It’s that time again my pretties when your cuddly Queen of Southwold takes you on another journey of learning and bettering yourself. If not for your sake, then for mine and for all the precious cats and kittens of the world.
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The strangest thing happened on Sunday morning. Perhaps if I share it with you, my little armchair analysts, you can help me decipher what it means.
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Firstly this week, my furry and furless friends, I must address a perception that a minor few of you have developed about the one I call Mother, my typist, my litterbox sifter and second-favourite human bean.
…Father has been ill with a virus – not the one that’s been grabbing international headlines and causing worry. No, my extra-special human contracted a boring old strep throat virus. Sadly for me, he bounced back quickly. I don’t wish illness on him but the math is simple: Ailing Father + rest time = more opportunities to pet me. I really don’t see where the problem is.
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Hello my purrfect readers. What an eventful week it’s been for your favourite feline blogger. Pull up a footstool, relax your tail and let me tell you all about it.
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A special bond sometimes forms between higher and lower life forms. By higher, I mean, of course, we cats. And lower obviously refers to animals of the two-legged variety. Perhaps my fellow felines could glean some wisdom from the way I communicate with and – yes – possess my favourite human bean.
…Between the bed, couches, various ottomans, a futon and lots of area rugs, I thought I was well looked after in the nap locations department. And then the T-shirts came.
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Lest you believe the life of a house cat/indoor princess is predictable and boring, I am here today to relieve you of that fallacy.
…I perceive myself as a lady, a delicate flower, a feather-light being who flows through the world like a gentle breeze. So I’m not likely to engage in discussions about crass and vulgar topics. I keep my bathroom habits private. Well, I used to, until recent developments made it impossible. But I assure you, my little rosebuds, that there are no gross landmines ahead in this post.
…The sun did not shine. I was too tired to play. So I laid on the bed like I do every day.
…The Cat on the Socks (With Apologies to Dr. Seuss)Read More »
This holiday season has been filled with so many wonder-fur moments! The gifts, the joy, the long cozy naps. My world has been full of delights and activity, coupled with respect for my personal space.
…The most wonderful time of the year? I beg to differ. If it was so wonderful, I would be invited to participate in it.
…You’ve heard of writer’s block? I had a severe case of the feline equivalent – blogger’s paw – while my people were on their California trek. I did not feel the urge to share my thoughts, and I couldn’t reach the keyboard on my own.
…If you’re old enough, you might recognize today’s title as a song lyric from the 1972 soft rock hit, It Never Rains in Southern California. Albert Hammond wrote and sang it. And if you know the song, it goes on to say: It pours, man, it pours.
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It’s Father who breaks the news to me. First, he calls me his Little Sweetie. Although he does it often, it always brings a smile. Then, he marvels over the beauty of my little face. Again, nothing new. He rests his forehead on mine so I can take in a deep breath of his scent – these days it’s a mix of a wood fire, CK cologne, and of course, bacon. And just when I’m purring like a motor and reveling in his attention, he tells me he and Mother are going away for two weeks.
…Hello there, my cherished can-openers! How is every little thing in your world? Really, I’m only asking out of excessive politeness. You’re here to learn what’s new in my world. And this week, it’s all about my exceedingly generous heart.
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I’m already bored with calling my weekly blog Tuesday Sweets. I’m feeling a little sour today, actually. Annoyed. Fur in a knot. Deeply disappointed. Like someone else caught the mouse even though I did all of the chasing to tire it out.
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