Keeping snuggly warm in the freshly dried towels

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