Ever wonder why cats are just so darn cute?

Honorary Cat

Ever wonder why MOST cats are just so darn cute?

Aaaaaah...much better!

Oooooops...Lacey's on the cat tree!

For all you critiquing photo fanatics -

Zoe's lint is actually on Zoe,

not the camera lens.

Hey...

what can I say...

happens when your occupation is to crawl under and out from under

beds all day and night long.

Sweet Karma

Ever have one of those days when positive karma seems to get your drift?  No red light dares to stop you, traffic's moving at the actual speed limit, minute digits fall asleep on your car clock, no odd car noise starting a mini-panic of sorts, and only minimal road kill messes with your head?  I didn't think so...

One month each year, husband's vacation time, I have to hijack my sweet red Toyota if I desire to place myself in it's driver's seat.  I'm beginning to comprehend husband's need to regulate control of his own car and that of mine.  His vehicle on wheels slightly sucks!  There...I've said it.  The driving force for his compulsive disorder sweetness to call all the shots of my travel time when he claims he just wants to be with me, is a not so clever disguise to escape that mode of transportation.  

It doesn't appear to be volunteering to fall apart in any timely manner any time soon.  Personally, I think he should just embrace this piece of junk art on wheels and give it THE LOVE; although I've lately been wondering what force of evil ever convinced an auto maker to mass produce a car with vinyl windows and a zipper.  Say you have a big fat zipper staring you in the face; wouldn't your first inclination be to...dah...unzip it?  Would you ever really be cruising through bear country or an angry mob in this thing?      

Husband's flight was canceled from Afghanistan to Dubai, sending him scrambling to book another flight...the L-O-N-G route home, Amsterdam, Atlantic Ocean, Greenland or Iceland...forgot which, Detroit, then home-sweet-home.  Why would anyone want to fly directly to the states when they can take the scenic hop.  He's lost a day of his already way too short visit...bummer...that's one day less he can taxi me to my every destination.

Labor Day was a Chattanooga getaway...next week is a Memphis vacation postponed from the May floods.  Do you think Elvis's ghost will be a bit put out that I'm not screaming with delight at the prospect of touring his digs with husband?  I'll scream at the prospect of an evening with Jeff Dunham.  A symphony is stuck in there somewhere, and Thanksgiving at the lush Hermitage Hotel...mmmmm yummy yum.  A bit quieter two weeks this time around. 

It's always Christmas at Thanksgiving, if I stop procrastinating long enough to drag out the boxes of stored away holiday magic.  I can't get my motor running, my gas gauge seems to be on empty and the oil light is blinking...hummm...perhaps a lovely glass of Filippo Gallino Birbet Italian sparkling sweet red wine.  A discovery while dining in Chattanooga; and of course, today I went out and got one to sit on my own dining table.  Cheers!!! and may you all have a loving Thanksgiving full of wonderful surprises and many sweet blessings.

Why am I always a sucker for another pretty face?

I've had them a few times...just one cat in my home...I think twice in my life.  I always called it a dream come true.  My feline companion would bond 100%, and I relished the idea of a cat focusing totally on me.  I always said one cat was better than two.  With two cats you're ignored at least 50% of the time, but with one you're ignored 0% of any one day.

Lopsided relationships don't turn me on anymore.  My furry soul mate lived in loneliness when I wasn't about, and with time this isolated fuzz ball began to remind me of a little human instead of the individual cat it was suppose to be.  Domestic cats really are all for themselves and themselves for themselves, if that bit of craziness makes any kind of sense to you.  They don't form packs.

Maybe communes of free sex, but never a pack with a leader.  They don't form complete families either...as a male will practice euthanasia.  They will form a bond with another feline, a friendship so to speak; if their sun, moon, and planets are all aligned in the celestial sphere of the vernal equinox with the constellation of Pisces.  Otherwise, forget it.

Michael

My Michael was an only cat.  Renting in an old apartment building with steam heat, you know...radiators...I occasionally would catch a glimpse of this half grown grayish kitten in the boiler room in the basement when the water would quit heating and making steam, and I had to reset the equipment or suffer freezing my fanny off.  His owners band him from their apartment, and relegated him and his litter pan to a life in that noisy boiler room.

Several months later, just after the loneliest Christmas I ever spent in my entire young life, he came calling at my window sill and found himself a toasty warm apartment that was refreshingly quiet.  I swear...after a few months he was beginning to develop into a little human being.  All that was needed to complete the fantasy was to one midnight, after finishing shift work, open that front door and be greeted with a slight English accent rolling of his purring lips as he rubbed against my legs, and lovingly whispered "I've missed you tremendously, my sweet".  He was my little man...so perfect.

Bryon

Over a year later, when Bryon kitty quietly wiggled himself into my life...Michael had a tizzy fit and poor non-neutered Bryon was getting his balls battered left and right, until many weeks later Michael's sun, moon, and planets aligned themselves perfectly and saved poor Bryon's young life.  True buddies until Michael's passing, then Bryon, one month later...they were always best friends to each other.

Jesse happened onto the scene while Michael was in his old age, so Jesse never was an only kitty, although by the way he eventually treated all his roommates, he wasn't too keen on the buddy system except with me.  The short end of this extremely long point I'm making is both Michael and Jesse always spent much time with me, even though they had a houseful of too many other companions...they just weren't little humans any more...they were totally cats.  With luck, Andee may have his playmate at last, if Lacey has her way, and Andee can survive her wild kittenhood.

Zoe and Lacey

Oh...right...you don't know.  Zoe was becoming quite frazzled with Chloe always answering when Zoe was called.  She told me that if I didn't change that #$%*!# pipsqueak's name pronto, I was going to wake up in the morning with a face full of fang marks.  When Zoe speaks, one listens if they know what is good for themselves, so that little limping spitfire that has unabashedly taken over the whole household is now sporting the sweet name Lacey.  Zoe coughed up a fur ball in her honor, and puked in my shoe to show her approval.

Miss Lacey

 

Sweet, sweet, sweet Lacey...I figure if I say it a hundred times she will become sweet, sweet, sweet Lacey.  Actually she already is quite sugary sweet in her all-about-what-I-want ways.  Had completely forgotten how kittens sometimes love to use shoes for a scratching post, so my not so cheap sandals have chicken scratches all over the foot beds.  Finally found the hidden squirt bottle to curtail that death defying chewing of plugged in electrical cords.

Zoe's becoming a phantom of the night again, only seen when in a hissing frenzy with a kitten that doesn't know when to make a detour.  Zoe retreats to the spare bathroom to be fed, as Lacey thinks she's starving no matter how much she guzzles down multiple times a day.  Open three cans of food and she would pig out until she poofed out and exploded.  I can't even munch in peace without a barrage of complaints about me not sharing my eats.

Andee and Lacey

Andee was fairly used to her by the time she demanded to be set free to explore, so his hissing "back off" kept her out of his face; but she's diligently working on wearing him down into the perfect playmate.  Dustin?  Well, he's having to learn that Lacey's just like Zoe and Andee...she's NOT a dog toy.  And me...last night I had a little kitten sleeping by my head until morning light, and I'm loving every second of it.

Memories now dancing in my head...

            blush,
            rosy,
            black
            of
            blackest
            crimson...

Coral Berry

Balloon Flower

            cream,
            buttery,
            deepest
            of
            molten
            gold...

Ghost Grass

            smidgen,
            handful,
            gobs
            of
            tantalizing
            tangerine...

            

            laced
            with
            a
            rainbow
            of
            greens...

            crispy
            brown
            dried,
            salt
            and
            peppered...

            curled
            up
            tight,
            tough
            leathery
            flat...

            breeze
            scattered,
            wind
            shattered,
            rain
            matted...

            memories
            now
            dancing
            in
            my
            head...

Siamese Twins

            come
            winter.
            I'm
            waiting
            your
            softness...

Alpine Strawberry

Duuuuustin???

            as

            you
            take
            my
            wonderful
            leaves...

            back
            into
            the
            bosom
            of
            earth...

Threadleaf Bluestar

Grass Leaved Golden Aster-Silkgrass

            leaving
            wistful
            promises
            of
            next
            year.

Miss Chloe is a couch tater in disguise...she's determined in her stubborn tri-color way to outlast my going-nowhere attempts to force her off her sweet tush and exercise that sore leg that's slowly stiffening up as I type this out.  Does she remotely even give a hoot...I seriously doubt she minds being waited on hand and foot for the rest of her wonderful and my miserable life.

She's waiting for her plate of grub to mysteriously scoot closer to her drooling mouth...she's perfecting that mournfully wide-eyed pleading guilt creating stare that would melt the center of an iceberg...she's such a shit.  I'm ignoring her, hum hum de hum hum...will that plate of vittles disappear by morning?  I'm wondering if she will cave in, or will she opt instead to wither away into a wrinkled prune and come back in her after-life to remind me forever that I'm a very mean lady.

I'm truly wishing I didn't always need a cat in my life, especially the ones who don't always need a human to love.  I asked for a Siamese, you know...a people lover breed.  I got skitzo kitty...the feline that walks alone.  I'm not going to forget this Santa...not on your life.  I've hired a PI to track down that true address of yours.  You can already start counting the days before Christmas, and that box with holes that will arrive on Christmas Eve.  You do like calicoes...don't you?