Sunday, April 26, 2009

Traveling - no cats met yet this trip

First, I apologize for the long delay with neither post nor explanation. I am traveling. I had hoped that I might have met and photographed a cat or two or three or maybe 100 by now, but I have not even seen a single cat.

I will not be home until the end of the week, but I will keep my eyes and ears open and if I meet and photograph a cat, I will make a post.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Do you think Wry will remember Royce in future decades?

This evening, as the clock neared 9:00 PM, I looked out the window and this is what I saw. So I went out there.

Wry is very young and Royce is growing old. It is inevitable that he will leave us while Wry is still in his formative years. Do you think Wry will remember Royce?

He will have many pictures to remind him, or to tell him of Royce, if the memories are simply not there. I hope he remembers him, though. Royce has been a most special cat to Wry. They have a unique relationship, this young toddler and this old cat.

Monday, April 13, 2009

First, the happy reunion, then the Easter egg hunt

Very early this morning, Easter Sunday, at about 1:00 AM, Wry came home with his parents after spending more than a week in Arizona and New Mexico. Sunflower was over joyed to see him... but... someone else was eagerly waiting to greet him...

Royce, of course. Oh, what a happy reunion - Kalib and Royce.

The two then went into the bedroom of Toast Ed and Prickly Pear Blossom, where Wry was reunited with Muzzy as well.

Royce, Wry, Muzzy and so on.

Then, after everybody got some sleep, it was time to hunt Easter eggs. Royce led the way.

He kept leading even as Wry plucked eggs off the ground.

Wry and Royce, hunting eggs.

Muzzy stole and ate at least half-a-dozen of them. (If you would like to see the full Easter egg hunt, including images that have no cats, please check out the blog in the parallel universe.)

Charlie came out with Tryskuit, and played a lullaby for Royce, who then drifted off into peaceful sleep.
Juniper came out with Nabysko, but she was not happy.

She was pretty, though, and mighty cute.

Royce and Chicago resumed their nap.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

It's late, I am tired, I don't think I will bother to title this

Wry has gone off to New Mexico and Arizona with his parents for a short visit. Before he left, he reached out and touched Royce.

Then, in the evening, as I was preparing the photo of Wry and Royce for this blog, Jim hopped atop my monitor and settled down. The monitor is only about and inch-and-a-half wide.

As Jim rested there, Pistol stepped out from behind the monitor. I was surprised, because I did not even know he was in the office.

These two just napped away.

Monday, April 6, 2009

I could not handle this carnival of cats, so I turned it over to Royce and he got the job done. Without even trying. Royce is a genius.

First, a most serious matter: Ivy, over at ChezRanger, has been suffering some health issues. To make things worse, her beloved humans are in part blaming themselves, yet they did their very best to ease Ivy’s suffering and to make her comfortable. Let us all hope that Dear Ivy picks up soon.

For the religious among you, you might say a prayer as well. I am not religious, but I have said a prayer, anyway.

Who knows?

It has always been my understanding that being “full of crap” would make one’s eyes brown – and not the kind of handsome brown of my eyes, but a most unpleasant hue of brown. Yet, in Nardo’s case, it seems to cause his eyes to glow, rather devilishly, I’d say.

Friday has passed, of course, but it was a delightful day at Samantha and Mr. Tigger’s. Their Mom took a beautiful picture of them living in peace, and they made some new friends. New friends are always good, especially when those friends are cats.

I must agree: Kate is a pretty girl. A most pretty girl. I am ready to send her a plane ticket to Anchorage, so that I can drive to town, pick her up and bring her back to Wasilla. It would be nice to have such a pretty girl hang out with us here in Wasilla for awhile.

And that, my friends, is a very deep thought.

Some humans put out a plank for the cat to walk, but the cat has seen all the pirate movies. The cat does not walk the plank. The cat is smart.

Teacher who abuses cats is charged with a felony. There is no humor in this. None.

Got a cat video that you want to upload somewhere, besides YouTube?

I have been slammed! Stereotyped! And it hurts so bad! I don’t deserve to be slammed like this. I am very considerate of cats. I recognize and celebrate their innate superiority. I will sacrifice my sleep at night, just to ensure the comfort of a cat. There is almost nothing I would not do for a cat, and yet I have been slammed, just because I am male.

And all you males out there, you have been slammed, too!

Oh, wait. Maybe I am overreacting here. It is “The Male” who Cheysuli speaks out against. I interpreted “The Male” to mean all males. But maybe it just means “the male” in her life. And if indeed he could be so crass as to throw socks and underwear into her sleeping space, and play with the feather toy only because The Female orders him too, then I would say Cheysuli’s complaint is justified.

Damn Male, anyway!

Tough female. The male obeys.

This is direct competition. The good folks and felines over at CatSynth proudly announce that they are hosting the 200th Edition of Weekend Cat Blogging, which is kind of like Carnival of Cats. I suppose some folks got time for both. Me, I have no time for anything. I do not even have time to be doing this, but here I am, doing it, because I love cats.

An Infidel likes to beg, and gets angry when begs are not heeded. In protest, an Infidel goes on strike. Who will dare to cross the picket line?

A cat critiques the dancing skills of her pet human and finds them wanting. The cat is tired of having her tail stepped on, that’s why. As you can see in the address, the dance is called, “Zeu Sex Cuse.” Sounds pretty interesting, but I’m not certain that you want your youngsters to visit this site.

Oh, what the heck. They probably roam around the internet, anyway. You might as well let them go watch the dance.

The mind of Mog contemplates the litter box.

The mind of Mog sees a tummy and contemplates temptation, then gives in to it.

Intermission: Royce has been on this blog quite a bit, lately, as an old man cat watching out for little Wry. It is important that all who come here understand that Royce was once not only a young cat, but even a kitten. So I dug up some pictures from his kitten hood, youth and young adulthood.

I have not yet told the story of how Royce came to be part of this family, but I will. I reserve the right to redeploy some of these same images at that time.

If a cat chases a bird in the wind, might not that cat get blown off the ground and wind up flying with the bird? And what if the bird turns out to be an eagle? Some birds are, you know.

To keep it short, a poet twitters.

Poet does another short, boxes it up.

Intermission # 2: That is not a cloud, my friends, but smoke. Smoke from a huge forest fire that destroyed many homes and buildings. Royce and Little Guy (how many tears did I shed for Little Guy? My heart, my soul, my Little Guy! Even now, eight years later, my eyes water, just from looking at this picture. He was born into my open hands, you know. That does something to a man.) are not concerned.

If I heard a woman call out, “hey Fela!” I would think she was calling to a guy - maybe me. No. Fela is a girl. Stuck in a tree, way down in what we up here consider to be the rather small state of Texas. Maybe she wanted to get away from the spider.

Kosmo wants a treat. Vet says, “no.” Yet, everybody needs a treat now and then.

She might be growing old, but Miss Chloe is The Grand Dame of Culture and Civility. At 16, she is impeccably refined and dignified. She loves to attend the opera, where, during a robust rendition of the aria, "Figaro," she once ralfed up a hairball. When you are a cat, ralfing up a hairball is a most civilized and cultured thing to do.

All the other cats at the opera pranced over to sniff it.

Warning! Do not visit this site! Please! For your own health, do not visit this site!

There are cute kittens here that will cause your heart to melt. How will you function, after your heart has melted?

There is nothing quite so nice as having toasty toes with blueberries. Once again, down in that small state of Texas.

I almost forgot: here is the home website for Carnival of the Cats, should anyone wish to host or learn more:

I feel so bad - prepared this and I thought that I had pasted it in, but Elisson just let me know that I didn't. Sorry, Ellison - and Rahel, too. Here is the sement that I inadvertently left out:

I need this cat here, with me, in Alaska. My feet sometimes get cold, you see. This cat would keep them warm. She could be as sarcastic as she wanted to be. It wouldn’t bother me, as long as she kept my feet warm.

Rahel, I tried and tried, but I could not get your site to load. It did strange things, but it did not load. I was never able to read it.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Carnival of Cats: I have prepared all the text...

...but it is very late. I am very tired and still have other tasks to perform before I go to bed.

So I will post it tomorrow, Monday.

I promise, I promise, I promise!

And I apologize for being tardy!

To anyone who arrives for the Carnival of Cats before I post it

I am behind, but I am working on it.

I will be slow, because earlier one daughter came out from Anchorage to visit. As soon as she left, the other daughter arrived.

She is still here.

So I will be slow, but it will go up tonight.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Now we lay our boy down to sleep, and turn him over to our cat to keep

How Royce must love this little boy! The boy we call Wry. How patient Royce is with Wry. Look! Wry is charging toward Royce and Chicago! What can anyone expect the cats to do, but to flee?

Chicago does flee. But Royce stays put. Royce knows what is coming. Royce waits for the toddler to crash down upon him.

Wry and Royce. Wry can be so rough with Royce. Royce is so gentle with Wry.

I often find Royce watching out for Wry, observing him. Remember Wry's first birthday party? Royce was there, to watch him wallow in cake. Remember when Wry took his first steps? Royce was there, to watch and encourage.

Wry gets up. Royce gets up.

Here they are, together again, playing on the floor.

It looks as though Royce whispers in Wry's ear! But a cat can't whisper! What would Royce whisper if he could?

Bend down close and listen... Royce does not whisper, he purrs.

And then, when little Wry goes to bed, Royce is there to say a prayer for him. No! No! No! This is absurd! Cat's don't pray.

Or do they?

How would a human know?

And if a cat prays, what kind of God does it pray to?

A furry God?

A God with a twitchy tail?

A God who purrs?

Surely, if Royce does pray, this is how it translates:

"Dear God - This little kid is rough. He tumbles right down on top of me, rolls right over me. God, this little tyke has been known to pull out tufts of my fur, and stick them in his mouth. But, hell, God! I love him. Watch over him, and keep him safe."

And all this Royce will say with just one single word, "Meow."

"Meow" is one mighty powerful and flexible word.

Carnival of the Cats: I don't know what got into me, because I sure don't have the time or energy, but a few months back, I volunteered to host "Carnival of the Cats" for next week. I must be an April fool. But I am committed and I will do it.

Anyone who wants to submit anything, just send it here: