Sunday, February 05, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Tying On The Old Feedbag
Good to be back in the kitty blogosphere. Someone who's name we won't mention has been pretty lousy about prioritizing his life in order that it revolve around me. Coming home every night past 8 oclock and pretending his health is bad. What an actor. He better not be stopping off somewhere to spend time with another cat. The consequences would be severe. What am I going to do with him? Tell me, oh furry friends.
Anyway, I know you worthy felines hang on my every word and action, so here is a shot showing proper eating technique. The bowl is a Fire King 6 inch custard, circa 1958 (my Waterford was dirty - more falling down on the job by you know who). On the menu tonight is Purina Indoor Cat - very tasty. See how I literally hunch myself over the bowl. That is proper eating technique. This keeps other cats from butting in and ruining my action. Even if no other cats are around, proper form is important. And then, of course, the water is handy to wash down the last morsel. I insist on fresh water every morning, and it must be filtered. My enjoyment is his priority number 1.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Prey's Wonderful Afternoon
Oh, sister and brother kitties, it was 74 degrees this afternoon. I spent the whole afternoon rolling around on the warm concrete and taking little naps. Only came in 3 times for a little snack. And there was fresh rainwater to drink in my outside bowl. Delicious! Didn't find any tasty critters though.
Here I am looking over the fence. That is because Orangie was in the side yard between the houses. I yowled at him a few times and he yowled back and then I got bored. Then I went to visit the tree that is a favorite of both Henry and me. It is an Afghan Pine that R planted just one year ago. Because of the special attention us two kitties give it, it has grown almost a foot in one year. There are other trees in my backyard, but they don't have any leaves close to the ground and there is nothing to aim at. Tee Hee!
Thursday, January 26, 2006
I Love Bed
Here I am getting my rems before you know who spoils the party. This blanket is very nice. It's not as nice as the fuzzy tiger blanket that makes me think I am a week old kitten again. Talk about your sublime treading. I have a queen size bed and I usually sleep on the left hand side, where the heating vent blows on me. Mmmmm. It's really fun to slowly inch the old boy over during the night until he is almost falling off the bed. Then he wakes up and says some really funny stuff. It took me years to perfect this technique. I wake up around 3 every morning and have to go out to pay the water bill. I have him so well trained that he wakes up when my feet hit the floor. Well broken in. Plus, for a human, he's a darn good bed warmer. One big difference is that I wake up looking picture perfect, he wakes up looking like heck warmed over. This is very funny to me also. We can't all be lucky enough to be born feline.
Monday, January 23, 2006
My 4 Babies - by Prey
Henry is busy tonight playing with his ball of string, so I get two in a row. I am going to tell you all about my babies. About 5 years ago, my mommy decided not to re-up her AirForce enlistment, so we left Wichita and moved to Dallas, in with Grandma A. and Grandpa R. It was the first time Hunter and I were out of that apartment for a long time. We settled in okay, although Hunter and the other 3 boy cats were always trying to prove who was the toughest. Anyway, I got to feeling really funny one day, hard to describe, kind of like having an itch you just can't reach. Mommy Sarah was going away for the weekend and gave strict orders not to let me out. Well, Granpda R opened the back door for about 3 seconds and ZOOM I was gone and over the fence, into the alley. I met this big orange cat named Krusty and he showed me the sights.
Some time later I started getting kinda puffy and they all made a big fuss. I lived in Sarah's room at the time, and I made a nest in her closet. And late one night I had my babies. There were four of them and they were all perfect. It was all I could do to keep tabs on them, especially one night when there was a thunderstorm. I hid them all in a cheezy loveseat mommy insisted on bringing to Texas. Those kittens played and slept and played and nursed and played. There was only one boy, and grandpa R named him Blackie. He wanted to keep Blackie, but there were already 4 other boys. Then there was Prissy. She could jump 4 feet straight up in the air from a standing still position. The prettiest was named Fluff, she had thick fur and she would sit and watch the others play. The fourth was Blaze, and she lived here until grandma moved away. We were not that close, but I was so proud to be her Mom. This is her picture. She has only eaten cat food once or twice in her whole life, and one time she tried it she threw it back up on grandma's feet. Everybody laughed! Ruggiero would actually cook for her. She especially liked the way he prepared her favorite Tilapia, just the right amount of garlic and butter. He would make that at 6 in the morning for that spoiled little girl of mine. He practically worshipped that little cat. She loves Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Vietnamese. Anything but cat food. Her favorite thing on earth is cheese. She won't eat tofu, though, and grandma eats all kinds of vegan stuff. Poor spoiled Blaze. Ha Ha!
The other 3 kittens went to good homes, the women and Grandpa R asked all kinds of nosey questions and even turned some people down. They took me for an operation a few months later and I haven't had that weird feeling since. Thanks for reading my story. Time for some Friskie's Turkey and giblets and then a nice nap in the yellow room.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Rebel Without a Cause
Hi everybody, this is Prey. Henry is sleeping and grandpa R is out driving around in the rain. He is ecstatic about the rain, but I am indifferent to it. He took a picture of our neighbor, Orangie, and so here he is. He sort of lives next door with an older lady who has a bunch of cats living upstairs. I heard she was something called a "recluse", whatever that is, but she loves cats, so she is okay with me. Grandpa likes her too, even though he hasn't actually seen her in over a year. Anyway, she feeds Orangie in her back yard, but R puts food out for him as well.
I don't know why, but none of us other kitties like Orangie. Not Henry or me, not the nice orange cat on the other side, and not Slickie or Blaze, who used to live here until last year (where did they go, anyway?). Just something about his attitude. Sometimes he comes up to our patio door looking for food and I throw myself at the glass screaming. Not at all like me. I think he finds that amusing, because he doesn't go away. My daughter Blaze, who is not much bigger than me, used to attack him like she was crazy. He would jump over the fence to get away from her. The funny thing is, I think he is the son of the father of my babies. Does that make us related? Maybe it's that whole inlaw thing.
There's just something about his freewheeling attitude that gets under my fur. Plus he scents everthing in sight. Sometimes he sneaks in the pet door into the kitchen and eats our food. Grandpa says he's just a poor young cat who lived in the alley too long and that we should all play nice. Whatever. Aren't you surprised that such a sweet pussycat as myself has these feelings? Next time I will tell you about my kittens.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
A Perfect Day
On a mild day like this in January, there is only one place a smart cat like me wants to be. Outside in my flower bed. This is the shady flower bed. the other side of the porch is the sunny side. See me poking my head into those bushes? I spend whole days deep inside, right next to the crepe myrtle where there is a little clearing. No one can see me. Not much going on. The mailman said hi to me. I just stared at him The human is running some kind of noisy thing in the room with the bare floors. Incedibly irritating. Think I'll stay out here until it gets dark.