you can't eat that!
8:36 PM Eastern Time
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Substitute moms
My moms went away for A REALLY LONG TIME last week.
My moms assure me that they were not actually gone for that long. My one mom, with the comfy lap, went away for three days, and my other mom, with the tasty hair, went away for three additional days. When I complained about their impending departure (I always know because of the SUITCASES ON THE BED), my moms were all WE ARE GOING TO YOUR GRANDPARENTS' TO EAT TURKEY and WE WILL BE BACK SOON and YOU WILL HAVE LOTS OF FUN VISITORS IN THE MEANTIME.
The part about the turkey bothered me for two reasons. First, I have turkey twice a day, every single day, and I only have to run back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen a bunch of times for this to occur. I do not have to leave the house to eat turkey, so why would my moms have to leave the house to eat turkey? Second, my mom with the tasty hair DOES NOT EAT MEAT and so why would she leave the house for the express purpose of eating something she won't eat anyway?
I did, however, have lots of fun visitors. Some of my moms' friends came over the first night, and others came over the second night. On the first night it was my moms' friend who has Oreo and a whole bunch of other cats. On the second night it was my moms' friend who has Charlie and Lucy and another friend who has Butterscotch. I don't know Butterscotch or Oreo but I have learned a lot from Charlie and Lucy.
When my moms' friends who have Charlie and Lucy and Butterscotch were here, I was really missing my moms. They had been gone for A REALLY LONG TIME even though my moms' friends said it had really only been 24 hours. 24 hours is three meals (assuming the first one occurs at the start of 24 hours), which is definitely A REALLY LONG TIME.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
So I chewed on the hair of my moms' friend who has Charlie and Lucy, and I sat in the lap of my moms' friend who has Butterscotch.
It just wasn't the same.
My moms assure me that they were not actually gone for that long. My one mom, with the comfy lap, went away for three days, and my other mom, with the tasty hair, went away for three additional days. When I complained about their impending departure (I always know because of the SUITCASES ON THE BED), my moms were all WE ARE GOING TO YOUR GRANDPARENTS' TO EAT TURKEY and WE WILL BE BACK SOON and YOU WILL HAVE LOTS OF FUN VISITORS IN THE MEANTIME.
The part about the turkey bothered me for two reasons. First, I have turkey twice a day, every single day, and I only have to run back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen a bunch of times for this to occur. I do not have to leave the house to eat turkey, so why would my moms have to leave the house to eat turkey? Second, my mom with the tasty hair DOES NOT EAT MEAT and so why would she leave the house for the express purpose of eating something she won't eat anyway?
I did, however, have lots of fun visitors. Some of my moms' friends came over the first night, and others came over the second night. On the first night it was my moms' friend who has Oreo and a whole bunch of other cats. On the second night it was my moms' friend who has Charlie and Lucy and another friend who has Butterscotch. I don't know Butterscotch or Oreo but I have learned a lot from Charlie and Lucy.
When my moms' friends who have Charlie and Lucy and Butterscotch were here, I was really missing my moms. They had been gone for A REALLY LONG TIME even though my moms' friends said it had really only been 24 hours. 24 hours is three meals (assuming the first one occurs at the start of 24 hours), which is definitely A REALLY LONG TIME.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
So I chewed on the hair of my moms' friend who has Charlie and Lucy, and I sat in the lap of my moms' friend who has Butterscotch.
It just wasn't the same.
Labels: moms
1:44 PM Eastern Time
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Fiber
Most of the time I write about my moms telling me YOU CAN'T EAT THAT and my not understanding what the big deal is. I hereby make a confession that yesterday I ATE SOMETHING WHICH I SHOULD NOT HAVE EATEN.
My one mom, with the comfy lap, was sitting someplace and working on something very important when all of a sudden she realized I had VOMITED UPON THE FLOOR. This is not an altogether uncommon event after my actual mealtimes, but when it happens in the middle of the afternoon it is usually because I have sampled something delicious off the floor.
So my one mom went to investigate and found that I had coughed up a VERY SMALL PIECE OF WOOD, about 1/8" by 1/2". Upon examination of this evidence, my one mom started to worry that maybe I had hurt my insides with it. So she called the place where I get THINGS STUCK IN VERY PRIVATE LOCATIONS and everyone there thought I had eaten some potpourri.
But we do not have potpourri in the house. I don't actually know what potpourri is, but the one thing I do know about it is that it is a SMELLY THING. I also know that my other mom, with the tasty hair, is VERY ALLERGIC TO SMELLY THINGS. Therefore, we must not have potpourri in the house, and therefore also I did not eat potpourri. QED.
Anyway, the people at the place where they stick things in my private locations said that I was probably fine unless I either (a) got lethargic or (b) vomited more stuff upon the floor. My mom with the comfy lap noted that I was not at all lethargic. In fact I was quite happily walking across her lap and drooling on her and trying to make her pet me by inserting my head under her hand. I had also completely forgotten about the vomiting. Therefore I was probably fine. QED.
But the people also said that I COULD NOT HAVE DINNER because maybe I wasn't fine.
THIS WAS NOT FINE WITH ME.
I begged and begged and begged all evening to get my moms to go against medical advice. I pulled out all the stops. I MEOWED and I did TRICKS and I did a lot of SNUGGLING and I even GROOMED MY MOMS just to show how fine I was. But they would not relent. And in fact it was all CATS WHO EAT WOOD DON'T GET DINNER, and NO DINNER FOR YOU, YOU ATE WOOD and so forth.
I have now been fortified by breakfast, WHICH WAS MY FIRST MEAL IN 24 HOURS, and I realize my mistake. My moms occasionally let me eat some cereal, which has fiber in it and which does not hurt my insides and which is also fun to bat about on the kitchen floor. I think maybe I will stick to cereal and stop eating splinters.
And maybe my moms will not figure out that when I get some of their cereal after polishing off my morning dose of turkey and giblets, really this amounts to my having TWO BREAKFASTS.
My one mom, with the comfy lap, was sitting someplace and working on something very important when all of a sudden she realized I had VOMITED UPON THE FLOOR. This is not an altogether uncommon event after my actual mealtimes, but when it happens in the middle of the afternoon it is usually because I have sampled something delicious off the floor.
So my one mom went to investigate and found that I had coughed up a VERY SMALL PIECE OF WOOD, about 1/8" by 1/2". Upon examination of this evidence, my one mom started to worry that maybe I had hurt my insides with it. So she called the place where I get THINGS STUCK IN VERY PRIVATE LOCATIONS and everyone there thought I had eaten some potpourri.
But we do not have potpourri in the house. I don't actually know what potpourri is, but the one thing I do know about it is that it is a SMELLY THING. I also know that my other mom, with the tasty hair, is VERY ALLERGIC TO SMELLY THINGS. Therefore, we must not have potpourri in the house, and therefore also I did not eat potpourri. QED.
Anyway, the people at the place where they stick things in my private locations said that I was probably fine unless I either (a) got lethargic or (b) vomited more stuff upon the floor. My mom with the comfy lap noted that I was not at all lethargic. In fact I was quite happily walking across her lap and drooling on her and trying to make her pet me by inserting my head under her hand. I had also completely forgotten about the vomiting. Therefore I was probably fine. QED.
But the people also said that I COULD NOT HAVE DINNER because maybe I wasn't fine.
THIS WAS NOT FINE WITH ME.
I begged and begged and begged all evening to get my moms to go against medical advice. I pulled out all the stops. I MEOWED and I did TRICKS and I did a lot of SNUGGLING and I even GROOMED MY MOMS just to show how fine I was. But they would not relent. And in fact it was all CATS WHO EAT WOOD DON'T GET DINNER, and NO DINNER FOR YOU, YOU ATE WOOD and so forth.
I have now been fortified by breakfast, WHICH WAS MY FIRST MEAL IN 24 HOURS, and I realize my mistake. My moms occasionally let me eat some cereal, which has fiber in it and which does not hurt my insides and which is also fun to bat about on the kitchen floor. I think maybe I will stick to cereal and stop eating splinters.
And maybe my moms will not figure out that when I get some of their cereal after polishing off my morning dose of turkey and giblets, really this amounts to my having TWO BREAKFASTS.
Labels: floor candy
12:45 AM Eastern Time
Monday, November 06, 2006
I am the original odor eater
I have a confession:
I like FEET.
I like my one mom's feet and I like my other mom's feet. I only like my one mom's armpits (that's my mom with the tasty hair) and I only like my one mom's nose (that's my mom with the comfy lap). But I like the feet of both my moms. I like BOTH FEET of BOTH MY MOMS.
I like the feet of my mom with the comfy lap best when she's been walking around the house all day without any shoes or socks. I like the feet of my mom with the tasty hair best when she has been walking around all day with shoes and socks on.
Sometimes I have to STICK MY HEAD IN MY ONE MOM'S SHOES in order to get my fix. This is what I like best about the feet of my mom with the tasty hair--they fragrance her shoes.
Both my moms catch me playing with my one mom's shoes. Tonight my mom with the tasty hair found me and it was all CAT, WHY ARE YOU SUCKING ON MY SHOELACES? I got a final few slurps in before I was REDIRECTED UP THE STAIRS and that was the end of that.
But unlike plastic bags, shoelaces don't make any noise when I suck on them. Which means that maybe I can get my fix BEFORE MY MOMS EVEN WAKE UP IN THE MORNING and they will never even know. This is an excellent idea, I think, except maybe the shoelace will be soggy and I will be REDIRECTED ONCE AGAIN.
Hm. I shall have to ponder this in the night.
I like FEET.
I like my one mom's feet and I like my other mom's feet. I only like my one mom's armpits (that's my mom with the tasty hair) and I only like my one mom's nose (that's my mom with the comfy lap). But I like the feet of both my moms. I like BOTH FEET of BOTH MY MOMS.
I like the feet of my mom with the comfy lap best when she's been walking around the house all day without any shoes or socks. I like the feet of my mom with the tasty hair best when she has been walking around all day with shoes and socks on.
Sometimes I have to STICK MY HEAD IN MY ONE MOM'S SHOES in order to get my fix. This is what I like best about the feet of my mom with the tasty hair--they fragrance her shoes.Both my moms catch me playing with my one mom's shoes. Tonight my mom with the tasty hair found me and it was all CAT, WHY ARE YOU SUCKING ON MY SHOELACES? I got a final few slurps in before I was REDIRECTED UP THE STAIRS and that was the end of that.
But unlike plastic bags, shoelaces don't make any noise when I suck on them. Which means that maybe I can get my fix BEFORE MY MOMS EVEN WAKE UP IN THE MORNING and they will never even know. This is an excellent idea, I think, except maybe the shoelace will be soggy and I will be REDIRECTED ONCE AGAIN.
Hm. I shall have to ponder this in the night.
Labels: household items
3:27 PM Eastern Time
Friday, November 03, 2006
Habla la gata
My one mom, with the tasty hair, is learning Spanish. My other mom, with the comfy lap, already knows Spanish; but my mom with the tasty hair said I DON'T WANT YOU TO TEACH ME SPANISH, for reasons unknown, and so she goes off to a classroom two nights a week instead.
As previously mentioned, I am extremely talented in that I can read with my head or my butt, while I am awake or while I am asleep. Utilizing a combination of these methods, I have taken it upon myself to learn Spanish along with my one mom.
My favorite thing thus far is this exercise from her workbook, in which a cat offers her INCREDIBLE DAILY AUTOBIOGRAPHY:
I will now demonstrate my knowledge of Spanish by translating this passage. Witness my linguistic prowess:
These fleas, these fleas! I'm here on the sofa, extremely bored. This is because my masters do not pay any attention to me. Only the kids in the family, Ernestito and Guillermo, play with me. And I really don't like to play with them. Sometimes they treat me badly, like a toy. Oy vey!
My masters, Ernesto and Estela, don't know that I am extremely observant. They probably think that I only like to eat and sleep. Oy vey! Human beings do not understand animals--especially not us cats.
Every day my masters do the same things. Estela, my mistress, wakes up early and goes to the kitchen to drink this hot black stuff that they all drink every morning. They call it "coffee." After that, my mistress calls to my master, but he always wants to sleep just a little bit longer. So she opens the curtains in the bedroom and lets in a lot of light. "Good God!" shouts my master. "Too much light! I can't open my eyes, Estela!"
Then my master knocks on her daughter Amanda's door, and the girl leaves her room. Amanda always greets her mother like this: "Good morning!" The young woman in this family has no problem with waking up. But Ernestito and Guillermo definitely have problems! Estela goes to their bedroom and wakes them up. They also want to sleep a little bit longer. "Time to go to school!" says my mistress. And the boys slowly wake up.
Ernesto takes a shower, gets dressed, reads the newspaper, drinks that black stuff and says some complicated things that I just don't understand. My mistress and this lady Berta (who does the housework and lives with us) prepare breakfast for the family. They always eat breakfast together. (Mmmmm. These human beings eat so much more than we cats!) Afterward, Ernesto and his kids leave and my mistress stays in the house.
Estela then picks me up and puts me outside, saying, "Go, Manchitas! Go look for mice!" It's really cold in the morning and I don't like to be outside, so I always either find myself a little bit of sunshine or jump at the window. I can see my mistress through the window--she's behind it. She takes a shower, gets dressed, puts on her makeup, makes the bed... every day, the same exact things! Later Berta cleans off the furniture and runs the vacuum. Meow! I really hate that machine!
My mistress goes out with Berta in the afternoon. I think they go to the supermarket, because they come back with food. And I stick around by myself on the patio. I amuse myself by climbing around outside the garden. Ernestito's dog, Lobo, lives in the garden. And in the next house over there is a dog named Sultan. The two dogs jump and jump around to try to get over to me. Ha ha! They can't climb up there--they're too fat! And man, do they bark! Ernestito really likes Sultan; he says he wants him to come live with us. But we already have a dog. Two dogs in the house? Meow!
At night my masters eat and give me the leftovers. After they eat, they go visit the neighbors or take a stroll around the neighborhood. The kids look at this bright thing, something called "television." They really love looking at other human beings on this thing!
At the end of the day, they all go to bed. But me? I give myself a good bath with my little tongue and then go to sleep on the sofa. That's where I am now. Meow! How I hate these fleas!
While this has been a stimulating intellectual exercise, I have to say I'm left feeling very sorry for Manchitas. Her life would be so much more fulfilling if only she lived with me and my moms. For I would teach her how to appreciate the finer things in life, such as UPSTAGING THE TELEVISION and USING FORCE TO AVOID THE OUTDOORS and WAKING UP RECALCITRANT FAMILY MEMBERS.
Then again, I might still not get on well with other cats, and I might not be willing to share my moms (or my food) with Manchitas.
As previously mentioned, I am extremely talented in that I can read with my head or my butt, while I am awake or while I am asleep. Utilizing a combination of these methods, I have taken it upon myself to learn Spanish along with my one mom.
My favorite thing thus far is this exercise from her workbook, in which a cat offers her INCREDIBLE DAILY AUTOBIOGRAPHY:
I will now demonstrate my knowledge of Spanish by translating this passage. Witness my linguistic prowess:
These fleas, these fleas! I'm here on the sofa, extremely bored. This is because my masters do not pay any attention to me. Only the kids in the family, Ernestito and Guillermo, play with me. And I really don't like to play with them. Sometimes they treat me badly, like a toy. Oy vey!
My masters, Ernesto and Estela, don't know that I am extremely observant. They probably think that I only like to eat and sleep. Oy vey! Human beings do not understand animals--especially not us cats.
Every day my masters do the same things. Estela, my mistress, wakes up early and goes to the kitchen to drink this hot black stuff that they all drink every morning. They call it "coffee." After that, my mistress calls to my master, but he always wants to sleep just a little bit longer. So she opens the curtains in the bedroom and lets in a lot of light. "Good God!" shouts my master. "Too much light! I can't open my eyes, Estela!"
Then my master knocks on her daughter Amanda's door, and the girl leaves her room. Amanda always greets her mother like this: "Good morning!" The young woman in this family has no problem with waking up. But Ernestito and Guillermo definitely have problems! Estela goes to their bedroom and wakes them up. They also want to sleep a little bit longer. "Time to go to school!" says my mistress. And the boys slowly wake up.
Ernesto takes a shower, gets dressed, reads the newspaper, drinks that black stuff and says some complicated things that I just don't understand. My mistress and this lady Berta (who does the housework and lives with us) prepare breakfast for the family. They always eat breakfast together. (Mmmmm. These human beings eat so much more than we cats!) Afterward, Ernesto and his kids leave and my mistress stays in the house.
Estela then picks me up and puts me outside, saying, "Go, Manchitas! Go look for mice!" It's really cold in the morning and I don't like to be outside, so I always either find myself a little bit of sunshine or jump at the window. I can see my mistress through the window--she's behind it. She takes a shower, gets dressed, puts on her makeup, makes the bed... every day, the same exact things! Later Berta cleans off the furniture and runs the vacuum. Meow! I really hate that machine!
My mistress goes out with Berta in the afternoon. I think they go to the supermarket, because they come back with food. And I stick around by myself on the patio. I amuse myself by climbing around outside the garden. Ernestito's dog, Lobo, lives in the garden. And in the next house over there is a dog named Sultan. The two dogs jump and jump around to try to get over to me. Ha ha! They can't climb up there--they're too fat! And man, do they bark! Ernestito really likes Sultan; he says he wants him to come live with us. But we already have a dog. Two dogs in the house? Meow!
At night my masters eat and give me the leftovers. After they eat, they go visit the neighbors or take a stroll around the neighborhood. The kids look at this bright thing, something called "television." They really love looking at other human beings on this thing!
At the end of the day, they all go to bed. But me? I give myself a good bath with my little tongue and then go to sleep on the sofa. That's where I am now. Meow! How I hate these fleas!
While this has been a stimulating intellectual exercise, I have to say I'm left feeling very sorry for Manchitas. Her life would be so much more fulfilling if only she lived with me and my moms. For I would teach her how to appreciate the finer things in life, such as UPSTAGING THE TELEVISION and USING FORCE TO AVOID THE OUTDOORS and WAKING UP RECALCITRANT FAMILY MEMBERS.
Then again, I might still not get on well with other cats, and I might not be willing to share my moms (or my food) with Manchitas.
Labels: brains
