Hello, my little fur lickers, and Happy New Year to one and all. To loving human beans, fellow fab felines, and, even filthy dogs! I’m feeling full of love and perhaps even a little bit high on catnip. Santa was generous with it, as usual.
Today, I wish to reassure my humans that all is well is Sugar’s world. They have been a bit concerned after witnessing one of my most embarrassing moments.
As I’m no spring chicken, they have gone to some effort to make sure I can nap wherever I please. At the end of the bed is a large, low ottoman. On the ottoman is a sheepskin. Sometimes I nap there. Sometimes I use the ottoman as a stepstool to the bed. Choices, my friends, it’s all about choices.
I love to spread my napping attention all over the house. In warmer months, I’ll travel with Mr. Sunbeam and rest under his golden glow. But in recent weeks, I’ve rediscovered a recliner that has been with us since my adoption. It was a favourite of my late pal Spice. I don’t know why I have taken to this particular piece of furniture, but it lures me over, nearly every evening.
All was well until one night when I attempted to leap onto its lap and didn’t make it. I fell backward and failed to right myself before my beans noticed my clumsiness. How embarrassing! I scared them and felt unable to restore my pride before settling beneath the coffee table until bedtime.
My view of the recliner. It must be six or seven miles off the floor – no wonder I didn’t make it!
Has this incident diminished my love for the chair? It has not.
Mother and Father began to watch me with bated breath as I hesitated a long while before attempting the jump. Sometimes, I changed my mind and walked away, seeking a lower-level place on which to nap. This worried them, I know.
So, Mother devised a solution. She click-click-clicked on her black rectangle and the following day, I found this at the foot of the chair.
Mother says it’s a pouf from Jysk, which many human beans mispronounce. It’s Jysk as in Yiddish, not Jysk as in jinx. No words needed to be spoken. I immediately used the pouf as a step up to my chair. It was a little wobbly, so Mother stood on it and stomped a bit to flatten it out. It’s perfect!
If I could, I would tell my humans that I’m okay. I’m in my sixteenth year of awesomeness and not as spry or lithe as I once was. Father has declared he’s done with climbing on the roof. Well, the recliner is my roof, and there will come a time when the danger is too great to bother with it. My bruised ego has already mended. I’m a senior now and having a great life. Don’t cry for me, Argentina.
Being given my very own pouf is a treasure and sign of love that I don’t take for granted. I’m a lucky cat. I don’t choose to sleep there as often since my tumble but the chair is still in rotation.
I wish you a wonderful week and many naps in your fave locales! And I hope you have the kind of love in your life that my beans have for me.