you can't eat that!
12:34 AM Eastern Time
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Kitty in the kitchen
I am experiencing much stress, for my one mom with the tasty hair now has A LOT LESS TASTY HAIR. A few days ago she left the house with her normal tasty hair, and then a little while later she came back with maybe only a third remaining. It doesn't taste any different--I've already determined this--but it sure looks different. I don't like change. Change puts me under stress. CHANGE IS NOT GOOD.
When I am under stress (and I hear this is also true of humans), I behave differently. Sometimes stress leads me to scratch behind my ears; other times it prompts me to lick myself more; and still other times it cause me to hang around my moms pretty much constantly, except when I need to use the facilities.
This time I have apparently been a VERY BAD CAT. Here is what I have been doing:
My moms were at a picnic and brought home a knife that had been used to cut some meat. My one mom with the comfy lap put it on the kitchen counter and assured my other mom that YES LOVE I WILL WASH THIS AND TAKE IT BACK because it doesn't actually belong to my moms. As my moms went about their evening activities, I went about jumping up on the counter and licking the knife. Indeed, I was very careful not to cut my tongue on the knife, and I was very quiet and sweet about the whole business. Then my mom with the tasty hair came into the kitchen and it was all BAD CAT! NO MEAT KNIVES FOR CATS! and I went scurrying off to another part of the house, where I could lick the last vestiges of raw meat from my lips in peace.
Then last night my mom with the tasty hair heard a little tinkling sound in the kitchen. She went in to investigate and interrupted my own investigation. I had been checking out the pretty little glass thingies in the china cabinet, all quietly and sweetly until one of the pretty little glass thingies caught the light and I got all interested and accidentally knocked it over.
My moms have been leaving the china cabinet open a little because it still smells like varnish sometimes, and my one mom with the comfy lap says this makes the stuff in the pretty little glass thingies taste funny. So it's not like I opened the door myself. Well, okay, I did open the door myself, but IT WAS UNLATCHED WHEN I FOUND IT.
So it was all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT USE STEMWARE! and so I scrambled to another part of the house while my mom with the tasty hair confirmed that I had not actually broken any of the pretty little glass thingies, only REARRANGED THEM A LITTLE BIT.
Maybe I should find out if my mom can get the rest of her tasty hair put back on. I think this would help matters immensely.
When I am under stress (and I hear this is also true of humans), I behave differently. Sometimes stress leads me to scratch behind my ears; other times it prompts me to lick myself more; and still other times it cause me to hang around my moms pretty much constantly, except when I need to use the facilities.
This time I have apparently been a VERY BAD CAT. Here is what I have been doing:
My moms were at a picnic and brought home a knife that had been used to cut some meat. My one mom with the comfy lap put it on the kitchen counter and assured my other mom that YES LOVE I WILL WASH THIS AND TAKE IT BACK because it doesn't actually belong to my moms. As my moms went about their evening activities, I went about jumping up on the counter and licking the knife. Indeed, I was very careful not to cut my tongue on the knife, and I was very quiet and sweet about the whole business. Then my mom with the tasty hair came into the kitchen and it was all BAD CAT! NO MEAT KNIVES FOR CATS! and I went scurrying off to another part of the house, where I could lick the last vestiges of raw meat from my lips in peace.
Then last night my mom with the tasty hair heard a little tinkling sound in the kitchen. She went in to investigate and interrupted my own investigation. I had been checking out the pretty little glass thingies in the china cabinet, all quietly and sweetly until one of the pretty little glass thingies caught the light and I got all interested and accidentally knocked it over.My moms have been leaving the china cabinet open a little because it still smells like varnish sometimes, and my one mom with the comfy lap says this makes the stuff in the pretty little glass thingies taste funny. So it's not like I opened the door myself. Well, okay, I did open the door myself, but IT WAS UNLATCHED WHEN I FOUND IT.
So it was all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT USE STEMWARE! and so I scrambled to another part of the house while my mom with the tasty hair confirmed that I had not actually broken any of the pretty little glass thingies, only REARRANGED THEM A LITTLE BIT.
Maybe I should find out if my mom can get the rest of her tasty hair put back on. I think this would help matters immensely.
Labels: household items
11:19 PM Eastern Time
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Shake it
My moms have this game that my one mom (with the tasty hair) absolutely loves and my other mom (with the comfy lap) merely tolerates. I understand the difference between loving and merely tolerating. For example: I love PICKING UP SPIDERS AND CARRYING THEM ABOUT THE HOUSE, but I merely tolerate my moms PICKING ME UP AND CARRYING ME ABOUT THE HOUSE. Or, for another example: I love THE SMELL OF TUNA FROM THE CAN, but I merely tolerate NOT BEING ALLOWED TO HAVE ANY.
My mom with the comfy lap has such a great love for my mom with the tasty hair that she merely tolerates this particular game quite frequently. My moms play this game a couple of times a week sometimes. My mom with the comfy lap makes such frustrated noises sometimes that you would think maybe someone was trying to TRIM HER BACK CLAWS.
When my moms play this game, I experience GREAT CONFUSION. They pull out the box and all its parts, and suddenly there is this DIVINE RATTLE that sounds for all the world EXACTLY LIKE MY TREATS. So naturally I come running to the kitchen, thinking I am going to get a handful of crunchy, fishy bits, and each time I am SORELY DISAPPOINTED BY THE LACK OF TREATS and you can bet I make my disappointment audibly apparent.
One time my mom with the comfy lap decided to dump some of the game's parts on the floor. My moms sometimes put little things on the floor, leaves and fruit and such, in an attempt to help me learn that they are not good to eat. This never works. In the middle of the night, I just get so hungry that I seek out all stuff my moms think they've shown me I dislike. I do actually like this stuff. I just humor my moms so that I can barf up stuff all over the house while they sleep. QED.
Anyway, when my mom dumped the game's parts on the floor, I got SO TERRIBLY EXCITED because first there was the DIVINE RATTLE, which means TREATS ARE COMING! And then there were the bits on the floor, which means TREATS ARE HERE! And oh, was I disappointed when the bits on the floor turned out to be LITTLE CUBES OF PLASTIC, which SMELLED LIKE BAGS but were approximately the size of ATOMIC JAWBREAKERS.
I was not pleased with my mom with the comfy lap. So I decided to send her a little reminder about the order of the universe:
My mom with the comfy lap has such a great love for my mom with the tasty hair that she merely tolerates this particular game quite frequently. My moms play this game a couple of times a week sometimes. My mom with the comfy lap makes such frustrated noises sometimes that you would think maybe someone was trying to TRIM HER BACK CLAWS.
When my moms play this game, I experience GREAT CONFUSION. They pull out the box and all its parts, and suddenly there is this DIVINE RATTLE that sounds for all the world EXACTLY LIKE MY TREATS. So naturally I come running to the kitchen, thinking I am going to get a handful of crunchy, fishy bits, and each time I am SORELY DISAPPOINTED BY THE LACK OF TREATS and you can bet I make my disappointment audibly apparent.
One time my mom with the comfy lap decided to dump some of the game's parts on the floor. My moms sometimes put little things on the floor, leaves and fruit and such, in an attempt to help me learn that they are not good to eat. This never works. In the middle of the night, I just get so hungry that I seek out all stuff my moms think they've shown me I dislike. I do actually like this stuff. I just humor my moms so that I can barf up stuff all over the house while they sleep. QED.
Anyway, when my mom dumped the game's parts on the floor, I got SO TERRIBLY EXCITED because first there was the DIVINE RATTLE, which means TREATS ARE COMING! And then there were the bits on the floor, which means TREATS ARE HERE! And oh, was I disappointed when the bits on the floor turned out to be LITTLE CUBES OF PLASTIC, which SMELLED LIKE BAGS but were approximately the size of ATOMIC JAWBREAKERS.
I was not pleased with my mom with the comfy lap. So I decided to send her a little reminder about the order of the universe:
