I'm a snuggler

One of my favorite things to do is to get under the corner of any blanket that my human family might use to keep warm and to share the warmth with them.  I particularly like it when I can peek at them and have just my handsome head showing.

Not only do I get warm, but it is my personal mission to keep them warm as well, and my deluxe body does the job.  I ought to do this professionally!

Go ahead, admit it...I am really cute, aren't I?

Heartbreak and revenge

She's beautiful, sophisticated, educated, and saved me when I needed saving.  No words can describe my second mom, whose role has evolved to that of big sister and mentor.

However, I recently received word that after my last posting, she had the audacity to send the following comment to my blogmaster:
"I'm going to call him Meat Butt from now on."

This is the person of whom I speak, the one who has disrespected me beyond anything a civilized person could possibly understand. And yet I love her more than anything. Any cat would want to have her in his corner. Here she is in all her glory.


 

How can I reconcile this hurtful insult and my desire to strike back with my peaceful way of life???? I believe I have a plan!

She loves to wear black and looks great in it, so I'll just wait for her next visit. She tends to leave her open suitcase on the bed or floor, just filled with beautiful clothing that I plan to COVER with my beautiful, wiry, hard to remove fur.

I believe I'll call her Fur Butt from now on.

New addition

Hello, everyone!

I am ashamed to admit that I've been very lax about posting new stuff in my blog. I could make up a dozen reasons why that happened, but all I really need to do is remind you of the name of the blog, MY CAT IS INSANE and you'll be reminded that I can't be held to any real standard of behavior.

A lot has happened since my last post. My housemate, Shelby, passed away and I missed her a lot. That was probably the main reason for being inactive.  Then to my surprise and great joy, I got a new housemate, brother, and soul mate, Leo.  He's of the same species as I am. Feline to the bone.

As you can well imagine, as lonely as I was, and as much as I needed someone to hang around with, I was incensed over having an intruder in my home!  I don't recall being asked if I wanted to share my life with another creature, yet there he was and darn it, did he win my heart as soon as I got a whiff of him!  He looks a bit like me, beige and white. Well,  I USED TO be beige and white when I was living in NY, but that was because the girls I lived with didn't always feed me cat food. I was given real tuna, God did I love those two babes!  But once I got my new home with the mom and dad of the babe who cared for me by herself-- I called her "Photo Babe" without her actually ever knowing that, well, I'm getting lost here. 

Ok, got my groove back... Once I was brought to my new and permanent home, my color started to change to a rich orange. It was all diet related.  I could hear the humans talking about me-- after all, it's always about me since I am quite cool-- and it sounded as if they wanted to change my name.  Cinnamon was mentioned, along with Marmalade (are you KIDDING me??), Ginger, and Caramel. Lucky for them I didn't bite them senseless over that misdemeanor.  I am clearly male and muy macho, so all those frumpy names just wouldn't cut it with me.

Anyway, one day, little Leo arrived at my house.  They locked him into a room all by himself to "acclimate" him - whatever that means- but we two dudes with our special cat lingo, were communicating through the door and worked out an agreement. I wouldn't crush him with my meaty butt if he would promise not to scratch me in the eye.  And so the door was opened. I fell in love with my little bro at first glance.  Did he ever smell good!  We chased each other around the house; he could hide in places where I couldn't even squeeze my head through-- and of course, he'd jump out to attack me.

I'm sorry to say neither of us kept our word. I did pin him down with my substantially large body, but it was only to lick his face and clean him up a bit,  and he did scratch me in the eye, sending me to the doctor in the torture chamber carrier.  But that's in the past and now we are cuddle mates.  I love him and having a  brother is the best, although I feel as if I'm his dad, since he looks up to me in a big way.  He's the best of everything life has to offer: brother, baby, buddy, and partner.

 

More on Leo later, along with some pics.

I may be crazy, but I'm loose in your house! A Valentine's Day message

Yeah, that's right! Call me crazy, and maybe I am, but never assume I am a cuddly little love bug put on this earth to do your bidding. I had to assert myself yesterday and clarify my position as king of the castle and unpredictable eunuch.

I spent a pleasant night sleeping in the master chamber, getting up a few times to grab a few sips of water in the kitchen and terrorize the dog, who just lies there while I vault over her at least 25 times per hour. At 3:00 a.m. I decided to go downstairs for an early breakfast and what did I find? Nothing in my bowl! Not a crumb, nothing! Filled with fury, I headed upstairs, where my human mom was sleeping.

I made a few noises to wake her up. Nothing. Jumped upon the bed. Nothing again. "This is serious," I thought, so I started to strategize. What would wake her up and get her moving as quickly as possible? A plan came to my mind right away.

I snatched a piece of paper from the nightstand, sprang off the bed, diving underneath it, and decided to lie in wait. Next, I made crinkling sounds with the paper. Sure enough, my mom's body started to move. As soon as her hand moved out from under the covers, I rose up, biting her on the hand, determined to pull her up and out. She screamed, music to my ears! I decided to hold on, just to make sure she got the message, and guess what happened? She slapped me!

I hung on and she slapped me again. What nerve!

I was in shock and deeply insulted. All that fuss over one perfect fang being plunged into her hand? It only left a small mark, for meowing out loud! I could have done more, but I pretended to be scared (not that I was) and ran away. Sometimes I think I actually do get scared due to my castration issues.

Later, I returned to the scene of the crime,bounded onto the bed, stealthily approached my mom, got right up to her face and licked her cheek and her eyelid, just because I could, to let her know I was still there, waiting to be served. She dashed out of bed, ran into the bathroom, and washed her face. What? Like I have some disease or something?

I hope she realized that I could have done so much more had I wished... Like I said, you may call me crazy, but I'm loose in the house while you're sleeping... thoughts to ponder...

Happy Valentine's Day to all!

Good for what ails you

Sometimes I feel slightly sick after grooming myself for hours. As beautiful as my fur is, it does get stuck in my tummy, and I have a furball problem. What to do?

My parents think that a product called Laxatone, "a lubricant for the elimination and prevention of hair balls" is the way to go. I hate the stuff and run away whenever I see them open the bathroom cabinet where I know it's stored. They've also tried to sandbag me by double-teaming me, one of them holding me and saying what a good boy I am, while the other rubs VASELINE on my legs and the tops of my paws, for crying out loud. No way, say I. They are insane!

I have found a self- remedy that works fairly quickly : eating plastic bags. Here's how it works:

First, I have to wait for my human servants to leave the closet door open- that's where they keep plastic bags. Next, I have to act nonchalant and be patient, hoping that they will not discover their error and slam the door shut. If I just lie in the doorway of the adjacent bathroom with my eyes half-closed, there is a good chance that I will be able to score.

Once they have left the area, I nose the door open, leap onto a shelf, and pull a plastic bag out of the tubelike thing that holds the bags. As quick as a flash, I drag it behind a piece of furniture- anything will do- and bite and swallow pieces of the bag. Then I just wait until the combination of plastic and fur create an explosion. I try to be mindful of where I will be when I'll start to throw up, and have created a guide for plastic pukers:

• the top of the piano is to be avoided; I'm still working on this
• stay off the couch; my mother gets grossed out
• stairs are good
• **high traffic areas, such as the route from the kitchen through the dining room, work like a charm
• anywhere in the area of the litter box is recommended
• windowsills are good because the human will see it immediately
• **rugs are good, especially in the living room, where it will be discovered pretty fast
• humans' beds are to be avoided, besides, I like to nap there while they're out, so why shoot myself in the paw?

Once I was sitting in the hallway near the stairs. The force of my throwing up was so great that I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs. It was actually kind of fun, but I had to act upset when my mom came running to see if I was ok. I don't see this as anything embarrassing or shameful; in fact, I thrive on hearing "OMG! Look what he did!" It's strangely satisfying.

**A word of caution: if you live with a dog and want the humans to find your "drainage," be sure to avoid the carpet areas, as the dog will immediately come running and feast upon it. Dogs are so dumb!

The sweet smell of gourmet food...

My human servants did a wonderful thing for me yesterday! I don't think any cat in this world can say that his people did for him what mine did for me. If I am wrong, please let me know. Here's what happened:

I was napping on top of the piano, when suddenly, the most delightful aroma assaulted my nostrils. I sniffed... could it be? Yes! It was Friskies Party Mix, and its perfume was everywhere! I rushed out to the kitchen to see when my treats would be delivered and to discover how my human servants, as I like to call them these days, had managed to get the smell of my food to permeate the entire house. My mom was not happy-- this I understood as soon as I started rubbing myself against the cabinet. Why?? I wondered? How could she not love the aroma of that delectable ambrosia?

My human dad had microwaved his lunch and didn't notice that my packet of yummies was in the microwave! In addition to heating it up, there were little bits of flame happening. I have to say that it was quite exciting

Wow, I thought! Friskies flambé! How very thoughtful of them! Not that I don't deserve such royal treatment...

I guess THAT will teach them to stop hiding my treats in the microwave and acting as though I can't be trusted not to jump on the counter or open the cabinet, which I do admit has happened in the past ... I do love them so!

My enemy the squirrel

There is a lot to see from the windows of my home. Huge pine trees border the side of the house and there are many birds zooming in, landing on the branches, as well as squirrels scampering up and down the trees. It's nature at its best and in the summer, I watch as they gather in those trees and plan for the day when I will catch me one. I find it calming and peaceful to observe them all sweltering outside while I watch from my climate controlled lair.

Once the windows are open, though, I can smell those critters and dream of meeting one close up and personal. Not to boast, but this fall, I managed to get out of the breezeway, spent some time on the deck and was just about to pounce on a bird pecking on the ground below me when I was rudely shooed back inside. The bird was second choice anyway; what I really wanted was one fuzzy, chubby squirrel.

Recently, my human parents moved the piano to the opposite corner of the living room and guess what? It's the perfect place to climb onto to watch the action from the window! I flatten myself on the top of the piano with my tail hanging down; can't help it but it swishes and twitches back and forth when I get excited, and believe me , there is NOTHING more exciting than watching squirrels! I firmly believe the squirrels were put on this earth to torture me, kind of the way the Compte Paul de Reynaud was tortured by his desires in the movie Chocolat. All I want is one chance, just one, to make a move on one of those rodents. Sadly, I have been denied this simple pleasure. I imagine myself giddy with joy, commanding the action in a store front window filled with squirrels.... Ah, we all have dreams...

As I was checking out the action today, I caught sight of one of them who was particularly bold. We made eye contact and I know that our eyes delivered the same message to each other: "I would like to kill you." Kinda gives you the shivers, right? This squirrel was not just bold, he was sinister. Well, you tell me... you see his picture on today's blog-- does he or does he not look as depraved as I described?

I think he might be in a gang...