So Mom brought me home a new toy today from Pet People. It is a little blue fat cat wearing shorts with an elastic band around the waist. The package said, “Stuff it” on the outside and you are supposed to “stuff” a pre-packed block of catnip into the waistband, making the fat cat look even fatter.
I know what Mom was insinuating with this gift. She was telling me that one fat cat (me) was getting another fat cat (the toy) and that we both closely resembled each other. The more catnip you pack in the pants, the fatter the toy cat gets.
Well, I don’t like Mom’s idea of a joke. She is just picking on me. I do not look like this toy. He is blue and he is wearing pants. See any resemblance? Neither do I.
I will have the last laugh. I am going to chew up this little fat cat, chew the fat and catnip right off his belly, so that all that is left is his polka dot pants.
So Mom came home with a gift for me today. She said it was for everyone, but I was the first one to jump in it, so that makes it mine. It was this super new bed that is round and squishy and oh, so lovely. I squeezed myself into it and still had plenty of room to squirm.
But then Mom came in the room and saw me in the new bed and she started laughing. She said I was unable to be contained within the bed’s boundaries and I was oozing out the edges like filling from a Twinkie.
I will not let Mom’s comments on my weight make me self conscious. I am so sweet that anyone would be happy to have an extra pound or two of me to love. Besides, I will have my revenge when I jump on Mom’s chest in the morning to wake her up. Rise and shine, Cupcake.
In the good old days, when I was just a kitten and before Mom decided to “save” every cat in the tri-state area, I was the King. I used to go to kitten daycare every day at Grandpa Bob’s house, because Mom didn’t want to leave me all alone in the house.
Well, things have sure changed now. I can’t even find a place in the house to get a moment of peace. And I don’t get to go to daycare any more, because there are plenty of other cats that I have to babysit here at home. Mom leaves me in charge every day when she leaves through that door at the back of the house. I’ve often wondered where she goes…nah, can’t be as much fun as I have sleeping all day.
Anyway, as I was saying before I got lost on that tangent, in the good old days, I used to ride in the car with Mom to go to kitten daycare. When it was cold outside, she would zip me up into her coat for the short walk from the house to the car so I would not get my toesies chilled. Mom used to call me the “kitten tortilla” when I was bundled up in her jacket.
Those days are long gone. Mom now says I wouldn’t even be able to fit in her jacket, because I have gained so much weight. Now I am on a diet and recently Mom brought home some new food that is supposed to be just for me. We’ll see if that food gets eaten or collects dust. More on that later.
Sigh..if only I could return to those times when I was a high roller, riding in Mom’s coat, King of the house. That’s how I used to roll.
Mom has been sneaking around now, trying to catch me doing different things, but the most she says she ever finds me doing is napping. I think she wants to catch me at the keyboard, typing my Blog, but I only work on this when she is away at the pharmacy for the day.
So here I am perched in my “cat tree” which is also, not only a “Lazee Boy” recliner, but a scratching post, too. In the mornings, Mom and I have a routine. I jump in the round bottom part of this post and she plays with me. I try to act like a wild cat to scare her by leaping around and grabbing at anything she flaps in my face, but after a while, all that jumping gets a bit tiring and I have to quit. I prefer to sit here and observe life.
Mom took a cat to clinic the other day who was named, M.O.T.O., which stood for “Merely Observing The Obvious.” Sometimes I feel like that is what I do all day long: watch everything and critique. Maybe my motto in life should be “M. O. T. O.” I am, after all, always scrutinizing my surroundings and stating the obvious about life.
For example, is it not obvious that humans are too busy? Why do they feel the need to have “to-do” lists and calendars and phones clipped on their hips to tell them how important they are because they are so overworked? I think that if you are truly important, you are like a cat. You have staff who takes care of the to-do lists and you get to snooze in the sun.
My advice is find someone else to do it. Delegate. Mom does everything for me.
I will have more to say in later observations about my new “M.O.T.O. motto.”
Yours (maybe I should delegate someone to write this Blog), Oswald P. Kitten, Esquire
I am a cat on a mission. I was laying on my bed, quite comfortable, when Mom pulled out the camera. I always hide my head when she wants me to pose–too many bright lights in my eyes. But Dad, said, “Hey, Oswald,” so I came running to see what he wanted and I said, “I’m coming” and then Mom snapped this picture of me with my mouth open talking. Thanks, Mom.
I decided that I was getting nowhere with my ideas on how to help Mom with her rescue work, so I asked Hector, my chubby buddy (hey, I even look thin lying next to him) if he had any ideas.
Here we are in a brainstorming power session. I’ll let you know what kind of revolutionary ideas we come up with.
Well, Mom caught me this morning, loafing around when I am supposed to be writing my Blog or coming up with schemes to increase revenue. She even had to sneak up on me to take my photo to prove I was not working as hard as I should. I would not make eye contact. If you pretend they are invisible, your moms will go away eventually and let you get back to napping.
I tried to tell her later that my penguin toy was helping me gather my thoughts. The soothing catnip stored in his belly always helps me think better.
Secondly, I really need my nails trimmed. It is very hard to type with long nails. So what does she expect? It is her fault if my nails are not cut and I can’t perform.
These were the things I was thinking about as I laid on my plaid bed. Actually I was just getting ready to go to sleep when she snuck up on me.
Yours truly, too tired to type more, Oswald P. Kitten, Esquire
So, here I sit in my favorite chair, trying to think what I can do to help Mom raise money for all those stray and feral cats she seems to like. Mom says that when I sit in my chair, I look like a little human. It is my favorite place to wile away the hours, in the wing chair in front of the fireplace. Mom says if I had a pipe and a little hat, someone would mistake me for a little old man. Mom thinks she is so funny.
But what can I do? How can I make some money off of this handsome face of mine? I can’t charge for “stud service” any more. Mom is too big into the spay and neuter stuff and she made sure I was neutered many, many years ago. So that blows that idea.
Perhaps, I could write a memoir of my eight years and my observations on how tiring humans can be–always running here and there. Slow down, Mom, and come lounge with me in my chair.
That Romeo cat has made my life too complicated. I just want to sit in my chair and cat nap, not try to think of money making schemes.
Yours truly, the financial cat guru, Oswald P. Kitten, Esquire
Okay, so I would just like to thank Aunt Bobbie for alerting Mom to this workaholic cat named Romeo who has his own blog and is on Twitter. Now Mom thinks I should be doing something similar to raise money to help all the needy cats in our area. I say, they can get jobs themselves and let me go back to napping. Gee whiz, don’t I have enough to do without trying to keep up with a cat with the obnoxiously sweet name of Romeo!!?
So, here is how it happened: Aunt Bobbie was reading The Columbus Dispatch yesterday and there was an article about Romeo and his human staff. Romeo the do-gooder raises money for rescue groups through Twitter and via Romeo’s Blog, which just basically features tons of cute photos of this fluff muffin Romeo. Granted, I don’t have that much hair, but I am still just as cute!
Romeo is a Persian cat (can we say high maintenance?) who came from a rescue group in Marysville that Mom once wrote an article about: The Forgotten Persian Rescue and Friends In fact, Renee, who started The Forgotten had a lot to do with setting up many of the spay and neuter programs at the Union County Humane Society, which is where I came from.
Romeo has over 6,000 followers on Twitter who get messages every day about what he is doing. Let me explain a cat’s life to you so you won’t have to continue getting his updates if you are one of his Twitter friends: We eat. We sleep. We try to get Mom to give us treats each time she goes in the kitchen. We sleep some more. Some where in there we use the litter pan and try to get under Mom’s feet so she will fall and knock herself in the head and forget that she just fed us and feed us more! And that sums up the hectic day most cats lead.
But if you would like to check out the cat who has made my life less relaxing, go to www.romeothecat.com and read how Romeo wakes his human staff each morning. I’ll tell you how I did it this morning: I clawed my way through half of that fuzzy monkey on Mom’s head that she calls a hairdo. Once she is bald it will be even easier to wake her with gentle, perfectly placed stabs with my claws.
I guess my days of cuddling in a warm dryer of freshly laundered towels are almost over. Mom is all atwitter about this Twitter thing. She is not as technologically hip as Romeo’s humans, though, so it may take her awhile to figure out how to get me involved with that. So for a while longer, I’ll find a warm place to nap and hope the only “twittering” I hear will be from the birds outside the window.
Your humble, non-Twittering friend (so far), Oswald P. Kitten, Esquire
Just to introduce myself, I used to be an only child, and believe me that is the way I liked it. If only I had had a few flaws. If I could go back, I would do lots of naughty things so Mom would think cats were awful and not want any others. As it was, I was so wonderful that she began to think about all the cats without homes, who were just as sweet as me and needed her help.
Of course, Mom was delusional. There are no other cats as charming and lovable as me. Instead, she began bringing home rejects that no one wanted, sickies who were constantly giving me the sniffles, and kittens. Kittens!! Is there anything to be said about kittens? They smell. They steal your food. They chase your tail and want you to get up off your pillow and play with them. Plus, everyone is always looking past your fine feline qualities to exclaim, “Oh, how cute,” when the kittens drag toilet paper through the house or roll around pretending they need their bellies rubbed.
Give me a break.
So now my mom is always fostering these other homeless cats and expecting me to enjoy the experience. But honestly, I just want the good old days back when I had her all to myself. Times when a whole bag of treats belonged to me only. Times when she would open can after can of food to find one I liked because I had such discerning taste (no way that happens now–someone else inhales it before I can even get to the plate). Times when I rode in the car with her, safely seat belted in, hair blowing in the wind from the air conditioning vent (now we only ride in the car when I have to see that evil human called ‘THE VET’). Times when she zipped me into the front of her coat so I wouldn’t get cold when we walked to the car and she called me her ‘kitten burrito.’
Ah, I’d give my left whiskers to go back to those times. I am getting to be an older cat and I don’t want to share forever. So adopt all these cats already and give me some peace.
Yours as a former only child, Oswald P. Kitten, Esquire