Sunday, July 31, 2011

Naked Laps

What's with you humans and your odd clothing-optional habits?  Mom and dad know I live for their warm laps, and I'm a kneader, so there's nothing like a nice, soft, warm CLOTHED lap to curl up on.  So why is it that they feel the need to prance around the house in their underwear?  I know it's hot these days, but come on!  Don't they know I prefer the feel of fine (or even not-so-fine) fabric to leave my claw pin holes in?  And lets get the more important thing out of the way here:  There is nothing more disappointing that jumping up on the loveseat on my quest for a warm COVERED lap, only to find these two individuals lounging in front of the t.v. NAKED!  What's with that? 
     Now, I'm sure they'd be pissed if they knew I shared this, but for whatever reason they feel the need to sit, occasionally, with nary a shred of clothing on!  That's what I said- naked.  Not only is it disturbing to see, but it's not as comfortable for me.  Most times, when I see that I just turn and jump back off the loveseat, disappointed.  Occasionally, though, depending on how desperate I am for my comfort fix I'll overlook the fact that there's nothing separating my awesome midnight coat from that... area. 
      And don't even get me started on mom's bosom.  As is evidenced by that picture over there, I love nuzzling against mom's pillows (dad always mumbles something about me being a man after his own heart), but when they're not covered it just doesn't feel right.  And it might look a little weird.  And I think I've shared too much.  Serves them right for sleeping naked last night.  I had a lousy night's sleep because there was nowhere for me to snuggle up to.  Well, there was, but...

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Awww Ma, not again!

Just a quick post here- I gotta get something off my chest. For whatever reason mom seems to think I like to dance.  That's right, I said dance.  Who the hell thinks a cat enjoys dancing?!  First off, I'm old.  I haven't really started showing it yet, but my bones ache.  My hips are bothering me, my spine isn't quite as strong as it used to be, and I'm just plain old.  So mom, for some strange reason, will occasionally exclaim "Uh oh!  Somebody wants to dance!!", and prop me up in a standing position (usually on her lap), and start singing "Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight.... get down tonight"!  What the hell is with THAT?!  It's so random, and dad says it's something called KC and the Sunshine Band and usually laughs or scoffs at mom.  Okay, I'm done bitching for now. 

Monday, July 25, 2011

Oops, I Did It Again

Well, dad awoke to my voice again today.  Yup, it was about three-thirty, less than three hours ago, and apparently I felt the need to stand in their bedroom doorway and shout, for whatever reason.  Mom managed to sleep through it, but dad hopped out of bed and came toward me, an angry-though-still-asleep glare in his eye (They sleep with a dim lamp on).  His foot came at me, followed by the rest of him, and before he could actually reach me I turned stealthily and ran into the living room. 
     Not sure how this would go I stopped and just looked up at him, and, being the big softy he usually is he picked me up and put me on his left shoulder.  For whatever reason I've favored their left shoulders for quite a while.  When I let them hold me this is where I prefer to be, and dad propped me on his left side and just stood in the center of the living room, stroking my back and head and cooing as if I were a newborn.  Instantly I began purring, and together we stood there for a few minutes before dad leaned over the loveseat and "allowed" me to hop off of his shoulder.
     I heard him go pee, then head back into the bedroom, and I waited for a few minutes, considering my next move.  I made my way back into their room and hopped up on the bed, and saw that dad was actually staring right at me.  Without a word I walked up to his face and gave him a not-so-tender headbutt, right on his nose, then turned and walked to the foot of the bed, where I found a nice, comfy spot next to mom.  I turned once, twice, three times, then settled in and fell asleep.  Hopefully dad was able to go back to sleep as well, and before I knew it his alarm was going off next to his head, the big, glowing 5:00 announcing the new day.  I stayed on the bed as he made his way out into the living room for his hour of quiet reading time.  Now and then I have to let him have that, although I do love to curl up in his lap when he reads.  Tomorrow's another day.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Dad's Mad

Think I'm gonna lay low for a while.  Dad's a little mad at me, because for the last couple of days I've been going into his and mom's room and talking very loudly at hours that are, apparently, odd to them. Usually, one of them will wake and scold me, or shoo me out of their room so they can sleep, but I still do it.  They don't know why I'm doing it lately- hell, I'm not even sure I know why!
     The night before last I got them up at- let's see- 2:00, 3:00, 3:30, and 4:00, and the night before that I woke dad at 4:00.  Yesterday, mom told me very sternly that dad needed to sleep, and not to wake him until 5:00, his "normal" wake-up time (mom says he's crazy for getting up at that hour, considering he doesn't need to be at work until 8).  Well, wouldn't you know- I went in this morning, talking away very loudly, and climbed on dad's chest to wake him.  He stirred and looked at the clock, ready to yell at me, and saw that it was five!  Damn I'm good.  I like to let them think I listen to them now and then. 

Thursday, July 14, 2011

A Little Bit About Me

I was born during a very hot summer, and the idiot who "owned" me at that time left me, along with several brothers and sisters, in a box in a parking lot where dad worked.  He arrived at work on that day and found us, and got us out of the hot sun and took over our care with the help of several of his co-workers.  Sadly, we were split up, but I think I can speak for my siblings when I say that what they did for us is appreciated.  They likely saved our lives.  I've been with dad for the better part of my nineteen or so years, the exception being a small chunk of time some years ago when he'd moved into an apartment that didn't allow pets. 
     I've seen all of dad's kids grow up, been through changes in family and surroundings, and have moved more times than I care to remember.  I used to share dad's attention with my adopted brother, Isaac, who made it to the ripe old age of sixteen, and once I figure out how to get them in here I'll post some photos of the two of us, some embarrassing, some possibly incriminating.  Let's just say we liked to "spoon" as you humans call it.  Boy, I haven't thought about Isaac in a long time.  I sure do miss him.  Isaac got real sick, and dad kept him hanging on long enough for his kids to say goodbye.  It's amazing how you humans get so attached to us four-legged, furry, loveable, better-than-you, can't- live-without creatures.
     My first years were spent indoors and out, but for the last half or so of my life I've been an indoor-only cat, which suits me just fine.  Sure, I'd like to get out now and then, but I have to say- the few times I was actually able to pull off sneaking out when no one was looking or paying attention I got out the door and down the steps, then just froze, unsure of where to go or what to do.  I got out on mom once recently, and she came out looking for me, the panic so, so obvious in her voice.  I feel bad about that.  I really do.  I still try to get close to the door whenever mom brings in groceries or reaches out to get the mail, but their stern "NO!" usually sends me cowering like a sissy.  I can't believe I wrote that! 
     I'm not sure what came over me, but I woke dad at four this morning, and he couldn't go back to sleep, so he's pretty pissed at me, I think.  I'm going to lay low for a while, and maybe, just maybe, if he's lucky, I'll give him some extra loving when he gets home from work.  Depends on my mood.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

You Can't Teach An Old Dog....

So here's a funny story.  Mom and dad (more mom, actually) have managed to teach me something.  Go figure.  Mom and dad are very comfortable, and, unless I'm being an antisocial snot, I love curling up on them.  When they sit and watch t.v. I'm on one of their laps.  I've learned when it's bedtime, or, more likely when I think it's bedtime, and if they're not in the bedroom I'll stand by the door and talk as loud as I can, even motioning for them to follow me. 
My favorite spot is between mom's legs.  I just love it when she lays on her back and pulls the covers up, and I sink right into the indentation as she parts her legs a little, and fall asleep.  Some nights, though, she likes to lay on her side to read or talk with dad, so on those nights I get up on the bed, stand between them, and talk.  If they're talking to each other I'll raise the volume of my voice until they stop.  Mom knows where I want to curl up, but she makes me work for it.  She says "Come on, you know what to do!", so I'll pad up to her face, pause for a second or two, then gently nudge her forehead.  They call this head-butting, and it's a small price to pay for the ensuing comfort.  After I headbutt her she'll complement me, say all kinds of cute things, then turn to lay on her back, and I climb right into the "V" in the comforter between her legs.  And that's it for the night.  Sometimes, when I'm laying there dad will lay his head on her belly, facing me, and pat me, rub my chin (which I live for!) and talk nonsense to me.
  I love these two people, even though sometimes they annoy me (as, I'm sure I do them occasionally) and there's no place in the world I'd rather be than right here in our home, where my every whim is catered to with great love.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

My relationship with my "mom" and "dad" is unique.  Although I am an old man, they still call themselves "mommy" and "daddy", and at times it's a little weird.  Dad also has his interesting assortment of other pet names for me (no pun intended), ranging from "Old Fart", "Old Man", and "Little Black Guy" to "Buddy", "Bud", and "Goofball".  I do, however, usually know that I'm in trouble when either of them calls me by my given name.  I am, like most of my kind an obsessive groomer.  What can I say- I just like to be clean.  Every now and then I have a problem keeping my food down (I hate that feeling) and I puke up, usually just after I eat, a pile of nasty, steamy barely-digested food and hair. 
I like to slink off to the corner and watch as mom or dad runs for the paper towels and carpet cleaner.  Don't get me wrong- I feel bad, but I 'm a cat, dammit.  It happens.  They've been combing me more often lately, but it still happens.  At my age I've earned the right to spew now and then without having to feel bad about it.  Well, dad needs to get on the computer now, and I'm getting sleepy, so I'll sign off and go lay down.  I have a lot to tell, so I'll be back!

Monday, July 4, 2011

Well, well, well, here we are.  I finally got with the times and decided to learn how to use a damn computer.  Seems everyone is doing it, so I figured, what the hell- if I want to get my story out there, I might as well learn the best way to do it.
This is my story of... me.  I've been around for a long time, so there's lots to tell.  That's me over there, and there are lots more pics of me to share with anyone who wishes to stop by here.
My name is Orbit (I didn't choose my name, just so you know), and I currently live in Wilmington, North Carolina, where it is f***ing hot!  Sometimes I enjoy it, but sometimes it just makes me sleep.  Okay- that one was just an excuse to sleep.  Anything makes me sleep.  In fact, that's one of the things I do best, as you'll see in the photos to come.
I'll get on here from time to time to detail my existence for you (not that you asked), as long as my owners aren't on the computer.  Maybe I'll ask for a laptop for Christmas.  Sure, sure, I could go downtown to the library, but I'm an inside-only cat, goddamnit.  Every now and then I catch a glimpse of the outdoors when one of my owners (who will, from this point forward, be referred to as "mom" and "dad", since that's how they refer to themselves when talking with me) opens the door.  Occasionally they're kind enough to open the front window and raise the blinds over the couch in the living room so I can sit up there and watch the cars come and go, the hotty across the street, or the white and black spotted bum that I see now and then napping out in front of our building.
As for the title, well, that's what I heard dad say one day when he was cleaning my "bathroom".  It's funny to watch him and mom take that silly plastic scoop and rake it through the litter, collecting my poop and pee and bagging it all up.  Who's the master and who's the pet here??  Ha!  Well, I feel drowsy, so I'm gonna go take another nap.  I'll be back soon.