Lap It Up

Hey readers. I’m actually awake, so I thought I’d write a post to you on my blog. I never knew how much fun this could be, especially since I’ve been spending most of my life to date sleeping, and basking in sunbeams. Well, okay, I admit it, I drop my face into the Friskies bowl fairly often during the day as well. Perhaps I should really be grooming myself a bit more carefully these days instead of taking up a new hobby like writing, but who’s really looking at an old critter like me? I only post my best retouched photos on the Internet, and Max and Cuddles, the impertinent sibs, could care less if my fur stands on spiky ends in the morning. And the goats, well, I’ve never heard them complain about my tangles. But my humans have lately been muttering something or other about getting me groomed. Something that may involve clippers. I’m not sure I like this idea very much. They tried to put me in the tub once in order to bathe me. They were under the impression that I enjoyed baths. This may be because the couple that drove me here from Connecticut mentioned that I was frequently bathed by the old lady. Lies, all lies! But my new people never put me in the tub again. Humans are quick learners. They may even be intelligent. I do see signs. However, they can also be rather annoying at times. In and out of the house at all hours, banging the doors. Tramping about. Disturbing my sleep. There are two teenagers living here with me. The young man has more fur than I do on his face. Personally, I like the look. Rather leonine.

Well, big news for the day is that I actually jumped on the kitchen table at breakfast. Scared the * out of the girl who only wanted to eat her Honey Nut Cheerios in peace. But I thought I’d like some too. They forget, sometimes, that I’m still a cat. Old, yes. Arthritic, yes. Heavy, yes. I admit even that I’m fat. But when I want something, I go for it. I don’t hold back. And that was cold tasty milk in that bowl, fresh from the fridge. Well, when I was just about to dive into the bowl, the girl’s mom picked me up with a grunt and a groan, (she always makes a fuss about my size), and set me down on the floor, and they were all amazed at me, while Max, the little stinkpot, snuck up behind and got a good lick and swallow in. Well, the next time they make spaghetti and meatballs, I know the girl is going to feed me some, right from her plate, and Max can just go have a hairball over that.

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