Posy Poser

Our youngest cat, Patches, is normally a reticent creature. She prefers her own company and generally ventures out only when she feels the urgent need for a tasty treat. Occasionally I am granted the privilege of petting her. Even less often do we hear her purr.

So when Patches emerged from one of her hideaways to pose with a couple of flower arrangements, I had to take her picture. It’s like she was aware of the pretty picture she made.

I give you, Floral Arrangements with Cat:

Peace, people.

Saturday Morning Cat

Scout NEEDED me on Saturday morning. She climbed into my lap while I was enjoying a cup of coffee, turned three lazy circles, and then settled onto my chest. I was thoroughly snuggled, head butted, and purred over for at least an hour. She let me kiss her velvety ears and her kitty cat nose. She petted my cheek with one tissue-soft paw. We enjoyed a veritable love fest for many soothing minutes.

I knew Scout would most likely go on to ignore my existence for the rest of the day, such is the nature of felines, so I enjoyed every second of her unfettered affections. Maybe I can book an appointment for another such visit today.

The Struggle is Real. And Purrs.

Our cat, Scout Elizabeth, has a fondness, and an almost radar-like detection ability, for freshly laundered sheets. No matter how much I attempt to make the bed without Scout’s assistance I never can pull it off.

I’d just gotten one of the fitted sheets on the bed this afternoon, thinking maybe this one time I’d get the job done with no interference, when Scout popped up and acted like she’d been there all afternoon by casually giving herself a bath.

She knew I’d continue making the bed, but did she care? Nope. Note the lump.

And even as I added the bedspread she stood her ground and purred.

I love this lump.

Peace, people.

Minimalist Challenge, Day 17

You’re going to have to trust me that there are 17 items pictured for Day 17, plus four more to offset the motorcycle I bought yesterday. Within thirty seconds of my placing this collection of stickers and cards, receipts and brochures on the dining room floor I had a great deal of assistance from the felines who reside at Doright Manor.

Not only did they help me spread the items out, but they then proceeded to guard them from further interference. So, while all this detritus (with the exception of the cats) will go into the recycling bin, disposal will have to wait until Scout and Patches say it’s okay.

Peace, people.

Mom, There’s Plenty of Room for Me

Patches let me know she wanted to join me on my trip to Houston in a not so subtle way this morning. Even after I reminded her that she detests car trips and would hate a two hour flight even more, she persisted in laying claim to my overnight bag.

Studly Doright promised to take good care of her and sister, Scout. Patches, though, thinks Studly is shady and never trusts his advances. She’s a smart kitty.

Peace, people!

Two Wrongs; One Write

I generally have a blog post in the queue and ready to publish at 7:05 a.m. This morning, Wednesday, October 4, 2017, I had nothing. Oh, there were a few words typed into a draft: “milk, cat litter,” but only because I’d accidentally written my shopping list on a blank page in WordPress.

For a moment I wondered what I could do with those words. A poem combining the two concepts of homogenized liquids and cat hygiene, perhaps? Hmmm. Not today, but the topic has possibilities.

As I pondered what to write I heard one of my cats in the throes of dislodging a hairball, so I rolled out of bed to clean up the mess. With a box of baby wipes in one hand and a paper towel in the other I went in search of cat puke. Scout was sitting like a lady in the dining room admiring her artwork which she’d deposited on the carpeting literally two inches from the tiled hallway.

“Dammit, Scout, couldn’t you have turned your head to the right just a fraction and avoided the rug?” I asked, knowing that was a rhetorical question. She never pukes on the tile.

As I bent over to attend to the mushy hair ball mess my nose began to run. I swiped one of the baby wipes under my nose and continued cleaning. Not to be outdone, my nose continued leaking like a faulty faucet. I swiped at it again, only then noticing that my nose wasn’t dripping snot, but blood. So now I was dealing with two icky bodily emissions. Two wrongs, if you will, giving me something to write.

As I finish typing this the time is 6:55 a.m. Looks like I’ll make my self-imposed deadline after all.

Hurricane Cat

We adopted our precious cat, Scout, after Hurricane Charley in 2004. We lived in Melbourne, Florida, at the time, and Scout along with her brother had been found wandering alone once the storm passed through our area. I wrote a story about her adoption, and it never fails to make me cry. That’s like laughing at one’s own joke, I suppose.

https://nananoyz5formewordpress.wordpress.com/2014/08/22/the-rescue-of-scout/

Scout is now around fourteen years old. She’s still playful and likes to play fetch. She sleeps more than she once did, but she’s still a sweet cat who loves to snuggle. Some day we’ll have to say goodbye to our Scout, but we hope we’ll be graced with her presence for many more years.

I found her snoozing on a fresh from the dryer towel one afternoon. That’s my girl.

Peace, people.

Bandit, My Great-Grandhedgehog

Our oldest granddaughter has a sweet little hedgehog named Bandit. Until yesterday I'd only been able to see Bandit via FaceTime, but finally we got to meet face to face.

She's such a sweet little bit of fluffiness! Unfortunately she had to stay behind while the grandkids and I travel to Florida. I promised Bandit we'd stay in touch via the internet. She was fine with that.

Peace, people!