we cats invented the nap

mom's been out of town. as such, i was put in the care of my busy aunt and her skinny dog. they let me do whatever i want and when i annoy them enough, my bowl gets filled to the brim. every time mom comes home she holds me up, hands hooked under my armpits and air-weighs me. she is usually unhappy with the results yet this pattern remains.

on to other ideas.
i have suddenly grown quite comfortable with my cathood. i used to fight the cheese and mice and naps but these things all seem not-so-bad of late. mainly the nap part. mom's always been a marathon napper but these days i've got the market cornered. plus, i only have to close one eye...

poopdate

so i've been goin', regular. normally, i wait a few days, run into the living room, mew, and pass a giant load. things been different though and i'm not sure why. i find myself wandering into the crate and scratchin' the walls and the next thing you know, i'm regular. four days it's been and each day my poops are lifted square out of the box before i can say visual cortex. she's keeping it comfortable in there. nice ambiance. and she's keeping the water flowing and the food at bay.

she's still feedin me. no care packages please. i don't need no tiny cheese wrapped in wax. it's just she feeds me less, more often. i like it. i feel young again...and i'm cuttin' up like you wouldn't believe. I run rampant during the night and she just takes it, sleeps like a baby, knowing that she's not gonna step on a turd during a midnight snack attack.

i feel a little weird inside about all this. but good. saintly even. st. blindy. patron saint of proper poop dropping. it has a ring to it. it do.

double blind

here i am. in the blinds. no, it's not funny. it is relaxing, like a plastic cape that shields me from cold air, skinny dogs, and unwanted petting. actually, i'm just taking a little me-time, quiet time...so bug off.

my bad habits

getting to know me is like getting to know the underside of a comfy movie theater chair. i'm soft and cushy, but a look under the hood let's you in on all my dirty secrets. i pick my nose. kidding. kidding. that would be totally unreasonable. but i do...drum roll...lick, piss and poo at will anywhere.

on peeing...
okay okay. i want to use the box but it just leaks out. and once that happens you start to get used to leaving a little here and there until it's no big deal to just let one slide. you'd have me believe that you only have one toilet but i've seen that leak in the shower, the squatted pee in the grass. at least i'm leaking on carpet.

on pooing...
i'll give you this one. i don't even aim. i can't see the box and i'd rather not step into old mess so i just let these rip when the mood hits me. no sense spending ten minutes squatting when i can walk it out. sometimes i just keep it moving and leave a treat trail.

on licking...
i'm a nursing fool. i can't stop myself. i feel a nice shirt or blanket and it's soaked and torn in minutes. apparently they weaned me too soon. sightless runt that i was. how cruel.

i am a taker.

and a selfish taker too. mom feeds and brushes me. she cleans my mess. when i'm lonely she scratches my head and back endlessly. then i get that feeling under my skin, you know the one when you've been scratched in one place for too long. so i bite her. and i sit a few inches away so she can still see me and my glorious coat but no touchy.

it's true people i'm an ST. maybe if i had little kitties to care for, i'd learn otherwise but it is too late for that. so i'll just lie here and take in the sun and air conditioning.

i can meow!

i swear i did it! it happened like three times and it wasn't on accident. it sounded less like "me-ow" and more like "ah-ah." but it came out of me...

ah yes, back story. i cannot mew, meow, what have you. i was born with tumors on my eyes and taken from the pack of "normals" if you will at a very young age. the tumors grew and i couldn't see a damn thing. finally, my mom had one eye removed; it was bursting in the socket and oozing all the time. but the other eye, my "good" one, well let's just say i can see "the light." in any case, i tried living with this cat Harriet but she was always coming in for a fight and running away, laughing at me as i swatted at thin air. so mom, bless her, got rid of her/found her a good home[that's what you're supposed to say right?] and i was left alone. and i was quiet.

at about 2 years of age, i started to get "the fear." i'm not sure of what but when i heard wind whistling past my ears i knew something was amiss. perhaps it was an open door, or an unfriendly neighbor so i started to...i'm thinking of the words...bleat, chirp, click-click like a dolphin. i leave my mouth open and say "ah, ah, ah, ahh, ah, ah, ah" over and over again. i'm quite good at this.

i know what you are probably thinking. a blind, one-eyed cat that can't meow? yeah, yeah, but i can think and write and rally like a dolphin. turns out, i was as shocked as you, that meowing is not an inherent cat trait or i'm not a cat. so there you have it. so why meow now?

well, hard to say it, but i was once co-dependent. i followed mom around and i was terribly lonely when she was away. and then, this month [look, i've been through a hard time, it took a while] i started exerting my independence. so i'd walk right up to her, paw her leg and then prance [in a cute but forceful way] to my bowl. well, it wasn't working. so i started opening my mouth over the bowl in hopes of divine intervention.

for weeks it was just me standing there sniffing my own breath and then..."ah-eyow." something came out! i'm still working the kinks out but there is definitely some potential there and i plan on exploiting it to the fullest.

like tomorrow? six a.m. at six a.m., i turn into a rooster.

mom's gonna kill me; hopefully, she'll feed me first.

[chris is being very supportive of my new vocal chords. here he is helping me with my stretching exercises.]

hide and go seek

she found me. i was trying to stay very very still. i was also just hoping she'd leave me to my thoughts. i bugged her quite a bit last night and i have to say i am slightly worried about the backlash. i pawed the blinds [yes, me blindy, i did that] and pulled her hair and scratched up my 'apartment.' i was considering a carpet pee when she fed me. so i ate and hid. and no it was not a game. i'm too old for games. i just bite. yes, i will bite you. and i won't even look where i'm going. snap! time to get out of this spot and head for softer territory...

magic eye

if you look closely, you'll notice something's off about these pics of my eye. [hint: yeah, i know my eye's off, i'm not talking about that you idiot and, unless you're chewin' on the nip, don't expect one of those hidden pics from the nineties. [i'm a Y2K kitty]]

get in shape girl!

yeah, i'm talking about her. not me. i patrolled the yoga mat today, making sure that she was getting that core-work in. gotta keep her looking young. yes, i know what's coming...soon as she starts looking old she'll move to the top of a hill and start feeding strays. oh god, we already live on a hill! anyway, strays. that will not do. Plan A: get her in shape. Plan B: act retarded and attack anything that moves, even shadows. i got nuthin' on Plan C. i mean, you think i'm just hanging out but i'm worrying. shit is hanging over my head. and the pine litter, we'll it'll do so long as she's doing sit ups. i can already hear the ferals just scratchin' away at the door. dear god, i need a Plan C.

I'm a busy bee...

yeah, yeah, so it's been a while but that's how this goes. you say you are going to do one thing and then you do another. you head to your computer to blog about life and life happens. naps happen. poop happens. so here i am, up late at night, can't get a lick of shut eye since mom's been keeping me in a cage. she thinks it's keeping me from peeing on the carpet. god bless her efforts but i love to pee on carpet or any kind of rug or bedding. just the other day, she set me free and i ran to the front room and let one loose. now she's putting peat moss or some kind of pine scented hamster feed in my box. what happened to newspaper or clay? such a hippie. she's sleeps half nude and i gotta love her but with this fur coat i can't get to close...it's like she's menopausal some sort of martian, reheating in the night. it's unsafe i tell you; some days i pray to be locked in my cage. my own place i like to call it. shabby chic and all. alright alright bedtime naps happen. fuzzy blankets happen. zzzzzz.

hear me now and believe me later

it's me. blindy. i've been waiting for more than seven years to get the word out and here i am. on the air waves. looking good. i could lose a few but whose counting. my mom's in bed at noon again and i'm trying to teach her a lesson by being productive. someone has to make some money around here. so it's up to me now...the one-eyed, sightless wonder. meow.