about a cat behind his back, especially if you’re laughing at him. I have good hearing, too. Want me to tell the world what kinds of sounds I hear emanating from you when you think no one else is around?

I also heard the Woman saying she was going to pick me up and squeeze me. She so is not going to do that. I may not have my claws anymore, but I still have teeth. People would do well to remember that.

Look, no matter what she says, I did not lay across the Woman’s face this morning.
I was merely stepping over her head, and stumbled.
Any resemblance to laying across her face is coincidental.

See? See what I have to do to get warm enough to take a nap?
TURN UP THE HEAT!
My nipples are inverting...

Okay. For the last week or so, the Man has gotten up at a reasonable hour to feed me. I’ve enjoyed it, to be honest, getting fed before my stomach is rumbling so loud it wakes the birds outside.

This morning he got up especially early and left. He went back to work! So right around the time I was getting hungry, the only Human left in the house was still asleep. I was not happy. Not at all. It was nice to not have to work to get someone up and get them downstairs, and I would have appreciated notice that I was going to have to fall back on old routines in order to get the food out of the freaking can and onto the plate.

I was nice, I didn’t head butt her, not until I heard the birds outside, mocking me. And when that didn’t work, I crawled onto her chest and stuck my nose up hers. And when that didn’t work, I knocked her glasses off the night stand.

Let me tell you, she hates that. But it works. She gets all pissy on me and makes me get off the bed, but she gets up. Usually the getting up is accompanied by all this muttering and swearing, and threats of locking me in a bathroom, but she doesn’t mean it. After all, if she were really mad, she wouldn’t get up. She’s toss me across the room, and she hasn’t done that.

Yet.

You know it’s a strong wind when the birds are getting up-ended onto their feathery little asses. Makes me very glad I can sit here inside, where it’s nice and warm, looking out the window, laughing at them.

Hmphf.

The People want me to note that the aforementioned non-cat blog link goes directly to an Adult Human Pervert-type site, so click the link at your own peril.

I mean, I thought it was obvious, but then I forgot I'm dealing with People here...

Oh my.
Persian Kitty is not another cat blog.

Last night the People cooked their food out in the back yard—don’t ask me why, that’s just asking for the birds to poop on it—and it smelled really good. I mean really good. But did I get any, even after being very good and patient while they ate? Hell no. All I got was this lame explanation for not sharing : “I don’t think kitties can have pork.”

I don’t know what “pork” is, but it smelled good enough for me to eat, so why not at least let me try it? You let me eat fish and chicken and turkey, why not pork??? They’re all dead things, aren’t they?

On the plus side, the Man did give me treats early in the morning. He felt bad because he kicked me in the ass while trying to walk through the dark. He could have turned a light on, but no…he just wanders through the dark, waiting for a cat ass to kick.

It all worked out. He gave me food, so I wasn’t starving ten minutes after he left the house, and I didn’t have to wake the Woman before she was ready to get up. She was happy, and even came downstairs to feed me the good stuff before she went upstairs to shower.

Still…I wanted that pork last night. And since I didn’t get it, I had to head-butt her awake this morning.

That’s only fair.

Newsflash:

It is not funny to lift the lid on the giant litterbox when you see me running into the bathroom to spend a little quality time with you.

There’s water in there!

Look, I don’t know what your last nerve is, but if I’m on it, I don’t care.

I don’t know what Professional Wrestling is, nor who Hulk Hogan and Steve Austin are. I don’t care.

But if a “body slam” gets your lazy ass out of bed in the morning to feed me, I’m going to keep doing it.

If you would get up a couple hours earlier, and feed me before you head for the litterbox and before you get dressed, I wouldn’t have to do it. So until then, enjoy the 14 pounds of slick, black, furry feline wonder dropping onto your gut, baby.

Oooh. Shrimpy Goodness.
Mmmm.
The Man shared, and nicely, so it's now naptime...

The Sticky Little Creatures are back; at least, they’re outside more often, yelling and screaming and laughing at these horrible, ear-splitting levels. I sit in my window and watch them—heck, even the birds scatter when one of them gets close. Who can blame them?

The other day the Woman left the front door open, and took the glass off the screen so we could get some fresh air, and the Man put a box in front of it so I could see out better. They went outside, I think to talk to other People (though I haven’t figured out why that’s so much fun, just standing there and talking without food being involved), but after a while he brought one of the Sticky Little Creatures to the door to see me.

I don’t mind this one so much, as long as he stays on that side of the door. He doesn’t squeal at me, and even if I press my face up to the screen, he doesn’t poke. There’s some kind of game he was trying to play—he kept crouching down where I couldn’t see him and then he popped back up—but I didn’t get it. It amused him, so what the heck.

The key is that door…as long as the Sticky Things stay on the outside, I can tolerate them, I suppose. They are entertaining sometimes, especially when they’re rolling down the street on their wheeled toys, and sometimes even when they get seriously ticked off at the Big People.

I love a good temper tantrum.

It’s nice out today, but I haven’t seen any of them out there yet. I think the Big People are hiding them.

Let’s get something straight:

If it’s on the floor, it’s mine.
If you drop it, it’s mine.
If it’s on the table and you walk away from it, it’s mine.
If it’s on the counter and you’re not looking, it’s mine.
In fact, if it’s in your hand and I can get to it, it’s mine.

Got it?
Good.

If you don't like waking up with my ass in your face, may I suggest that you get your lazy self up about an hour earlier than you normally do? It would benefit both of us: I would get fed when I'm hungry, and you'd avoid the glory of the remnants of things YOU had cut off WITHOUT my consent.

Strange fishy, found while sneakily poking through the Woman’s hard drive:



I think I’m glad this never winds up in one of my cans of Stinky Goodness.
That skin looks awfully hard to chew through…